My first night on Seetha Raj’s plantation had all the casual pleasantries of a holiday family gathering: multiple helpings of dinner, a half-ignored game on television, and the endless chatter that comes when food and family converge. But this was not a holiday, and these were not my siblings asking for seconds and thirds. I was in Kerala, India, and although we were eating fish curry rather than turkey and watching cricket rather than football, it felt like a homecoming. I was finally soaking up some genuine hospitality after several months of waking up in uninspiring hotel rooms and sharing meals with random travelers. It was nice to be with a family again, even if it wasn’t my own.

Raj manages Ente Veedu (“My Own Home”), a plantation homestay tucked away in the remote agricultural region of Wayanad in the northeastern corner of Kerala. Global competition, unsustainable farming practices, and crippling cycles of droughts and floods have wrought havoc on India’s agriculture over the last decade, and family farms like Raj’s have been hit hard. The situation is so dire, in fact, that another alarming benchmark has also emerged: an all-time high suicide rate among farmers. But recently, a new hybrid of tourism, or “eco-agritourism,” has taken shape and brought some stability to the local economy. Farmers like Raj have begun hosting guests for country vacations. Will homestay tourism be Kerala’s salvation?

In 2003—the most recent year for which there are official data—over 17,000 farmer suicides were reported across India. Anecdotes and local media coverage suggest that there were probably even more in 2006. Most of the suicide victims were single-crop farmers who took out large loans when prices crashed, and never recovered financially. But farmers with larger, more diverse farms have had trouble weathering the volatile market as well. Though they may not be suicidal, many are struggling with debt. Raj and her husband, Raju, jointly own 20 acres of land and grow several different crops—including coffee, coconuts, bananas, and vanilla—but were still greatly affected by the recent decline of the pepper market, which is another key crop for them. High labor costs, an uncooperative climate, and an influx of cheap, imported pepper have drastically reduced the crop’s value in the past few years: From 2001 to 2006, prices dropped from $5.75 per kilogram to just $1.38. To recoup their losses and pay off their debts, the Rajs tried harvesting ginger. “We plucked 30 sacks. It sat in front of the house, but no one bought it. We were crying,” says Seetha. At one point, they even considered selling a portion of their land.

Fixing the broken agricultural system will take time, which is something many farmers can’t spare if they are to pay back their mounting loans. But tourism has recently blossomed in the area. The World Tourism Organization expects the number of visitors to Kerala to grow 11.4 percent per year between 2003 and 2013. That’s not surprising, considering that the region packs cliffside beaches, serene backwater canals, and mist-shrouded tea estates into nearly 39,000 square kilometers, an area slightly larger than the state of Maryland. Its lush foothills are dotted with wildlife reserves, and it is home to a rich culture that blends tribal traditions, a myriad of religions, and colonial influences from both the Dutch and Portuguese. Most of the tourist traffic has been along the coast, but homestays and ecotourism ventures are drawing visitors inland. Farmers like the Rajs are finding that hosting travelers can be a reliable, alternative source of income.