Bailey

Bailey interrupts Cochin.

Arrival at Cochin, Kerala, India

Cochin. Queen of the Arabian Sea. Don't ask me why. Cos, by now, I have forgotten most of what the guide said. Contrary to the royal label, the city is far from resplendent. Half-finished side walks, polluted skies, burnt out neon lights, grey buildings, rubbish lined streets to one litre vehicular traffic pretty much compose Cochin.

Depressing yet appealing. A city which I may boldly call it, reminds me greatly of Phnom Phenh. But of course, the latter is far worse. Communism is undoubtedly the arch-rival to Capitalism.

Anyway, back to Cochin.

We were greeted by a unique set of wheels; the Hindustan Ambassador (white classic car above). Indian born and bred. Despised by locals, favoured by tourists. Naturally. For its local authentic appeal. A car that probably fails the crash test, sans air bags, zero ABS, yet completely floored by local Cochinese. The streets were a bumper to bumper race circuit. Not to mention the ever frequent tactical overtaking against oncoming traffic. It's definitely nothing to most that has visited the most exotic part of Asia. Neither was it to me. I could even take a snooze when I needed to.

But nonetheless, the appeal was, that it was all done in an Ambassador. A front wheel drive, 1.8 L , 77 bhp, white steel sedan built by Hindustan Motors of India. Modelled after the Morris Oxford with slight infuences from Porsche, its first production model began in 1957.

A classic that's still well appreciated many British enthusiats. Once again, let me reiterate. Despised by Indians, with preference to Japanese imports. And no, there weren't any "rice rockets". So forget your STi's, EVOs and Type R's. With the number of potholes, they probably suffer a broken suspension or fender to be towed by Cochinese cattle.

Anyway, will post more pictures and talk more about Cochin as it goes.

Oh yes. Honey we actually found a chinese restaurant for my mum there.

Cheers.

Docklands