Kochi or Mysore?

Kochi at least gives you a beach to plan around. The sand at Fort Kochi is for evening strolls by the fishing nets, but Cherai on Vypeen island, about an hour north, is a long, swimmable stretch backed by palms and a lagoon, though only outside the monsoon.

Mysore has nothing of the kind. It sits on the plateau some 250km from the coast, its reservoir and river are not for swimming, and a hotel pool is the only way to get into the water.

Kochi eats with more range. Seafood is the centre of it, from fish curry soured with kudampuli to the day's catch cooked beside the Chinese nets, and the Syrian Christian and Muslim kitchens add beef fry, duck roast and biryani.

Mysore's strength is narrower: vegetarian breakfasts of buttery dosa and idli with filter coffee in steel tumblers, banana-leaf meals and the ghee-rich Mysore pak. It is excellent at what it does but offers little beyond that. Drinking is restricted in both places, but more so in Kerala.

Both cities have about two or three days of sightseeing, but of very different kinds. Kochi's is layered and small in scale: St Francis Church, the Paradesi Synagogue with its Chinese tiles, the murals of Mattancherry Palace and the Dutch and Portuguese houses left by centuries of the spice trade, with the Biennale bringing contemporary art in the years it runs.

Mysore is about one royal court on a grand scale. The illuminated Mysore Palace, the Ravi Varma paintings in the Jaganmohan Palace, St Philomena's Church and the temple on Chamundi Hill make it the stronger choice for monuments, and Dasara with its elephant procession is the time to see it.

Neither city is a place for a night out, and the difference is small. Kochi's evenings last slightly longer: a sunset walk past the nets, an unhurried seafood dinner, and hotel bars or a handful of licensed lounges in Ernakulam for a drink.

In Mysore the evening is the palace lit up and a walk through the market, and its few pubs close well before midnight. Anyone who wants a proper night out goes to Bengaluru.

Mysore has the bigger outdoor draw. Bandipur, Nagarhole and Kabini, about two hours away, are tiger and elephant country with jeep safaris from lodges on the forest edge. Closer to the city there are the dawn climb up Chamundi Hill's steps and boat rides among the nesting storks at Ranganathittu.

Kochi's outdoors is on the water: kayaks and country boats through the Kumbalangi canals and the paddy villages around Vembanad Lake, birds at Thattekad and the Athirappilly falls. It is lovely, but softer, and the real hills at Munnar need an overnight stay.

Mysore's excursions are both closer and more striking. Srirangapatna, with Tipu Sultan's fort and summer palace, is about half an hour away. The carved Hoysala temple at Somnathpur and the huge Jain statue at Shravanabelagola are famous monuments in their own right.

Kochi's outings rely more on atmosphere than on sights. Alappuzha is the start for a day on the backwaters, the Muziris sites trace the old Roman-era port, and Thrissur has its great temple, but congested roads stretch every journey.

Mysore gives children more to do. The maharajas' old zoo is large and shaded, the rail museum has royal carriages to climb into, the Brindavan fountains and the lit-up palace make good evenings, and the milder plateau air makes days outside easier.

Kochi's best moments for children are on the water: ferry crossings, backwater boats and the fishing nets being hauled in. Apart from a water park on the city's edge, though, the constant humid heat means most families need a pool hotel and outings kept to the mornings.

Kochi is the easier city to move around, mainly thanks to the water. Ferries and the water metro link Fort Kochi with Ernakulam, a metro line runs through the commercial side, and the flat old quarter can be walked or cycled.

Mysore depends on the road. The area around the palace and market is walkable, but uneven pavements and pushy traffic make it tiring, and the city buses are hard for visitors to work out, so rickshaws and cabs do most of the work. Its strong point is the quick rail and expressway link to Bengaluru.

Both cities sell their own crafts rather than fashion, and each has its specialities. In Kochi you rummage: antique doors and temple bells in the Jew Town warehouses, pepper and cardamom from wholesale spice merchants, and cream-and-gold kasavu handloom.

Mysore is the place for gold-threaded silk, sandalwood oil and carvings, incense and gilded paintings. Buy these from government emporia or old dealers, because fakes are everywhere.

Both cities are very cheap day to day, with simple rooms, banana-leaf meals and rickshaw rides costing very little. The difference is in the splurges each one invites. In Kochi it is a heritage hotel, a private houseboat or a residential Ayurveda course, while scarce alcohol keeps evenings inexpensive. In Mysore it is a palace hotel, a hired driver for the temple circuit or a few nights at a safari lodge.

Kochi makes it easier to see a performance. Kathakali is staged every evening in Fort Kochi, and you can watch the actors put on their green-and-red make-up beforehand, often with Kalaripayattu or Mohiniyattam on the same programme.

Mysore's Carnatic and veena heritage is deep, but outside Dasara it comes down to occasional recitals and theatre mostly in Kannada, so catching a performance there is down to luck.

In Kochi, wellness means Ayurveda practised as medicine. A doctor's consultation leads to a course of warm-oil massage and shirodhara that can last one to three weeks, ideally during the monsoon. Fort Kochi's shaded lanes or a backwater resort give the quiet to go with it.

In Mysore, wellness means the mat. It is the birthplace of Ashtanga yoga, and students settle in leafy Gokulam for weeks of pre-dawn practice, chanting classes and slow afternoons by the coconut stalls. The Ayurvedic clinics there are a side offering, and outside the suburbs the traffic-filled centre is no more restful than Ernakulam.