Murder and a missing plane

Kathakali is an Indian dance drama involving elaborate costumes, make-up and disturbing subject matter. It dates from the days of the maharajas in the early 17th century.

Prasanti and I are both dressed in salwar kameez, which Gregory David Roberts called ‘the most flattering garment’ in his novel Shantaram. I’m not so sure about the pants though. Although hidden behind the top they are uncomfortable and most unflattering in my opinion. Perhaps it is best for me to mix the tops and scarves with western pants. It could look quite nice with jeans.

We have our first taste of banana chips while watching the show and are instantly hooked. It’s so much nicer than potato chips and perhaps healthier – even though these are deep fried in coconut oil they are at least home made!

What an experience to watch the actors apply their make-up before the show. A rice paste and natural pigments are used to create dramatic character faces with strong features that are, well, just plain scary.

Tonight’s story is called ‘The Killing of Kichaka’ and it is a tale of blood and lust that becomes more and more unsettling, until the end leaves an uncomfortable feeling lingering in the oldest remaining theatre in Fort Kochi. This is definitely not something I would want to watch again but I am also happy that I have had the chance to experience a truly creative art form that has survived in its purest form over so many centuries.

While the maharajas had Kathakali in the 17th century we’ve got BBC and today’s news is even more disturbing than any show could ever be: a swine flu pandemic, bankruptcy and an Air France plane disappearing somewhere over the Atlantic.

It makes me reassess my life and the fact that it can be taken away any second. What would I do if I knew today that I had only a short time left in this world? The answer comes to me very quickly: spend quality time with my friends and family. And travel, travel, travel until I have absorbed as much of this terrible and beautiful world and its people as I can possibly take.

From Dosa to Da Gama's burial place

Alongside Dim Sum, Masala Dosa is now my favourite breakfast choice. For those who don’t know Masala Dosa (you should really try it!) it’s a fluffy giant pancake-like bread filled with mildly spiced potatoes and onions.

With full tummies Prasanti and I take on the city of Kochi, leaving all the planning to our driver, Pranesh. First stop is the Dutch Palace which was originally built by the Portuguese in 1555 – for the Kochi kings or maharajas. It’s pretty but unimpressive from the outside. However, a whole room full of detailed murals depicting the stories of the Hindu gods Ramayana and Mahabharatha stopped us in our tracks. If it wasn't for the heat interfering with our concentration, we could have spent hours here unravelling the meaning behind the rich colours and tiny figures.

Instead we walk to the Jewish Synagogue which dates from 1568. It’s closed for lunch time when we get there but the walk was an experience in itself. There is a lot of curiosity about my 'foreign' Indian friend, as though being born in South Africa makes her an exotic version of their own.

“I’m not local!” she sighs when a woman approaches her to fill in a survey about local tourism.

The street here is lined with many tourist shops and we admire the pretty skirts and silk scarves. Prasanti points out the Kathakali dolls and we make a mental note to go and watch this traditional dance show later.

Next Pranesh takes us to St. Francis Church which was built in 1503. It is also the original burial place of Vasco da Gama, the Portuguese explorer who opened the sea route to India via the Cape of Good Hope (that beautiful place I call home).

We end our dash though the city with a visit to the Chinese fishing nets (see pic) and even get a chance to experience first-hand how it all works, with a small bucket of fish to show for it and too many hands fishing for tips.

Back at our hotel we freshen up and change into traditional Indian outfits while enjoying some Masala tea before heading off for our Kathakali show.

Whoa, it's Kerala

Not only is Kerala the home of ayurvedic medicine; it is also the closest tropical holiday destination from the Middle East and can even provide a cure for dry skin. Believe it, my friend Prasanti and I are shining like stars in all our photos because of the humidity.

We are also treated like stars. Prasanti is a South African Indian beauty that can easily pass for a Bollywood actress and I have white skin. In India, the whiter your skin the more beautiful you are regardless of your features. Isn't it ironic how white people spend so much time and money on bronzing themselves while skin whitening treatments are all the rage in Asia?

Point is, apart from the fact that our tour operator takes care to make our holiday special, we also attract a lot of attention. It's not unusual for an Indian person to stop and stare as though they have never seen a human being before. Prasanti likes to call it 'visual abuse' and we take care to hide behind pashminas and big sunglasses whenever we feel uncomfortable. Celebrity style. Our taxi driver takes pride in watching over us like a bodyguard whenever we step out of the car to take photos or enjoy coconut water.

The humidity quickly gets rid of our make-up and with the monsoon rains high heels are out of the question in the mud. After an ayurvedic rejuvenation massage we can't be bothered about any of these pretentious things anymore. Instead of concerning ourselves with the fact that our faces become so shiny that the palm trees could reflect off it we concentrate on the rice paddies and the happy sound of the ducks.

Soon Kerala has us firmly enchanted. Whether it is the fresh air or some kind of magic spices in our curry, the charm of this area takes us by storm. Thunder and lightening and all.