Tired and sun soaked after six days on the rod south from Goa I pulled in to an Airbnb for a day of respite.
At many times the road exquisite rolling along the shores of the Arabian Sea. Short sharp sandy beaches edged with coconut palms, green, tall and flopping over this way and that. Large coconuts nestling under the branches. Villages here and there with corner shops where roads cross.
At other times my journey taking me through towns and cities. So very busy. Nerves and senses constantly on edge turned up to tune in to the noise of the traffic around. After more than six weeks on the road able to discern the important signals from the cacophony that overwhelms your senses when you first arrive in India.
Occasionally the road grim as wet weather, a busy city rush hour combine to grind you down.
Crossing Karnataka a real pleasure. Not somewhere I’d really head of, but definitely somewhere I want to return to. Less well known and developed by tourism that its neighbour Kerala to the south, while I sped on through, I could feel the warmth of the welcome. People stopping me for selfies and for insta follows. In Bhaktal I stopped to talk to three lovely young men on a moped. All uni students and full of life. Our encounter generated many offers of hospitality.
The warmth has followed me down into Kerala. Simple waves and acknowledgements are rewarded with a smile or Indian head side to side.
Often I stop to cool down and someone will come over for a chat. Some brief others more in depth. Today while stopped I couple of men on a motor bike stopped, Ronnie and Vincent. Ronnie had worked in Dubai for a number of years. The American war in Iraq putting an end to many opportunities for Indians including Ronnie. Back here and starting a jewellery business. While we were talking, Vincent phoned a friend who’s a consultant in the univerrsity hospital of Wales in Cardif. A few few minutes of surreality ensued talking about the warmth of Kerala to someone in south Wales.
Whilst on my day off I cycled up to the local fishing port. Here I was able to mostly follow my curiosity and wander as I pleased, cycling down the docks front. On one side lined by local trawlers. On the other large open sheds where the catches are sorted and prepared for delivery. Fishermen who have been out in the night working together with the dock workers to ensure their catches are loaded safely. Scenes so rare in Europe these days.
Later on I cycled to a toddy shop. On the face of it seedy and somewhere people would warn you not to go. A door hidden behind a wall. Inside bottles in beer crates doing their magic fermenting the sap of the coconut palm trees. This is liquor that is older than the hills. Basic raw and potent. The drinking dens dark and grimy. However the people, unused to western tourists on bicycles, open up and are very happy to share their stories. Generous and kind once the barriers are downed, smiles and offers of hospitality plentiful.
While looking for information about the area of Kerala I was in I found out that Saint Thomas came to India in 52AD and was murdered in Chennai in July 72AD. His remains were initially buried in Mylapore. In 232 a Syrian merchant moved his remains to Edessa in Turkey. Then during the crusades some of his relics were moved to Chios in Greece, while another portion were taken north into the Armenian heartland around Lake Van. Back in May 2024 Juliet and I stumbled upon the ruined monastery where the remains lay until the late 19th century. Perched high above the lake we had a memorable walk up a steep hill with spectacular views.
I like the way that sometimes my travels connect with others in history and so I took a slight detour as I cycled south to visit the church where St Thomas erected a cross soon after his arrival in India in 52AD and my route onward took me through the port where he originally landed. Whether it’s pure coincidence, or somehow our shared curiosity draws us to travel similar places I do not know. Just that it felt good to have connection with his journeys, but also providing me a link with my journeys current and past.
The miles of the previous week have left me in a position where I feel more confident in the road ahead. Back when I was crossing the Punjab and struck down by a bout of diarrhoea the road much more uncertain. Arriving in Goa completely exhausted having picked up some bug that gave me a sore throat and tight chest I again felt unsure. As the days have passed I’ve recovered my strength and now I’m over the hump. The next week will see me do a loop up into the hills and tea plantations before heading back down to the coast. On the face of it easier days, but there are quite a few hills to climb.
Let the adventure continue!
