Surfing in India, Part 2: Kerala

By Jon Bowen

Day 9
The sleeper train to Madurai was interesting. You get a berth consisting of a lightly padded bunk, and that's it. Three huge fans mounted on the ceiling are the air conditioning, and the windows are just cutouts in the steel of the carriage skin, with bars to prevent you falling out. We were hated by everybody else on the carriage, as they're isn't very much room for luggage, and certainly not enough room for 3 quivers of surfboards, and two bodyboards. Lucky for us, there was a spare berth in the carriage, and the guard told us to put our stuff there. The exciting part about the open windows is that when you're lying on your berth, your head is virtually out the window. I was paranoid about dropping something important out of my pocket and out of the window, like my passport or wallet, but the best part was when a train went the other way, at speed. You'd be half asleep, when you hear the air getting sucked out of the carriages further up from you, and then with a loud 'shunk' noise, you suddenly have a train doing 100mph or so about 8inches from your head. Exciting stuff.

We got into Madurai in the morning at about 5am. We only intended to be there for a day, but we needed a room just to leave our stuff. We hung about at the train station for about an hour to give everything time to open and left our boards at the train's luggage office, after gently prodding the attendant, sprawled asleep over his counter. We found a hotel, and had a bit of a kip, none of us having slept particularly well on the sleeper.

Madurai is famous for its huge hindu temple which is very impressive. It covers a huge area, and is dominated by 7 massive gopuras, which are pyramid-like structures, covered in carvings and mouldings, and then brightly painted. Everyone we'd spoken to before leaving told us how amazing and wonderful the place was, but all of us found the place noisy, polluted, dirty and incredibly hassly.

It was simply impossible to walk down the street without being hassled non-stop for everything from cheap trinkets, to taxi rides, to rickshaws, to beggars, to restaurant and cafe owners. We got hassled in other places too, obviously, but Madurai was another level. Added to that were the local people whose job was to talk to you, and then get you into some local shops, hopefully, for you to buy things. These people have the thickest skin imaginable, and do not respond to being ignored, being shouted at, or being reasoned with. They are the Terminators of hassle. They do not leave you alone, and it really spoiled the place for us.

We reserved the spare berth in the name of Kelly Slater. Which meant that when we got on the train every time the guard came by, he kept asking us who's gear all this was in Mr. Kelly Slater's berth.

We had one chap follow us around, incessantly talking for the whole three hours or so we wandered around the temple. The only time we had any quiet, was after paying two rupees to enter an inner chamber in the temple, famous for it's 1000 columns. We were hoping there was another way out, so we could ditch the annoying bastard, but no, we had to go out the way we came in, and there he was waiting for us. The temple itself was a strange combination of the incredibly impressive, and the neglected. Not being Hindu, a lot of it was closed of to us, but the centre piece was a big swimming pool affair, that was full of stagnant green water, and looked very out of place. The rest of the temple reminded me strongly of an Indiana Jones film. The roof is held up by thousands of carved columns, each showing a tiger or a dragon holding up the ceiling. Light is provided by holes in the ceiling, letting through dramatic shafts of light, which gave the whole place a film-set appearance. In a quiet corner, we found a colony of bats hiding upside down in the dark, while sitting in a shaft of light next to them was an indian chap, chanting monotonously from a prayer book. It would have been so nice to have a wander around, on your own, just drinking it in, but the non-stop hassle was getting to us, and we left.

Alessandro, being such a nice chap, couldn't say no to anybody, and was rapidly getting laden down with tons of cheap metal bracelets. It probably didn't help him any that the rest of us just told the trinket sellers to talk to him, instead of us. Stuart had extra hassles in that he wasn't allowed to film anything with his video camera. Fair enough inside the temple, but even once we were outside, if he swung the lens to anywhere near the temple, he got shouted at. That, plus the heat, plus the pollution burning the back of your throat and your nose, meant we were all starting to get very stressed out. Stuart was doing his bit for international relations by telling the most insistent sales-people that Indians were horrible, and Pakistani's were far nicer people, and you're all going to get nuked soon.

Looking for something to film without getting shouted at, we found ourselves in a little local fruit and veg. market. Strangely, we didn't get any hassle here at all, though being the only westerners there, we got stared at a fair bit. The market was very cool, with stalls all selling the usual things you'd find in a market, and everybody shouting over everybody else. We got some great photos, especially of one little boy standing next to a sack of onions. He looked a little scared being filmed, and when his mum came over we thought she'd tell us to stop. Actually, she just cleaned his face off with the corner of her sari, and grinned at us. When we'd finished, his grandfather asked us for some money, which is fairly normal when you've been taking someone's picture. We expected it to go straight into his pocket, but he passed it to the little boy who nervously took it.

We were seriously fed up with Madurai, and looked forward to heading off that evening to the south, on yet another sleeper train.

We'd learnt our lesson this time, and booked an extra berth just to put our luggage on. The Italians booked it, and reserved the spare berth in the name of 'Kelly Slater.' Which meant that when we got on the train every time the guard came by, he kept asking us who's gear all this was in Mr. Kelly Slater's berth. We had no problem with mosquitoes that night either, as the Indian chap on the bottom bunk was letting out the most spectacular farts all night.

Day 10
Today we got to Kanniyakumari, or Cape Comorin. This is the very southern most spot in India, and is a place where you can see the sun both rise and set over the ocean. There are two islands just offshore, one with what looks like a mosque on it, and the other with what looks like an ancient huge statue of a tamil hero. We couldn't understand why none of the guide books we had with us mentioned this statue, so we asked someone about it. Far from being centuries old, it was only put up 2 years ago! Between the islands and the cape was what looked a very big righthander, but it was a long way out, and there was so much wind on it and the sea looked so full of currents there that we skipped it.

The wind here is very strange, it swirls around constantly and seems to be almost coming from every direction at once. There are three oceans meeting here, the Bengal sea, the Arabian sea and the Indian ocean, and the three weather systems connected with them also meet here, which presumably gives the strange winds.

We hired a big 4WD bus thing and headed up the east coast to see what we could find. We wandered down little dirt tracks to different beaches, but the further north we got, the smaller the waves. We ended up at a forgotten British fort, which looked like it hadn't been touched since they left, with a palm tree forest beside it, and a coral beach. And no waves. Me and Emi paid a bored-looking security guard 5 rupees and had a wander around the fort, and then we headed back to Kanniyakumari.

When we got back, I had a walk down the very southern tip of India. This is a place where the Indians themselves go on holiday, and it was full of middle class families. That didn't stop the usual, 'Which country are you?' questions, but it seemed to have an effect on the shopkeepers in that I didn't get any hassle at all. Even walking through a bazaar, I was totally ignored. After the stress of Madurai, it was great.

The very southern point has nothing to tell you where you are at all, though despite that it's quite a powerful place to stand. There aren't many places in the world where you can be so aware of exactly where on the globe you are standing. I was very conscious of the immense triangle of India sweeping out behind me, into the massiveness of Asia, while in front of me was nothing but ocean until you hit Antarctica, more than halfway round the world. I think that was my favourite spot in India. I came back to the guesthouse to tell Stu how nice it was, and how hassle free it was, but Stu is obviously a hassle-magnet, and this time we got the usual amount of pestering when we walked down to check out the sunset.

The waves are pretty powerful ... There is a lot of grunt in them, and one wave blew my watch off.

Day 11
Today, we headed up the west coast, into Kerala and the town of Kovalam. This is a very pretty little place, and looks more like somewhere in the Caribbean than India, with palm tree forests full of coconuts and banana. Lots of swell there, but very windy too, and a lot of close outs. On the way up there our taxi driver, who drove as insanely as most, decided his car wasn't going fast enough. We didn't agree, but he insisted on putting a new fan belt on, so we could go a bit quicker. When we got to the beach, I realised I'd left my one pair of boardies in Pondicherry. Emi M lent me a pair of his, but he's about twice the size of me, and paddling with his boardies on felt like I was towing a parachute. Plus they ended up round my ankles every time I ducked-dived, and I drifted 50 yards back to the beach every time I paused to pull them up.

I gave up and got out, and wandered around the shops looking for a pair of swimming trunks. I was beginning to think I'd have to end up surfing in a pair of Speedo's, when I walked past a tailor's. I asked him if he could make me a pair of boardshorts, and he said he could, so I'm now the proud owner of a custom-made pair of boardies! Which also means that, as the only non-sponsored surfer on the trip, I'm displaying no logos at all, which is good. I should have got him to embroider 'Kutty Tex Tailors' up the side.

We met a guy here on holiday from the UK, with a old rented board. He said the wind drops in the mornings, so we've got the alarms set.

Day 12
Got up early, for once, and hit the beach. Much nicer than yesterday, but still a bit closey. I had about an hour of frustration, getting short rides, until I noticed a peak off the rocks at the north end. That was much better, and I just had fun pulling into long barrels, ending in a sudden closeout. Emi M, on the beach taking photos, said I was going over the falls on every wave, but I was having lots of fun, despite bouncing off the seabed on every other wave. I was sick of rights though, I haven't had a left since I got here, and as I can't work out how to ride barrels on my backhand dropknee, (and I got lots of lips in the back of the head trying), I'm having to prone most of these. I want a left!

The waves are pretty powerful, and the big ones must come from a very long way away, as the wave period for the sets is about 10 to 15 seconds. There is a lot of grunt in them, and one wave blew my watch off. Tumbling around under water, I felt something go past my hand, and just reflexively grabbed it. When I came up to see what I had, it was my watch! By some amazing feat, I'd caught it underwater.

I got out after really hurting my back. Deep in a barrel, I got sucked up and over the falls by my ankles as the wave broke. My ankles tried to force themselves over my back to somewhere to the left of my head, and I did a cool reverse-backflip-in-the-barrel thing as the rest of me followed. I had a horrible second when I was sure I'd just snapped my spine. It really hurt, but my legs still worked, so I kicked for the surface and came in in pain. Checking for body misalignment on the beach, I think I just really pulled a muscle. Bloody hurts though.

Allesandro is off home today, he has a flight from Chennai, and an 18-hour train journey to get there. He paid the extra for first class, which means he gets real aircon, and a proper bed. It cost about 10 pounds!

My back was hurting, so I spent the rest of the day chilling out, and sipping lemon sodas.

Day 13
Woke up feeling like someone had replaced my back with a steel rod, I was really stiff, and could barely lean over to pick up my board. A couple of ibuprofen, (the surfers friend) and it masked that right up, and I headed out for a repeat of yesterdays tube-fest. I knew I was probably going to pay the price of this later on, but I figured I could just dose up on ibu's until i got back to England, and worry about it then.

It was a bit smaller today, but still lots of fun, and we set the tone for the next couple of days. Me and Emi C went out and rode the waves while Emi M and Stuart took pics and filmed from the beach. When we'd had enough, Emi M and Stuart would go out and I filmed them while I had breakfast. Knowing someone is filming you puts a strange pressure on you surfing, and I couldn't stop myself trying stupid moves in stupid places, so I'm probably going to look a complete gumby on film. As soon as the cameras went away, and I was surfing 'for myself' again, I was riding far better. How annoying.

And that's pretty much all we did for the rest of the trip; surfing and filming in the morning, chilling out for the rest of the day. Me and Stu went for a walk up to the big lighthouse dominating the beach to get some pics. We walked into through the back entrance, and spent an hour or so wandering around taking pictures. We could see a dramatic cliff top mosque on the next headland, so we decided to walk over and take a look. As we walked out the main entrance of the lighthouse, we noticed the armed guard, and the big sign forbidding photography or filming. The guard glanced at us, and our cameras, but didn't say anything. I guess he figured if we were coming out, at some point we must have walked past him going in, and he hadn't seen us. Which meant he was in trouble. Much easier just to ignore us. It was just Indian military paranoia, and all the postcards showing pictures of the lighthouse made it all a bit of a joke anyway

All together, a good trip. We got some excellent surf in warm water. India as a place though, left me a bit cold. There is a lot to see, but it all feels a little 'sold out'. It's virtually impossible to meet 'ordinary' Indians, because you just get bombarded by salespeople all the time. Even the temples are turned into tourist resorts, and it feels tainted by it. It must have been a great place to visit 30 or 40 years ago, when the people would have been as curious about us as we were about them, and it would have seemed a more 'level' way to meet. As it is, it feels to me that we're seen as walking wallets, and are generally ignored by the regular people on the street.

It's a place that gives the impression that you're somewhere very adventurous and unconventional, and maybe a little dangerous, when the reality is it's not a lot different from traveling around Europe. In fact, the place I was most reminded of in India, is Greece. Both are places with huge histories, and fascinating people that are screened-off by the pressure of tourism, and both are highly organised societies covered by a veneer of apparent anarchy. This isn't to say that I want the country to not change, I hate 'travelers' who moan about places changing from what they were. They want people to stay in their picturesque poverty so they can have some interesting photographs when they get home, forgetting that these are real people, who have as much right to get on as they do. I hate that patronising attitude about 'really connecting' with the people, when the reality is they don't, and can't, have a clue about the people. You meet people, and talk to them, but don't suppose to imagine that you know them. (I'd love someone from a little Indian village to visit London, and then claim how they 'connected' with all the suits...) But at the same time, it's a shame when the soul of a place is lost on the way, and that's how India felt to me.

Surfwise, we got some of the best waves I've ever ridden, but it's not a place I'd plan on going just to go surfing. From what we could tell, it's just not consistent enough. That said, there are huge swells coming from somewhere, especially on the west coast, and given the enormity of the coastline, there just has to be some world class spots out there somewhere. They'd be mind-bendingly difficult to get to, probably painfully rural, probably involving miles of hard walking to get to. But I'm sure that they're there somewhere, you just have to spend a good year of exploring, and a lot of luck to find them.

We all agreed, if you get the option of a couple of weeks there as a stop over to Indo or Australia, then it's definitely worth a look. You might get lucky like we did, or if you're going there anyway it might be worth taking a board, but it's never going to be a mainstream surfing destination. Which might be just what your looking for!