Kochi has captivated us, with it's ramshackle tumble down warehouses, grand colonial residences, huge shady trees and vast expanses of open misty waterways with coconut palms shimmering in the hazy distance.
Room 208, with it's bougainvillaea shaded terrace, watching butterflies dance through the huge mango tree has become like home.
We have grazed round the cafes and watched the world go by. Teenagers playing cricket on a patch of green. Tourists playing follow my leader, not even noticing the painted rocks on the beach. Travellers escaping a past life or at crossroads or simply like us taking time out.
We have enjoyed staying longer in less places, meeting local artists and transient foreigners, young and old with different stories to tell. I for one remembered that I can't cross Indian roads, and the realisation that now my thighs won't lift me up from a squat loo!
