Varkala: Masterpiece in the God’s own art gallery

Year 2002. Month of October. Same planet, India, Kerala, Varkala but an absolutely magical world. We were on a road trip, Bangalore-Kanyakumari-Bangalore. We touched Thiruvananthapuram and were trying to navigate to Kovalam beach when I noticed boxed information in The Lonely Planet about this beach resort less traveled called Varkala. I had been to Kovalam and anything less traveled and commercialized than Kovalam would have been better so we navigated ourselves to Varkala beach. We reached the main town and from there it was another 30-minute drive through narrow and meandering lanes. We could hear the roaring call of the sea from far. We checked into a moderately priced hotel and I remember that the street was narrow, cobbled and very clean. It was almost nightfall and the roar was still on. We dumped our suitcases and rushed down the street and to our surprise, a short walk led us straight to the panoramic view.
Including us we were only 15 odd people on that long beach. No shops, hawkers, junk, beach umbrellas, vehicles, hotel lights. Call it off-season, odd time of the day, our luck or simply Varkala.

We soon realized that the cobbled streets had been cut through high cliffs and led to the beach. There were streams of fresh water running down through the sand. Enjoy the sea, wash the salt in the streams, go to step one and repeat till exhausted!

We walked back to the hotel only to wake up next morning and rush back to the beach. This time with less clothing and extra towels. Then I think it was 40 people.

We drove down to the high point of the cliffs in the afternoon. The roads again were deserted and lined with humble homes and grand villas. We saw a confectionery shop run by a French lady (we did not stop there but you have option of eating original french pastries)

If the beach was what came out of the magic hat, this was the inside of the hat itself.

Wide-open space, edge of the land lined with thick growth of palms shading a trail along the cliff edge and the only sound you could hear was the roar.
There were lot of spas and eating joints constructed in a minimal and least intrusive fashion. Most of the sitting was outdoors unless it started pouring and you needed a shelter. One can simply wake up with the sun, energize in the cool breeze, bathe in the sea, rejuvenate at spas, munch on the continental snacks and explore your romantic/philosophical/etc self as the great fireball falls off the mountain and sinks in the Arabian sea.

Other high points of our visit were a gift shop very close to our hotel offering papier-mâché, wood, stone and metal items and a temple situated on top of a hill where I had a stint with Kerala rain.

I was walking down the road when people around me suddenly started running which left me completely confused. There could be no hidden danger in a place so serene as Varkala. But then it hit me. LITERAL DOWNPOUR. My defences were down and I was drenched in a jiffy. The local ears had heard it raining in the neighborhood and ran in time for shelter. I remember they indicated something to me.

I wish I knew Malayalam!