As if this trip can’t get any better, it does. My world has been blown up, for I have lived one of the most amazing experiences of my life. After a two-hour train ride on the infamous Indian rails, Sebastian and I arrived to Alapuzha, a town north of Trivandrum, to go on a daylong boat trip. Commonly referred to Kerala’s “backwaters,” Alapuzha is a tropical village of shady trees built around a lattice of canals spilling into vast highways of water. It is the epicenter for renting houseboats. After a short drive, we reached our beautiful vessel, befittingly called Glory.
The boat, designed like a kettuvallam or rice barge, was made of jack-wood planks joined together with coir and coated with a black resin made from boiled cashew kernels. Not a single nail was used during construction. I felt as though I stepped into a large braided wicker basket. It was a floating five star hotel, complete with lakefront seats for scenic viewing, a dining table for meals, an air-conditioned bedroom, and a modern bathroom. A portion of the kettuvallam was utilized for the kitchen and crew’s sleeping quarters. Ol’ Glory came with a staff of three, a chef, a captain, and one assistant, who greeted us with fresh coconuts filled with juice.
At precisely noon, we departed from the dock to embark on our overnight journey. For the first several hours, we sat in amazement at the stunning landscape. Absolutely breathtaking was the stillness of the palm-fringed lake, set against the piercing brilliant blue sky and the verdant green carpet of vegetation. The air was so fresh and the silence was tangible. Being that it was my first opportunity to sunbathe, I sprawled myself on the cushions alongside the boat and soaked up the rays, completely addicted to the warmth. We laggardly reclined on chairs, talking and dreaming, reading books and playing endless games of backgammon.
Lunch was prepared and served with traditional Keralan variety and spice. Twelve dishes to choose from, including chicken and fish curries, rice, red spinach called cheera, seasoned string beans, and dahl. Sebastian, being a native, and I a neophyte to Indian cooking, both agreed that it was the best meal we had EVER eaten. A bold statement but the absolute truth. We drank toddy, a fermented coconut alcoholic beverage made fresh and purchased from a local hut off the river. With full bellies and busting hearts, we continued to drift slowly on our exotic barge.
In the later part of the afternoon when the sun started to slip and the heat subsided, we docked the boat next to the boundless rice patties fields to take a canoe ride down the smaller grids of tributaries. Crossing through a stone arch passageway, we entered into a secret, enchanted land.
We meandered through narrow canals covered in floating grooves of lily pads. Palm trees hovering over the water created a canopy of shade and succulent breeze. The sun cast a prismatic glow on the wild green growth. The canoe passed through a small town, where the vitality of the fresh, flowing water became evident. Old men in moondas lathered up, squatting women scrubbed pots, children waded freely. Daily life and routine, from chore work to families gathering in their front yards, was visible as we sat, drifting. I left my body, left my mind and became connected to the environment as in a moving meditative state. The presence of God, of the divine life force was palpable. The hairs on the back of my neck were electrified. Never have I felt so close to omnipresence of spirit. The stillness was magical.
We arrived back at our boat in just enough time to savor the sunset over a bottle of chilled red wine. Again, speechlessness befell us both at the sheer magnitude, grandeur and appreciation for this gift. A blazing orange sun, larger than I have ever seen, slowly sank behind the ocean of green rice patties, eclipsed by the bending coconut trees. The contrast of color, combined with the rippling sound of water created a moment of pure tranquility and utter peace.
Dinner was provided with the same authentic flare and abundance as lunch. The colossal prawns we purchased from a local fisherman earlier in the day were crisply fried and seasoned, begging to be devoured. We feasted on a multitude of local vegetables, fruits and seafood until our bellies, rotund and satisfied, could not fit another morsel. We slept soundly, deeply, as the boat gently rocked afloat the waters, protected by the mosquito netting surrounding the bed. I felt youthfully playful, as if the net was a fort and we were securing our perimeter from any pesky, flying invaders.
Our faithful crew beckoned us early, around 6am for a sunrise meal. The newness and placidity of the morning invigorated my being. The air, clean and cool, awoke my senses. I felt rested, restored, wholesomely balanced as the magnificent sun rose, blooming the sky in soft shades of pink.
Still full from the previous night’s dinner, we dabbled in an exquisitely delicious breakfast and enjoyed the warm sweetness of local coffee. Heading back to the dock, Sebastian and I were a bit melancholy; although we enjoyed and appreciated every second of our voyage, time sped by in a fury, leaving us with the memories and the lingering love for the backwaters of Kerala.
