I open my eyes to the sounds of the Arabian Sea caressing Kerala’s sandy shores with it’s gentle waves. Fishing boats are bobbing in the not so far distance waiting for the morning catch. The Mohadzin starts singing his daily call for prayer from the nearby mosque. What an eccentric mix of people, cultures, religions and impressions this place is.

Many had warned me that India is loud. It’s true, there is constant sounds, always: Barking stray dogs, fighting flying squirrels, prayer calls, people shouting, the wind and the waves, drilling and hammering, rubbish burning… And rubbish there is EVERYWHERE. It makes me sad thinking that such deep yogic wisdom has arisen from this land and now it resembles a rubbish dump in many places. There is no blaming, just something one notices coming from a privileged western country where council trucks swing by weekly so early in the morning…