This must be the most chaotic corner of Cochin: a bus station, a bazaar, a ferry terminal, all within yards of each other – people on, people off, shopping, shouting, a tumultuous clamour of calls and bangs and engines revving up. Dodging the crowds, almost staggering under the heat, I go a little way up a dirt road, dust rising at my feet and sinking into my sandals. As rickshaws speed past and goats prance around potholes, I turn into a cobbled courtyard and, instantly, peace and calm settle around me like a soft shawl. It’s a home-at-last feeling. Although Brunton Boatyard is a grand sort of home, it’s a homely sort of hotel. I’m crumpled and hot and frankly grubby, but it could not matter less. Here, right on the edge of the everyday hustle of Cochin, is a haven. A cold and lemony drink appears as I flop into a vast seat in the airy foyer. Vaulting arches let in swathes of sunlight from another courtyard, this one all grassy and lush, sheltering a huge Rain Tree and full of birdsong. Old fashioned fans – punkahs – hang from a high, carved, wooden ceiling. My feet yearn to slip out of the now scratchy sandals and on to the smooth, cool, tiled floor.All the building materials used here have that tactile, soothing quality – walls bright white with limewash, warm dark wood, terracotta floors. The Old Colonial style creates a sense of timeless tranquillity. But Brunton is a very new hotel: building work began in 1999. For a century before that, the site was home to a bustling boatyard, as full of noise and action as it now is with peace and relaxation.
An ancient anchor lying on the lawn marks this nautical past; but even without it, there’s no escaping from boats. Brunton is on Cochin’s harbour front. Freighters and ferries, ships and sailing boats are part of the view. From the hotel’s own jetty – which is a lovely spot for a sundowner – guests can see the graceful curves of traditional Chinese fishing nets silhouetted against the sky, and count the fish lying in small fishing boats floating past. Even when you’re engaged in some solitary indulgence – enjoying lazy laps in the silky water of the green pool, lying on a lounger soaking up the sun – ships and boats bobbing past make your mood sociable. And every one of the 22 rooms boasts a sea-view: so after easing into a warm bath, or climbing into one of the giant antique four-posters, it is possible to look out of the window at any given moment to see the world sailing by. There are boats at dawn and also at dusk. Late in the evening, strolling on to the terrace for a last communion with the sea breeze and the stars, I hear a ferry bumping against the jetty. I turn to see passengers disembarking, laughing, picking up a snack at the bazaar, before they head for home on the last bus.