Swoon river

Once a busy spice trading centre, the waterways surrounding the Indian region of Kerala have a lush beauty to take your breath away

AS FAR as the eye can see. It's a familiar phrase, but you've never grasped its true meaning until you've wound your way into Kerala on a southbound train. Sub-tropically lush, the region known as "the Venice of Asia" floors you with impossible-to-compute vistas of palm tree upon palm tree; a green, eye-tricking visual stretch that appears to go on forever.

It's probably Kerala's astonishing natural beauty that has seen the region become a buzzword for next-generation tourism in this new century - it scored highly in Conde Nast Traveller magazine's 2000 round-up of developing destinations. But while a few hours' wandering around the capital Kochi shows that the city is well-appointed for traveller-friendly hotels, the tourist infrastructure that elsewhere in the world sometimes threatens to drown out any local flavour remains pleasantly discreet.

The city - one of the largest ports in India - has already had a fair number of visitors in the past few hundred years; the Dutch, Portuguese and British have all swung by looking to explore, trade, colonise or simply plunder the natural resources. Maybe that's why one of the oldest parts of the city, Fort Cochin, is such a pleasing mish-mash of dilapidated architectural styles and influences. Originally the centre of Kerala's busy spice trade, the narrow streets still carry the odour of cardamom, cumin and turmeric, but exploring deeper, it turns out most of the old stone storage buildings are barely stocked with seasonings any more. Exotic spice was once more valuable than gold but - as one local entrepreneur explains to me while standing in the middle of a warehouse packed to the rafters with stone sculpture and crafted wood - it's far more profitable to export original Indian artefacts these days.

In a strange juxtaposition, just round the corner from the old spice centre is a Jewish synagogue dating back to 1658. For one rupee (roughly six pence), it's possible to slide off your sandals and enter the small but immaculately-kept place of worship. It turns out the cooling floor tiles were imported from China, which just adds to the strange, transportive but soothing atmosphere.

There's a sloping book store next door which has two different editions of The God Of Small Things, Arundhati Roy's Booker Prize- winning novel of 1997, which is set in Kerala. The book's worldwide critical success helped contextualise the region for a huge audience; illuminating the caste system and conveying how central the rivers and backwaters are to the area's everyday rhythms of life. Though obviously proud of the novel's reputation abroad, the shopkeeper takes time to point out that there are some who weren't particularly pleased about some of the book's more sexual sub-themes. These aren't the kind of things the people of Kerala wish to be famed for, she says. I buy one of the battered books to explore for myself.

There's a free demonstration of the local dance, kathakali, at the hotel I'm booked into, but the bookseller recommends catching a ferry over to mainland Ernakulum to the Art Kerala theatre for a better showcase of the centuries-old artform. A stone's throw from the railway station, the theatre is open an hour before the evening performance, allowing spectators to see the artistes applying their vivid and elaborate make-up. It's a painstaking freehand process but, coupled with some paper accoutrements and lavish costume, the effect is startling.

Before the performance (scenes from the mammoth Indian epic Mahabharatha distilled into Match Of The Day-style highlights), the basic visual lexicon of kathakali is demonstrated by theatre director Mr Radhakrishnan, and it's astonishing how much meaning and understanding can be divined from mere exaggerated eye movements and hand gestures. Traditionally, these performances would take place in temple grounds and last until early morning, but even 40 minutes of mimed narrative - accompanied by a thundering rhythm from a sudda mandalam drum - gives a remarkably flavoursome insight into the tradition; part performance, part physical prayer.

A few days later and a few hours south of Kochi, it's these fierce, proud and spectacular images of kathakali that return to me while drifting down the backwaters of Alleppey in a kettuvallam houseboat. The larger-than-life, green-skinned Lord Shiva would camouflage right into the eerily quiet and unfamiliar landscape that slides past; a lush, alien jungle view that intimates dark, unknowable things. These backwaters seem untouched by crass modernity, though the odd overloaded bicycle wobbles past, and it's a hopelessly relaxing experience.

The houseboat itself - underneath an oversize, mollusc-like wicker shell - somehow contains two bedrooms with teeny bathrooms and crew quarters to house three. Its cheerful skipper and chef, Mathew, comes to the foredeck every now and then bearing a cold Kingfisher beer, a joke or news of dinner, but for the most part it's a silent voyage except for the lap of the current on the bow. It's a view with numerous cinematic echoes - The African Queen, Apocalypse Now, black and white Tarzan movies. It isn't just the novelty of entering a heart of darkness, though, that makes it such a satisfying journey; it's the sheer wealth of nature that bombards you, from the ripples of rising fish to swiping at the odd mosquito.

And cruising Kerala's network of backwaters waving to locals isn't just popular with international visitors; domestic tourists flock here during holidays to putter down to one of the many Ayurvedic health resorts situated on the canals. The centuries-old Hindu theory of happy life and preventative medicine was suppressed under British colonisation but, in the 50 years since India asserted its independence, has enjoyed a huge resurgence and - ironically - much interest from the health-obsessed West. Though once a diagnosis has taken place, some Ayurvedic programmes take two to three weeks, it's possible to stop off at one of the complexes and just enjoy an hour- long massage with herbal oils.

Dusk falls quickly in the backwaters though, which means dinner by lamplight back on the boat. The obligatory fish, curried on the bone, is served alongside the peculiarly fat rice common to the region, and as curry dish after dish arrives, it's amazing to think it was all rustled up in the tiny kitchenette at the stern. In the darkness, Mathew moves the houseboat away from the Back To Eden health resort to drop anchor in the middle of the river as a (thrilling) precautionary measure against nocturnal invaders. Before dropping off underneath a wispy mosquito net, my last thought is: who knows what creatures stalk this place?

The next morning - my last in Kerala - I laze on the foredeck, flipping through the customer comments book while the houseboat retraces its path to the home base at Alleppey, where I'll drive back to Kochi and catch my train north to Goa. Trying to compose a suitable eulogy to the relaxation afforded me in Kerala, I peruse some of the other entries for inspiration. It turns out a certain Jeremy Irons from England stayed on the same houseboat with his family last year. Excitedly, I try and find out from Mathew whether it was the Mr Irons, but as he hasn't seen Brideshead Revisited or Die Hard With A Vengeance, the matter remains open. "We floated through this paradise of Kerala," he wrote. "We swam, we laughed, we smoked, we drank, we lazed in the sun, we ate wonderful food, we played cards. What did we do to deserve all this?" Then, underneath: "Also, we waved a lot." Movie star or not, this Mr Irons was right on the money How to get there: Despite the construction of a new international airport near Kochi, there are no direct flights to Kerala from the UK. London-Bombay return flights with KLM (08705 074 074) start at around #340, while Bombay-Cochin connections with Air India (00 91 11 569 69 50) start at around #100. www.indian- airlines.nic.in Where to stay: Taj Malabar, Willingdon Island, 00 91 48 466 68 11. The Taj Malabar offers impressive views from its location at the northern tip of Willingdon Island, plus a free boat trip round the bay for guests most evenings.

Hotel Joyland, Durbar Hall Road, 00 91 48 436 77 64.

A few blocks west of the train station in mainland Ernakulam, this brilliantly named hotel is fully air-conditioned and features a rooftop restaurant.

Other information: Visit India Tours provides a wide range of Kerala houseboat package holidays (www.visitindiatravel.com). General tourist information can be found at www.keralatourism.org Known as "the Venice of Asia", the waters of Kerala are also popular with domestic tourists who flock to the health resorts on the banks of the canals

Copyright 2001
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