Floating through rural India on a thatched houseboat

By Aliki Nassoufis Nov 8, 2011, 3:06 GMT

Alappuzha, India - Only minutes ago the air was alive with the sound of horn-tooting cars and tuk-tuk tricycles but here on the water street the loudness gives way to tranquility.

We are on the water en route to a houseboat which will take us through the hinterland of the south-west Indian state of Kerala. After a motorboat trip of only a few minutes, our floating home comes into sight around a bend in the river.

It is a Kettuvallam, a distinctive, traditional design with a thatched roof. The crew gives us a hearty welcome, especially Deepu, who is not just cook but the life and soul of the houseboat. 'Welcome on board,' he exclaims, beaming from ear to ear.

The Kerala backwaters is the name given to a tangled network of waterways spreading for several hundred kilometres over a large area of state territory. The area is made up of innumerable lagoons, canals, estuaries and the deltas of forty-four rivers.

Some watercourses are so narrow that even a child could hop from one side to the other while others flow into large lakes. For centuries the locals used the waterways to fetch supplies and transport their harvest to market.

A few years ago someone came up with the idea of turning the region into a holiday destination for stressed-out visitors and the idea really took off. The 20-metre-long boats, whose name derives from the Indian for tying together pieces of wood, have proved to be popular.

There are now hundreds of them plying the backwaters. They come in various shapes and sizes and some have room for large families with children while others offer a bedroom for a couple along with a three-man crew.

Between meals there is not much else to do but admire the magnificent landscape gliding by. The boat skims past palm-fringed coconut groves and lush fields, dotted with cows, rustic home and temples. A cruise lasting several days offers a fascinating insight into the everyday life of the backwater dwellers.

The piercing crow of a cock close to where we have berthed jolts us out of bed in the early morning and before long we are off again, letting everyday life pass by at a leisurely pace. Entire families are out washing their clothes in the canals, and girls and boys in school uniform and satchels dash up and down the narrow tow-paths.

We retire to the upper deck but a loud slapping sound soon grabs our attention. Housewives are up to their knees in water, thrashing their washing against stones on the bank. The men are pottering about in the fields, repairing their boats or lugging boxes of shopping to their homes. Around lunchtime the waterways echo to the sound of the frantic clattering of crockery - yes, it's washing up time.

The slow pace of such a vacation allows visitors to immerse themselves in Indian rural life, admittedly only as observers and then at a discreet distance. The familiarity is heartening but odd at the same time. There is little opportunity to mingle with the people who live in this landscape and so they remain figures on a backdrop. Not that this distance deters tourists.

The backwaters attract countless vacationers from all over the world, including day-trippers eager to soak up the atmosphere for a few hours.