Varkala: India’s Most Underrated Coastal Escape
After thoroughly exhausting myself in northern India, I was in desperate need of a change in both pace and scenery. Varkala, in India’s far southern state of Kerala, offered just that. Bordered by the Arabian Sea and known for its lush foliage, stunning beaches, and (relatively) relaxed pace—it is still India, after all—Kerala is described as “God’s Own Country,” a phrase so overused by the tourism board that I started wondering if God had a PR team on retainer. After a long, chaotic travel day that included some bumpy flights, multiple cab rides, a nearly missed train, and a run-in with the world’s worst airport lounge (looking at you, Primus Lounge in Jaipur), I finally arrived in this idyllic cliffside beach town.
For just $40 (a splurge in these parts), I managed to secure a private cottage just steps from the ocean. My room was surrounded by palm trees and blessed with arctic AC—a welcome reprieve from the oppressive Keralan heat. That afternoon, I devoured some of the best food I’d had all trip. My first foray into local cuisine included Keralan pork curry and parota, washed down with a covert beer from the restaurant’s “intoxication menu.”
Kerala was once infamous for having the highest alcohol consumption rates in India, working out to 4.5 gallons/person per year—all the more impressive when you consider that half the population doesn’t drink. In an effort to shed this reputation, local authorities instituted a partial liquor ban. As a result, drink menus are surreptitiously handed out and the drinks are not-so-subtly abbreviated (I’ll give you one guess what a “g and tonic” is). After successfully skirting the local laws, I headed to the beach for some sunset photography. I managed to snap a few photos before crashing into bed fully clothed and sleeping for 11 hours straight—my first full night’s sleep in two weeks.
The next day brought a welcome reset. I wandered through misty morning rituals at Sri Janardaswamy Temple and watched cleansing ceremonies on the iconic Varkala Beach. Many locals believe a dip in the ocean can wash away sins, and the sea water is said to carry healing properties from nearby medicinal plants. Unfortunately, it had no such effect on me.
I spent the afternoon hiking past red rock cliffs before again being cornered by a pack of territorial dogs. Dinner that night—a positively fiery Keralan prawn curry—earned me some much-desired street cred. My waiter stopped by the table, clearly amazed that I’d finished the dish, and declared that I was “in the 10% of Europeans who can handle the spice.” It was a proud moment, despite the fact that I’m not European.
I capped off this gloriously hellish dish with a mysterious cocktail called “Surprising Boss Punch”. The ingredients were “Don’t ask, just drink”. My curiosity getting the better of me, I asked what was in it, to which my waiter stiffly replied, “Read the menu, the ingredients are there”. I concluded my time in Varkala with a long nighttime walk in the rain along the cliffs. It was the kind of evening that reminded me exactly why I travel—just the reset that I needed before picking up the pace again and heading northward.
