- A work trip to Kochi slowly unfolded into moments of calm, culture and reflection
- From backwaters to shared meals, the city revealed itself without ever rushing
- Kochi’s quiet rhythm offered perspective, connection and a pause that stayed on
There is a certain kind of calm that hits you even before Kochi fully reveals itself. Maybe it's the air - thicker, softer, carrying the faint smell of the sea. Or maybe it's the way the city refuses to rush you. I realised this somewhere between leaving Delhi's concrete greys behind and watching the backwaters slowly come into view on the way to my stay at Taj Malabar. The drive from the airport takes a while, but by the time you reach, something in you has already begun to slow down.
Set against the backwaters, the hotel almost feels like it's part of the port itself. Ships move in the distance, the Indian Coast Guard occasionally cuts through the stillness, and everything around you feels quietly in motion without ever being chaotic. This wasn't just any trip. It was an Asia-Pacific media journey organised by Booking.com, bringing together journalists from across countries - South Korea, Thailand, Vietnam, and more. What followed over the next three days was not just an exploration of Kochi, but a layered experience of culture, food, people, and perspective.
A Grand Welcome Into Kerala's Cultural Heart
Our first real introduction to Kochi's cultural rhythm began on water.
A boat took us across the backwaters to Brunton Boatyard, and before we even had time to take in the colonial charm of the property, we were welcomed in a way that felt both grand and deeply rooted in tradition.
Photo: Booking.Com
The sound of chenda melam filled the air - loud, rhythmic, almost impossible to ignore. The percussion wasn't just music; it was an announcement, a feeling, a statement that something significant was unfolding.
Photo: Nikita Nikhil
And then came Kathakali.
Before the performance began, we were walked through its intricacies - the discipline, the storytelling, the silent language of mudras, and the sheer physical commitment it demands. The performers don't speak, yet they communicate everything. A flick of the eye, a slight twitch of the cheek, a pause held just long enough.
They enacted a scene from the Mahabharata - Bheem's quest for a flower for Draupadi - and it was almost surreal how a story so familiar could feel so new without a single word being spoken.
The details stayed with me. The hours-long makeup process. The natural pigments made from stones and minerals. The rice paste beards. The restraint of not showing teeth. It's not just performance, it's devotion.
At some point, I found myself on stage, awkwardly trying to mirror a few mudras, surrounded by journalists from across the world attempting the same. It was slightly chaotic, a little funny, but also strangely grounding.
Photo: Nikita Nikhil
Lunch that followed was a traditional sadhya served on a banana leaf - and I don't think I was prepared for how much I would love it.
There's something incredibly satisfying about eating a meal like that with your hands, moving through flavours that are so distinct yet so cohesive. The dal payasam, especially, completely stole the show for me (and yes, it has my heart now).
Photo: Booking.Com
As someone who leans heavily towards non-vegetarian food, this meal genuinely surprised me. It didn't feel like a compromise. It felt complete.
Fort Kochi: Where Time Slows Down
By the evening, we found ourselves in Fort Kochi - and this is where the city really begins to show its layers.
Colonial buildings, streets like Princess Street that seem to hold onto time, old churches, art spilling onto walls - it all comes together in a way that feels lived-in rather than curated.
We walked along Fort Kochi Beach, spotted the iconic Chinese fishing nets, and wandered through streets dotted with cafés and quiet corners. There's a certain effortlessness to this part of the city. Nothing feels forced.
Photo: Nikita Nikhil
Dinner at a local favourite brought the day to a close, with dishes like meen moilee and butter chicken making their way to the table - comforting, indulgent, and exactly what we needed after a long day.
But what stayed with me more than anything that night were the conversations.
Sitting with journalists from different parts of the world, talking about work, life, and everything in between, I realised how similar we all really are. As women especially, there was an unspoken sense of understanding, support, and shared experience.
It didn't feel like competition. It felt like a community.
Life Along The Backwaters
Day two was about going deeper - into Kochi's quieter, more rooted side.
At Kumbalangi Eco Village, life moves differently.
We were welcomed with fresh coconut water, which, under the humid sun, felt less like a drink and more like relief. From there, the experience unfolded slowly - mangrove forests, glimpses of migratory birds, and a close look at how local communities live in sync with their environment.
Photo: Nikita Nikhil
We watched toddy being extracted from coconut trees, saw how coconut fibre is turned into everyday tools, and even learned how coconut milk is made from scratch.
There was something humbling about it.
While we often get caught up in the noise of our daily lives, here were people building sustainable systems out of what they already had - and doing it well.
Photo: Nikita Nikhil
Lunch here was unforgettable. Appams, prawn curry, chicken, fish, pineapple that was easily the sweetest I have ever had - it was simple, fresh, and deeply satisfying.
Jew Town And Stories In Every Corner
The second half of the day took us through Jew Town and the Paradesi Synagogue.
This part of Kochi feels like a quiet archive of history.
Antique shops, colonial facades, and streets that seem to whisper stories if you walk slowly enough. The synagogue, with its intricate hand-painted tiles - each one unique - felt almost meditative.
Photo: Nikita Nikhil
At Ginger House, where we stopped for a break, I had what I thought were savoury banana fritters, only to discover they were sweet, soft, and completely addictive.
Sometimes, travel surprises you in the smallest, most unexpected ways.
Dinner that night was a full-fledged seafood experience. From garlic prawn and drumstick soup to an elaborate seafood platter and coconut-forward desserts, the meal was rich, layered, and unapologetically indulgent.
Photo: Nikita Nikhil
Also, a quick personal highlight: discovering oyster dipping sauce thanks to a fellow journalist from Thailand. Safe to say, I'm bringing that back from my next trip.
Mornings That Stay With You
On our final day, we woke up before sunrise for a boat ride on Vembanad Lake. Sleepy, slightly disoriented, but quietly excited, we made our way to the boats.
And then the sun rose.
There's no dramatic way to describe it because it wasn't dramatic. It was gentle. Soft light, still water, a kind of silence that feels rare.
Photo: Nikita Nikhil
It was, in every sense, exactly what I needed. It was a bit cloudy that morning, I guess we got lucky!
The day continued at a charming art café - Lila Art Café - in Fort Kochi, where the food was just as thoughtful as the space. From a beautifully plated kunafa chaat to prawn moilee and even a blueberry tiramisu, every dish felt intentional.
We also spent time exploring the Kochi-Muziris Biennale, moving through installations and exhibits that added yet another layer to the city's already rich identity.
What I Took Back With Me
Some trips stay with you because of what you see. This one stayed because of how it made me feel.
Kochi didn't overwhelm me. It didn't try too hard. It simply existed - rich in culture, grounded in tradition, open to the world, and deeply comforting in its pace.
Somewhere between the backwaters, the conversations, the food, and the quiet moments, I realised how much travel can shift you. It reminds you that your world, as big as it may feel, is still just a small part of something much larger.
And sometimes, that's exactly the perspective you need.
