Leaving the relative urbanization of Fort Kochi for the rural backwater of Kumarakom is like stepping back in time. With the exception of the odd Tata Bolero, there's a sense that things here have changed very little over the past century. Women walk the hard, dirt packed roads making their way to the market while men in lungis -a tablecloth like wrap that is worn around the waist- loiter by stalls thrown together from wood and corrugated metal, sipping the local arrack called "toddy". Vegetation here is dense, flourishing in this monsoon-prone part of India, and taken with the many canals that criss-cross Kumarakom, only add to the feeling of rustication as we drive to our hotel.

The main attraction in this part of Kerala is taking one of the long-boats for a slow, meandering cruise along one of the many canals that all eventually connect to Vembanad, the largest lake in Kerala. As we were in the middle of high season with no boat booked, I was anxious to have the reassurance of a reservation in-hand but was left deflated when inquiry after inquiry proved unfruitful, with many of the boats being fully booked months ago. But I have to hand it to my mum whom, for the second time this trip, proved herself to be in possession of one of the rarest of traits: clutchness. To be clutch means to come through when it counts the most, like Kevin Love sinking three pointers left, right and centre, single-handedly keeping playoff dreams alive while Peck and Rubio are sidelined with injuries and there's nothing but benchwarmers and unproven rookies to rely on. In the equivalent of mom posterizing an Estonian 7-footer during conference finals, she managed to locate not only a barge for our backwater cruise, but quite possibly the best barge to be had. I was ecstatic. But more on this later.

A typical sleeper boat in Kumarakum

While we waited for the date of our cruise to approach, we whiled away the days lazing in the infinity pool overlooking lake Vembanad, or stayed indoors to catch a marathon of the BBC's superb Sherlock series, a show introduced to me by KR that I never got around to finishing. We also made a day trip to Alleppey which requires a 45-minute ferry ride across the lake followed by a 30-minute ride on a bus driven by an absolute psychopath who undoubtedly learned to drive by playing Grand Theft Auto. With no sitting room we were standing at the back of the bus where the laws of inertia apply themselves to the fullest, and like candies in a piñata we were thrown around the bus as it drove full tilt, ploughing through traffic and pedestrians alike and overtaking everything in sight. It was chaos on the road and I absolutely fucking loved it.

Back of the bus in Alleppey. The ride was absolutely mental

Back in my Santa Fe days, my friend AL was sent to India for a few weeks on a business trip to Chennai or Bengalore (I don't remember which). Although I was more than a little envious, I remained ignorant as to what experiences were to be had and it wasn't until AL came back recounting his backwater trip -made during a cheeky jaunt to Alleppey- did I learn of its existence. Now, seven years later, I find myself about to embark on the same trip by virtue of my mother's persistence and competence. With visions of thatched roofed longboats on placid waters filling my head it was with excitement that I awaited for the day to approach.

As barges go, the Trine is old enough to give it an air of authenticity but new enough to have all the creature comforts one could hope for: two bedrooms with en-suite bathrooms, a large and spacious communal area with dining table, flat screen television and stereo system, sun lounge area for those looking to work on their base layer, a fully fitted kitchen in the back and of course, air conditioning because Dad. We would spend the a day and a night on board the Trine, accompanied by three staff: one driver, one floater and a chef; although pops soon appropriates the kitchen demoting him to sous chef.

Lounge area view from The Trine

With a warm lake breeze blowing, the barge sets off at noon from the back of our lakeside hotel and its not long before we are navigating the vast network of backwaters, canals and waterways emanating from Vembanad. The slow and steady putt-putt-putt of the diesel engine propels us through the water while the driver sits on his chair working the helm, lazily spinning the spoked wheel while trying not to look bored. The lake is enormous, and through the overcast skies and low hanging fog I can barely make out the opposing coastline. Drifting through the mist reminds me of the slow boat cruise I took in Vietnam's Halong Bay long ago, minus the majestic limestone mountains.

But it's not until the skies clear and the waterways narrow to a single river in the backwaters of Alleppey do I understand what all the fuss is about. Gliding serenely down these waters, scenes of Kerala's pastoral life play out before us: fishermen painstakingly repairing their nets by the riverside, old men paddling small boats through the branching canals waving hello as we drift past and young boys trying to impress their friends by performing backflips into the water. Lined on either side are the towering palm-trees for which Kerala is known, trunks bending sinuously like the long necks of the white cranes that patronize these waters; and behind them lie the seemingly infinite stretches of rice fields, now mint green to the horizon and ripe for harvesting. It all induces a sense of tranquility and quiet contentment... which is shattered when a speedboat carrying three new money types, decked out in dark Raybans and lurid popped collar polonecks come crashing down the once serene river, likely clinking champagne glasses, comparing stock portfolio performance and definitely leaving a lot of annoyed people in their wake.

A typical backwater sight

And with that jarring reminder that we are not in the past, but the present, our stomachs rumble and we direct our driver to take us to a riverside bazaar to source some fish. We end up purchasing a handsome 1.5kg red snapper and eight plump rosenbergii (a fresh water tiger prawn) from an uncompromising fishmongress whose shrewd business sense and keen understanding of her monopoly status leaves no leeway for bargaining. That doesn't deter dad though as he's already seen the culinary possibilities for this fish, none of which even remotely involve curry. We also pick up a bottle of toddy from a riverside shoppe to satisfy our curiosity but after a sniff, gag, and a tentative nose-pinched sip quickly offload it -the smell of sour fermented coconut and taste of fortified petrol not to our liking.

Dad and the sous chef get to work and whip up the first home cooked meal we've had since Goa and, after supper, cap off the evening watching watching a strange Bollywood take on a Batman/X-Men mash-up starring Indian beefcake Rhithik Roshan. Mum's been following the Bollywood scene closely and tells me to shush during dialogue scenes even though she doesn't understand Hindi.

I can't recommend Kumarakum/Alleppy enough. It's a beautiful and lush place and taking a backwater cruise here is an absolute must-do. Next we make our way out of Kerala and into Tamil Nadu to that most famous of India's erstwhile French outposts, Puducherry (formerly Pondicherry).

A fisherman at work on lake Vembanad

Locals sporting a lungi, traditional South Indian garb (short and long version)

There was no bargaining with this lady

Sell! Sell! Sell!

Morning ritual

On the way to Pondicherry we found this little shop making muruku, a savoury treat that's also found in Mauritius

Delicious but not so nutritious