the evening belongs to the beach. the old lighthouse, two crumbling piers, bhajji carts, and a sunset the whole city turns up for.

the sweet street. a narrow lane that has sold halwa, cloth and everything else for over a century. walk it hungry.

a green square built around an old temple tank, the city's living room. come for the musical fountain and the evening crowd.

the old quarter around a stepped bathing pond, with the four-storey wooden mishkal mosque that survived a portuguese burning five centuries ago.

where they still build wooden dhows by hand for arab merchants, plus a long stone sandbar that walks you right out into the sea.

the quiet beach where vasco da gama stepped ashore in 1498 and rewrote the map. a small stone monument marks the spot.

murals, bronzes and megalithic relics, with the krishna menon art gallery next door. a slow, cool hour away from the heat.

once among the busiest timber markets in asia, on a river that floated logs down from the hills. faded now, but the smell of teak still hangs around.