Eyes and Escapes

Varkala—Surprise Me!

After my superhit Ooty solo adventure—where friendships bloomed effortlessly and laughter echoed into the hills—I was high on the thrill of meeting new, fun people. But I also knew that not every trip would be the same. So, this time, I made a pact with myself: no expectations, just pure spontaneity. 4 days, 3 nights, and an open heart—Varkala, take the wheel!

Ditching the Itinerary: A Leap into the Unknown

I had two choices while planning this trip:

1. Dive into a rabbit hole of YouTube vlogs and Instagram reels, crafting a meticulous itinerary in case I didn’t find companions to explore with.
2. Leave it to life and let the journey unfold itself.

Option 2 sounded far more thrilling. With a loose idea of Varkala’s cliffs, Jatayu Earth Center, and the must-visit spots, I stepped into this adventure with zero plans—just a ticket and a backpack.

A Train Ride into ‘God’s Own Country’

Unlike my usual bus or flight routes, I booked a 1AC sleeper coach on the Indian Railways for the first time. Honestly, I was skeptical about its cleanliness, but to my surprise, it was spotless and supremely comfortable. Bangalore’s cool air mirrored the AC-cooled compartment, and after a satisfying dinner of egg biryani, I drifted into sleep.

At 6 AM, I woke up to the breathtaking landscapes of Kerala—lush banana plantations, quaint homes tucked amidst palm groves, and streams snaking through dense foliage. The Munroe Island backwaters greeted me next, followed by the Perumon railway bridge, which stretched over the shimmering Arabian Sea. One by one, Kerala’s magic began to unfold.

Welcome to the Varkala Furnace!

Varkalasivagiri Station—a modest two-platform stop—was my gateway to this coastal paradise. The moment I stepped off the train, it felt like I had walked into a hot air oven. The contrast from Bangalore’s crisp air to this sweltering heat was jarring. It was January, yet the 10 AM sun had no mercy. Sunscreen? Useless. By the end of this trip, I knew my tan lines were here to stay.

A No-Drama Auto Ride (For Once!)

If you’ve read my previous travel stories, you’d know auto rides to Zostel are usually filled with adventure, bargaining battles, or unexpected detours. But this one? Smooth as butter. Properly paved roads and charming coastal homes lined my route, painting a perfect first impression of Varkala.

Zostel Chronicles: Cash Crisis & a Last-Minute Boat Ride

Reaching Zostel meant maneuvering through a narrow lane, just wide enough for a single auto. A short climb up the stairs brought me to the reception, where fellow travelers were waiting to check in.

At the counter, I asked for a locker key. “Deposit required,” the receptionist said. No problem—I whipped out my phone to scan the GPay QR code.

“NO NO, CASH ONLY!” he interrupted.

Oops. I rarely carry cash beyond a couple of hundred rupees. Being a Bangalore girl, UPI is my best friend. With no cash in hand, I abandoned my locker key dreams. Lesson learned: always carry at least ₹2000 in cash when traveling outside Bangalore.

Just then, the receptionist mentioned a last slot for a Munroe Island trip. A must-visit! “Can I pay via GPay?” I asked, half-expecting another rejection.

“GPay is fine.” Phew!

As soon as I booked the slot, a girl rushed to the counter. “Hey! I wanna book the last slot to Munroe Island!”

I looked at her, then at the receptionist, grinning apologetically. “I took it.” And that’s how I met Shraddha, the first of many interesting people on this trip.

Black Sand Beach & a Mad Rush Back

I settled onto my bed in my dorm room, the AC offering much-needed relief. A quick shower, a simple lunch of Maggi and lemon juice, and I was back on my feet, exploring.

The receptionist had told me to be at the common area by 2:15 PM and I was there at 2 PM (EARLY!) for the Munroe Island trip. When the cab was nowhere in sight, I took a short stroll to Black Sand Beach—just a 5-minute walk from Zostel. The scene was straight out of a postcard: turquoise waves kissing pastel beige sand under a blazing sun. I was in love.

And then came the inevitable. A call from the reception at 2:10 PM. “Where are you? The cab’s ready!”

This happens to me way too often. Flashbacks of almost being left behind on my Delhi-Tirthan trip hit me. Same chaos, different city. I sprinted back to Zostel. The red cab was waiting, passengers seated, all eyes on me. Oops!

Munroe Island: A Mangrove Wonderland

Inside the cab, the front and middle seats were occupied by a lively bunch—Alit, Amey, Abhi, and Vrushali. They had arrived a day earlier and already bonded over wild party nights and travel tales. Meanwhile, I sat in the last row, wedged between a couple (or so we all assumed, given their mutual silence). Amey, ever the gentleman, made space for me.

The driver! Oh my! A Formula 1 aspirant, apparently. Speeding through the winding roads like it was a rally, I held onto the side handle for dear life, bouncing along as the others cracked jokes about their misadventures in Bali and Thailand. Their chemistry reminded me of my Ooty gang. Did I just miss all the fun by arriving a day late?

Finally, we reached Munroe Island’s backwaters. For a moment, I thought our driver might just drop us straight into the water. Thankfully, he stopped just short.

A Boat Ride Through Silent Mangroves (Well, Almost)

We hopped onto a wooden boat. Alit and Amey, seated in the front row, fired up Punjabi music. I wanted to soak in the real music—the whispers of mangroves, the distant chirps of hidden birds. But, travel is about compromise, right? Just as I wanted nature’s music they wanted Punjabi music. Anyways, I focused only on the soft crisp music from the leaves of the mangroves.

The views were ethereal. The stillness of the water, the sun-dappled marshes, the rhythmic push of the boat as the skipper used a long wooden pole to propel us forward—it was pure magic.

At a shallow mangrove stop, we stepped out to wade through the waters. I regretted wearing long pants but enjoyed the brief dip. Our boatman, Purushottam, posed cutely for a photo with me, adding a wholesome touch to the adventure.

Almost a Wedding & A Bunny Cap

On the way back, we stopped at a snack shop—a small island shop! Conversations turned to work, and Amey’s “almost wedding”, earning him the nickname ‘Bunny’ (à la Yeh Jawani Hai Deewani). To embrace the name, he later bought a bunny cap. Funny.

The return ride was a blur. Laughter echoed, but I was too drained to join in. Sleep took over.

A Night at the North Cliff

Back at Zostel, the squad planned dinner at North Cliff. Though Shraddha missed the Munroe Island trip, she joined us for the evening feast. New city, new people, new memories in the making.

And just like that, Varkala was already proving to be more than I had hoped for.

Dinner at Darjeeling Café at North Cliff:

This was one unforgettable dinner. The North Cliff pathway was illuminated by string lights, lined with shops selling bohemian trinkets, incense sticks, and Thai music therapy stalls. Massage parlors dotted the way, and the entire cliff buzzed with energy. I dressed simple—a pair of casual palazzos, a floral t-shirt, and my hair tied up in a bun to combat the relentless humidity.

We secured a table for six. Everyone claimed they ate light, and given the heat, I did too. I nibbled on a few bites of noodles and sipped on a Long Island Iced Tea, my go-to vacation indulgence.

The live music was blaring. We had to shout into each other’s ears to hold a conversation. After a while, we all gave up, exhausted from the effort. Amid the noise, my tired eyes landed on a young man seated four tables away. Unlike the rest of the crowd, he dined in complete solitude, absorbed in his own world.

The entire café was filled with groups—either solo travelers who had formed connections or families—yet he remained the only solo diner. My curiosity got the best of me.

Barring my anxiety like i have described in my previous posts, I walked over, introduced myself, and struck up a conversation. To my delight, he was warm and receptive. Before leaving, he even joined our table for a brief chat before bidding us farewell. It was such a sweet, unexpected interaction.

After dinner, we indulged in some ice cream at a tiny parlor downstairs before heading to the beach for a night walk. By this time, I was running on fumes. Not my phone battery, but my own. My eyelids drooped with exhaustion, but I couldn’t miss experiencing the beach at night.

A Full Moon Night at the South Cliff Beach:

The night beach was nothing short of surreal. The full moon hung high, its silvery glow reflecting off the waves. It was a sight so breathtaking, I had never witnessed anything like it before.

Alit, Shraddha, and I sat close to the shore, talking about intrusive thoughts. Alit told us that if we stared at the ocean long enough, we might feel an inexplicable urge to dive into its depths. I was too drained to focus on the waves for too long, but the thought lingered in my mind.

The others arrived later, having taken a detour to change into beachwear. After about 45 minutes of enjoying the cool night breeze, we headed back to Zostel. The moment I reached zostel, I took a cold shower, curled up under the AC, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Day 2: A Solo Walk Along the Cliff and Jatayu Earth Centre Visit:

A Solo Walk Along North Cliff

Shraddha and Alit were early risers and had already left for the morning beach. I decided to take a solo walk along the North Cliff instead. It was already 9 AM when I stepped out of Zostel, dressed in a flowy jumpsuit, sunscreen layered generously on my skin. Yet, the sun was relentless, and I knew I was bound to get tanned.

I wandered to the end of the cliff, searching for a good breakfast spot. That’s when I stumbled upon the famous Café del Mar, brimming with foreigners. The only available seating was a six-seater table. Just as I settled in, a waiter rudely asked me to vacate the table. Calmly, I asked him to find me another solo seat first. To my luck, a two-seater opened up, and I moved there.

I ordered an omelet, toast, and a cappuccino. The omelet was mediocre, and I immediately regretted my choice of cappuccino in the sweltering heat. I lingered in the café, enjoying the laid-back atmosphere, until Shraddha called around 12:30 PM. They planned to visit Jatayu Earth Centre at 2 PM, and I decided to join them—a decision I wouldn’t regret.

The walk back to Zostel was punishing under the midday sun, but the views of the azure ocean crashing against the sand made up for it. I clicked dozens of photos and hopped between cafés. Back at Zostel, I found Shraddha and Alit deep in conversation. We ordered Maggi, anticipating a late lunch.

Trip to Jatayu Earth Centre

During our meal, we discussed careers. Alit, whose sister is a doctor, was curious about the medical field and asked me a lot of questions about medicine and my work. That was the very first time I found a non-medico so deeply interested to know about medicine and my work! Soon, it was time to leave for Jatayu Earth Centre.

Shraddha had booked an auto, and the ride turned out to be one of the most calming experiences of the trip. The weather softened as clouds rolled in, and the three of us engaged in a deep discussion about chivalry. Alit, a staunch believer in old-school chivalry, even extended an open dinner invitation for when we returned to Bangalore. (Still waiting on that, Alit!)

Upon reaching Jatayu Earth Centre, we were greeted by a one-kilometer-long queue. But with great company, the wait flew by. We chatted about K-dramas, books, watches, and perfumes. Alit and Shraddha were such a fun duo.

A cable car took us to the top of the hill, where the enormous Jatayu sculpture stood. The weather gods graced us with cool winds and cloud cover, making it the perfect moment for photography. Shraddha, an incredible photographer, clicked some of my favorite pictures of the trip.

Jatayu Earth Centre stands as a tribute to women’s safety and honor. According to the Ramayana, Jatayu—the mighty eagle—fell at this very spot after his wings were severed while valiantly attempting to rescue Sita from Ravana. Even in his final moments, he held on until Lord Ram arrived, using his last breath to reveal Sita’s whereabouts.

Walking around the colossal sculpture, I felt an unexpected sense of peace. The breeze was cool, the sky overcast, and the soft clouds dulled the harshness of the summer sun, making the stroll all the more soothing.

We wandered over to the adjacent Rama Mandir, and then a few steps ahead we sipped on steaming cups of chai at a tea shop, soaking in the tranquillity of the place. Of course, no visit was complete without capturing the moment, so we clicked an absurd number of pictures. And for once—miraculously—I turned out amazing in them! Maybe it was the magic of Shraddha’s photography, maybe it was the rare blessing of a perfect hair day, but either way, I wasn’t complaining.

The queue to descend was long, so we plopped down and entertained ourselves with Instagram reels. On our way back, I indulged in my favorite sweet corn while Alit and Shraddha tried their luck at a ring toss game. They lost money, but we all had a good laugh.

Sundowner at Varkala’s Very Own Santorini – Café Trip is Life

Straight from Jatayu Earth Centre, we made our way to a café called Trip is Life. This place felt nothing short of enchanting—perched on the South Cliff, overhanging the beach, with a view that could make time stand still. We arrived at the perfect moment, just as the sky transformed into a canvas of mauve, orange, and pink. The sun, majestic and golden, lingered on the horizon, moments away from its descent.

The café itself was a dream—a spacious, open-air garden with a magnificent tree standing tall at its heart, its branches adorned with golden lanterns. The dining tables were scattered around, creating an intimate yet airy ambiance. It felt like a slice of Greece, right here in Varkala.

Determined to secure the most coveted spot—a table at the edge with an uninterrupted view of the ocean—we waited patiently, and luck was on our side. With plates of creamy pasta and drinks in hand, we watched something magical unfold before us. The sun melted into the horizon, its reflection shimmering across the waves. Just as the last sliver of light disappeared, as if the sky itself was mourning the departure, a soft drizzle began.

At first, it was gentle, a misty embrace—but soon, the drizzle turned into a full-fledged downpour. Laughing, we grabbed our plates and dashed for cover, finishing the rest of our meal under shelter. Though we longed to linger in that magical moment a little longer, the rain had other plans. With hearts full and spirits high, we reluctantly made our way back to Zostel, carrying with us the memory of a sunset so perfect, it almost felt unreal.

Returning to Zostel, I relaxed before enrolling in a surfing course for the next two days. However, my interaction with the surf club was far from pleasant. The staff was curt and unhelpful when I inquired about rental surfwear. Eventually, they agreed to provide one set, but the conversation left me drained.

Later, we had a light meal at North Cliff before I called it a night. With surfing on the agenda, I needed all the energy I could muster.

Day 3 – Early Morning Beach Walk, Surfing Adventure, and Evening Café Hopping

Blissful Morning Beach Walks

This day, I woke up early. My surfing session was scheduled from 8 to 9 AM, but before that, I wanted to soak in the tranquil morning vibes of the beach. I dressed in my shorts and bodysuit, layering a shrug over it, and made my way to The Black Sand Beach, just a short walk from Zostel. What followed was one of the most peaceful and soul-stirring experiences of my life. I was lost—and in the best way possible.

The crisp morning air carried a refreshing coolness, and the sun had yet to rise. I perched myself on a rock, mesmerized by the rhythmic symphony of waves crashing onto the shore. The interplay of turquoise waters against the sand’s warm beige hues was breathtaking. This wasn’t just a picture—it was a moving, living moment permanently etched in my memory. When stress weighs me down, I close my eyes and revisit this scene. When sadness creeps in, I recall the blue, beige, and green that once lifted my spirit.

Joggers, mostly Westerners, passed by on their morning runs. A thought lingered in my mind—could I live a life like this? A life where I could escape to faraway beaches and mountains, simply to exist in the moment. Did I have the means to do that? Maybe not yet. But for now, I was grateful for this slice of paradise.

I continued walking south along the shore. Zostel Varkala sits close to North Cliff, while the South Cliff had been the setting for my moonlit beach walk on Day 1. Now, from Black Sand Beach, I wandered towards Edava Beach, where the waters were even more pristine.

The foamy waves caressed my feet, pulling away the sand beneath them. Every time the waves retreated, I knew they would return—an endless rhythm, just like life itself. The sight of fishermen preparing their boats for the day’s catch completed the scene. In that moment, I entered a meditative state, free from worries, free from anxieties. Nature heals in ways nothing else can.

A glance at my phone reminded me it was time to leave for my surfing session. Reluctantly, I turned around, retracing my steps southward. This return walk was nothing short of magical. Some moments along the way stirred emotions so deep that they brought unexpected tears to my eyes—tears of inexplicable, unfiltered joy.

On one side of me, the golden rays of sunrise peeked through the coconut trees along the cliff, casting dreamy silhouettes. On the other, the ceaseless waves played their symphony against the shore. Heavenly was an understatement.

As I neared the fishermen, their work was in full swing. A group of Westerners and tourists had gathered to help them pull the rope—a spontaneous, unpaid group activity that seemed to bring everyone involved an unexpected sense of joy. This was their daily routine, but for me, it was a once-in-a-lifetime moment of connection.

I joined them, though my strength was no match for the seasoned fishermen. If their effort was worth a hundred rupees, mine was perhaps a mere paisa. Still, I laughed, I struggled, and I cherished the experience. As I bid farewell, one of the fishermen playfully asked me to stay and help longer. Unable to converse in Malayalam, I strung together a few words: “surfing,” “have to go.”

He had initially spoken to me in Hindi, assuming I was from North India. When he realized I was from the South, he guessed Tamil Nadu. I smiled and clarified, “I’m a Kannadiga, from Namma Bengaluru.”

Why This Experience Brought Me Joy

I was a stranger to those fishermen, yet they welcomed me like one of their own. That simple act of inclusion, of being treated as if I belonged even when I didn’t, filled me with a quiet joy. That’s the magic of a sense of belonging—it makes you feel at home, even in a place where you’re just passing through. With a reluctant heart and joyful memories, I headed back to Zostel.

With a reluctant heart but joyful memories, I made my way back to Zostel, carrying with me the warmth of a morning I would never forget.

Surfing Sessions

The surf school was right next to Zostel. Before heading over, I had a quick, refreshing watermelon juice at the Zostel café. I was on time when I arrived, and an auto was already waiting. I once again enquired about the surf costumes, and the staff assured me I would get them at the beach. I took their word for it and waited for my fellow surfers. Turns out, there was just one other person in my session. After brief introductions, we set off for Kappil Beach.

The ride was mesmerizing. On one side of the road, the vast beach stretched endlessly, and on the other, the calm backwaters mirrored the sky. It was surreal.

But my blissful mood didn’t last long.

Upon arriving, I started searching for a changing room—there was none. I asked the staff about the promised surf costume, and they looked at me as if I had asked for something outrageous. “We don’t have a changing room, and just wear what you have.”

What?!

I was wearing a party wear dress, which was obviously not suitable for surfing. After much back and forth, they handed me a used surf suit. Defeated, I put it on over my clothes and, reluctantly at first, walked to the pre-surfing workout area. But as the session began, my embarrassment melted away, replaced by sheer focus and excitement.

There were a few girls from Mumbai in our group, and they caught on to the techniques quickly. Meanwhile, I struggled with balancing and couldn’t do the pop-up move. I knew I wasn’t the most flexible person, and my fitness levels weren’t great, but I loved being in the water, trying something new. That was enough for me.

After the session, I carried my surfboard towards the shore, my body exhausted but my spirit excited for another attempt tomorrow. Just as I reached the auto, one of the instructors walked up to me and asked, “How was the session?”

“I enjoyed it! But I wish I had done better. Hopefully, I’ll improve tomorrow.”

And then he said it—the comment that ruined my entire mood.

“Don’t feel bad. You’re heavy, and you need to lose weight if you want to surf.”

Excuse me, what?!

I hadn’t even asked for his opinion, yet here he was, giving me unsolicited advice about my body. My weight had nothing to do with my struggle—there were other girls of similar build who had learned quickly. Maybe they just understood the technique better. But instead of addressing my form, balance, or approach, he chose to focus on my body size.

I didn’t say anything. I just turned away and sat in the auto, fuming.

On the way back, another coach asked if I’d be coming for the next session. I was so done.

“No. I want a refund.”

They were shocked. “Why?”

I turned to the coach who had insulted me and said, “You have no right to comment on my body. This was a disappointing experience, and I won’t be coming back.”

He tried to justify himself, saying, “As your teacher, I can say whatever I want.”

No, you cannot.

I cut the conversation short and demanded a refund.

That moment almost overshadowed the beauty of my morning beach walk, but I wasn’t going to let one person ruin my entire trip. I moved on and headed straight to Zostel café, where I found Shraddha and Alit.

Bittersweet Goodbyes & A New Friend

Alit was leaving Varkala that afternoon, so we had one last meal together before bidding farewell. We knew we’d see each other again in Bangalore, so it wasn’t a sad goodbye—just a “see you later.”

After lunch, I returned to the dorm to find my new roommate—Monika. From the very first conversation, I knew she was one of the most wonderful women I had met on this trip. By now, even Shraddha had moved into the same female dorm, making it feel like a little haven of camaraderie

Sunset at North Cliff & Café Hopping

After a bit of rest, Monika and I decided to head toward North Cliff to find a cozy café for sunset watching. Being a remote worker, she carried her laptop to wrap up some work, while I slung my backpack over my shoulder, grabbed my phone, and set off with nothing but the evening breeze and a sense of adventure.

We settled at Tide and Table, a café perched at the perfect spot to witness the sun sinking into the horizon. The golden hour painted the sky in hues of orange and pink as we sipped on refreshing fruit juices and indulged in some pasta. I took a few pictures, letting the moment etch itself into memory, before deciding to explore more of North Cliff while Monika stayed back to continue working.

Later that evening, Shraddha and I went out for dinner together—a heartwarming girl time filled with deep conversations about life, dreams, and everything in between. She was such a patient listener, and I couldn’t have asked for a better companion to wind down the day with. Monika couldn’t join us as she was still tied up with work, but we promised to catch up later.

With our hearts full and our minds at ease, we made our way back to Zostel, collapsing into bed in a way that only true travellers do—exhausted yet content. Tomorrow would be the day to say goodbye to Varkala, but before that, we had one last chance to soak in every ounce of its beauty.

Day 4 – Café Sarwaa and Bittersweet Goodbyes

I took my time to wake up, savouring the last morning in Varkala. The first thing that we did on the last day was to set off towards South Cliff, home to the serene and picturesque Café Sarwaa, for breakfast. If paradise had a café, this would be it—lush greenery, rustic aesthetics, and a view that made you want to pause time.

The scene from Café Sarwaa unfolded in mesmerizing layers—lush greens and warm yellows blending seamlessly into pastel beige, which lay nestled between the turquoise blue of the ocean and the verdant canopy above. The beige of the sand felt like a gentle bridge, binding the greens and blues into a breathtaking tapestry of tropical serenity. But paradise came with a catch—the heat was relentless, drenching us in sweat before we even settled down.

Monika, Shraddha, and I found a cozy table and ordered brunch. As we waited, an unexpected character stole the show. At the table in front of us sat a quirky, uninvited guest—a parrot—who had absolutely no intention of leaving. The café staff tried everything to shoo him away, but he held his ground, as if saying, This is my table. I’ll leave when I want to. His audacity was both hilarious and impressive.

After brunch, Monika stayed back to work, and Shraddha and I descended the staircase leading to the beach. The scene unfolding before us felt straight out of a Hollywood movie—a hidden tropical escape with golden sands and the ocean stretching endlessly. The only antagonist? The unforgiving midday sun. Within minutes, the heat became unbearable, forcing me to retreat back up and gulp down iced water and a chilled lemon juice to cool off.

And then, just like that, it was time. The moment I had been dreading—the goodbye. I packed up my memories, hugged my fellow travellers, and took one last look at the cliffs, waves, and winding streets of Varkala before heading to the railway station.

As the train rolled out, I realized Varkala wasn’t just a place I visited—it was a place that had gently woven itself into my story.

Your Own Varkala Chapter Awaits!

Varkala isn’t just a destination—it’s a feeling, a rhythm, a story waiting to be lived. Whether you’re chasing sunsets on the cliffs, finding peace in the ocean’s embrace, or simply letting the town’s slow magic take over, Varkala has something just for you.🎵🌅🏖️

So tell me—if you could drop everything and escape to Varkala right now, what’s the things you’d do? Would you sip coffee ☕️ with a sea view 🌊, dive into the waves 🏄‍♂️, or just let your feet wander down an unknown path🎒? Comment below, and let’s build your dream Varkala adventure together!

Few of my other travel related Posts!

• Tirthan Valley
• Gokarna
• Ooty

Other non travel posts

• 20-20-20
• Myopia
• Dilated eye examiantion
• Finding light in dark times