The water in Kerala, nearly as light as the air

It's a good thing I'm not here to surf: the waves have next to no substance. They stand up close to the shore and form beautiful tubes, 3 to 6 feet high, that collapse on themselves in the next 10 yards, and dissipate to ripples soon after. The shoulders have no girth. Even if they crash on your head, they pass through you almost like ghosts. It helps that the water is nearly body temperature. It might make a good sensory deprivation chamber, except it looks so beautiful all around, you don't really want to close your eyes much.

We're in Varkala, a little backpacker haven, that's currently holding the mantle of budget beach paradise in these parts. There's a thicket of huts and hotels and giftshops arrayed along a mile or so of red cliffs with a few steps cut into the face leading down to the beach. The atmosphere here reminds me a lot of Ko Tao in the Gulf of Thailand, and the way Vang Vieng, in central Laos has developed over the last decade: similar bars, similar food options similarly mis-spelled on the menus, similar bamboo huts to stay in, and all delightful, relaxing, delicious.

I've been having trouble getting up the interest and energy for writing, of for much of anything these last couple of days. The heat & humidity may not be quite as oppressive as anticipated, but something no Wal-Borne or Zenergize Immunity drink could prevent has crept down my throat and settled in a gloppy puddle in my chest. And I'm not sure, but I think, back in Trivandrum on day 2, when a canvas lounge I was reclining in ripped and collapsed, I jolted something loose in my broken arm. It's been slightly more swollen and achey than in the previous couple of weeks. I just noticed that I'm able to pull off my wedding band. It's been trapped (trapped I tell you!) behind my swollen knuckles for most of the week, so I must be on the mend. Maybe I should credit that to yesterday's hot oily double-team rub down... oh, I haven't mentioned anything about that. Deb and I got ayurvedic massages yesterday. I'll get her to post something about it. Suffice it here to say I'm not sure if or when I'd choose again to let 2 men strip me down and rub hot oil all over me -- prob'ly no time soon -- but then again, given today's improvement in my arm situation... what happens in Varkala, stays in Varkala.

For dinner last night, we had a couple of fat yellow fin tuna steaks carved from the side of a fish & tandoori roasted. The day's catch is arrayed on a metal tray in front of every third restaurant along the clifftop here. Marlin are the showpiece, often with a tomato jabbed onto the end of their sword, and there's usually a basin full of squid, some barracuda, lots of smaller fish that get roasted whole; and each of the last two nights, one restaurant has had a fat tuna. So, last night, we sought it out. We got too much, and couldn't finish, but what we had was delish. I was too beat afterward to do much but head to bed, so we missed the Bollywood dance party at another place further along the strip. I may be at the age now where I can only take in one of those a month.

This morning we had masala dosa at the place we're staying, Villa Anamika. It's a home-turned-guesthouse, run by an Indian woman, Chicku, who has been a wonderful host; and her German husband, who we haven't seen. Chicku spends much of her day oil painting, in a vaguely post-impressionist style. Her paintings are in all the rooms. When we got here, she was working on a Demoiselles d'Avignon-looking picture of some local cleaning women. Today she's painting a scene of the Ponte Vecchio. She's full of gossip about the nearby shopkeepers, and advice about where to get massaged and where to shop for clothes. We had breakfast with another guest, Sumithra (aka Sue), a woman from Bangalore who did most of the talking. She's the last of 7 kids; hasn't seen much of India outside Bangalore and Mumbai; has been to San Francisco; drove to the Grand Canyon and back from there, and flew to NY and Disneyworld with her kids who are now Ph.D.s; doesn't read the newspapers (too depressing); not fond of all the modernizing/westernizing going on in Bangalore; is on vacation in Kerala alone awaiting details from her doctor after some harrowing medical news. We bumped into her later in the day and she gave Deb an anklet and a charm necklace of (we think) Shiva & Parvati, in honor of our first weekiversary.

After breakfast, we asked Chicku where I might find some cough syrup, and she had the cook brew me up what she said was a good remedy he makes, of coffee with ginger and other spices. I felt much looser in the chest soon after, enough so that I felt like putting my recovery to the test with a splash in the sea. I'm glad to say the sea went pretty easy on me.

UPDATE: Not so easy -- we didn't re-apply enough sunscreen, and we're red as lobsters now. Looks like we'll be relaxing in the shade for a few days.

--Damon