I first went to King's Cliff some six years back. I took one look at the moss-covered trees, the white colonial bungalow, the profusion of flowers and the steep craggy cliffs that form the backdrop of the place and was (in the words of my young son's favourite airman) hooked, cleaned and fried!
It was perfect. All of it. From the liveried staff with their clinking cutlery to the wood paneled smoking room, the rose patterned upholstery and the old fashioned fireplaces. Everything belonged to a different time and place altogether. You could practically picture Jane Marple sitting at those windows, needles at the go, keeping a sharp eye on weeds and widows alike. Or of course you could imagine you yourself were a memsahib, if you please, watching over all Ooty from those giddy heights. Retiring to the drawing room when the evenings became uncomfortably cold. Warming yourself at the fireplace while listening to jazz (or whatever those memsahibs listened to) on the gramophone.
Too delicious!
I kept going back of course. It was the best quick fix to the humdrum of daily Bangalore grime. A getaway from work, home, weekday, city, century, country what have you! After five visits and then a looong break to have and raise a baby to traveling stage, I was back!
To a bit of a shock.
Which was silly of course! What place would not change in three years time? It was simply that kings cliff had seemed timeless (sigh). Anyway the lawn now hosted a glass house with a restaurant and dance floor! The staff were all gone, replaced by much more up to date hotel management types. The food, to be (grudgingly) honest, was much better. But the bathrooms had been redone with tiny tiny shower cubicles that were all metallic and modern and completely unusable.
Of course Ooty itself was a revelation. Strictly plastic free, pedestrian friendly, wide pavements to walk on, lots of nonsensical touristy stuff to buy and charm in shovelfuls. It had actually become the kind of place India could market as a big time small holiday destination. Not so much incredible india as incredible it's in india. But coming back to Kings cliff...
On coming back from our ramble around town we realized that having in our ignorance, omitted to pre-book the smoking room (our erstwhile favourite hang out) we had lost out to a bunch of johnny come latelys who had taken the place over with the result that we had to settle for second best - the drawing room. Giving in with slightly bad grace, we shut the doors and started a game of dumb charades. At regular intervals, various savory soups and snacks kept coming in to help us keep the energy levels up. This is the best part about this place. They always strive hard to create the illusion that you are at home. Not your own home, no! Not a place where you might have to cook your own food or make your own bed. But a fictitious make believe home. Where you have an army of servants (giggling housemaids to stately pretend butler) waiting on you hand and foot. And they still get all of that right!
We descended from the heights the next day and spent most of our time wandering around various little stores selling overpriced nonsense and looking into the english meets tamil church. A quick trip to dolphin's nose in coonoor was followed by lunch at 'kluney manor' - copycat kings cliff with bigger and better rooms but lesser charm, atmosphere and green.
And then it was time to head back!
Short holiday wound quickly to a close. Would I go back? Well the prices have tripled and the charm's getting a bit rusty but when I turn around on my way back the mossy trees seem to call out and call back.
It was perfect. All of it. From the liveried staff with their clinking cutlery to the wood paneled smoking room, the rose patterned upholstery and the old fashioned fireplaces. Everything belonged to a different time and place altogether. You could practically picture Jane Marple sitting at those windows, needles at the go, keeping a sharp eye on weeds and widows alike. Or of course you could imagine you yourself were a memsahib, if you please, watching over all Ooty from those giddy heights. Retiring to the drawing room when the evenings became uncomfortably cold. Warming yourself at the fireplace while listening to jazz (or whatever those memsahibs listened to) on the gramophone.
Too delicious!
I kept going back of course. It was the best quick fix to the humdrum of daily Bangalore grime. A getaway from work, home, weekday, city, century, country what have you! After five visits and then a looong break to have and raise a baby to traveling stage, I was back!
To a bit of a shock.
Which was silly of course! What place would not change in three years time? It was simply that kings cliff had seemed timeless (sigh). Anyway the lawn now hosted a glass house with a restaurant and dance floor! The staff were all gone, replaced by much more up to date hotel management types. The food, to be (grudgingly) honest, was much better. But the bathrooms had been redone with tiny tiny shower cubicles that were all metallic and modern and completely unusable.
Of course Ooty itself was a revelation. Strictly plastic free, pedestrian friendly, wide pavements to walk on, lots of nonsensical touristy stuff to buy and charm in shovelfuls. It had actually become the kind of place India could market as a big time small holiday destination. Not so much incredible india as incredible it's in india. But coming back to Kings cliff...
On coming back from our ramble around town we realized that having in our ignorance, omitted to pre-book the smoking room (our erstwhile favourite hang out) we had lost out to a bunch of johnny come latelys who had taken the place over with the result that we had to settle for second best - the drawing room. Giving in with slightly bad grace, we shut the doors and started a game of dumb charades. At regular intervals, various savory soups and snacks kept coming in to help us keep the energy levels up. This is the best part about this place. They always strive hard to create the illusion that you are at home. Not your own home, no! Not a place where you might have to cook your own food or make your own bed. But a fictitious make believe home. Where you have an army of servants (giggling housemaids to stately pretend butler) waiting on you hand and foot. And they still get all of that right!
We descended from the heights the next day and spent most of our time wandering around various little stores selling overpriced nonsense and looking into the english meets tamil church. A quick trip to dolphin's nose in coonoor was followed by lunch at 'kluney manor' - copycat kings cliff with bigger and better rooms but lesser charm, atmosphere and green.
And then it was time to head back!
Short holiday wound quickly to a close. Would I go back? Well the prices have tripled and the charm's getting a bit rusty but when I turn around on my way back the mossy trees seem to call out and call back.
