Indians at the beach

I took the ferry from the waterfront to nearby Vypin island.

At the waterfront

Ennakalum, the nearby city across the water is a major port and you can see a container ship and cranes in the background.

As we crossed the small stretch of water I had a view of some of the Chinese fishing nets, with a working fishing boat in the foreground.

At the other end of the island, about 15km away is a long stretch of sandy beach called Cherrai Beach. I needed a rickshaw to get there, so arranged for a driver to take me there, wit two hours and bring me back to the ferry – so here goes with my first rickshaw experience! Oh my God, it was like a video game where you have to dodge the approaching objects, except I had no control and I wasn’t convinced my driver had either. He went as fast as he could, while talking on his mobile phone. Once he finished his call he could really concentrate on trying to get past everything in front of him.

Amazingly we got to the beach in one piece and had two hours to relax before repeating the experience.

There was a long promenade with a couple of kiosks and the Arabian sea crashing rather intimidatingly on the long white sandy beach. I sat on a rock at the back of the beach to take in the view, but quickly moved when I realised the smell was from a rotting sea bird.

A group of lifeguards sat together under an umbrella. They were wearing a light blue uniform, of a loose –fitting cotton shirt and long trousers, with a whistle on a braid attached at the shoulder. Occasionally one of the stood up and blew but I could see at whom or why. There did not appear to be any life-saving equipment.

Lifeguards

 There was a group of Indians – men women and children – looking like day-trippers. They stood at the edge of the sea in their clothes looking a little unsure about what to do. 

Further up the beach, slightly away from the main area a group of about 10 young men were enjoying playing a vigorous game of catch in the sea. They worn long sleeved white T shirts and what looked like long johns. They all had the same short hair and unkempt beards.

Some people sat on the promenade or stones at the back of the beach. No-one sat on the sand, or played with it. There were no car rugs, wind break, buckets and spades or any of the parafanalia that we seem to require to make a day on the beach complete.

I took a paddle along the beach and then sat on a rock away from the hubbub.  A group of 4 boys were interested in me and came over to find out what I was doing. One of the asked for money. When they had exhausted their English they got bored and wandered away to pester another toursit. A group of about 6 germans came along and ignored me. A single middle aged Indian man carrying a crash helmet asked me what I was doing there by myself, ‘No husband?’, ‘No boyfriend?’ I decided it was time to move. Sitting nearer to the main beach I chatted to a young female french tourist.

It was time to meet the rickshaw driver. On th return journey the rain started and he stopped to rig up a cover on one side of the vehicle. I shunted across to keep dry.

Rain and rickshaw

The rain had stopped by the time we got back to the ferry.

'Queue' for the ferry