As our driver pulls away from Munnar, I try my best to remember the feeling of fine mist and cool air upon my skin as it will be the last time I will be in sub-thirty degree heat until my feet touch down in England. On our way back to Kochi, our car boards a ferry and we are freighted across one of the many salt water rivers for which Kerala is known. It reminds me of the time we ferried VY's car across to Catembe in Maputo, with cars packed in so tightly that paint exchanges are inevitable and an advanced degree in Tetris is required to fit everyone's vehicle on the barge.

While Munnar most certainly qualifies as South India, its mountainous setting and cool climate feel incongruous in a place that is famous for its swaying palm trees and calm backwaters. It wasn't until we settled into Fort Kochi did I feel like we had arrived in South India proper; distinct from the North not only in weather and climate but also for producing a different temperament in its people. Perhaps it is the proximity to the ocean, but the people of Kerala are more relaxed and easy going than their northern neighbours; curious about new faces but content to let you be if that's what you want. Goods are not pushed upon passersby and most times, when people ask a question, it is because they are genuinely interested in the answer rather than having some ulterior motive.

Instead of a homestay, this time we book into the excellent Pepper Route Hotel, where internet is fast, service is exemplary and crucially, air conditioning is free. Dad is delighted at the step up in accommodation but it doesn't stop him from lathering himself in mosquito repellent and turning on the Vape. Something we discover about Kerala that knocks my dad's enthusiasm: alcohol is heavily taxed and very hard to come by in most restaurants, a measure put in place by the world's only democratically elected communist government (state level) several years back to curb rampant alcoholism among the locals. Since we are spending Christmas in Kerala, dad fears that this will be his first dry Christmas since, well, ever. Righting this perceived wrong becomes a righteous quest and he is overcome with the kind of monomania that is usually the preserve of obsessive compulsives. As he says "the Grinch stole Christmas and I'm going to get it back!"

Leaving pops to his work, the rest of us take in Fort Kochi, a historical seaside town dating back to the days of European conquest and the frantic hunt for spice routes to the east. Because it was colonized by the Portuguese, Christianity features heavily here but so does Judaism (Kochi hosts Asia's oldest synagogue) as well as the more traditional religions to this part of the world. Colonial architecture dominates and there are a number of old churches and Dutch buildings that are worth seeing. But my favorite are the giant rain trees that dot the city centre; slowly but surely upending the cobblestones sidewalks that try to restrain them. They're enormous and impressive, and during the hot afternoons provide respite from the heat with their much appreciated shade.

These trees are huge and are one of my favorite things about Kochi

At all hours of the day, fresh seafood is available along the beach, and fishermen haul in their catch holding auctions for the local populace, speaking in the rapidfire staccato of the Tamil language while taking bids and clearing product with admirable efficiency. The more expensive fare (tiger prawns, octopus, red snapper) are kept apart and sold to tourists whose contributions comprise a significant portion of their income. Always happy to help out our fellow man, we buy 4kg of prawns and a snapper and walk the two minutes to the multitude of outdoor restaurants that charge R150 a kilo to cook whatever you like. Delicious.

The Chinese fishing nets

While the old architecture and 200 year old trees go a long way to make Kochi a memorable place, it is the cantilevered Chinese fishing nets lining the coasts that elevate Kochi from quaint to picturesque. Brought to India during the 15th century by the Portuguese, these contraptions use a counter-weight system and require a team of five to six men to operate. They start every morning at 6am and toil in the sun until about 2pm. The fishermen who work the nets are thin but have a wiry strength about them, pulling upon the stone weighted ropes to repeatedly lower and lift the large nets. It is very tough work, I know this because I volunteered to help. A single repetition of lowering and raising the net set my forearms on fire, made my balls swell to the size of grapefruits, gave me a hernia and may have induced hemorrhoids. Evidently I am not built for hard labour. And the payoff? A handful of silverfish no longer than a few inches. In the face of competition from commercial fishing, failing fish stocks and lack of a new generation to pass on to, it is no wonder that this practice is dying out and will likely to be gone within the current generation.

The payoff. Not more than five or six of these little buggers for every dip in the ocean

Kochi really is a special place. The food, the people and the atmosphere made it easy to love, and as far as introductions go, I couldn't have asked for a better one to South India. All of us agree that we could easily pass a week here and are excited for what lies ahead.

And what of pops? The day before we're meant to leave Fort Kochi for the Keralan backwaters of Kumarakom/Alleppy, Dad persuades the hotel's only employee to ditch work for a few moments and bring him to the nearest liquor store. Having been dry for all of three days, he is desperate and coughs up R2,600 for a bottle of Black & White whiskey which can be had for R900 back in Goa. I suspect he'll be nursing His Precious very carefully over the next five days, snarling at anyone who gets too close. I'll stick to water then.

Fishermen working the nets

One man and two cats

Unloading rice and spice in this old port town

This guy was in fantastic shape and had a bone-crushing vice grip

Playing with this baby gave me the impression that he had a very old soul. It was an odd feeling

Men shuffling ground tea. The aroma coming from this room was amazing

Crossfit is for chumps. Try lifting these for 8h a day

I'm really lucky that these fishermen were so obliging in letting me help work the nets. It was super fun

Cats don't have to work very hard here