I did it! I’m on the plane. What can I say? Despite having done something similar four years ago, it already feels an altogether new experience.

For starters, I cried at the airport. It is normal for the people you leave behind to cry (they are staying behind while you go and have a wonderful holiday /adventure!) but I quite surprised myself. It started in the car park of the airport, while I hugged my little doggy goodbye. Then tears flowed as I said goodbye to my family. Jeez! What an emotional bugger I have become! Whatever happened to the traveller who was so used to goodbyes that she would simply grin a “See you somewhere, sometime?” Obviously, it is clear, things change and people change. And I know I am not going back to India – rather, I am going again to India... the past is forever gone and only new experience lies ahead. Bring it on!

On the plane I watch a programme about beautiful minds. It turns out that most prodigies appear to have something missing rather than something extra in their brain function – a diminished filtering of the external environment by the brain. I find myself contemplating that maybe that is the whole point with India – why it inspires so many poets, painters, writers, musicians... and why so many people return again and again. In order to positively absorb the experience, one must accept that ‘Everything is possible in India’. This lack of discrimination between what is and isn’t acceptable, important or worthwhile results in heightened creativity and spontaneity (so the documentary said) – a re-acquisition of the inner-child?

Oops, it looks like I am trying to explain the unexplainable, pinch me! Despite having been there so many times before, India just mystifies me!

30 January

Wow – what a trip! We took off at 2.50pm Malta time and I land in Kochi at 8.55am India time – I am four-and-a-half hours ahead in terms of time-zone, so it is really only 4.30am in Malta. I have not slept at all. How on earth do people manage to sleep on planes? Fourteen hours, three of which I spent in the jaw-dropping Dubai transit terminal. Usually the contrast I experience before landing in tropical south India is snow in Frankfurt, but this time it is the material extravagance of Dubai airport!

Kochi airport is unimpressive compared with my memory of Mumbai airport. It is much more modern for starters, and cleaner. But one thing is just the same... it is packed with people. It takes about an hour to get through passport control to baggage claim. When I get to the conveyor belt, it is empty. Have they not unloaded yet? After some minutes standing around, my eyes slowly absorb the sight of rows upon rows of suitcases of all shapes, sizes, and degrees of wear and tear lying in one corner – that is where all the luggage is! Luckily my baggage-hunt is successful.

I proceed to the exit where I change money. One measly e100 traveller’s cheque (still commonly used in India and recommended as ATMs are not always readily available) returns me a wad of rupee notes an inch thick! With Rs5475 in my pocket, I am now officially rich! The people at the Tourist Information centre at the airport are extremely helpful, as though I am the first tourist they have met in ages, which I know is not the case. I hand over the entry form at the exit and book a pre-paid taxi to take me to the city-centre – Rs466 (about Lm4).

I head straight to the Ernakulam Junction train station in an attempt to make a reservation.

“Which country madam?” my taxi driver Joseph asks, looking at me through the mirror wearing a big smile beneath his moustache. I am amused by his fitting name. Kerala, nick-named God’s Own Country – with posters and banners in big bright letters advertising it as such scattered all over the place – is a predominantly Christian State.

Due to torrential rains in the 1340s the Periyar River broke through to the Arabian Sea and formed Kochi’s protected harbour, which became an important trading port. Kochi itself was established as the crossroads of the battling empires of Europe – the Portuguese, Dutch and British. Several European Jews had also settled here fleeing persecution, so a Jew town with a four-century old Synagogue still remains although all but four families have since moved away. Hindus and Muslims also cohabit within this intermingle of cultures, making “God’s Own Country” not only a term denoting the sheer beauty of the state, but also the combination of religious practice.

Joseph and I have the usual conversation involving country, name and marital status, which is reminiscent of my past travels in India, as are the sights whizzing past my window... and I nod off with a smile on my face. “Sleeping?” Joseph’s voice brings me back. I am at the train station, but within minutes I realise I cannot get the reservation I’d hoped for – I am too late, and this particular train runs only weekly.

I dream longingly for a bed and a shower for a brief minute and jump into a three-wheeler motor-rickshaw to the main jetty, where I am sure to find some suitable accommodation. I can safely say that unless you are dealing with a four- or five- star hotel in India, reservations are utterly useless. Besides the fact that most places which provide accommodation have no star-rating system at all, attempted reservations are simply no guarantee that a room will be reserved for you. “A bird in the hand is better than two in the bush” seems to be a favourite Indian way-to-go. It is simpler to walk into a place and ask if they have a free room, see it, and haggle a price on the spot. That way you know what you are

getting for your money too.

I am lucky and make a reasonable deal at the first guesthouse I try. I fill the bucket in the bathroom with water and pour water over my head with the jug – I must admit I thoroughly enjoy a bucket-shower and choose to ignore the shower attachment completely. I conk out on the bed but wake up shortly after with an insane itchy feeling all over my body. Did I obtain a bed complete with bed-bugs? It takes minutes to realise that a couple of vampire-mosquitoes were feasting on me while I was comatose – big red blotches all over my arms and a familiar whine gave them away. With no repellent at hand I decide to get dressed and hit the town. I look in the mirror and notice the buggers have given me three large red spots on my forehead and one even bigger spot on my left cheek. Nasty! On my way out I point to my blotches and ask the owner, “Kerala, malaria?” “No, no!” he replies. “Good!” I grin, and go along...

I walk to the main jetty and take a boat across to the historic Fort Cochin area. I want to see the Synagogue, the palace, and the Chinese fishing nets – remnants of Kochi’s once thriving trade links with China. I pay two rupees 50 paesa for a 20-minute ferry-ride in a boat holding twice its capacity. Kerala is really quite beautiful – palm trees everywhere! On the other side, a rickshaw-wallah, Babu, becomes my personal driver, but he is rather stubborn and keeps wanting to stop me to have a look at various shops selling Kashmiri carpets and objets d’art and the spice market (Kochi’s famed trade). When I refuse to stop for “just looking” at any of them, he sulks. I apologise (I am not sure why I need to!) but I still have in mind to get on that train tonight despite not having a reservation for a sleeper-bunk for the 13-hour journey, so my time is limited if I want to do a spot of sight-seeing!

Temperamental Babu takes me to the famous Mattanchery Palace where I see the royal palanquins, weapons, robes and beautiful murals of ancient Hindu epics painted in vegetable dyes, which are in dire need of restoration. Rather than restore them, they choose to copy the outlines on paper and display these alongside the originals. Strange system, because the originals will eventually fade forever, but I am nonetheless impressed at the modern artist’s ability to reproduce the works as he sits there, with a smile beneath his moustache. By the way, all Keralan men wear a moustache. I am not sure why. But I have not seen a single one without. And I have received more smiles from strangers today than I would in a whole month in Europe. One of those heavenly aspects of God’s Own Country I guess...

Due to Babu’s insistence at visiting various places-of-non-interest, I am just one minute late for entry into the Synagogue. What to do? I choose to shrug and head to the next place. The Chinese Fishing Nets are quite impressive – and I am surprised to see that the huge old structures are still in use! A walk-about makes me realise I have had nothing to eat all day, so I enjoy a simple meal of Vegetable Pulao and a sweet lassi (curd-drink) in a roof-top restaurant as the sky is changing colours in the sunset.

Sitting there I recall from four years previously, walking in knee-deep water through the capital Trivandrum, flooded from the early monsoon rains; and the traditional Kathakali performance (an ancient form of dance) I attended in Varkala, a beach resort set high on a cliff; and the lush-green back-waters cruise from Kollam to Alappuzha.

This and more Kerala has to offer, but not this time for me.

I am ready to move on, straight to my first destination. But first I must find a way onto that train!

Melanie Drury’s diary of her visit to India started on 22 January

Episode 3 due: 19 February.

www.melaniedrury.com; [email protected]

Kerala State – Fact File

Location: the southwest coast of India. Dimensions: approx. 550 km long and 120 km wide. Geography: separated from the south-eastern state of Tamil Nadu by mountains. Population: approx. 32 million. Language: Malayalam. Capital: Thiruvananthapuram (Trivandrum). Climate: tropical. Best time to visit: December to May. Airports: Thiruvananthapuram, Kochi, Kozhikode. Seaport: Kochi. Interesting facts: Kerala is the the Indian State with the highest population-density, but also the highest literacy and involvement in sciences and the arts. It is overall very clean and offers a high standard of living.