POV : A Lazy Saturday in Fort Kochi

Traveling isn’t always about the big sights or ticking boxes. Sometimes, it’s about slow, sun-dappled mornings with the scent of fresh rain lingering on cobbled streets and the quiet joy of stumbling upon something that feels like it was waiting just for you. One such Saturday in Fort Kochi felt just like that.

The morning began quietly, with the soft rustle of monsoon winds and distant church bells. I wandered out for a stroll, drawn to a small, no-name chayya place beside the old colonial St Francis church, opposite the football ground. The "kattan chayya" that bold, black south Indian brew which was steaming and strong, served in a glass tumbler that warmed my fingers. Across the street, barefoot boys played football in the slush, their laughter echoing through the grey skies pure joy under the monsoon drizzle.

A short walk brought me to Loving Earth, a tranquil little haven where I joined a morning aerial yoga class. Suspended in soft silk hammocks, I stretched deeply and breathed slowly, the rhythmic patter of rain on the roof blending with the earthy scent of agarbattis. The space, warm and cocooned, felt like a quiet retreat elevated both in body and spirit.

Post-stretch, my stomach called. I found my way to French Toast, a cozy café with large windows over looking beach and leaf shadows dancing on the walls. The omlette here is a favourite comforting, and perfect with sourdough. I followed it up with a quiet dessert detour to Kashi Art Café, because no late morning is truly complete without their divine coconut milk based cold coffee wit slice of chocolate cake.

Back at Niyati Boutique Stay, tucked into one of the sleepy by lanes of Fort Kochi, I surrendered to a warm shower and a long nap. The kind of nap that only comes with the sound of rain and the promise of nowhere to be.

Evening brought a subtle shift in the air. I wandered to Pandhal Café for a chilled filter coffee drink and a warm Koran bun—sweet, spicy, and oddly nostalgic. Entering through David Hall, I sat with it in the gallery space, soaking in bold canvases, brushstrokes, and the smell of old wood and fresh paint.

By sunset, I found myself at Seagull Restaurant, my favourite spot to chase the horizon. A cold Hoegaarden, the house prawn fry with slivers of coconut, and ships slowly gliding across the harbour set the mood. The sound of the sea mingled with port announcements and seagull calls chaos and calm in equal measure.

With twilight melting into night, I took a slow walk down Princess Street, where golden shopfronts spilled warm light onto the rain-kissed pavement. I wasn’t really shopping, more of a leisurely window stroll but the charm was undeniable. One stop that I always make sure to check was Waltons Boutique, a must-visit for beautifully crafted Indian wear in earthy, indie prints. The yellow walls of Fort Kochi glowed softly in the evening light, framing the street in a golden hue. The crowd—locals, travellers, artists—moved gently past me, and for a moment, I felt like just another thread in the vibrant tapestry of this place.

To wrap up the night, I made my way to Francis, nestled within Niyati, a bar that exudes old-world charm with its vintage interiors and timeless ambience. The place was alive with a buzzing Saturday crowd, the kind that makes you feel like you're exactly where you’re meant to be. A local band played smooth jazz under moody, dim lights, setting the perfect tone. I settled in with a generous plate of seafood Spaghetti Arrabbiata - zesty, fresh, and deeply satisfying. The night ended just right, with good food, soulful music, and a breeze that carried the scent of salt air and pepper trees.