Kerala: God’s Own Country (and Sometimes His Humid Sauna).
They call Kerala God’s Own Country. Like a term that appears on every billboard, brochure and mildly piquant travel blog, as though the Almighty Himself picked up His bags and headed there for the seafood and sunsets. And frankly, after visiting, I can’t wholly blame Him. The beauty of Kerala is ludicrously beautiful, with verdant hills, beaches that seem unnaturally photoshopped, and lagoons in which the mosquitoes even glidingly grace themselves. When you arrive in Kochi, though, you’re immediately reminded paradise has a dose of chaos. The airport air somehow smells like coffee, coconut oil and mild confusion. They appear rushed to either say hi, or to offer you something or to send you to a cousin’s homestay “with real Kerala breakfast.” And there you get to begin to adjust to what locals call “God’s rhythm”, a speed that seems both unhurried, and weirdly smooth, as though you’re participating in a slow-motion dance of buses, backwaters and an occasional cow. The famous backwaters are all exactly as you catch the scent in the travel ads, only they’re wetter. You board a houseboat and delight in the vision and finally , 10 minutes later you discover you’re traveling the speed of continental drift. The water mirrors the palm trees like a meticulously retouched photograph, but it reflects you too, the tourist who packed three outfits to post on Instagram and forgot mosquito repellent. Yet there is something magical about drinking some tea while you drift past little villages, where locals wave as if you’re joined in a slow parade of curiosity across the pond from nowhere.
Then there’s Munnar, the hill station that seems to have been invented by somebody who assumed tea plantations were too green and simply required more mist. You ascend high and high and you ask yourself why you thought this was the most relaxing holiday you had. But once you get where you go, the air gets cooler, the clouds part, and you hear little whispers, like, “Wow, that’s nice.” Tea has a more pleasing taste there, though no one’s quite sure why. Perhaps it’s the altitude, or perhaps it’s just the relief of sitting down after that uphill trek that you were so proud to pretend was “easy.” Kerala’s food has a peregrinating paragraph to its own, largely because it will consume your mind for days. Fish curry that may burn your sins away, flaky parottas that make gluten seem morally justified, banana chips that you promise you’ll give it up but will never. For the first five seconds, eating with your hands feels awkward then suddenly deeply spiritual. You begin to understand why local people smile so much: it is likely the food coma; yet amid all of this beachy stuff and Ayurveda massages or self-congratulatory selfies, there’s still some sense that Kerala is still quietly humbling. Perhaps it’s the monsoon rain who laughs at your umbrella. Maybe it’s the calmness of the locals as you do a frantic search for Wi-Fi in a forest. When you depart, you will know two things. First of all, never underestimate coconut oil; it’s inside everything. Second, paradise is never perfect, and that’s exactly why it’s worth visiting. |
