Four Seasons

Once a summer retreat for the British, Kerala’s principal tea-growing region is inhabited by thousands of pickers who tend to the delicate green leaves that carpet every hillock. In the heat of summer, cobras slither out of their wet holes and drape themselves like wayward ribbons upon the bushes. But now I could be in the Scottish Highlands, unable to see my hand a few inches before me because of the thick swathe of mist that deposited droplets upon my woollen sleeve, as I searched for a room. Munnar’s popularity as a weekend getaway has caused a spurt in hotels. I needed hot water and a television, but a Swedish couple averse to all things electric made for a private cottage deep in the hills where they confided, they intended to read and drink Kanan Devan’s finest all day.

One of the few colonial structures here is Christ’s Church, a stone building caretakered by a kind old man who was my guide. Stained glass windows and carefully burnished surfaces inside, and a verdant cemetery outside add a calm beauty to this corner of town. But Munnar will be best enjoyed by keen walkers and nature enthusiasts. Protected by a raincoat and gumboots, I hiked through plantations of pepper, cardamom, and coffee and Eravikulam National Park for some Nilgiri Tahr (mountain goat) spotting. You can also book a jeep tour, which includes halts at Top Station with a breathtaking view of the Ghats; South India’s highest peak Anamudi; and Thattekkad Bird Sanctuary where eagle eyes might spot woodpeckers, hornbills and the rare Sri Lankan frogmouth. For a breathtaking experience that will transport you into the cool confines of a South Indian temple, drive through the sandalwood forest of Maraiyur, 42 km from Munnar.

Several days later, I hopped on a bus to the watery canals of Alleppey for a weekend on a kettuvallom (rice barge); where, rumour had it, exertion meant reaching for the binoculars. Two things. With a poler, guide, cook and engine man present if rarely seen and never heard, you will not lack for company. Second, the riverbanks are a microcosm of town life—complex, active and vibrant. I passed people performing their daily ablutions, washing clothes, and hawking spices and coconuts. At times I felt as though I was taking a stroll through a bazaar, other moments were discomfiting in the extreme, like peeking through the window of a stranger’s house. But truly, the beauty of God’s Own Country is nowhere more visible than in this jigsaw of translucent river veins.

I had imagined that spending more than a few hours in a houseboat would be constricting. But this isn’t so. Besides reading and scarfing down seven-course meals, you can swim in the fresh water, bird watch, or ask to pull up at a village bank for an afternoon of exploration. The villagers I met were always welcoming and I was invited to pick through a spice garden, and watch as a mother and her two daughters spun sturdy ropes of coir from coconut husks. Traditional houses are painted a dull green and have a well and a prayer nook in the garden, while the ornate and brightly coloured homes belong to families whose men work in the Middle East.

My last stop is the antithesis of quiet Alleppey. The southern coastal village of Kovalam became a Mecca for European charter tourists in the 1990s, and is now the state’s equivalent of North Goa. It has great seafood, hotels for every budget and is famous for its courses in ayurvedic therapy. Although the sea does get choppy in the monsoons, most places remain open and visitors are few. Kovalam comprises a succession of beaches of which Lighthouse with its glitzy restaurants and bars is the most popular, and Samudra, devoid of shacks, is where I spent an entire day lounging. For a break from the beach hire a car or an Enfield Bullet, and explore the quiet fishing villages around. Pozhikkara is home to a community of Christian coir makers and Hindu fishermen, while Pachalloor allows convenient access to both the beaches and the backwaters. On the opposite end of the headland from Lighthouse Beach, Vizhinjam is home to several shrines dating to the 9th century; and the Agastya Hills with the artificial lake of the Neyyar Dam is a popular picnic spot. But don’t stray far, the forest nearby abounds with crocodiles and lions. So, at the end of the fortnight did I think I proved them wrong? Oh yes. I think so.