India Part 2 - Airport to Cherai Beach

There are two main ways to travel in India, the Tourist way and the Local way.

Even though by UK prices the tourist way is very cheep there is something quite special about travelling the Local way, after all do we not travel to gain new experiences?

Ippy and I awoke the next morning feeling quite refreshed. We packed up our few things and we headed out onto the bust streets of India.

Even this early in the morning cars, lorries and buses raced by beeping their horns and throwing dust and fumes into the morning air.

By talking to the boys on the front desk of the place we stayed we had already worked out we needed to get a few buses to Cherai Beach but the day was young, we had plenty of time and I was more than happy to ride in Ippy's back pack and enjoy the view.

The first bus we caught from outside our hotel took us 5km to a busy intersection in Alway town.

This surprised Ippy as I as we thought we were already in Alway!

There was a bit more confusion as we got off and asked everyone where we needed to go to catch the bus to North Paravur. Various people smiled and pointed across the 6 lanes of traffic to the other side. 

Lorries and vehicles of all shapes and sizes rushed by in a solid block of intertwined chaos along the road beside us. Luckily there were traffic lights about 10 m away as crossing roads in India is exciting at the best of times let alone when there are 6 lanes to transverse!

On the far side, when we asked where the bus station was, someone pointed us back across to where we had come from! It was only when we mentioned North Paravur that and Cherai Beach that they smiled and pointed to a tiny bus stand under some trees.

As we approached, Ippy confirmed with the people standing there that we were at the right place to catch the bus to North Paravur. 

There are times Ippy explained, when being totally self sufficient and knowing what you are doing without help is a good thing, but there are also times when seeming a little lost and vague can be much more useful. 

I looked confused until a bus pulled up and no less than three people eagerly informed us this wasn't the one we wanted as Ippy went to climb aboard.

When the bus we did need arrived the entire bus stand encouraged us to climb in, some even helping us to find a seat!

People smiled while children stared at me as the bus bounced its way along the bumpy roads that wound through the country side leading to the next town.

More and more people crowded onto the bus as we travelled filling the walk way and even the steps.

Just when it seemed the bus would burst if one more person were allowed on we entered the outskirts of the town and everyone disappeared! 

By the time we drove into the bus depot there was only Ippy and myself plus the driver and ticket man aboard!

"Where do we get the bus to Cherai Beach?" Ippy asked as we got off. 

We were pointed to a road that ran parallel to the bus depot. 

We had a direction if nothing else!

As we walked towards the road we passed stalls selling the most amazing food. Samosa's, tiny savoury buns, cookies with bits of chilli sticking out of the side. 

Ippy bought us three different savoury things as a snack and although some of them were a little spicy they were amazing. Ippy explained that the majority of the snack and street food in India is vegetarian making it a perfect place for her to eat!

When she had been to the Philippines however, nearly ALL the street food there was chicken and port with a bit of fish thrown in for good measure. Apart from some crispy seaweed and rice she had struggled to eat from the road side cafes but in India she was in her element!

With our snacks consumed we headed for the main road and began the usual questions about where we should go. People really do like to help and before long we were standing at another tiny bus stop under a tree while people advised us which bus we needed.

Normally Ippy does quite a bit of research on any new areas she visits but this trip she was just going with the flow as life had been pretty hectic in the UK right until she left. 

When we got off the bus two stops past Cherai Junction we really had no idea where we were. 

The ticket man pointed to a narrow lane, 'Beach' was all he said as we dismounted.

By now it was mid day and blazing sun shone from a cloudless sky above us. The lane was surrounded by trees giving welcomed shade and with no other ideas we began to walk. 

And walk.

When people say 'Beach' and no more when pointing to a narrow lane, one needs to be aware that said beach may not be just the other side of said lane.

 Ippy walked on through the lane which eventually joined another slightly wider lane,

which eventually joined a road, which led to a bridge,

that went over a wide back water, that separated Cherai beach from the mainland!!!!

Cherai Beach turned out to be a long narrow strip of land, in some places only 100m wide, that runs down the coast in the district of Ernakulam, Kerela. 

One end finishes 20km south at Vypin Island where you can catch a ferry to Fort Kochi. The other ends 5km away at another ferry terminal that takes you north. 

Having walked the 2.5km from the bus stop along the only road for miles, we now had the decision of turning right or left to look for accommodation!!

We paused at the 'T' junction to sit on one of the large stones beside the beach, enjoying the cooling breeze as it washed over us. 

The beach stretched into the distance in both directions, 20 m wide with soft rolling waves breaking onto the shore.

“You need room?” a helpful voice called from a rickshaw parked beside the road.

“We are just resting for a few moments,” Ippy called back smiling. “

“I have room if you want to see? Good Price!” the voice sounded hopeful but not pushy.

Ippy smiled.

So many times she had found a room this way but we were in no rush and so we sat for a while longer.

When we eventually rose our friendly rickshaw driver stepped from his cab.

“Please, let me show you room!” He waved at us to follow him across the road and with nothing better to do we followed.

Building work was taking place above the building, sand and cement lay in bags and on the ground. A huge pit had been dug for a drainage pipe that we negotiated via a plank! 

“Sorry for the mess,” he apologised leading Ippy and myself into what appeared to be his lounge.

All over India there are places called Homestays, peoples houses where they take in guests to boost their income. 

There are the occasional places that call them selves Homestays but have been build purely for guests, this Homestay however was indeed a home!

We were shown to a large room with two double beds pushed together making a huge sleeping platform. 

Sheets and a few bits of clothing were being hastily removed as we entered. 

It had an attached bathroom, a small side table and a large wardrobe that the bits of clothing were being pushed into.

It was a nice room and Ippy said so asking how much it would be to stay. 

“500 Rupees” the rickshaw driver beamed. 

Although Ippy hadn't been to India for a while this seemed quite a lot for a room. She told the nice man that we would go for a walk and think about it. He smiled back and led us out over the plank and cement.

The last time Ippy had been to India her budget for rooms had been rearer 300 Rupees a night, there was no harm having a look around she told me and as I wasn't the one walking in the hot sun who was I to argue!

We decided to head North along the only road that ran the length of the island parallel to the beach. 

We stopped occasionally to admire the flowers and to ask about rooms but by the time we had asked four times we were realising that 500 Rupees was cheep!

A simple room, all be it beautifully finished was going to cost us 1,500 Rupees a night!! In a simple resort (a complex of rooms around a courtyard) they were asking 2,000!

3km later we ran out of rooms and resorts!!

Even though the sun was now dropping in the sky slightly, it was still hot. What breeze there had been when we had started walking had stopped and of all the places we had seen none had been nicer than the Rickshaw drivers room and none had been worth what the people were asking for them.

After all a bed is a bed and with a beach so beautiful we were only planned to sleep in the room.

We returned to the 'T' junction and the smiling rickshaw man.

“You still have the room?” Ippy asked.

He beamed and carried our bags into the now spotless room.

We had arrived at Cherai Beach!