I sit in the front lounge/dining room of Mathew's house, at Green Palms Homestay. The smell of fresh curry leaves in hot coconut oil wafts past my nose from the kitchen at the back of the house.
One side of the lounge is almost completely open. Two columns that stretch from floor to ceiling frame a generous entranceway. On either side are low walls, about knee height. The rest is fresh air, affording me a view of a garden filled with shrubs, flowers, mango and passion fruit trees.
Everywhere there is life. Songbirds call to each other through the trees. A chicken scratches in the gravel. Every once in a while a rooster calls, starting up a chain of replies, echoing from bank to bank up the river. I can hear rhythmic sounds of someone working the soil. Every once in a while comes the thud of an overripe mango falling to the ground after the heavy rain of last night. Today the sun shines. Out of the corner of my eye I see it falls directly on the hanging laundry I abandoned to the monsoon yesterday.
Green Palm Homes is a clutch of large houses and small cottages in Chennamkary, on the banks of one of the many rivers that carve islands out of the backwater. Each of the three houses holds a family and includes a number of extra rooms for the guests that stay with them.
At present, it is low season and there is only one guest here in addition to Alice and me. We are told that the place can accommodate up to 40 people at peak times. It's so peaceful and relaxed here that I feel fortunate to have arrived when we did.
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| The entrance to Green Palm Homes |
Thomas and Mathew are two brothers and our hosts: Thomas is considered and softly spoken; Mathew is a little younger and more forthright. Both are excellent hosts and never tire of telling us, often with surprising candour, about the history and daily life of this part of South Kerela. It's a real privilege to gain this kind of insight into the local culture.
Their mum, Anna, cooks three outstanding meals a day for us. We are lucky enough to watch her work in the kitchen. She also takes us on a tour of the garden, showing us the curry, tamarind, allspice, vanilla, and cinnamon , that are amongst the dizzying array of plants growing here.
The food is delicious and plentiful. Whenever a bowl of curry looks in danger of being finished, it is removed and replaced with a full one. We eat chicken stews, water buffalo curry, all kinds of coconut-based treats, chapati, puri and paratha. I tell myself that eating enough for three is the only sensible thing to do - who knows when I'll be able to sample this sort of food again?
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| Before |
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| After |
The pace of life here is relaxed, and we are taking things slowly even by local standards. We take a few walks along river banks and paddy fields, read, eat and chill out. Alice and I take a long canoe out by ourselves. After being told to stick close to the bank to avoid ferries and massive houseboats, we promptly paddle uncontrollably into the middle of the water way. I am the captain and completely to blame. I hear Anna shouting "Andy! Andy! Andeeeeey!" frantically from the bank as she watches us disappear. I hope we didn't worry her too much. After the comedy start, we get the canoe under control and spend an excellent couple of hours paddling around the waterways, watching kingfishers swoop close to the water's surface. Slightly bemused locals wave to us from the banks.
The rivers and canals are the lifeblood of this part of Kerala. All along the water, people are bathing and beating their laundry clean on flat rocks. Peddlers paddle from bank to bank, selling fruit and fresh fish.
One morning, Thomas takes us for an early walk. He points out local flora and fauna, describes the local technique of stitching wooden boats together with coconut fibres. The coconut trees are essential to local life - they provide food, oil, fibre and are a fast-growing cash crop, harvested continuously, unlike the rice paddies that only produce two crops a year.
Coconut flowers produce the infamous toddy. Tappers climb the trees to extract it and supply the local toddy parlours. When fresh, it is sweet and the strength of beer. If you leave it in a bottle for a day it ferments and becomes bitter and much strongers. Thomas arranges for somefresh toddy at breakfast. Much giggling ensues.
In the evenings after school, Thomas' daughters - Anna and Anneena - often scamper over and talk to us. I sometimes wonder who the tourists are. Anneena hijacks our camera. Alice is going to upload some of the videos to her blog, along with more pictures of our stay here. As I type this, they are teaching Alice to dance.
Tomorrow we're off to Alleppey for 2 nights, before catching the train to Chennai. I'll be sad to leave.
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