kochi: the city that keeps you up at 11pm (and then plays loud music at 3am)

so here's the deal. i was out chasing someindiest gigs in kochi last week and the weather? it’s a sauna in a raincloud right now. 24 degrees, 83% humidity-imagine someone handed you a sponge bath and then told you to wear a raincoat. the locals? they’re doing the same dance we are. just breathing in that combo like it’s normal. which it might be. i mean, there’s a moment where you wish for air conditioning, but then you see that little stall downtown selling mango lassi in a bucket and suddenly it’s not that bad. i just checked and it’s… there right now. hope you like that kind of thing.



now, let’s talk neighbors. if you get bored, the backwaters are just a short drive away. not the tourist ones-the real ones where fisherfolk are out at dawn and the AC isn’t invented. one old guy down the street, aleem, he plays tabla every morning at 6 even though his wife said no last year. i heard that. or maybe i just overheard it through a wall. either way, he’s a legend. some say he’s a ghost now. others swear he’s alive. didn’t ask.



the reviews? they’re a mess. someone told me that the mosque here plays low-key jazz every sunday. another person said the street food-market is haunted by a guy who sells samosas and disappears when you try to buy them. probably true. i saw a woman crying outside yelp last night, saying the places marked ‘best’ on google maps are all grift. i believed her. so i asked aleem. he just said, ‘don’t listen to the reviews. listen to the buses.’ which is probably the best advice i’ve gotten in a while.



here’s the thing about kochi. it’s not a place you plan. you just show up. last week, i saw a woman riding a motorcycle down a drainage channel. no helmet. no care. she was laughing. i wanted to ask her where she was going, but she pointed at a Vespa and peeled out. classic kochi. chaotic, unpredictable, and weirdly beautiful. if you’re into that vibe, this place is your jam.



!backwaters at golden hour this photo was taken from a rooftop during the mummer’s festival. the lights are confusingly bright. probably not allowed, but who cares?



or maybe you need a fix. check out dared kiss a street musician? on tripadvisor. it’s a story about someone who tried to pay a busker with spicy mango chutney. ended with a very wet handshake. you decide if that’s your sacrifice.



another thing: the heat. it’s not just hot. it’s. sticky. like, humid so much your skin feels like wet sand. i found this hack from some travel blogger-wrap yourself in a damp towel when walking. it’s gross, but it works. or don’t. i didn’t do it. i just kept blinking. a lot.



!local market at night someone told me this is where the oranges come from. honestly, i think it’s where the ghosts eat them. can’t prove either anything.



you wanna explore more? this thread on local boards about street food is worth the read. people argue about whether the biryani sold at the corner stall is better than the fancy restaurant down the street. no consensus. classic kochi. and if you’re a coffee snob? there’s a place called the brewing ground that claims to use beans from the same farm as java coffee. probably a lie, but it’s cozy. probably true.



the map below shows where i stayed. near the old jail, near the beach, near whatever. it doesn’t matter. you’ll wander anyway.

here’s a random photo of a guy on a motorcycle at night. no idea why it’s relevant. just wanted to include a weird image:

!motorcycle at night



and finally, a note about reviews. i heard that the beach here is closed every monday. not for construction. not for maintenance. because the fish want to meditate. i don’t know. i saw a group of kids arguing with a local who claimed they’d seen this online. no one believed him. then the next day it was closed. maybe it’s true. maybe it’s a scam. who can tell.



the end. or is it? if you’re here, you probably want more chaos. maybe follow me on instagram for updates. or don’t. i don’t take it serious. either way, kochi’s been great. even if it made me sweat through my shirt. and complain about the noise. and wonder if aleem’s still alive. maybe i’ll find out next time.