Discovering South India: Tamil Nadu and Kerala (page 6 of 8)

Day 18. Second day in Kochi

Today we decided to explore Mattancherry, the old spice-trading district, with its centerpiece "Jew Town" and the ancient Pardesi synagogue. But first, the morning was dedicated to visiting a temple in the modern city. A temple... of consumerism! The famous "Seematti" stores, spread over six floors in a rather luxurious contemporary-style building. The kingdom of clothing and fashion, shopping paradise. Our reactions were very gendered. The girls were all excited, in their element. Busy as bees, they explored, dug through, sorted, evaluated, felt the fabrics, asked to try things on. Bruno and I, more awkward, needed some time to adapt. We moved cautiously through the aisles. Okay, I still bought four shirts... Nearly three hours later, we finally stepped back into the fresh air, a bit dazed.



We took the ferry to leave Ernakulam (that’s the name of modern Kochi) and head to the historic center of Mattancherry. The neighborhood is very touristy, but the atmosphere is peaceful, and the shopkeepers are only moderately pushy. We went inside to visit the lovely 17th-century wooden synagogue. The Jews of Kochi contributed greatly to the city’s prosperity, but the community has now dwindled to just a few dozen people, even though the synagogue is still active as a place of worship.





We had planned to attend a Kathakali performance, that ancient theatrical art of mime, masks, and dance, but the hour was already late, and we were far from our accommodation. A bit tired too. With regret, we decided to skip it.

The girls are in their element, buzzing with excitement. They explore, dig through, sort, evaluate, feel the fabrics, and ask to try things on. Bruno and I, feeling a bit out of place, need some time to adjust. We move cautiously through the aisles.

Six floors of dresses, shirts, blouses, jewelry, saris, and fabrics! Nathalie and I suffered a brain overload that could’ve ended in a frustration-induced trip to Kochi Hospital if the shop assistants hadn’t patiently waited for 2.5 hours outside the fitting rooms. Yes, Richard, we scored some great deals! And you didn’t miss out either with those shirts. Just a reminder—you bought 6 for 22 €. Tempting, right?

... if the guys hadn’t waited 2h30

2h30 of standing still really thickens a person up. 😛

Day 19. A day with the Red Lady and Marco. Small pleasures of everyday life on vacation.

We’re still based quite far from Cochin, more than a two-hour round trip. Why not make the most of today with the Red Lady, her host, and the surroundings?

The morning is dedicated to buying spices in the village. Marco will be our guide and advisor. We set off with him—Bruno on the back of his motorcycle, and us in a tuk-tuk… rickshaw? We arrive at a small square surrounded by shops in a very local atmosphere. Marco seems well-known; he speaks to the shopkeepers in fluent Malayalam—at least, that’s how it sounds to me. The different spices are stored in bulk in canvas sacks. Star anise, cardamom, ginger, turmeric, cinnamon, pepper… A visual and olfactory feast. At the next shop, we buy raw sugar in the form of balls, which you have to grate to sprinkle on a dish.



On the way back, Marco offers me a ride on the back of his bike. It’s fine—he’s careful and drives slowly. Over the noise of the engine, I start a little conversation with him. He seems very concerned about whether we’re happy with his accommodation and hospitality. Despite his experience, he seems unsure. Four people with such different personalities and maybe conflicting expectations… I reassure him—everything’s great. “You know, we’re pretty easy to read…” He agrees.

The morning’s barely started, and we’ve got time to head to the beach, just ten minutes away. It’s really nice to dip into water this warm without any effort. In the Mediterranean—at least on the Aude coast—the water’s often cold when the north wind blows. And it blows often.







The afternoon is reserved for Ayurvedic massages. Marco had suggested the day before that we take advantage of the skills of one of his acquaintances, who, according to him, had mastered the art of massage. Kate, Nathalie, and Bruno accept enthusiastically. I decline, taught by last year’s experience in Jaipur, where the masseur had tortured my body more than relaxed it. Judging by my friends’ body language, their blissful smiles, and dilated pupils after the session, I must say I regret my skepticism.

Late afternoon. We go for a walk by the lagoon, just a few steps from the house. Here too, we’re in the backwaters. A beautiful moment shared by the four of us on a small dock, in front of these calm waters changing colors in the fading light. A heron lands gracefully on a rope, a fisherman’s boat glides silently. We joke—I don’t remember what about—but I feel we’re in harmony, in a peaceful and shared moment. I know then, despite the little tensions inherent in any shared adventure, that our trip has been a success. Perfect, it’s apéro time!





I’ve read on forums that some travelers avoid staying with French hosts. Too easy, too far from Indian realities, not immersive enough. I get that, but staying with someone who’s lived in India for 30 years can be really interesting for learning more about the people who live here. Marc tells us about his life, his relationship with the Tamil family living with him, his perception of India and Indians. It’s his story, his feelings—necessarily subjective—but valuable for grasping even a little of the country’s complexity. One last word about the explanation of the name “the Red Lady.” Marc didn’t tell us directly, but I found the answer on the site lepetitjournal.com. It’s actually a Tamil expression referring to the sunburned skin of European women who’ve spent too much time in the sun.

Tomorrow, the countdown to our return begins. Domestic flight to Chennai/Madras before taking the long-haul flight back to France.

I wonder, Kate: isn’t this the kind of thing you find stunning in person but ends up staying in the closet at home because you never find the right occasion to wear it? Yeah, yeah, experience talking here 😄.

And thanks for these gorgeous portraits 😊

Day 20. Chennai, waiting for the overnight flight

We arrived in Chennai in the early afternoon. We have a day and a half ahead of us before catching the Lufthansa flight in the middle of the following night. The taxi from the airport takes us through areas of extreme poverty. Slums littered with trash and misery. We’d almost forgotten—India holds within it vast territories of immense precarity that are, of course, inaccessible to us, and which we have no desire to explore. We’re staying at a guesthouse, Friendlystay an Home Stay and Elite, in a neighborhood that’s certainly quiet but *very* far from the city center. How to wrap up the trip? A little more of India?

Nathalie, ever the go-getter, suggests visiting the "Kapaleeshwarar" temple dedicated to Shiva, right in the heart of the city. An hour’s taxi ride… I’m just not feeling it. Yet, as soon as we arrive in the space around the sanctuary, the energy of the place reawakens me. Going to the ticket counter, taking off our shoes… The contact with the ground… In the fading light, I feel at ease among my friends and all these people coming to perform their devotions. In this vast temple with its magnificent colors and delicate sculptures, I feel at home in a world that’s completely foreign to me—one I don’t actually understand. Of course, I’m not naive. It’s the magic of India, and I let it take hold of me…







An interminable (!) return trip to our accommodation. It’s rush hour—workers migrating home. A sea of people in traffic, all heading back. Classic in big cities. But from the depths of our taxi, I watch how everyone manages their impatience—understandable as it is—with detachment. It’s not the gaze of a well-meaning tourist who thinks everything’s better elsewhere. It’s a lived reality. Sure, horns blare from every direction, but somehow, the bloodstream of traffic, which should clot and cause accidents, manages to stay fluid. It’s baffling to us, yet it’s the reality. At one point, our taxi, diverted for who-knows-why, ends up stuck in a narrow street. A tricky standoff looms with another large taxi coming the opposite way. The Parisian way? Shouting, fury—will it pass? No, it won’t. But then, it *does* pass, smoothly no less. Honestly, given how narrow the street was, I’ve no idea how they pulled it off. We clap like fools…

Off to bed. Tomorrow’s our last day in India…

I wonder, Kate: isn’t this the kind of thing you fall in love with on the spot but then ends up in the closet at home because you never find the right occasion to wear it?

Uh... Yeah, yeah, like costume parties or an Indian wedding... I mean, 80% of my purchases are gifts (that’ll probably end up in other people’s closets 😉).

J18. Second day in Kochi

The girls are all excited in their element.

A bit late, but can we still write this in 2025? 😄 🤪 Okay, Ms. Rousseau will be thrilled, and I’m heading back to my barbecue... 🏴‍☠️

I’m a bit late, but can we still write this in 2025?

Don’t care ‘cause I’m sure Sandrine doesn’t read VF

how to put it, the blood flow of traffic that should clot and cause vascular accidents manages to stay fluid.

how to put it... sometimes things just work out? 🙂 And by the end of the trip, you can relax and play with the metaphor.

And at the end of the trip, release the pressure and tease the metaphor.

😉😄

Day 20. Final emotions?

Ending a trip... We often want a grand finale, but it’s not always possible. Chennai must surely be an interesting city to discover, but time is short and the call of the airport—especially when you know the story is coming to an end—grows more insistent. We still have a long day ahead, though, before surrendering, in the dead of night, to the wings of Lufthansa.

A lovely 17th-century Armenian church, streets bustling with cows and artisans at work, a trip to Marina Beach, a bit of shopping to wrap things up...









No point insisting. Chennai eludes us. It’s time to go home.

Our final emotions, though, will come from the young taxi driver who takes us to the airport. He’s the same one who drove us to our guesthouse when we arrived from Kochi. He drops us off for dinner in a rather sterile place along a big avenue heading toward the airport. The room is empty, but it’s early—barely 7 p.m. We eat dishes delicately and deliciously spiced, served on banana leaves. The young man chats with us, explaining precisely what each dish contains and how to enjoy it. He’s warm, eager to connect with us, sincere, yet also focused on making his business a success. Nothing unusual about that. He shakes our hands warmly as he unloads our suitcases. That will be our last Indian smile.

Day 21. Bye bye India!

February 2, 2025... With our suitcases barely put away, I start writing this travel journal, which is both a travelogue and a personal diary. It’s important for me and for the group to do this. We need to anchor the memories of our recent past in the present and near future. To give meaning to the experience of a trip, I believe this necessary time for reflection is essential—almost, I’d say, using a metaphor that suits India, like rumination. It’s also important for Kate, who enjoys sharing her photos and working with me on this stimulating four-handed exercise.

This was our second trip to India as a group of four. Which one did we prefer? The one in Rajasthan, with its architectural splendors, its exuberant population, its pushy merchants, and its urban chaos? Or the more peaceful journey through Tamil Nadu and Kerala, with their colorful temples filled with devotion, their tropical softness, and their lush green landscapes? Each of us has our own feelings about it. The debate we had in the car on the way back to Béziers remained unresolved. For my part, I preferred the south, especially Tamil Nadu, where I felt more like a traveler than a tourist.

Rereading my last sentences, I realize I’ve strung together clichés like beads! But as I said in the conclusion of my first travel journal, we’ve only scratched the surface of the elephant. Even if this time the caress was deeper, the pachyderm’s hide is thick, and there are so many other Indias left to discover... Will we come back again? Nathalie, the eternal student, would happily triple her "India class." Kate is dreaming of Laos and Cambodia. Bruno and I are tempted by both options. Like Du Bellay’s Ulysses, who was happy to return home after his beautiful journey, we’re probably glad to be back—but our only desire is to leave again.

Small informative guide... (domestic flight with Indigo between Cochin and Chennai)

but we only have one desire: to leave again.

... and not leave without looking back on the promise of a return.

Beautiful stories never truly end. They continue elsewhere, unfolding in new ways...

There’s still so much left to discover in India or elsewhere. But India will always remain an extraordinary country. I’ve been wandering around there for many years, and every time I’m amazed and keep discovering wonderful places.

It was once again a real pleasure following your travel journal. Thanks to all four of you, and looking forward to the next one!

Thanks so much, Richard, for this beautiful, emotion-filled post, and Kate for these stunning photos... I can’t get enough of travel journals like this one! 😊

Love those photos of the families by the water, Kate! It’s true that with those brightly colored saris, they’re so photogenic ;)

Go back again? Nathalie, the good bad student, would happily triple her India class. Kate is dreaming of Laos and Cambodia. Bruno and I are tempted by both options.

Let’s meet up in a few months to see which country finally won us over! 😉

Go back again? Nathalie, the perennial overachiever, would happily triple her India class. Kate’s got her heart set on Laos and Cambodia. Bruno and I are torn between both options.

So, let’s catch up in a few months to see which country ultimately won us over! 😉

Agnès, think we can vote on this?