Day 39-40 Lunch & Sunday Mass in Kumily 21/22 February 2026 скачать в хорошем качестве

Day 39-40 Lunch & Sunday Mass in Kumily 21/22 February 2026

A Kerala Lunch, a Familiar Restaurant, and a Sweet Finish Yesterday, after a wonderfully lazy late morning, I headed down to the car park at 2:15 pm, only to find Jayan already waiting, looking very pleased with himself. His car was finally fixed, “Now we are sailing smoothly, madam!” he said with a grin. I asked him to take me somewhere nice for lunch. He asked what I felt like eating, and when I mentioned fish, he immediately recommended the Kerala fish curry steamed in banana leaf. And where did he take me? Straight back to the same restaurant I’d discovered yesterday. Clearly, I had chosen well the first time. Yesterday I’d sat downstairs because it was busy. Today, I was shown upstairs by the window, with a view over the car park and the street below. There’s a hotel next door, so I’m not entirely sure whether the car park is shared, but it made for good people‑watching. The waiter recommended a slice of kingfish rather than a whole fish, which sounded sensible. I ordered a chapati, and when I asked for lemon soda without sugar, he looked genuinely surprised, as though the idea of lemon soda without sugar was mildly tragic. My meal arrived with two chapatis, but that was still the lesser of two carbohydrate evils compared with a mound of rice. The fish was delicious, tender, fragrant, and beautifully infused with the flavour of the banana leaf. I did full justice to it and rounded off the meal with a mango–raspberry ice cream, which was the perfect cool, fruity finish. A simple lunch, but satisfying in every way, and a reminder that sometimes returning to the same place twice is no bad thing. This morning I finally made it to Sunday Mass in God’s Own Country, at Our Lady of Lourdes Church. Mass was at the very civilised time of 7:30 am, and the fifteen‑minute walk there in the cool morning air felt peaceful and unhurried. On the way, I passed a cute white cat perched on the ground, and then the familiar troop of monkeys, already out for their morning playtime. Kerala’s mornings always seem to begin with a little theatre. I arrived early and slipped off my shoes before entering. Inside, there was a choice of carpeted floor seating, a few plastic chairs along the sides, and two short rows of chairs at the back. I chose a chair on the left side near the doorway, thinking it would be discreet. Five minutes later, a man approached and gently informed me that I was sitting on the men’s side. So I quickly crossed over to the women’s side and found another seat near a door toward the back. Slowly the church filled, and I noticed there were indeed more women than men, which seems to be the pattern in most churches these days. Five minutes before Mass began, the church bell tolled. It’s a sound I rarely hear back home now, apparently too “inconsiderate”, yet the Muslim call to prayer is allowed. Hearing the bell here felt grounding and deeply comforting. Mass began promptly with a long procession of men and women carrying lit candles, walking between the altar servers and the priest. The candles flickered beautifully in the morning light. The liturgy was in Malayalam, as expected. I couldn’t follow the words, but I didn’t need to. I was simply grateful to be there, to pray, to be still, and to receive Holy Communion. During Mass, I remembered everyone in my parish, as well as family and friends, holding them all in prayer. It felt good to pause and reconnect spiritually after weeks of constant movement. The offertory procession was another long, reverent line of parishioners bringing forward gifts. Thankfully, there were many ministers distributing Communion, so Mass finished in just under an hour. On my way back, I passed St George Orthodox Church, where their Sunday service was in progress. The doors were open, and I stepped quietly inside to take a few photos. The interior was beautiful, rich colours, icons, and that distinctive Orthodox atmosphere of incense and devotion. It was a lovely contrast to the Catholic Mass I had just attended. I had about fifteen minutes to gather myself before checking out of the hotel. Only now, after more than five weeks of non‑stop travel, do I realise how tired I’ve become. Living out of a suitcase, moving every one or two nights, constantly adjusting to new places, it takes its toll. This quiet Sunday morning, this simple Mass, and the peaceful walk back felt like a small but much‑needed moment of rest, grounding, and renewal.