Our home stay in the backwaters.

Many hundreds of years ago the Kerelan Backwaters was a river delta. Early settlers recognised the fertility of the land and started building mud walls around bits of dry ground to protect them from incoming tides and high water times. Over the centuries the landscape that we can see now evolved. There are many large islands with large canals in between. The houseboats cruise up and down these canals. The island that we stayed on had a population of 6,000 and our village had 1,000 people living there.

On our island the population were mainly farmers growing rice (2 crops per year, the backwaters are the rice bowl of Kerela) and coconuts. The coconut trees also help to stabilise the mud walls which protect the rice fields as well as producing a valuable crop. Every Keralan meal has coconut in it somewhere. Other islanders were fishermen and everybody seemed to have a fishing line in the water all of the time.

The level of the rice fields is 2.5metres below the level of the canals and they have to be continually pumped out to keep them from flooding. Originally, pumping out was done with manually powered water wheels but now the locals are eternally grateful to the British for providing them with Archemedes Screw pumps. After many decades, the British pumps are still there, now powered by electricity. Between harvests the living is easy and the pace of life is very slow and laid back. People simply eat what they can grow in their fields and gardens or catch in the canals. A bit like Jimmy and Jacque.

We crossed to our island on a large, ancient, wooden canoe. It took two goes to get all of us and our luggage over. Now for the eagerly awaited allocation of rooms. There were 3 new houses and 1 old one. Guess who was put in the old one. It was full of character, I kept reminding Susan. It had been built by the present owner's father 82 years ago in a traditional Kerelan style. In a district where the lowest ever recorded temperature is 19 degrees C, the lack of AC in our bedroom was likely to be a problem. However, since none of the windows had any glass in them we were guaranteed lots of fresh air.

Mathew and his wife had prepared a lovely fish lunch and he sat at our table to make sure that we enjoyed every mouthful. When any bowl showed signs of getting near the bottom he would scuttle off to the kitchen to have it refilled.

In the early evening we were taken on an island tour by Thomas who was the head man in our village. He showed us the mud walls, various methods of fishing (including with a bow and arrow), took us for a ride on a river bus, told us about coconut trees (they live till they are over 80, every part can be used and are almost a member of the family) and showed us the pumps. We walked through the rice fields at sunset and along the banks of the smaller canals until we came to a seriously big canoe. 23 of us, including 2 to paddle fitted into it. A water snake swam off as we pushed off into the pitch dark. As we entered the main canal Thomas started singing a Kerelan folk song, very softly at first then growing in volume as his confidence grew. The paddlers picked up the simple chorus and after a few verses we all joined in too. The stars came out in their full splendour. A few more folk songs recounting tails of unrequited love went down very well and then, since this was the groups last night together, a few verses of Auld Lang Syne. It was a magical moment - one of the highlights of the tour.

On our return Mathew and his wife had our evening meal prepared - it was similar to the lunchtime meal but with chicken replacing fish. I had noticed that there was one less chicken running around outside. After a group party at one of the new houses, where I had the foresight to consume a couple of substantial rums, it was off to bed. Lying on top of the cot in the heat, the rums soon worked their magic and I was off to sleep. Sleep didn't come so easily to poor Susan, however, as she lay panicking over every buzzing and scraping noise. I awoke refreshed with only one overnight bite, poor Susan had 13 bites.

We stayed on in the backwaters the next morning as we were catching an afternoon train to Varkala, our final stop and chill out resort.

We bade a fond farewell to our travelling companions with whom we had enjoyed and endured to much. We spent the morning having our own private cruise on the backwaters and after a delightful lunch with Thomas (back to fish) it was off to the train station to find our 3rd class, non AC seats on the express.