Isola Di Cocco

The Poovar Island Ayurvedic Beach Resort of Isola Di Cocco was our home for three days while in Southern India. Isola Di Cocco (Island of Coconuts) is uniquely located in Kerala, providing access to the beaches of the Lakshadweep Sea as well as to Kerela’s backwaters. The grounds of the resort are idyllic. Greenery, fan palms and flowered arbors mingle with a large swimming pool, long sandy beaches and airy restaurant facilities. It was a little bit of paradise right here in India.

The resort is 18 km south of Trivandrum. Unfortunately, during our late evening drive from Kanyakumari, neither we nor our driver had any clue where the resort was located. Signage was sparse and difficult to read on the unlit back roads of Kerala. Tucked behind acres of coconut groves and languid lagoon water, our final approach to the resort on the rural rutted road was a bit harrowing.

The resort caters to westerners. During our stay, German and Italian conversations were frequently overheard. We are not of the “lounging pool side” or “beach bathing” crowd, so we headed off to explore.

We found fishermen chest-deep in the lagoon irrigation water. With smooth, even motions they dipped their nets. Sometimes a small flat fish would be found wiggling in the netting. More often, only leafy water vegetation was pulled from the murky water. Nearby, a young mother sat on the ground with her daughters weaving mats from palm leaves.

Further down the road, men swung heavy hammers to break and shape large stones that were then lifted and fitted into a retaining wall. Just a short distance away another group of men were doing the same thing to build a property line wall. These shaped stones, weighing maybe 80 lbs, were lifted by the helping hands of two men and placed upon the padded heads of waiting women. The women, ramrod straight, would then carry the stone blocks a few yards. With a simple bend at the waist, the stones would be tossed onto the ground on the other side of the string guide lines. Other hands would then move the stones into their final resting place in the wall. The process was repeated again and again.

On our walk back to the resort, we greeted a man walking his cow and goat down the dusty dirt road. Snaps were taken at the front gate with the guard and a passel of autorickshaw drivers waiting for fares from the Germans, Italians and the other pampered guests.

On our last day there we ventured, via boat, onto the sandbar facing the ocean. Fishermen were found straightening their nets after a morning of fishing. Other fishermen in small, log-built boats, were paddling with only slit bamboo poles. A very hard life in paradise.

An Italian man strolling on the beach confirmed, “Bela!” (beautiful!) as he waved his arm at the ocean. He took our picture as the surf rolled onto the sandy shore. Kerala is indeed, as the tourist campaign offers, god’s country.