Arriving early morning at Kochi airport following the long flight from Manchester via Dubai, we were weary and quite wary of the many new experiences that we knew we would face during our two weeks in Kerala.

We quickly found our taxi driver standing at the arrivals area with our name written on his poster ready to whisk us off to Fort Kochi some three quarters of an hour or so away from the airport. We had booked our first two nights weeks earlier at Sajhome in Fort Kochi having read many positive reviews of his homestay and through emails he arranged this taxi driver for us. First impressions of the taxi driver were positive. He seemed humble and helpful as he greeted us and told us to wait until he got his taxi from the parking zone. Within a few minutes he was back with a tiny tin of a vehicle which the three of us - my wife and I and our ten year old daughter- squeezed into. Only enough space in the boot for one suitcase! The remaining two suitcases were hauled heavily onto the top of his clapped out taxi, roped down and covered with blue tarpaulin as a defence against the monsoon rains which suddenly started to beat down on us. The taxi would not have passed the most basic roadworthy inspection but here I was allowing my precious daughter to be transported in it for the next hour or so. Tried to ignore its obvious failings.

Off we lurched to discover that this initially mild man was in fact a bona fide lunatic once in control, if that be the correct word, of the steering wheel of this taxi. He was very space aware! If there was the slightest scintilla of an opportunity to attempt to overtake or undertake or throughtake, he went for it with a more than generous portion of gusto. And it was not a good idea for me to sit in the front passenger seat beside him as I was thinking too actively like a driver. I kept pressing the imaginary brake in front of me, staring in disbelief for the whole journey at his audacious antics. He tailgated every vehicle that he chased until he'd had enough and decided that it was time to dart past them whether it seemed possible or not. Too often, it wasn't possible and he was forced to abort the manoeuvre at the very, very last moment when a bus or huge truck thundered towards us as he careered suicidally around a blind bend towards our certain demise. This man was middle aged. How has he managed to get past his early twenties?

Apparently, the horn is used a few thousand times a month by the average driver as a method to inform other drivers and pedestrians of his or her intentions. There is a language of beeping with many inflections and nuances and by the time we arrived at Sajhome, our driver had used every variation and invented several new ones of his own, I would say. By the way, if Sadam Hussain had not been turfed up a few years ago and subsequently been throttled to death by his enemies, I would have had my suspicions that our mild but mad chauffeur was the very one and same Iraqian despot.

Anyway, somehow we arrived safe but shaken and stirred at Sajhome to be welcomed warmly by the owner and his entourage who carted off our luggage and led us up the steps above the ATM to our room. Quite a small cell for the three of us but clean and sufficient and reasonable as regards price. Certainly, I would recommend it to anyone on a budget. Reminded me of a bed and breakfast room in Blackpool I stayed at in the seventies with my mum and dad. Nowt flash but worth the rupees. Cheap and cheerful and far from charmless.

We were given a welcome breakfast which included the local brand of cornflakes, some coffee in peculiar glass goblets, a thick and unpleasant pineapple juice, toast and jam (though my daughter commented that it was more like jelly) and a strange version of scrambled egg. An unusual but satisfying breakfast except for the pineapple mush. Vive le difference!

Sleep for a while until we we were sufficiently energised to wander out on our own and unaided having successfully batted away Saj's initial sales pitch of an evening of traditional dancing with masks somewhere in Fort Kochi. May go to that when we return to Fort Kochi towards the end of our holiday. But we succumbed to his suggestion of a day trip tomorrow to the waterways -about an hour away- which includes motor and water transport and a vegetarian meal all for 500 rupees each, i.e. about £7.50! Weren't too keen on the 8.00 a.m. start. But c'est la vie!

So we went out into the streets and down the lanes with the intention of getting to where the fishermen stretch out their nets. The route was far from a beautiful one but pleasant enough if truth be told. Plenty to intrigue and stimulate the senses positively and negatively for us new arrivals.

We passed shanty like shops selling unsavoury looking pastries in display cabinets where flies flitted freely. We saw several religious buildings and strayed towards a parade field where hundreds of boys played several games of football with wild enthusiasm whilst some were more interested in wrestling in the huge pools of water that the monsoon season had brought with it.

Continuing down the lanes, we eventually arrived at a boarded walkway beside which a long line of small stalls were selling their this and thats. We were politely accosted several times but there was nothing we wanted to buy. It was early evening by now and the walkway was crowded with families out for their Sunday stroll and tourists from different parts of India. Hardly saw any whities like us! Several Indians came up to us and just wanted to say hello. One group of men who seemed in their early twenties asked if they could have several photos taken with us and each seemed delighted to have come across us. A little girl who told us that she was seven just came up to us to say hello and smile at us while her atherr, I presume, doted on her. This is a typical encounter.

Certainly, we were attracting a reverence which we don't deserve. But people's warmth towards us was delightful.

We stopped for a little while to watch groups of fishermen pulling in their huge nets out of the river. Crowds gathered to observe this traditional fishing method. To tell the truth, having read other visitors' accounts of this before hand I had expected the fishing to be a bit of a tourist con but I don't think it is. It still continues and is not specifically for the tourists although the fishermen will sensibly invite tourists to participate for a small fee. Why not!

As day was turning to night, we continued on the boardwalk for a while past vestiges of the past - broken port authority edifices from the late nineteen century, rotting benches bearing words which commemorated George VI's coronation on 12 May 1937 and cannons clutching on to falling fortified walls. And then further on through dark lanes past the jetties where ferries arrived from Ernakulam and again further on until we reached The Solar Cafe which offered organic food and drink. We yielded to temptation here. Pasta for Caitlin my daughter, porridge for me and a toasted cheese special for Alyson. Not very adventurous but early days!!!

I suppose it would have been wise to get a rickshaw back to Sajhome but we decided to walk through the darkened but safe back lanes -the only danger was being hit by a vehicle!- and we arrived tired but satisfied back in our room. A little time flicking through the channels on the TV just to see what was on. Some kind of Indian idol was one thing. But after a long first day we were soon asleep under the thin sheets as the air conditioning breezed away through the night.