Varkala

Situated on top of the cliff, Varkala is totally Tsunami proof!

We spent our days lying in the sun and Jason ate alot so that he had an excuse to get out of the sun.

Evenings were spent watching the sunset...

... and contemplating world peace, or maybe it was how many beers to have with dinner and which type of fish to eat.

The same view across the ocean offered us glimpses of jumping dolphins a few times during our stay. Jason swam out a few hundred metres to see them one morning only to discover a double catastrophe. Firstly, the dolphins had all split at the first sign of a stupid whiteman. Secondly, the reason the swim out there seemed so easy was the rip! He came back to the beach shattered.

Varkala beach has some pretty nasty rips. We even got to see the man in the blue uniform rush in to save some people who were clearly not in trouble. We think he only swam in because Claire was winding him up about never training and not saving Jason.

The lifeguards had a much more important job. Working with the numerous police, they effectively partitioned the beach into keeping Westerners and families at one end; and pervy, leary, and sometimes drunk Indian boys, at the other end.

This near Aparthied situation arose after days of perving groups of Indian men, lets call them a leer, would walk up and down the beach parking in front of busty Western women and sneaking their hands into their pockets or Lungis etc. One man couldn't handle himself and had to touch one unfortunate woman on the top-bollox. The theatre that unfolded was like a Keystone Cops version of COPS. "Bad perve, bad perve, what you gonna do? What ya gonna do when they come for you?"

At first a lone policeman tried to handle the situation, only to be pushed around by the leer of men who numbered around six, (and had eaten far too many chapatis thus resembling the All Black forward pack). Once back-up arrived, the sexually repressed man had his face slapped and received a walkie talkie in the ribs numerous times. We would've paid good money to see the police ruff up someone who deserved it, and here it was happening for free whilst we got a tan!

Most Indian families have more honourable intentions at the beach. A particular favourite seems to be running fully clothed into the ocean, and then running out of the ocean screaming when a wave approaches. This game is not limited to those under five and the whole family can play.

Arranged marriages shone through again, as we witnessed numerous romantic walks.

Unhappy Indian men seem to refer to their wives as "Buffalo".

That old chestnut 'Hinduism' seems to have followed us to the beach as well. These enterprising Brahmins (Priests) are not one to miss a trick. They seem to have made a temporary temple to enable the locals to walk a few coins lighter back to their cars, after convincing them of the necessity of paying homage to the sea and its gods.

They have decided to concrete the posh part of the beach so that they can build more shops and restaurants. It is a true stroke of genius. They have decided to start and finish these beach renovations right in the 3 month tourist window. Would you want to lie outside your plush hotel on a building site?

After a week of lounging around, Jason was pacing like a polar bear at the zoo. He bought a football, and quickly became the most popular man in town with everyone, accept for the tourists who foolishly tried to walk across the pitch only to be bowled-over.

The day after, he could hardly walk and it looked like he had been sandpapering his feet all night. Needlessly to say there was only one game of football.

Yogis greet the morning sun....

... while some meditate, hoping for the next destination on the hippy trail to appear as a vision.

The last day ,the weather got moody.

The wind blew and surprise, surprise the intermittent power became non-existant electricity power. Not a good day for writing emails and updating websites.

To prove our immense cultural depth and sensitivity, we went to see a Kathakali performance.

Kathakali is the traditional performing art of the state of Kerela in Southern India.

The performance was crap, with a total of three actors prancing around like blindfolded five year olds playing tag. The art is in the facial expressions and they weren't all that. The first scene which lasted an hour told a small part of the Ramayana tale. The man on the left tried to seduce the ladyboy on the right. He was rebuffed, pulled ten different faces to try and woo her, before resorting to rape. Nice tale for the kids that were present.

The best part of the show was the make-up and watching the main man, Ravana (left) show why he deserves to be called the John McEnroe of performing arts. He threatened to hit a boy for putting his dress on inside out and stamped his foot several times. We presume he was saying "I am an artiste (French accent). I can not work with these amateurs."

We left half-way through and laughed all the way home.

Claire tried to buy a ticket on a barge through the Kerelan backwaters. The man chosen for the job failed miserably, though she should have seen the writing on the wall with the sign outside.