Marari Beach: India's Deep South Part 15 (With March 2024 Update)

Rest, Recreation and Refuse

9,11,12-Mar-2016

Revisited 12,13-Mar-2024
As the final stop on our Kerala and More tour.
Post Updates are in red.

India

Kerala

The village of Mararikulam is only 11km north of Alapuhzza so we arrived before midday. The area was new to Thomas and in finding the Xandari Pearl Resort he was quick to seek directions from locals. Lynne pointedly approved; ‘so unlike your idiotic self’ being the unspoken implication.

The village is a ribbon development with a school, a couple of small shops and several well-separated resort hotels.

Mararikulum is too close to Alapphuza to mark on a map of this scale

The Xandari Pearl

The Xandari Pearl opened last year and while leading us to our bungalow the receptionist told us proudly of their green credentials. They grow all their herbs and vegetables, source fish from the local fishermen and have their own drinking water supply. The grounds contain 600 coconut trees and numerous mangoes and cashews.

Cashew nut, Marari Beach

‘We are very health-conscious,’ she continued, ‘so we serve fruit juice, tea and coffee but no alcohol.’ She tried to sell this as a plus, but whether as a consequence of Kerala’s semi-prohibition (we had met the same problem in another new hotel in Munnar) or of a Muslim management’s conscious decision, it was bad news to those who feel that a hot day at the seaside without a cold beer is like an idli without chutney. The nearby alternatives amounted to… well… nothing, so we would have to suck it up – or, more precisely, not suck it up. Fortunately enough rum had survived for pre-dinner drinks or night caps - or both on the last day.

Our introduction this time was a little less preachy. They neglected to mention their green credentials, but informed us they now had a ‘beer and wine’ licence, though I had, of course, carefully checked this before making the booking. We were again properly equipped for nightcaps with a bottle of wonderfully named whisky.

The Scots have several ways of spelling the name Mackintosh,
but the resourceful distillers of Bangalore have found one they never thought of

Our Accomodation

Our bungalow was like a small Portuguese villa, painted white inside and out,.....

Our white painted bungalow, Xandari Pearl Resort, Marari Beach

….with a curving white wall enclosing a private garden.

A glass or rum in our private garden, Marari Beach

This year we were upgraded, and our garden included a glorified children’s paddling facility described as a ‘swimming pool.’

Almost big enough to swim in

The interior was light and spacious with a door through to the outside bathroom; the toilet and washbasins under cover, the shower (and a small garden) surrounded by more curving white wall. I love showering in the fresh air (not just because the shaving mirror never mists up) and this was the finest outside shower we have yet encountered. The drawback is that when visiting the bathroom at night, the step from the air-conditioned interior to the hot bathroom (and it remains hot even in the hours before dawn) takes your breath away, while the return resembles entering an ice box.

Looking from the covered section of the bathroom to the outside shower, Marari Beach

There was another problem, which the management helpfully flagged up on the bathroom door.

Unfortunately sound advice

We had our own insect repellent, they provided more plus an electrically charged badminton racket that eliminated insects with a satisfying ‘crack’ should you hit them, and crystals which gave off insect repelling fumes when heated. By deploying our full armoury we could drink a night-cap under the garden fan in comfort, but a bite or two over a couple of days was inevitable – and mosquitos have always found me particularly toothsome. It is worth noting that local mosquitos do not carry malaria, or any other unpleasant disease.

A Life of Leisure

I shall not bother with an hour-by-hour account of our three night stay as much of it involved lazing by the pool,...

Lounging by the pool, Marari Beach

…or wallowing in it.

Wallowing in the pool, Marari Beach

And then there was...

The Beach

We walked down to the village, the road was narrow and busy and there was nothing to see. At what we took for the centre we turned towards the beach passing a Hindu shrine,….

Hindu shrine, Marari Beach

… a Christian shrine….

Christian shrine, Marari Beach

…and a pool where one man cast his net, though there was an ocean less than 100m behind him.

A pool where one (eccentric?) man chose to fish, Marari Beach

We returned along Marari Beach, walking a part of the ‘eleven kilometres of golden sand lapped by the warm blue Arabian Sea’ to quote the brochures. It is the home of fishermen and, in the strip between high and low water, as many small crabs as I have ever seen. Largely undeveloped, Marari Beach is in its natural condition, which unfortunately means covered in the detritus of our civilization, plastic bottles, single sandals, floats, pieces of rope, and more than a few things on whose origins I would not care to speculate. There were also ample dog faeces and a dead waterfowl, its decaying corpse being rolled in the shallows by the incoming waves. It is not the beach that dreams are made of, though it could be if the hotels cooperated to clean it up.

Marari Beach, Kerala
The white objects standing on their ends are polystyrene fishing boats (see below)

Things have changed at the beach. In 2016 it was empty except for fishermen, but now the village end has been developed. There is no beach restaurant yet to challenge the hegemony of the resort hotels, but beach goers can buy a snack, ice cream or coconut.

Marari beach development

The Xandari Pearl has also sponsored a wire ‘bottle’ to reduce the number of plastic bottles carelessly discarded, and there has been progress all round.

Litter bin and toilets - there is much to clean up yet, but this is progress

There is less rubbish on the beach, there are still sandals and fishing nets, even a lonely toothbrush but the plastic bottles, the dogs and their faeces have largely disappeared.

Lonely toothbrush, Marari Beach

On Wednesday afternoon the area between the village and our hotel was busy. A vigorous many-a-side game of beach football was in progress, while beyond them was the ever-fascinating sight of a group of Indian ladies of mature years going for a paddle. Fully dressed and with arms linked they edged carefully forward into the water, making a little jump and squeal with every wave. On reaching knee height, they stood and laughed and jumped and squealed until they have had enough, then they retreat to the land. Fortunately, in this climate a soggy sari soon dries.

We spent a little time on the beach every day, accessed through the coconut palms and past a hut where a security guard ensured no undesirables found their way into the hotel's somewhat exclusive version of paradise. He gave us a cheery wave as we came and went, few of the other guests ever ventured out and I think he was glad to see somebody.

The security guard was still there and still waving. We had been told on arrival that although the hotel could not cordon off a section of beach for our sole use (and quite right too, beaches are for everybody) they had put out chairs and umbrellas for guests. Ensuring the right number, and only the appropriate bums settled on the seats, was as extra responsibility for Mr Security. The task was hardly arduous, given that the hotel residents had no more desire to venture beyond their magic kingdom in 2024 than in 2016.

The entirety of our designated seating area

Walking on the beach one afternoon a child appeared from the trees. 'Hello, where do you come from?' she asked. Lynne told her. 'What is your name?' She told her that too and, just as in the schoolbook this conversation comes from Lynne asked 'and what is your name?' It was long and complicated as so many south Indian names are. Then the girl said 'Money.' 'No,' Lynne answered and she went away. She did not look ragged or poor, she was just trying it on. Tourism brings jobs and development, but not all its effects are benign.

Wildlife

We sat and watched the crabs popping up out of their burrows and scuttling along the sand. We watched the dogs too who seem to live on the beach, chasing the crabs every time they put in an appearance. Perhaps the crabs are part of their diet - maybe most of their diet. The time spent pointing my camera at crabs who scuttled off as I was focusing was eventually rewarded with one decent photo.

Ghost crab, Marari Beach
There are 22 species of ghost crab. This is (probably) Ocypode Brevicornis or Ocypode macrocera

I was not sorry to see the back of the dogs, but where were the crabs? Instead of being surrounded by scuttling decapods, we had to look hard to find any.

I snapped a couple of birds as well, a stint or sandpiper of some description...

A stint or sandpiper of some description, Marari Beach

…and an Asian dowitcher. I know little about birds and if anybody challenges my identifications I will quickly back down.

Asian dowitcher (I think) Marari Beach

Near the beach, Lynne got a good picture of a common crow butterfly – they would not stay still long enough for me to focus.

Common Crow butterfly, Marari Beach

Fishing

Of the fishermen, some threw their nets while wading in the shallows, others unfurled them from traditional fishing boats…

The traditional fishing boat along this coast

….while others paddled along on the polystyrene craft that can be seen all over the beach. Light and cheap they are popular with poorer fishermen, but although the boats are not very durable their constituent parts are almost indestructible and add to the world's microplastic blight.

Fisherman on a polystyrene boat

We were delighted that the polystyrene ‘boats’ had gone. The new version, stood on end like the old one, seemed far less prone to precipitating a toxic plastic snowstorm into the ocean.

Boats for the poorer fishermen - no longer polystyrene

Swimming

Lynne was happy to paddle in the warm water but regarded the steeply shelving beach and occasional waves with alarm.

Lynne paddles in the Arabian Sea, Marari Beach

Unlike Lynne I am naturally drawn to water, but I inspected the waves warily.

Watching the waves warily, Marari Beach

I had seen the filth on the beach and suspected the water might be the same. I could not see any floating turds or rotting cadavers, so I took my shirt off and waded gingerly forward. But the danger does not come from what you can see; was I walking into a broth of cholera, diphtheria and a dozen more deadly diseases I have never heard of and have no immunity to? I was still debating with myself when a sudden wave took the decision for me.

The wave makes the decision for me, Marari Beach

After that I might just as well swim. I did not stay in long and I kept my mouth shut tight, though doubtless there are a dozen other ways for death to gain entrance. I came to no harm and am happy to boast that I have swum in the Arabian Sea, but felt no need to repeat the experience this time.

Floating, if not quite swimming in the Arabian Sea, Marari Beach

Eating and Drinking

We ate breakfast, lunch and dinner at the hotel restaurant; there was nowhere else within walking distance and no tuk-tuks in Mararikulum. It seemed expensive at first – a single chapatti cost more than a ‘pure veg meal’ outside - but it was appropriate for the standard of the hotel and cheap enough by international standards. The menu was not long with full meals and lighter bites, and there was little that one or other (or both) of us did not sample. Seer fish in a masala crust,...

Seer fish with a masala crust

This is the 2024 version of the dish served with a bowl of garlic rice big enough to feed six. 'Seer Fish' is a name applied to several species of large relatives of the mackerel, that are chopped into steaks rather than filleted.

... spicy tomato and vegetable soup, Kerala fish curry with tamarind and coconut, chicken salad with papaya dressing, chicken stuffed with nuts, vegetables and lime, lamb in yogurt gravy with hot pepper sauce and desserts of ice cream or vatalappam (coconut custard with jaggery, cashews, cardamom, cloves, and nutmeg) were all elegantly presented and straddled European and Indian traditions without insulting either. The Indian mackerel, selected from the fresh fish trolley, filleted then fried with a masala crust and served with ‘English’ vegetables was particularly good.

We drank lime juice or water (though cold beer would have been better). Carafes of the hotel’s spring water were set out an hour or more before serving. Sitting by the pool a raised arm would bring a carafe of water with floating lemon (good) and cucumber (not so) but that was never chilled either.

In 2024 the menu was bigger and more varied, and of course there was a beer and wine licence. They had a good wine selection, but I am not prepared to pay 4,000 rupees (£40) for a bottle of Jacob’s Creek., and anyway Indian food goes better with beer. We drank Kingfisher, the largest selling brand, which I enjoy now they have lowered the glycerol content.

We ate lunch in the company of an egret, who seemed to have taken to us.

Our friendly egret

Lynne wisely had a salad while I chose squid rings in a masala crust. The crust was robustly spiced and the squid was perfectly cooked – not an easy thing to do. There was too much of it (well I had to eat it all!) and it could have done with some greenery, but I enjoyed it. It is, though, not quite my favourite way of eating squid (see Eating the Algarve).

Squid with a masala crust

I made up by having a vegetarian evening meal, though it was still hardly green, being based on black chick peas in a brown curry sauce.

Going veggie, even if it doesn't look like it

Lynne enjoyed her sweet pepper stuffed with cheese and cauliflower.

Now that's a stuffed pepper

The hotel promised ‘music at 8 o’clock.’ They set up across the corner of the sward surrounding the pool. The music was recorded, but the solo dancer was live, if a little too far away. She introduced each dance in clear English and seemed to me (and I probably had the best view in the restaurant) a very accomplished performer, though I admit to knowing diddly squat about Indian classical dancing - or indeed any dancing.

Indian classical dance (hampered by location)

I thought she was worth more than half-hearted applause from the small group of distant, distracted dinners. Sadly, she only stayed for 20 minutes or so.

Breakfasts were good, there was a buffet but Indian breakfasts could also be ordered. My dosa with chutneys and sambar looked as good as it tasted.

Dosa, sambar and chutneys

I ate the same breakfast this year, but it was better presented so I have used the 2024 photograph.

And Finally

Each evening we went to the beach at sunset. This has been a theme throughout this holiday, indeed in the whole blog, and our failures continued on Marari Beach. Since we reached the west coast the sun has regularly disappeared not into the sea but into a band of clouds above the horizon. Some things do not change!

The sun about to sink into the clouds, Marari Beach

So that is the Xandari Pearl Resort beside Marari Beach. It is a lovely hotel, the bungalows are all you could want, the surroundings are beautiful, the food is good and the staff friendly and efficient - pity about the lack of a drinks licence. And why do Marari's collection of upmarket hotels not get together to clean up their shared beach - it is a disgrace. I am happy to have been able to report progress on most fronts.

India's Deep South

Part 1: Bangalore to Mysore
Part 2: Mysore, Somnathpur and Srirangapatnam
Part 3: Kabini and the Nagarhole National Park
Part 4: The Road to Ooty
Part 5: The Nilgiri Blue Train to Coonoor
Part 6: Across the Palakkad Gap and up to Munnar
Part 7: Munnar - Tea, Dams and Elephants
Part 8: Madurai
Part 9: Rameswaram
Part 10: To the Very Tip of India
Part 11: The End of India and Beyond
Part 12: North to Trivandrum (Thiruvananthapuram) and Kollam
Part 13: Ants, Mollywood and Varkala
Part 14: The Backwaters of Kerala (and some Coir)
Part 15: Marari Beach, Rest, Recreation and Refuse
Part 16: Kochi, a Second Visit

THE END