Kovalam Scenes

The fruit-sellers grabbed me on the Kovalam strip. I knew I was going to get fleeced the moment I sat down (NEVER sit down). Once they started telling me how special I was, I realised I was a total goner. I blame the heat.

You will not get out of here without buying this pineapple (and I didn't)

It’s hard to criticise people who travel 20km by bus every day to sell fruit on a beach, or even who sleep on the beach every night and only go home once a month. Could I begrudge them the (relatively) small sum of money that I handed over?

Like the fishermen, I suspect the fruit sellers will always be here. It is, after all, only the tourists who change.

Au revoir to the fishermen of Kovalam

Sunday at the Beach #3 - Evening

Everybody gathers on the beach to watch the sunset. It is low season, so there are plenty of empty seats on the balcony of a restaurant. In high season, I would have to book a day in advance to get this view.

Fishing boats are going out to sea from all along the coast. The boats still on the beach are being used by tourists: to lean on, shelter under, dry clothes on. The day is nearly over and children are being coaxed out of the water (ice cream appears to be the lure).

Uses for a fishing boat

The stewards are still blowing their whistles, but with less enthusiasm now. Young men are coming out of the water, drying themselves off and discreetly removing shorts from under towels.

The lighthouse lights up at 6pm and the light begins to rotate. The fishing boats light up too and twinkle on the sea. The sound of the engines mixes with the noise of the waves. The smell of wood smoke grows stronger again and the crows are still here, still hopeful and still scavenging.

 The end of a long day at the beach

Sunday at the Beach #1 - Morning

Lighthouse Beach before the crowds

Not yet 7.30am and this is a working beach. There are a few tourists around: families with energetic young children who wake early, that sort of thing. They pose for photographs with the lighthouse in the background or have a quick paddle in the sea.

Otherwise the beach belongs to the fishermen. They are pulling in a net. This is a slow, arduous process. There must be 40 men on 2 ropes, heaving and coiling. Stepping back and forward, arm over arm. I can count 5 men in the water: black heads bobbing on the blue sea, disappearing under the waves when they break.

A gentle breeze wafts in off the sea, rustles through the palm trees and mingles with the smell of wood smoke from last night’s tandoori oven. The fishermen chant in time with the waves and the black crows stand in hopeful groups, waiting for what they can scavenge. Stray dogs run down the sand, across the ropes and into the water. They have no interest in fish.

 Pulling in the catch

Coiling the rope

The sun is still rising behind us but it is already hot. The beach vendors are setting out umbrellas and sun loungers. Soon the fishermen will finish work and the tourists and day-trippers will arrive.

Cadgwith Cove

Words and Pictures © Louise Heal 2008