Sues from Brick Lane

On my final evening in Kerala I thought I ought to have another look at the Kovalam resort and the sea, and despite the rain, and spurning the hotel’s offer of an umbrella, I tripped, literally down the steps made treacherous by the rain, which lead to the village,. Either side of these steps, more hotels are under construction, and the entire flight is covered in mud and general debris. I picked my way through the scaffold timbers, walking under the men laying wet concrete overhead. All the building materials are walked to the site from where they have been tipped on the nearest road, along narrow raised pathways which run through the coconut plantation. The aggregate is carried in the dishes that are used for all building work; on the head. Nothing is carried any great distance – the load is passed from head to head, even when halfway up a ladder.
Walking along the beach front in the warm rain; voices calling

‘Chai ma’am’
‘Something to eat, out of the rain?’
‘Want to buy…’

….., I found a kindred spirit – another Englishwoman out in the rain. Sues from Brick Lane, had been to India many times, stayed in Kovalam before, and had been here on this occasion for two months. In what time remained, she showed me around the small beaches, went to her favourite chai stalls, and she gave me the lowdown on Indian culture as viewed from the outside. We looked at the fantastic wooden fishing boats which are made a couple of miles up the coast, heavy, sturdy, with high stern and prow, and stiched together with string. She was somebody you could do with meeting during your first week, not your last. We decided we’d meet up to have one last mooch round before breakfast tomorrow, and ended the day in the dark sitting on the wet sea front trying to persuade two local dogs that we were not their friends. The gentle patter, splash of flip-flops came by and paused behind us. A voice murmured in the darkness ‘Hashish, maruana….’