A man who comes to Kochin immediately forgets his wife, because of the beauty of the city. So they say. Indeed, there is something about the cosmopolitan flair with a mix of Portuguese, Dutch, British, Jewish and Indian culture. The city, situated on a narrow peninsula, is very green and the best thing is that there is hardly any traffic, which is rushing through the other cities in India. On the coast there are large Chinese fishing nets that are lowered into the water by hand on wooden cranes. You can buy fresh fish at the market and have it grilled right next door.
Tropical Kerala is one of the richest Indian states – and one of the reddest. On every village square, at every bus stop, on every corner hangs the red flag with hammer and sickle, Marx and Lenin always greet from the wall. Sometimes even Stalin, argh.
A road winds through dense jungle up the steep flank of the Western Ghats. At the top, in Munnar, the landscape is gentler, with tea plantations and cardamon and always great views.
The boat safari on the jungle lake in Periyar National Park was quite disappointing. It rained almost the whole time and the kids on the boat were totally excited and screaming and doing. We only saw a few buffaloes, deer and wild boars. Not a single elephant. The guesthouse looked good at first glance, but the bed was clammy and stuffy. And in the morning, a fat cockroach jumps out of bed with me. Almost more annoying is the deep fracture that runs right through the sole of my sandal.
It is all the more beautiful to glide on a boat through the backwaters, a network of rivers, canals and lakes that runs through the palm-covered coastal plain. Laundry is washed on the shore, building materials are poked along on long narrow boats, children jump from a palm tree into the water…
Now I’m up on the cliff in Varkala, an ideal place to wait out the transport companies’ strike against the increase in fuel prices. My body is still oily from the massage…