Kerala: India’s Magical Secret Gem

Sarah and I had been told we needed to visit Kerala ever since we moved to Chennai nearly three years ago. Of course, we’d rarely even heard of Kerala–the state next to our home Tamil Nadu–before we moved here, so it wasn’t high on our travel list. Yet, everyone we met seemed stunned when we confessed to our failure: “You absolutely must go to Kerala!” But, as is often the case with a nearby destination, we continued to put it off while we enjoyed potentially more exotic trips—like flying to Sri Lanka a week earlier just to eat at our favorite restaurant two nights in a row. Well, guess what? Kerala truly is a very special destination and we now join those who rave about its beauty and diversity, not to mention its 100% literacy rate!

For our winter break Kerala trip—arranged for us as usual by the excellent Emma Horne Travel advisors from Delhi—we got to enjoy a quick 55 minute domestic flight to Kochi from Chennai over the Western Ghats and landing at the Cochin International Airport, where the new facility is the first fully solar powered airport in the WORLD. Color Sarah and me both green and impressed, as the project was not only a trailblazer but simply stunning in its design and efficiency. Way cool! Okay, so I used Kochi and Cochin in one sentence and I expect a few may be confused . . . just as we were. Kochi is the original name in Malayalam, the language of Kerala, but the Brits spelled it Cochin for decades and it was officially made Kochi again in the 1990’s. Either way, Kochi is a modern, efficient port city on the Arabian Sea (actually, the Laccadive Sea) straddling numerous waterways and housing a population of about twenty-one lakhs, or more than two million people.

Now, here’s the fun part: Vasco da Gama got there a few centuries before us and landed in Kerala a bit further north at Kozhikode (anglicized to Calicut) in 1498 after making the longest sea voyage up to that time–longer than a complete circumnavigation! His success in rounding the Cape of Good Hope eventually opened the spice route (primarily pepper and cinnamon) for Portugal and began its dominance in trade from India and Asia for a century. Da Gama died of malaria in Kochi just after arriving on his third voyage in 1524. We saw his tomb in the church of St. Francis but his remains had been relocated to Portugal not long after his burial.

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We stayed in Ft. Kochi, the heart of historic Kochi, at Brunton Boatyard, another of the marvelous CGH Earth Hotels like the Palais de Mahe we love in Pondicherry. We enjoyed the hotel’s location on the channel between ocean and harbor–all the rooms have a view of the water–and we loved the open air design of its reception and other common areas. We toured the old fort area, with Sarah using her handy trekking poles following her cartilage replacement six weeks earlier. (She was the very first person in India to have the newly approved single-step procedure . . . but that’s another story.)

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Sanal, our guide showed us the many historic sites and won our highest praise when he walked us through the 300 year old Dhobi Khana, an open air laundry. We got to connect and chat with several of the seventy or so enterprising folks who make their living washing and ironing clothing for others using the traditional methods of a bar of soap and cold water and strong muscles.

Brunton Boatyard served us well in the culinary department, too, as we enjoyed cooking demonstrations each evening and dined al fresco for many of our meals. Best yet, I devoured the tastiest mutton curry ever–they cooked the mutton shank for five hours and served it on the bone, oh, my!

After just a pair of nights in Ft. Kochi, we headed inland toward the Western Ghats and Munnar on a five hour drive from sea level to just over 1,500 meters or nearly 5,000 feet elevation. The 130km (just over 80 miles) trip along the narrow, winding, heavily trafficked roads–I don’t think there was ever a straight stretch longer than about fifty meters–took us five hours. But, oh my, it was worth it. Neither Sarah nor I really had a clue about how high the Western Ghats are, and, after our October trip to the foothills of the Himalayas, we were expecting some low-lying, gentle, rolling hills . . . wrong! The hills–okay, mountains–reach above the treeline to a tundra-like vegetation and bare stone in places, with the highest peak in Kerala, Anamudi, at just below 2,700 meters or about 9,000 feet. And emerald green tea estates cover all but the most vertical surfaces, contrasting and softening the overall essence of the heights.

Windermere Estate, a collection of cottages perched on the hillsides, calmed and soothed guests with the quiet of the light breezes and delicate birdsong, with all our meals taken in “The Barn,” where one chose either Indian or Western food—we stuck with our favored Indian cuisine and it was fresh and delightful. The next morning, I thought it would be nice to join a group for a brief “tour of the grounds,” as they called it while I was eating my third helping of Idli at breakfast, but officially known as the ”Plantation Trek” on their website when I looked it up on my return. Anyway, I envisioned a jaunty stroll along the stone pathways and grassy knolls, so I showed up in my Birks, ready for a hands-in-pockets-look-all-around fifteen minute amble. But, I couldn’t help but notice that the “guide” was dressed in full-on hiking gear, with a bulging day pack, water bottles harnessed at his waist, serious looking binoculars, and of course, a pair of stout hiking boots. The other strollers—several of whom were close to my age—were likewise outfitted, so I beat a hasty and grabbed my own boots . . . Just in case, right? Turns out, this was a genuine 4km birding walk, where we climbed down about a hundred rugged stone steps, crossed a road, and plunged—yes, actually plunged—into the depths of the forest and down a devilish path that demanded the majority of my birding attention! I stumbled twice only—okay one was a true knees and palm-plant fall—and all I could see when we stopped was the occasional black silhouette through the tangled foliage against the pure white sky, while our guide and the others oooohed and aaaahed their mastery of the intricacies of bird spotting. Very cool!

As we continued down and down and down—I kept expecting to run into Dante on about his fifth circle—I knew it meant we’d have to, eventually, climb back up. Indeed, we did, but we took the easy way, the paved, winding road that maintained a grade of only about ten percent. Piece of cake. Of course, Sarah was still recuperating from her knee surgery, so she enjoyed the pool and the moderately warm sun, with a few good books to while away the time. Later that day, we asked our driver to take us into Munnar to check out its tea museum—it’s run by the Kanan Devan Hills Plantation, makers of Ripple Tea—and the many “live chocolate” shops. Turns out, the live chocolate was mighty tasty and creamy, so we sampled and purchased just a tiny bit. Right. But Munnar and the Western Ghats and Windermere Estate proved a beautiful, soothing, respite from big city traffic and crowds, with its peaceful setting and inspiring views.

So, after a couple of serene nights up in the Western Ghats, we descended again to sea level and Vembanad Lake and the famous Backwaters of Kumarakom at Coconut Lagoon, another of the CGH Earth Hotels. To reach Coconut Lagoon, guests have to take a boat along one of the backwaters toward the lake, welcoming one to the sense of a simpler way of life. The resort is more like a village, with scattered cottages—some of which are actually original Keralan structures relocated to the site and reconstituted—and canals winding through the property. We took all our meals at the two open air restaurants, one specializing in seafood (we picked our own lobster for the gigantic “Crustacean Platter”) and the other in traditional South Indian cuisine; and Sarah had her first ever consultation with an Ayurvedic doctor, then took advantage of the Aruvedic spa for a two-hour massage.

The highlight of our stay had to be our exploration of the narrow backwaters in a wooden canoe! Our guide demonstrated his strength and agility as we paddled through the mirror calm waters and the floating hydrangeas and lotus flowers, passing villagers at their typical morning routine, scrubbing the breakfast pots and pans and washing clothes along the banks. Our guide mentioned that we were quite near the village of Ayamanam, which was the setting for much of Arundhati Roy’s powerful and evocative novel, The God of Small Things, winner of the Booker Prize. For insight into life in Kerala, it’s a must read.

We stopped off several times during our voyage, tasting a palm toddy, the fermented drink from palm trees—ours was fresh from the tree and just starting toward alcohol—and Sarah got lessons in weaving coir—the stout rope made from coconut fibers—and braiding roof coverings and floor mats from palm fronds. We were even treated to one of our favorite of India’s true delights, a tender coconut our host plucked from the tree, chopped off the top and cut a hole for a straw, then handed to us for the most refreshing drink going.

Finally, while we often cross paths with interesting folks on our travels, this trip was unique in the number of intriguing people we shared our time with in all three of Kerala’s magical locales. There was the extended, multi-generational family from Mecca, Saudi Arabia, where the patriarch, probably about my age, proudly spread his arms to encompass the group, and told me with a huge grin that he was the boss; the young couple from the US, both of whom teach fine art photography and have had several solo exhibitions at galleries; the Indian couple from Wisconsin introducing their homeland to their young toddler; the expert in Asian cuisine from south Tamil Nadu’s famous Chettinad region and now living in Australia, there consulting for CGH Hotels; a couple who teach yoga and lead retreats in India and Bali and split their time between that island and Paris; and a couple from Devon, in the southwest of England, the fellow an artist and professional photographer who had previously worked as a luthier, while the woman re-homed chickens and was the founder of a hen welfare organization. What delightful new connections!

All in all, our winter break tour of Kerala granted us a restful yet invigorating respite and clearly proved so many of our friends right: Kerala truly is a very special gem! Do. Not. Miss. It!

Next up, a weekend conducting gig for Sarah in Dhaka, Bangladesh, and then to Istanbul for spring break . . . But those are other stories, right?