No tribulations here today

This is Cape Tribulation, near where Captain Cook crashed the Endeavour into a coral reef, and where his several weeks of trials and tribulations began.

This is the Cape Tribulation Beach House resort. It's a pleasant and restful place to stay. The only minor tribulation (for some) is the lack of internet or TV reception. That was a plus though, in our opinion.

Amazing place

In Bali you can get comfortable accommodation for $20 or less, and a bit more buys you a little luxury. But in Lovina, we went one step further. We lashed out and paid what we might have paid for a pretty standard Australian motel room, and look what we got!

Lata Lama is a unique resort, consisting of a collection of amazing designer hippy houses, which look like they would be more at home in Byron Bay or Mullumbimby.

Our 'Rumah Beryl' (Beryl's House) was rather magnificent. Every room, and every detail of every room, could have been at home in any of the 'Home Beautiful' type magazines, we thought. And we even had our very own nicely sized swimming pool.




It was a bit of a walk down to the beach, but that added to the charm, we soon decided.

Kerala beach resorts - Varkala

The beach resort of Varkala was a cut above Kovalam, we thought. It seemed a little bit cleaner, brighter, more wholesome all round. More relaxing places to hang out, and a rather dramatic setting, with much of it strung out along a clifftop walk.

There's still a bit of dirt and litter around though, but the cliff provides a convenient way to dispose of it. Sweep it all over the edge! And the traders in the tin shed trinket shops along the cliff top walk were right up there in the world champion perseverance stakes. They were also rather personable and quite seductive though, and yours truly found himself buying T shirts, tailored trousers, miniature auto-rickshaws, the lot.

Lonely Planet says Varkala's the kind of place where the days turn into weeks, or even months. You stroll the tourist strip, you do excursions to the nearby backwaters, you wander north along the path to the next beaches, where it's all much quieter and even more scenic. I can see how it happens.

There again you could join the throng down on the main beach, where the blue-clad lifesavers blow their whistles almost non-stop, to no avail and for unknown purpose.

Fishermen's (drunken) picnic

We spent Christmas Day at a rather fine upmarket beach resort about an hour's drive south of Trivandrum. We were enjoying the wonderfully generous hospitality of our Trivandrum homestay hosts and their resort-owning sister, and we had the run of the place for the day. But one unexpected restriction was that we couldn't actually go onto the beach.

Christmas Day was the one day of the year when the beach was the sole province of its real owners - the local fishermen and their families. Every other day the western tourists could bathe, parade, or sunbake, show off a few acres of white flesh if they liked. It was tolerated. But not today. The locals had their civilian marshals posted, and were turning back any intrepid westerners, like the Swiss family we'd got to know, who tried to crash the party. At the resort itself, the security staff had locked the bottom gate, and were politely explaining the situation.

They were having a lot of fun on that beach. They were all Catholics, we were told, so not only were they celebrating Christmas Day, but they were also celebrating it with alcohol. Much of the fun consisted of groups of men throwing each other into the water. Likewise groups of women. Always segregated sexes, always fully clothed. No wonder they didn't want the westerners there to complicate it all!