Time is frozen still in Kumbalangi, a fishing village of crab ponds and ancient Latin Catholic Christians fast vanishing against the rising skyline of God's Own Country.
It started to rain heavily just as I stepped into the car. My driver smiled when I told him my destination was Kumbalangi, a small hamlet on the outskirts of Kochi.
“I studied there,” he said, and his grin became wider as he spoke about his childhood. I asked him for more information and he gave me a brochure which called it “an integrated model tourism village which promised authentic rural experience.” I just hoped it would not be another tourist trap as we drove down, crossing St Josephs School and church into an entire green country.
Kumbalangi lived up to its promise of being part of God’s Own Country. Ringed by Chinese fishing nets, the backwaters painted a pretty picture. A lone cormorant basked in the sun, while a woodpecker chipped away at the bark of a coconut tree. A few houses were scattered around unused coir units lost amidst the farms.
There was no one in sight. Amid small lanes intersected with canals we roamed aimlessly. My driver asked me what I wanted to "do." I had no real agenda and wanted to meet a few locals and talk to them. He looked puzzled, but drove towards the village. We met a fisherman who asked if I was interested in, well, fishing. As I walked with him to the jetty, we talked about Chinese fishing nets and karimeen (Pearl Spot) fishing. “Sometimes we cover branches of small trees that are immersed in water by nets. After weeks, we find a variety of fish caught in them,” he added.
Source: http:http://goo.gl/RxPNq
It started to rain heavily just as I stepped into the car. My driver smiled when I told him my destination was Kumbalangi, a small hamlet on the outskirts of Kochi.
“I studied there,” he said, and his grin became wider as he spoke about his childhood. I asked him for more information and he gave me a brochure which called it “an integrated model tourism village which promised authentic rural experience.” I just hoped it would not be another tourist trap as we drove down, crossing St Josephs School and church into an entire green country.
Kumbalangi lived up to its promise of being part of God’s Own Country. Ringed by Chinese fishing nets, the backwaters painted a pretty picture. A lone cormorant basked in the sun, while a woodpecker chipped away at the bark of a coconut tree. A few houses were scattered around unused coir units lost amidst the farms.
There was no one in sight. Amid small lanes intersected with canals we roamed aimlessly. My driver asked me what I wanted to "do." I had no real agenda and wanted to meet a few locals and talk to them. He looked puzzled, but drove towards the village. We met a fisherman who asked if I was interested in, well, fishing. As I walked with him to the jetty, we talked about Chinese fishing nets and karimeen (Pearl Spot) fishing. “Sometimes we cover branches of small trees that are immersed in water by nets. After weeks, we find a variety of fish caught in them,” he added.
Source: http:http://goo.gl/RxPNq
