It's our third and final night here (as of 11 March, finally writing in real time!), and it will be hard to leave beautiful and peaceful Kerala and its very successful communist ways. I've felt so much more at ease here, in part because the near-constant gawping and less-than-subtle photograph-taking has almost disappeared. At face value, Varkala seems quite similar to Vagator, the first Goan beach we visited post-Mumbai, but it's been so much more enjoyable.
After a short drive from the houseboat, Dutchie parked Daisy in the local helipad, nose about 2m from the cliff edge, looking down to the sandy beach below. As we pulled in, what do I see but a man elegantly paragliding over the cliff and gracefully landing on the helipad. Adrenaline junkie that I am, two hours later I was getting strapped in next to him and floating over the beach. I was expecting to take a heart-pounding run to jump off the cliff, but instead the wind just gently lifted us up and away, as I kicked my flip-flops off to the tarmac beneath. I felt in 100% safe hands, and immediately trusted Aurel, the man I was flying tandem with. As we glided the air waves high above the coast he told me how he was controlling the glider. Maybe it was because I eventually asked him "Vous-etes francais?" and we had a short chat in his native language, but I think he took a shine to me, and we definitely stayed up longer than the promised 15 minutes. He had learned to glide in the Alps and immediately became addicted - he's been living in Varkala 8 years taking people up tandem, or just gliding solo because of how much he loves paragliding, and it's easy to see why. After some time of slow and gentle gliding, he asked if I wanted a bit more speed. I agreed to be scared and we immediately started swooping, dropping and spinning. Despite the stomach-lurching speed and twists, it was clear he was in perfect control of the glider. We went zooming over the waves, soaring up the cliff and gently glided high above the beach. The most perfect moment was locking eyes with an eagle that was floating on the same air current as us and feeling as free while we had the same view from flying. Given the money and opportunity, I could easily form an addiction to this particular adventure sport, above all others.
Sadly, finances didn't allow me to soar over the beach and sea all day every day, and the heat was so brutal on Thursday that we spent most of the daylight hours alternating between the pool (which was like a too-hot bath, and only refreshing when getting out of it) and the air-conditioned room. Luckily at 5pm Emily (who actually has initiative and inertia, which we were both lacking) encouraged us to join her at an open-air rooftop yoga class on the cliff. Who needs Enya CDs when you can hear waves crashing on the sand below you? The view of palm trees was certainly better than the whitewashed walls of Lewisham Leisure Centre, where I normally do yoga. After 90 minutes of breathing, stretching and posing (including a few minutes of jealousy at Patrick's ability to hold a good headstand), I felt invigorated and inspired to find a yoga session in every city- surely especially useful after long drive days.
Today - our last full day in Varkala - was really special. Before flying to India, mom put me in touch with a friend she knew from when they lived in Nigeria, working as teachers 40 years ago. The Matthews live just over 40km from Varkala, so this morning Patrick and I steeled ourselves for our first journey via Indian public bus. We needn't have worried- once it actually departed (50 minutes behind schedule), the ride was docile enough, and blessedly air-conditioned. I'd looked at Google maps while still on WiFi, so the map stayed up even without internet, and through a combination of staring intently at business signs (which occasionally include town names) and following along Highway 47 on the phone's map, we managed to jump off the bus at just the right spot, and then walk 2km to the Matthews' beautiful home. London living has apparently warped my sense of house sizes, because it felt like a mansion to me, though Sosa insisted it was very small compared to her children's homes in the US. Even though Sosa hadn't seen mom in decades, she and her husband gave us an incredibly warm welcome. Sosa had cooked up an absolute feast of typical Keralan food from the local Syrian Christian community. I wish my stomach was big enough to manage third and fourth helpings of everything, but sadly anatomy halted my feasting after round 2. The 4 of us barely made a dent! Eating with locals is the best way to know what goes with what, and how to eat properly. We never knew poppadoms should be crumbled over the mixed vegetables! Dessert was Baskin Robbins ice cream (very popular in India!) and a cake made by a local cult, who also have a bakery. They may be very insular (and a bit deluded, as they left the body of their first leader on a roof, thinking he would rise up, as he claimed to be the reincarnated Christian god), but they can bake!
Sosa told us about growing up in Alleppey (growing rice, raising cows and buffalo, and cooking for 30 people every day, between the large family and day labourers!), the 28 years she and her husband spent in eight different cities in Nigeria, and their life back in India, living in Sreekalyum since the late 1990s. Their children and some of Sosa's siblings moved to America and have become wildly successful. She has family in Nebraska, Florida and Illinois, all doing very well, and it sounds like their grandchildren (now in high school and university) are very clever with bright futures ahead too. Due to their advancing age and deteriorating health, they want to be close to family and have made the difficult decision to sell their home in Kerala and move to Omaha. Sosa's sadness at losing the community of friends in the neighbourhood of the home she's lived in the last 20 years was obvious, and she's putting off the move to the US for a few more months. I feel so fortunate to have been put in touch with such warm and kind people, and to have met them at their wonderful Kerala home. 56 years of marriage looks good!
They generously paid for a Tuk-Tuk driver friend to take us to Thiruvananthapuram (formerly known by its admittedly simpler colonial name Trivandrum) where we were dropped off at the railway station. Once we'd successfully purchased tickets, we stepped out of the booking office just in time to see the heavens open and we experienced our first Indian rainfall. Genteel London drizzle it is not, but neither was it monsoon level. After over a month of dryness, the smell of rain was gorgeous and provided a cool breeze for our 45 minute train journey back to Varkala. What a lovely way to end our week in Kerala, "God's own country."
After a short drive from the houseboat, Dutchie parked Daisy in the local helipad, nose about 2m from the cliff edge, looking down to the sandy beach below. As we pulled in, what do I see but a man elegantly paragliding over the cliff and gracefully landing on the helipad. Adrenaline junkie that I am, two hours later I was getting strapped in next to him and floating over the beach. I was expecting to take a heart-pounding run to jump off the cliff, but instead the wind just gently lifted us up and away, as I kicked my flip-flops off to the tarmac beneath. I felt in 100% safe hands, and immediately trusted Aurel, the man I was flying tandem with. As we glided the air waves high above the coast he told me how he was controlling the glider. Maybe it was because I eventually asked him "Vous-etes francais?" and we had a short chat in his native language, but I think he took a shine to me, and we definitely stayed up longer than the promised 15 minutes. He had learned to glide in the Alps and immediately became addicted - he's been living in Varkala 8 years taking people up tandem, or just gliding solo because of how much he loves paragliding, and it's easy to see why. After some time of slow and gentle gliding, he asked if I wanted a bit more speed. I agreed to be scared and we immediately started swooping, dropping and spinning. Despite the stomach-lurching speed and twists, it was clear he was in perfect control of the glider. We went zooming over the waves, soaring up the cliff and gently glided high above the beach. The most perfect moment was locking eyes with an eagle that was floating on the same air current as us and feeling as free while we had the same view from flying. Given the money and opportunity, I could easily form an addiction to this particular adventure sport, above all others.
Sadly, finances didn't allow me to soar over the beach and sea all day every day, and the heat was so brutal on Thursday that we spent most of the daylight hours alternating between the pool (which was like a too-hot bath, and only refreshing when getting out of it) and the air-conditioned room. Luckily at 5pm Emily (who actually has initiative and inertia, which we were both lacking) encouraged us to join her at an open-air rooftop yoga class on the cliff. Who needs Enya CDs when you can hear waves crashing on the sand below you? The view of palm trees was certainly better than the whitewashed walls of Lewisham Leisure Centre, where I normally do yoga. After 90 minutes of breathing, stretching and posing (including a few minutes of jealousy at Patrick's ability to hold a good headstand), I felt invigorated and inspired to find a yoga session in every city- surely especially useful after long drive days.
Today - our last full day in Varkala - was really special. Before flying to India, mom put me in touch with a friend she knew from when they lived in Nigeria, working as teachers 40 years ago. The Matthews live just over 40km from Varkala, so this morning Patrick and I steeled ourselves for our first journey via Indian public bus. We needn't have worried- once it actually departed (50 minutes behind schedule), the ride was docile enough, and blessedly air-conditioned. I'd looked at Google maps while still on WiFi, so the map stayed up even without internet, and through a combination of staring intently at business signs (which occasionally include town names) and following along Highway 47 on the phone's map, we managed to jump off the bus at just the right spot, and then walk 2km to the Matthews' beautiful home. London living has apparently warped my sense of house sizes, because it felt like a mansion to me, though Sosa insisted it was very small compared to her children's homes in the US. Even though Sosa hadn't seen mom in decades, she and her husband gave us an incredibly warm welcome. Sosa had cooked up an absolute feast of typical Keralan food from the local Syrian Christian community. I wish my stomach was big enough to manage third and fourth helpings of everything, but sadly anatomy halted my feasting after round 2. The 4 of us barely made a dent! Eating with locals is the best way to know what goes with what, and how to eat properly. We never knew poppadoms should be crumbled over the mixed vegetables! Dessert was Baskin Robbins ice cream (very popular in India!) and a cake made by a local cult, who also have a bakery. They may be very insular (and a bit deluded, as they left the body of their first leader on a roof, thinking he would rise up, as he claimed to be the reincarnated Christian god), but they can bake!
Sosa told us about growing up in Alleppey (growing rice, raising cows and buffalo, and cooking for 30 people every day, between the large family and day labourers!), the 28 years she and her husband spent in eight different cities in Nigeria, and their life back in India, living in Sreekalyum since the late 1990s. Their children and some of Sosa's siblings moved to America and have become wildly successful. She has family in Nebraska, Florida and Illinois, all doing very well, and it sounds like their grandchildren (now in high school and university) are very clever with bright futures ahead too. Due to their advancing age and deteriorating health, they want to be close to family and have made the difficult decision to sell their home in Kerala and move to Omaha. Sosa's sadness at losing the community of friends in the neighbourhood of the home she's lived in the last 20 years was obvious, and she's putting off the move to the US for a few more months. I feel so fortunate to have been put in touch with such warm and kind people, and to have met them at their wonderful Kerala home. 56 years of marriage looks good!
They generously paid for a Tuk-Tuk driver friend to take us to Thiruvananthapuram (formerly known by its admittedly simpler colonial name Trivandrum) where we were dropped off at the railway station. Once we'd successfully purchased tickets, we stepped out of the booking office just in time to see the heavens open and we experienced our first Indian rainfall. Genteel London drizzle it is not, but neither was it monsoon level. After over a month of dryness, the smell of rain was gorgeous and provided a cool breeze for our 45 minute train journey back to Varkala. What a lovely way to end our week in Kerala, "God's own country."
So pleased you met the Mathews and that they are enjoying life - always the most wonderful hosts and good neighbors.
ReplyDeleteHi there! I'm one of Sosa's grandchildren in the US. What a wonderful blog you have- she just told me about it and your visit! Best of luck with the remainder of your trip.
ReplyDeleteGreat post, do you have any details for the paragliding?
ReplyDeleteThanks in advance!