Everyone loves endless golden beaches. So much
so, they've become something of a tourism cliché, often indistinguishable
from one another.
But the allure of a beach is not just in the sand and the sea.
It's in the living environment that surrounds it.
In the trees and plants, the birds and fishes that call it home.
And most of all, in the culture, life and colour of the people who
belong there. Because it is only this that makes it special, different
from other interchangeably pretty stretches of sand around the world.
A beach is just a beach, until you find its living heart. For us,
the search ended in the little village of Mararikulam.
Somewhere around the middle section of Kerala's coast, the Indian
Ocean finally realizes that it has now become the Arabian Sea. The
result of this personality change is a splendid azure colour, quite
distinctive, with frothy whitecaps and a translucent, pearl-like
quality. The sands that fringe this coastline for endless miles
are themselves distinctive, deep and rich and fine, in a shade closer
to ocher than gold.
This natural brushwork leaves its mark on human life too. The people
of the area have been fisher folk for millennia and over this time,
they've evolved a way of life that's as tranquil and colourful as
their world.
The village of Mararikulam is tucked away behind a line of dense
palms that rise like a sudden rampart of green out of the sands.
Like all villages, it has evolved naturally, in picturesque disorder.
The huts are slapdash adobe, thatched with-what else? -palm and
tied with coir, or coconut rope. (In fact, the coconut tree supplies
the villagers with an endless number of useful items, from kitchen
ladles to sunhats to boat hulls.) Neat and scrupulously clean footpaths
veer between the huts and everywhere, the pungent scents of the
sea mingle with the fragrance of coconut oil and spice.
Spread out here and there on rough coir mats are sunbursts of red.
These are the famous red chilies, without which no self-respecting
fishwife would ever dream of serving up dinner.
Evening in fact, is a special time. The winking of oil lamps and
cooking fires transforms the village into a glowing tableau vivant,
with a painted sunset as the backdrop. Within moments, you feel
your city clock winding gently down, then dying without protest
as you pass through a scene unchanged for centuries.
The Village Reborn.
The challenge for us was to take the village, not just its architecture,
but the subtle elements of its life and translate them into an unforgettable
experience for the modern traveler.
We wanted to recreate the same harmony with nature. And impart the
same sense of languid pace to the Marari Beach resort.
Sprawled expansively across 25 acres of land, the resort, like
its namesake, is separated from the sea by a windbreak of stretching
palms. There are a mere 52 cottages, so the sense of space here
is much more dramatic. The cottages are separated by generous stretches
of open parkland, dotted with fruit-laden trees. The winding village
pathways are a faithful echo of the originals.
Rambling walls curve around corners, their rust-coloured stones
smothered with trumpet flowers. Completing the picture are rippling
lotus ponds, usually with a family of ducklings getting a swimming
lesson out in the middle.
|