Warning: now contains new and improved sweary words.

I set out from Trivandrum early to visit the southernmost tip of India; Kanyakumari. I had originally intended to visit here whilst travelling through Tamil Nadu, but I ran out of time and had to return to Bangalore for Samba’s wedding. Now I had booked a taxi through the hotel to take me there and back, and although the driver didn't speak a great deal of English, I could tell he was a stoic, dependable person. Given that, on the road he was a fucking manic.

The first stop on the way was Padmanabhapuram Palace just south of the Kerala state border in Tamil Nadu.

Built for the Travancore kings more than five hundred years ago, this is the largest surviving wooden palace in India. At first glance, it looks a bit rubbish, but go inside and the hundreds of rooms all leading off from tight, maze-like corridors with polished floors and immaculately carved and decorated wooden struts and beams and this place springs to life with intrigue.

Designed successfully to keep out the oppressive heat of the sun, it would also have potential attackers lost within seconds, giving the royals and their entourage who knew it an immense advantage as there are many trap doors leading off to secret passageways and underground chambers.

The detailed carving on the ceilings, walls and windows is a highlight.

Ornately carved ceiling beam.

The throne room alone has 90 flowers carved into the ceiling - every one different. There is also a lamp that hangs from a chain here that has a no longer used mechanism that always keeps it pointing in the same direction. The fastidiousness of past kings all over the world has surely brought about some wonderful, if obsolete inventions. Such as peasant scissors – used to cut peasants in half if they got out of hand. Actually, that would have been my contribution to civilisation had I been a mediaeval king.

Outside, numerous courtyards contain meticulously tended plants and trees and a stone carved Royal Temple.

I wasn't in the mood for traipsing around Padmanabhapuram Palace at the time and found it all a bit dull. I was getting sick of walking around in bare feet and the day was overcast with drizzle. In other words, I was in a right old mood. Only in hindsight, remembering the detail in the place and looking at the numerous pictures I took do I realise how great a site this was. It wasn't swarming with tourists and was set in beautiful surroundings at the foot of a mountain. Definitely worth a visit.

Outside, I waited while the driver went to bring his car to me as it had started raining. A fruit seller started screaming at me from across the road, "Sir, sir, come here, please! Please! PLEASE!"

He started shouting the last in a high pitched voice over and over, and then started chuckling, knowing how annoying he was being. Sure, I don't mind juggling five melons, ten pineapples and innumerable jackfruit for the rest of the day. In fact I would gladly have bought a pineapple off him just to shove it up his arse the wrong way.

We drove through the end of the Western Ghats (a sprawling series of hills and mountains that stretches down from Mumbai) to reach Kanyakumari. It was a lovely drive, though some of the scenery was spoilt by various ugly hotels perched along low lying cliffs that looked like they had been designed and built by Lego.

The Western Ghats.

Kanyakamri itself is an unremarkable town awash with pilgrims and a few tourists. The pilgrims come to visit the temple and to bathe in the sacred waters. I headed straight for the harbour, as the southernmost point of India is actually on one of two islands just off the coast.

Now this may sound odd, but I’ve always been fascinated by capes. Not the kind you wear, but the termination points of land masses. Ever since I was a child, I’ve always wanted to visit these points in Africa, India and South America because to me they feel like “the ends of the earth” that inspired awe and wonder in so many adventurers of the past. So Visiting Kanyakumari was like an adventure for me. When I got there I immediately made for the ferry, not so much to reach the islands, but so I could look back on the tip of India.

On one island is a huge statue of Tamil poet Thiruvalluvar erected in 2000. It reminded me of the statue of Talos from the classic movie Jason and the Argonauts which scared me to death as a child. I had to keep looking over at it to make sure it wasn’t moving.

On the main island is a memorial to one of India’s most important religious philosophers of the 19^th Century, Vivekananda.

This island also harbours the southernmost point of India. Standing here looking back at the land I had travelled for more than six weeks, I felt calm and at peace. The quality of the light here is amazing. Everything shines. To the far right, a huge swarm of distant wind turbines produce free electricity for the Indian grid. In my opinion, it looks both elegant and technically amazing.

As your eyes sweep along the coast you can see the distant mountains, the bright white church near the waterfront, hotels and businesses of the town, the ferry port and a small rocky islet. The Arabian Sea is to the left, the Bay of Bengal to the right and the Indian Ocean is behind you. It’s the end of the world!

Before leaving town I went for a thali at a well known hotel restaurant in town. When it was delivered to me, the whole thing was stone cold, completely uncooked. I motioned for the waiter to come over and I said to him that the food was cold. He shook his head negatively, but I repeated that it hadn’t been cooked. He looked confused for a second, touched the bowls to feel if there was any heat, and then with the funniest face-saving comment I’ve ever heard, said, “Oh, so do you want it hot then sir?” as if thalis were meant to be served cold and I was the one who was mistaken. Brilliant!

At the end of the meal, I requested the bill in international sign language. When the waiter collected my payment, he looked eager for a tip, so I gave him one. In international sign language.

On the way out of town we stopped at the Suchindram Temple . I didn’t go inside because we didn’t have much time and also men have to take off their shirts. Frankly, if I had done that, they would have thought I was an incarnation of Hanuman, the Hindu Monkey God. Or perhaps just a stray monkey.

Men contemplating outside the temple.

The drive back to Trivandrum was a scream, and I was doing all the screaming. The driver was desperate to get back before sunset, and people, cows and other vehicles were not going to get in his way. Luckily, I managed to capture some of the more sedate moments. I’ve given the driver the voice of a London cabbie just for a laugh.