1. It's nice to see that some Indians other than Gujaratis name their houses. Every house I've seen so far, big or small, has a name etched onto a plate in the front.
2. Cochin has more stray cats than dogs, which is something new for me.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
The Backwaters, Part 3: The Houseboat
Cochin didn't quite happen, much to my happy surprise. I packed up and checked out. As I was heading out the door, I saw Sara, from the night before, waiting with three other people. She said that Geoff and her were asked to join a houseboat group. This was something they had asked me about the night before. I was happy for them, of course, and I said farewell. Enjoy your time, but I need to go to Cochin. As I turned to walk away to the bus stand, Inaki (the "n" has a tilde, so making it "ny"), the other guy waiting there, asked if I wanted to join, saying that it would be cheaper for everyone. I said that I'd think about it, and sat down. I wasn't in a hurry, so I waited. And I decided to go for it. We got the boat for 7000 Rs., and it included two meals and a snack. Unfortuantely, because it was Republic Day, all the boats were taken, and we would have to wait until 2:30pm. Still, 20.5 hours sounded great. And the price was amazing. So, we waited and chatted.
Inaki was a loudmouthed, but very friendly, Basque who imitated the more annoying side of Indians well. Marjo was a French bartender living in Berlin, and she had a kick-ass tattoo on her back. Carole was a slightly more reserved French graduate of culture and communication, and she couldn't eat anything spicy. Claudia was a Swiss teacher on a round-the-world trip, and her job and apartment were waiting for her when she returned (much to all our jealousies). Harold was an Austrian who loved being behind a camera. Sara was the leading world expert in captive Army Ants, though she doesn't have an advanced degree. Geoff was a Ph.D. student in Sociology, studying identity formation in post-colonial states. And Sapan was...
Before heading out, we bought about 1000 Rs. worth of booze, though I only paid for about 100 of it. Kingfisher beers, all the way. The boat was simple but great. It only had six beds, in three rooms, but Inaki and I decided to sleep on spare mattresses out on the deck. Our snack was of fried bananas, chai, and pineapples. I had great conversations with mostly everyone but Harold, and I was starting to get a but frustrated with Sara's brusqueness. At one point, we stopped and a bunch of schoolkids mobbed around us. Claudia gave one of them a Swiss coin, though the rest of us told her not to. And of course, they wanted 'one pen.' Then, at 5:30, we stopped to watch the sun set and to get the spare mattresses. Marjo, Carole, and I went for a nice walk. Thankfully, I brought my flashlight, because it was wholly dark when we returned.
Dinner was amazing! Small filet of a fish cooked in spices. Rice with a hearty mung daal. Chappatis to go with the sabjis: A Keralan style okra, and one made of long green beans. Harold and I asked for raw peppers and onions. And the meal ended with freshly cut pineapple. The food was so tasty (Apu, the cook, did a great job!) that, while I'm often tired of Indian fare, I really needed to force myself to stop. We ended the night by playing two games of Werewold, which Claudia had brought. The game was very similar to Mafia. The first round, though I was a harmless villager, EVERYONE suspected me of being a werewolf. I was able to convince Inaki I wasn't, which, for some reason, saved me until the second round. I must just always look guilty. They blamed the odd smile on my face, which only appeared after everyone started looking at me funnily. Of course, the villagers knocked me out, which actually meant they defeated themselves. The second game, I actually was a werewolf. And yet, people didn't touch me, so Marjo and I easily won.
Carole, who had woken up early with Marjo and Inaki to watch the sun rise on a canoe, was half-asleep by this point. This fatigue spread until we all tucked in for the night. I slept on a single mattress under a mosquito net, while Inaki slept on a double (though he was much smaller than me). As the night progressed, I started getting really cold, and wished that I had a bedsheet or blanket. Then, I realized that I was lying on a bedsheet, which I had only hesistantly accepted in the first place. Thankfully I did. So, I took it off the mattress, covered myself with it, and quickly fell asleep. Sometimes, I awoke to the sound of Inaki slapping at something crazily. Unfortunately, his net had many holes, and he was really getting eaten alive. I really awoke at around 6:45am. Carole was the last to wake up. We all got ready and relaxed. Still, there was a palpable gloom settled over us all. The thought of leaving the boat in only a couple of hours really made us sad. We even considered getting another boat (this boat was already booked), but we all decided against it.
Breakfast was awesome. Veggie omlettes, silver-dollar pancake-sized dosas (Keralan style), thick potato sambar, and boiled bananas.
As we approached the Nehru Stadium, used for the Snake Boat races in August, we saw the end. We arranged the money for the trip and alcohol, exchanged info, and suddenly it was over.
It's hard to put into words how wonderful the trip was, even though it was only a few hours. By this point, I really needed to leave for Cochin. I was the only one of the eight who left town that day. My backwater experience -- the ferry, the canoe, the houseboat -- cost me way too much money (over 2000 Rs.), but it was totally worth it. If any of you come to India, you must visit Alleppey and at least partake in the many canals. You won't regret it.
Inaki was a loudmouthed, but very friendly, Basque who imitated the more annoying side of Indians well. Marjo was a French bartender living in Berlin, and she had a kick-ass tattoo on her back. Carole was a slightly more reserved French graduate of culture and communication, and she couldn't eat anything spicy. Claudia was a Swiss teacher on a round-the-world trip, and her job and apartment were waiting for her when she returned (much to all our jealousies). Harold was an Austrian who loved being behind a camera. Sara was the leading world expert in captive Army Ants, though she doesn't have an advanced degree. Geoff was a Ph.D. student in Sociology, studying identity formation in post-colonial states. And Sapan was...
Before heading out, we bought about 1000 Rs. worth of booze, though I only paid for about 100 of it. Kingfisher beers, all the way. The boat was simple but great. It only had six beds, in three rooms, but Inaki and I decided to sleep on spare mattresses out on the deck. Our snack was of fried bananas, chai, and pineapples. I had great conversations with mostly everyone but Harold, and I was starting to get a but frustrated with Sara's brusqueness. At one point, we stopped and a bunch of schoolkids mobbed around us. Claudia gave one of them a Swiss coin, though the rest of us told her not to. And of course, they wanted 'one pen.' Then, at 5:30, we stopped to watch the sun set and to get the spare mattresses. Marjo, Carole, and I went for a nice walk. Thankfully, I brought my flashlight, because it was wholly dark when we returned.
Dinner was amazing! Small filet of a fish cooked in spices. Rice with a hearty mung daal. Chappatis to go with the sabjis: A Keralan style okra, and one made of long green beans. Harold and I asked for raw peppers and onions. And the meal ended with freshly cut pineapple. The food was so tasty (Apu, the cook, did a great job!) that, while I'm often tired of Indian fare, I really needed to force myself to stop. We ended the night by playing two games of Werewold, which Claudia had brought. The game was very similar to Mafia. The first round, though I was a harmless villager, EVERYONE suspected me of being a werewolf. I was able to convince Inaki I wasn't, which, for some reason, saved me until the second round. I must just always look guilty. They blamed the odd smile on my face, which only appeared after everyone started looking at me funnily. Of course, the villagers knocked me out, which actually meant they defeated themselves. The second game, I actually was a werewolf. And yet, people didn't touch me, so Marjo and I easily won.
Carole, who had woken up early with Marjo and Inaki to watch the sun rise on a canoe, was half-asleep by this point. This fatigue spread until we all tucked in for the night. I slept on a single mattress under a mosquito net, while Inaki slept on a double (though he was much smaller than me). As the night progressed, I started getting really cold, and wished that I had a bedsheet or blanket. Then, I realized that I was lying on a bedsheet, which I had only hesistantly accepted in the first place. Thankfully I did. So, I took it off the mattress, covered myself with it, and quickly fell asleep. Sometimes, I awoke to the sound of Inaki slapping at something crazily. Unfortunately, his net had many holes, and he was really getting eaten alive. I really awoke at around 6:45am. Carole was the last to wake up. We all got ready and relaxed. Still, there was a palpable gloom settled over us all. The thought of leaving the boat in only a couple of hours really made us sad. We even considered getting another boat (this boat was already booked), but we all decided against it.
Breakfast was awesome. Veggie omlettes, silver-dollar pancake-sized dosas (Keralan style), thick potato sambar, and boiled bananas.
As we approached the Nehru Stadium, used for the Snake Boat races in August, we saw the end. We arranged the money for the trip and alcohol, exchanged info, and suddenly it was over.
It's hard to put into words how wonderful the trip was, even though it was only a few hours. By this point, I really needed to leave for Cochin. I was the only one of the eight who left town that day. My backwater experience -- the ferry, the canoe, the houseboat -- cost me way too much money (over 2000 Rs.), but it was totally worth it. If any of you come to India, you must visit Alleppey and at least partake in the many canals. You won't regret it.
The Backwaters, Part 2: The Canoe
Having gotten little sleep the night before, I slept in a little late. I left the hotel at 10:30am, 1.5 hours before check-out and before the houseboats left. I really racked my brain. Part of my wanted to go on a lazy houseboat. But the other side of me didn't want to pay 3500 Rs. And I had wanted to go canoeing ever since I had learned about Alleppey. Well, the answer ran up to me, literally, in the form of a tiny man named Shahji. A canoe trip, where he would leisurely take me through the smaller channels and passages that bigger boats couldn't get through. Okay, I thought I'd at least see his boat. He took me on his bike, which was tiny. This was the first time I ever had to sit sideways, and I was terrified that I would fall off (not that it would really matter, unless a car was heading my way). His balance was amazing, but I couldn't help but be nervous. I saw the boat, and then he paid for me to have a traditional, veggie, Keralan meal. Then we left.
He placed a paddle by my side, "just in case." I grabbed it immediately and started helping him, though I really didn't need to. I canoed for 2 hours straight, causing many people on passing houseboats to take our picture, since they didn't know I was a tourist. Also, along the way, some of Shahji's villager friends poked fun at the fact that I was doing his job...he just shrugged and said that I had wanted to help out. The setting would have been peaceful if it weren't for all the houseboats with their motors that polluted both the air and the silence. When we finally got into the smaller channels, things improved, and I tended to relax more.
Halfway through the six-hour journey, we stopped to visit a church hidden away and founded by some really important Christian. Even further away was a temple that looked more like a Chinese/Japanese pagoda. Now, let me first say something about Keralans like Shahji. A devout Muslim who earlier had a conversation with me about Hinduism, taking the tourist to see a Church and a Temple...Keralans know about religious peace (it's political peace that sometimes eludes them). We walked to the temple, though Shahji complained that the walk was too far. I suppose 1 kilometer could be far with legs as short as his. The temple was closed, and Shahji spotted a shortcut: a very narrow pathway running along the edge of the very wet rice paddies. A wrong step in either direction, and in the drink we would go. Still, we decided to try it. We walked carefully, meeting two villagers along the way. We crossed over the water using a small trunk with no incident, but came to a dead end. We could see the path we needed to take, but to get here, we'd have to cross over a channel, shuffling over a moss-covered, completely submerged, extra-slippery log. We had to turn around, and we walked back to the villagers, a man and a woman. The woman said we could cut across to her place, but to do this, we'd need to cross over another small channel. She started to set a plank across, but it was very flimsy and slippery. She tested it with much skepticism regarding its stability. As we were standing, the ground underneath my right foot gave way and I crashed into the water. My leg sunk up to the knee. Shahji helped me out. Since my pants were already ruined, I decided to just ford the small bit of water without the plank. I jumped in and waded across, much the the utter shock of the other three. Shahji scurried across the plank, and the woman led the way to her place. She grabbed a pot of water to wash off my muddy pant legs, but Shahji led me to a channel and proceded to actually wash my pants while I was wearing them. I had the woman take our picture, because I was highly amused by this. This incident actually made the trip SO MUCH more fun. Before, it was okay. Now, it was great. Shahji and I had shared an adventure with a funny ending.
Once we got back on the canoe, the hot sun dried me off pretty quickly. After this, things returned to normal. We stopped for tea. Then, with an hour left, I picked up the paddle and joined in the rowing. It felt good to work out the upper body for three hours that day. We returned by 6:30pm, and I paid Shahji 1000 Rs. 150 per hour, plus an extra 100 as tip. Yes, it was a lot, but it was worth it. After dinner, I returned to my hotel, where I met Sara and Geoff. I'll talk about them soon. We had a good chat, and then I went to bed, knowing that I'd leave the next day. I was very happy with my backwater experience. And Cochin was calling.
He placed a paddle by my side, "just in case." I grabbed it immediately and started helping him, though I really didn't need to. I canoed for 2 hours straight, causing many people on passing houseboats to take our picture, since they didn't know I was a tourist. Also, along the way, some of Shahji's villager friends poked fun at the fact that I was doing his job...he just shrugged and said that I had wanted to help out. The setting would have been peaceful if it weren't for all the houseboats with their motors that polluted both the air and the silence. When we finally got into the smaller channels, things improved, and I tended to relax more.
Halfway through the six-hour journey, we stopped to visit a church hidden away and founded by some really important Christian. Even further away was a temple that looked more like a Chinese/Japanese pagoda. Now, let me first say something about Keralans like Shahji. A devout Muslim who earlier had a conversation with me about Hinduism, taking the tourist to see a Church and a Temple...Keralans know about religious peace (it's political peace that sometimes eludes them). We walked to the temple, though Shahji complained that the walk was too far. I suppose 1 kilometer could be far with legs as short as his. The temple was closed, and Shahji spotted a shortcut: a very narrow pathway running along the edge of the very wet rice paddies. A wrong step in either direction, and in the drink we would go. Still, we decided to try it. We walked carefully, meeting two villagers along the way. We crossed over the water using a small trunk with no incident, but came to a dead end. We could see the path we needed to take, but to get here, we'd have to cross over a channel, shuffling over a moss-covered, completely submerged, extra-slippery log. We had to turn around, and we walked back to the villagers, a man and a woman. The woman said we could cut across to her place, but to do this, we'd need to cross over another small channel. She started to set a plank across, but it was very flimsy and slippery. She tested it with much skepticism regarding its stability. As we were standing, the ground underneath my right foot gave way and I crashed into the water. My leg sunk up to the knee. Shahji helped me out. Since my pants were already ruined, I decided to just ford the small bit of water without the plank. I jumped in and waded across, much the the utter shock of the other three. Shahji scurried across the plank, and the woman led the way to her place. She grabbed a pot of water to wash off my muddy pant legs, but Shahji led me to a channel and proceded to actually wash my pants while I was wearing them. I had the woman take our picture, because I was highly amused by this. This incident actually made the trip SO MUCH more fun. Before, it was okay. Now, it was great. Shahji and I had shared an adventure with a funny ending.
Once we got back on the canoe, the hot sun dried me off pretty quickly. After this, things returned to normal. We stopped for tea. Then, with an hour left, I picked up the paddle and joined in the rowing. It felt good to work out the upper body for three hours that day. We returned by 6:30pm, and I paid Shahji 1000 Rs. 150 per hour, plus an extra 100 as tip. Yes, it was a lot, but it was worth it. After dinner, I returned to my hotel, where I met Sara and Geoff. I'll talk about them soon. We had a good chat, and then I went to bed, knowing that I'd leave the next day. I was very happy with my backwater experience. And Cochin was calling.
The Backwaters, Part 1: The Ferry
Alright, I know I've written so much in the last few days, but what else are you going to do in Cochin? Don't worry, I most likely won't write much for a while after this, because probably the internet connections will suck in the mountains, where I'll be for the next week or so. This gives you plenty of time to catch up on the blog and to see all the new pictures I've posted on the second Yahoo Groups site.
But now, it's time for my super-lengthy discussion of the Keralan backwaters -- the most amazing time (outside New Years) I've had in India. We'll start with my trip from Varkala to Alleppey. Don't worry, I'll skip over Kollam, because it's a city almost not worth mentioning. Let me just say that my friend Stefano and I took a short way-too-early train from Varkala to Kollam, and then hopped on the ferry boat heading down to Alleppey. The trip down would normally take just two hours by train. By boat, 9 hours. Train would cost maybe 40 Rs. Boat, 300. And it was WORTH IT! Now, let me first explain Stefano's plan: He was planning to head down to Alleppey by the boat, then hop on a bus and head back to Varkala. I didn't think this would really work, but he had thought it through, and he knew that it would. Anyway, Stefano and I arrived on time, which turned out to be too late to get good seats, so we were stuck in the glaring sun, which by 10 o'clock in the morning, can induce heat-stroke. On the way, we met a loudmouth, overly happy, Briton named Jane. We hit it off pretty quickly. In fact, she was the first Britisher I met who did not find Indians to be lacking manners, and in truth she said that they were some of the nicest people she had ever met. After a couple of hours, we stopped for lunch. Having read the Lonely Planet beforehand, I knew to be careful of the food. The lunch was going to cost 30 Rs. Anything else was added on heftily. So, only a water for me. Others wanted everything. Shrimp, definitely! Oh yeah, I need a chappati. Watermelon sounds delicious. I don't know what raitha is, but I'll try it. Yep, big bills at the end. Eyes sticking out and all that.
During lunch, we met a gruff Israeli named Lior, but I really didn't chat with him too much. As we floated along, though, seeing villagers and villages along the way, we came to the Amma Ashram, home of the "Hugging Mother," which in fact looked very much like a set of apartment complexes, not like a place for meditation. On board came a family from British Columbia, and I found out that the oldest daughter actually was living in Surat for a year on some sort of exchange. She was teaching ballet in a convent. Indian ballerinas??? So, by this point, I had Stefano, Jane, Lior, and the BC family to chat with. Plus, there was a group of Indians making quite a bit of racket on board. As we floated down the river, and as the sun sank lower toward the horizon, things settled. Especially after tea. We had quite a bit of relaxed enjoyment. Children constantly yelled at us and ran alongside the boat, all the while wanting "One pen." We saw women washing clothes, men bathing, and people simply chatting it up. Wonderful.
The sun went all the way down, and unfortunately we still hadn't reached Alleppey. We were late. We didn't arrive until around 7:30pm. I hate getting anywhere after the sun goes down. As we left the main canal and entered Alleppey's North Canal, we saw a party boat with festive lights and music and dancing. And alongside was a canoe filled with a samba-style drumming band and a man letting off great fireworks into the night sky. The whole thing looked fun. After we had landed at the jetty, Jane magically disappeared. I was disappointed, hoping to do something with her the next day. Stefano, unfortunately, had to wait until midnight to catch the 2.5 hour train back to Varkala. And I wandered until I found a hotel. Dinner. Sleep.
But now, it's time for my super-lengthy discussion of the Keralan backwaters -- the most amazing time (outside New Years) I've had in India. We'll start with my trip from Varkala to Alleppey. Don't worry, I'll skip over Kollam, because it's a city almost not worth mentioning. Let me just say that my friend Stefano and I took a short way-too-early train from Varkala to Kollam, and then hopped on the ferry boat heading down to Alleppey. The trip down would normally take just two hours by train. By boat, 9 hours. Train would cost maybe 40 Rs. Boat, 300. And it was WORTH IT! Now, let me first explain Stefano's plan: He was planning to head down to Alleppey by the boat, then hop on a bus and head back to Varkala. I didn't think this would really work, but he had thought it through, and he knew that it would. Anyway, Stefano and I arrived on time, which turned out to be too late to get good seats, so we were stuck in the glaring sun, which by 10 o'clock in the morning, can induce heat-stroke. On the way, we met a loudmouth, overly happy, Briton named Jane. We hit it off pretty quickly. In fact, she was the first Britisher I met who did not find Indians to be lacking manners, and in truth she said that they were some of the nicest people she had ever met. After a couple of hours, we stopped for lunch. Having read the Lonely Planet beforehand, I knew to be careful of the food. The lunch was going to cost 30 Rs. Anything else was added on heftily. So, only a water for me. Others wanted everything. Shrimp, definitely! Oh yeah, I need a chappati. Watermelon sounds delicious. I don't know what raitha is, but I'll try it. Yep, big bills at the end. Eyes sticking out and all that.
During lunch, we met a gruff Israeli named Lior, but I really didn't chat with him too much. As we floated along, though, seeing villagers and villages along the way, we came to the Amma Ashram, home of the "Hugging Mother," which in fact looked very much like a set of apartment complexes, not like a place for meditation. On board came a family from British Columbia, and I found out that the oldest daughter actually was living in Surat for a year on some sort of exchange. She was teaching ballet in a convent. Indian ballerinas??? So, by this point, I had Stefano, Jane, Lior, and the BC family to chat with. Plus, there was a group of Indians making quite a bit of racket on board. As we floated down the river, and as the sun sank lower toward the horizon, things settled. Especially after tea. We had quite a bit of relaxed enjoyment. Children constantly yelled at us and ran alongside the boat, all the while wanting "One pen." We saw women washing clothes, men bathing, and people simply chatting it up. Wonderful.
The sun went all the way down, and unfortunately we still hadn't reached Alleppey. We were late. We didn't arrive until around 7:30pm. I hate getting anywhere after the sun goes down. As we left the main canal and entered Alleppey's North Canal, we saw a party boat with festive lights and music and dancing. And alongside was a canoe filled with a samba-style drumming band and a man letting off great fireworks into the night sky. The whole thing looked fun. After we had landed at the jetty, Jane magically disappeared. I was disappointed, hoping to do something with her the next day. Stefano, unfortunately, had to wait until midnight to catch the 2.5 hour train back to Varkala. And I wandered until I found a hotel. Dinner. Sleep.
Varkala and Cochin: Where Tourists Do Nothing All Day, but the Seafood Is Fresh
Alright, I'm breaking stride here, and am combining two places separated by about three days. The backwaters and Alleppey were far too amazing to consider here. Both Varkala and Cochin (where I currently am) are similar in that they are very touristy, full of fresh seafood, and really have nothing interesting to offer to keep busy. But I'll first start with Varkala.
This is a beach town just north of Trivandrum. Most Keralans prefer to go to Kovalam, but most tourists shun Kovalam because it's so commerialized. Well, unfortunately, Varkala is getting that way too. It's less touristy that Hampi, and much more than Mamallapuram. The beach isn't all that long, and consists of North and South Cliff. It takes me about ten minutes to walk the length of the whole beach! As I walked along the beach to find accomodations, I passed by so many shops and restaurants, all catering to the tourists. Almost not a single Indian (unless as a tourist or an owner) can be found at Varkala Beach. Varkala Town, on the other hand, which is found about four kilometers south of the beach, is highly conservative Muslim. Anyway, I found a place where I stayed in a hut, which was more like a concrete block with a thatched roof. Still, I paid a cheaper price than anyone else I met. Yes, 250 Rs. a night was cheap. Normal was about 400 Rs. There is only one thing to do in Varkala, and two ways of doing it: Doing nothing on the beach, or doing nothing in a restaurant. Or, of course, you can go window shopping. Through this activity, I actually met some Gujarati shopkeepers that, while trying to sell me stuff, also wanted to have a conversation with a fellow Guju. I was invited for Guju chai on numerous occasions.
The one great thing about both Varkala and Cochin is the seafood. At Varkala, we see fishermen out on boats all day. At night, each restaurant (which is really just a copy of the others) would display the seafood its particular fisherman caught that day. Yeah, that really wasn't for me. Many people loved the fact that you just pointed to the fish, then it arrived cooked minutes later. I couldn't really deal with that. Seeing it alive, then dead, just isn't something that I find appetizing. Here in Cochin, there's a whole fish market, where you point to a fish, then take it to a stall, which will fry the fish up for you. Once again, not my bag, baby.
In Varkala, I met an Italian named Stefano. We got along quite well, and were amused by the fact that we were opposites: he was a beach-person, I wasn't. He enjoyed lazing around, catching some sun. I was dark enough. I would rather wander, he would rather get a tan. Still, Stefano was a truly intriguing guy. He had been in computers for about ten years before he gave it all up to go to school to become a naturopathic healer. In fact, he received an Ayurvedic massage while in Varkala, and was truly interested in the medicinal properties of things like turmeric and neem.
We had one great goal while in Varkala: find a Kathakali performance (traditional Keralan form of drama). Signs pointed to a place called the Sunrise Restaurant, and on our first evening of searching, the restaurant owners told us to go to a place called Temple Junction. Apparently, the Temple has performances every night (which my Lonely Planet confirmed). So, we trekked about two kilometers to the Junction, just to find out that the Temple didn't actually have performances, but instead that we'd need to go to a place called Clafouti, near the Sunrise Restaurant. So, we trudged back, only to be too late. Thankfully, the next day, we made it on time. We saw the amazing process of putting on the makeup and the impressive costumes. This process itself would usually take 1.5 hours. Then, we saw some traditional drumming. A man then came to show us some basic Kathakali movements. Finally, we watched the drama of Bhima and Baka, from the Mahabharata. In the book, this story is probably only a couple of pages long. This thing lasted for far too long. It was really stretched out. And though I know that I should have actually liked Bhima, the hero, Baka, the demon, was far more interesting. He actually seemed a little fun.
Varkala was sometimes boring and sometimes interesting. Beaches just really aren't for me. Plus, the expensive hotel and food didn't help.
Cochin is the same way. Cochin (or Kochi, as it's now called) consists of Ernakulum, Fort Kochi, Mattancherry, and many islands. Ernakulum is the entrance point on the mainland, and it's like a small Bangalore. It's really really bustling, and the large stores, particularly selling jewelry, really caught my attention. Fort Kochi, which can be reached by ferry, is the small part at the tip of the Cochin peninsula. It's really commercialized and it wholly caters to its many tourists. There's also the oldest church in India, at which Vasco de Gama was buried. Mattancherry is just south of Fort Kochi, and has the famous Jew Town. The Sassoon family, of Vidal Sassoon fame, lived here. But really, the most interesting thing to see in Cochin are the fishermen. The giant Chinese cantilever nets require at least five men to operate. These are interesting to watch, at least for about ten minutes. Really, I think that there's nothing else to do here, but spend money, that is. It took me about 1.5 hours to find a place. The cheapest, 250 Rs. Typically, a person would spend at least 450 Rs a night. Meals are just as expensive. Often, one plate starts at at least 150 Rs. Then, you add on a drink, maybe a soup or salad, and perhaps even a dessert, and you're paying one night's accomodation for dinner. Hell, there's even a cake that goes for 90 Rs!!! And, as before with Varkala, all you can do is wander around the shops and try not to look too interested. Or, you do what I'm doing, and you spend all your time in one of the many internet cafes. I spent four hours yesterday. I'll probably spend about six today. And, of course, they aren't cheap. But, they're fast. And that's important. But it also shows that there really isn't much to do here. I really can't understand what some people do with their time when they spend one or two weeks here. But perhaps it's just me...
This is a beach town just north of Trivandrum. Most Keralans prefer to go to Kovalam, but most tourists shun Kovalam because it's so commerialized. Well, unfortunately, Varkala is getting that way too. It's less touristy that Hampi, and much more than Mamallapuram. The beach isn't all that long, and consists of North and South Cliff. It takes me about ten minutes to walk the length of the whole beach! As I walked along the beach to find accomodations, I passed by so many shops and restaurants, all catering to the tourists. Almost not a single Indian (unless as a tourist or an owner) can be found at Varkala Beach. Varkala Town, on the other hand, which is found about four kilometers south of the beach, is highly conservative Muslim. Anyway, I found a place where I stayed in a hut, which was more like a concrete block with a thatched roof. Still, I paid a cheaper price than anyone else I met. Yes, 250 Rs. a night was cheap. Normal was about 400 Rs. There is only one thing to do in Varkala, and two ways of doing it: Doing nothing on the beach, or doing nothing in a restaurant. Or, of course, you can go window shopping. Through this activity, I actually met some Gujarati shopkeepers that, while trying to sell me stuff, also wanted to have a conversation with a fellow Guju. I was invited for Guju chai on numerous occasions.
The one great thing about both Varkala and Cochin is the seafood. At Varkala, we see fishermen out on boats all day. At night, each restaurant (which is really just a copy of the others) would display the seafood its particular fisherman caught that day. Yeah, that really wasn't for me. Many people loved the fact that you just pointed to the fish, then it arrived cooked minutes later. I couldn't really deal with that. Seeing it alive, then dead, just isn't something that I find appetizing. Here in Cochin, there's a whole fish market, where you point to a fish, then take it to a stall, which will fry the fish up for you. Once again, not my bag, baby.
In Varkala, I met an Italian named Stefano. We got along quite well, and were amused by the fact that we were opposites: he was a beach-person, I wasn't. He enjoyed lazing around, catching some sun. I was dark enough. I would rather wander, he would rather get a tan. Still, Stefano was a truly intriguing guy. He had been in computers for about ten years before he gave it all up to go to school to become a naturopathic healer. In fact, he received an Ayurvedic massage while in Varkala, and was truly interested in the medicinal properties of things like turmeric and neem.
We had one great goal while in Varkala: find a Kathakali performance (traditional Keralan form of drama). Signs pointed to a place called the Sunrise Restaurant, and on our first evening of searching, the restaurant owners told us to go to a place called Temple Junction. Apparently, the Temple has performances every night (which my Lonely Planet confirmed). So, we trekked about two kilometers to the Junction, just to find out that the Temple didn't actually have performances, but instead that we'd need to go to a place called Clafouti, near the Sunrise Restaurant. So, we trudged back, only to be too late. Thankfully, the next day, we made it on time. We saw the amazing process of putting on the makeup and the impressive costumes. This process itself would usually take 1.5 hours. Then, we saw some traditional drumming. A man then came to show us some basic Kathakali movements. Finally, we watched the drama of Bhima and Baka, from the Mahabharata. In the book, this story is probably only a couple of pages long. This thing lasted for far too long. It was really stretched out. And though I know that I should have actually liked Bhima, the hero, Baka, the demon, was far more interesting. He actually seemed a little fun.
Varkala was sometimes boring and sometimes interesting. Beaches just really aren't for me. Plus, the expensive hotel and food didn't help.
Cochin is the same way. Cochin (or Kochi, as it's now called) consists of Ernakulum, Fort Kochi, Mattancherry, and many islands. Ernakulum is the entrance point on the mainland, and it's like a small Bangalore. It's really really bustling, and the large stores, particularly selling jewelry, really caught my attention. Fort Kochi, which can be reached by ferry, is the small part at the tip of the Cochin peninsula. It's really commercialized and it wholly caters to its many tourists. There's also the oldest church in India, at which Vasco de Gama was buried. Mattancherry is just south of Fort Kochi, and has the famous Jew Town. The Sassoon family, of Vidal Sassoon fame, lived here. But really, the most interesting thing to see in Cochin are the fishermen. The giant Chinese cantilever nets require at least five men to operate. These are interesting to watch, at least for about ten minutes. Really, I think that there's nothing else to do here, but spend money, that is. It took me about 1.5 hours to find a place. The cheapest, 250 Rs. Typically, a person would spend at least 450 Rs a night. Meals are just as expensive. Often, one plate starts at at least 150 Rs. Then, you add on a drink, maybe a soup or salad, and perhaps even a dessert, and you're paying one night's accomodation for dinner. Hell, there's even a cake that goes for 90 Rs!!! And, as before with Varkala, all you can do is wander around the shops and try not to look too interested. Or, you do what I'm doing, and you spend all your time in one of the many internet cafes. I spent four hours yesterday. I'll probably spend about six today. And, of course, they aren't cheap. But, they're fast. And that's important. But it also shows that there really isn't much to do here. I really can't understand what some people do with their time when they spend one or two weeks here. But perhaps it's just me...
Saturday, January 28, 2006
What Happened to the Erotica?
As I've been traveling, I've noticed something that would have made me blush if my cheeks could turn red: lots of old-time erotica. Statues and murals and paintings and carvings of people having sex in incredibly revealing and lewd manners. Basically, super-visual representations of the Kama Sutra on temples, in antique shops, and in palaces. Even animals are shown going at it. And some of these depictions are only slightly more than a hundred years old. Which makes me question what's happened to Indian society. Has conservativeness simply become more common over the past couple of centuries, or has India always been conservative with a few power-holders going against the grain? Still, whenever I, and to a certain extent other foreigners, notice these highly explicit images, I can't help but chuckle. This definitely wasn't an India I now know, but it seemed like more fun.
What Do Indian Men Do All Day?
Okay, here's a big question that's been on my mind since the start of my trip: What do Indian men do all day? Supposedly they go to work. Which is, of course, why I'm always seeing them relaxing and chatting and really doing much of nothing during the day. And this isn't even in the early afternoon, when many businesses close due to the heat. This is all day long. Women work their asses off. Men laugh and drink chai. And I'm not the only one to notice this. A few of my Western friends have asked me about this, thinking that, as someone with a connection to India, I may be able to shed light on this issue. Nope. I'm baffled.
Friday, January 27, 2006
Pics
So, the first Yahoo Group is now completely full. It goes for the first 1.5 months of my trip, all the way up to half of my time in Kodaikanal. I am now finished uploading pics from Tamil Nadu. The rest of the Kodaikanal pics, and all the Kanniyakumari pics have been uploaded to the second group. From now on, if you want to see pics, go there instead of to the first group. Soon, I will put up the pics from Kerala thus far.
The Mystery of Mutton SOLVED!
Okay, we know that mutton is sheep. And in fact, sheep are quite abundant throughout the North, according to my friends who have traveled there. Unfortunately, it's too hot in the South to raise sheep anyway (thick, wooly coats and all). But, that doesn't really matter, because, in India, mutton isn't sheep! No, my friends, it's goat, which I see far too often here. So, Indian mutton = goat. Mystery solved.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
The Power of the Lonely Planet
The Lonely Planet is the leading tour book for India. The others (Rough Guide, Footprint, and Let's Go!) don't come close. It's even earned the name "The Lonely Bible" ("The Bible" or "THE Book" for short). This book is so important that most people don't make a decision without consulting it. For me, I've learned that it's wrong about a third of the time. Places that may be highly worth visiting in the book (eg. Bijapur and Trichy) really are wastes of time. And I typically don't go to hotels or restaurants simply because they're recommended. But so many other people do.
Which makes me wonder which came first: The tourism or the Lonely Planet. See, I think it's the latter. I think when the first Lonely Planet came out, it said that certain places are great to go. Then, as the book became popular, so did these locations. Places in Hampi and Varkala (among others) wear their Lonely Planet mentions like badges of honor. I'm currently in Allepey, where the houseboat industry is the biggest tourist draw in Kerala. I bet the Lonely Planet had something to do with that. In fact, I talked with a tour agent today, and he said that, while most houseboats are with motors, punting boats (pushed by long poles) are becoming increasingly popular. He didn't know why. It seems random to him. Yeah, not so much. The Lonely Planet, in more recent years (I've seen an older one, so I know), has been saying that tourists shouldn't be taking motorized boats because of environmental issues. Punting boats are recommended.
The Lonely Planet has lifted up an entire industry, thus giving an instant edge to the only agency still stocking punting boats. They were previously useless relics. Now they're gold mines (they charge more due to less supply and greater demand...oh, and the monopoly). Thanks Lonely Planet!!!
Which makes me wonder which came first: The tourism or the Lonely Planet. See, I think it's the latter. I think when the first Lonely Planet came out, it said that certain places are great to go. Then, as the book became popular, so did these locations. Places in Hampi and Varkala (among others) wear their Lonely Planet mentions like badges of honor. I'm currently in Allepey, where the houseboat industry is the biggest tourist draw in Kerala. I bet the Lonely Planet had something to do with that. In fact, I talked with a tour agent today, and he said that, while most houseboats are with motors, punting boats (pushed by long poles) are becoming increasingly popular. He didn't know why. It seems random to him. Yeah, not so much. The Lonely Planet, in more recent years (I've seen an older one, so I know), has been saying that tourists shouldn't be taking motorized boats because of environmental issues. Punting boats are recommended.
The Lonely Planet has lifted up an entire industry, thus giving an instant edge to the only agency still stocking punting boats. They were previously useless relics. Now they're gold mines (they charge more due to less supply and greater demand...oh, and the monopoly). Thanks Lonely Planet!!!
Trivandrum 2: The MANIPULATOR
Thus far, I've met two Indians who will forever leave an impression in my mind. One was Karan, the leech from Hampi. And the second was Parvathy, the manipulator from Trivandrum. So, I just arrived at the zoo, still trying to keep from puking up all my food (read Trivandrum 1). I'm looking at a vulture in a cage when a couple walks by me. The girl notices my camera, and tells me that I need to take a picture of the beautiful bird. She didn't suggest, she ordered. Later, they walk by me as I'm going to take a picture of a White-Bellied Kite, a bird I think of as beautiful. She believed differently, saying that it wasn't worth it for me to spend time on such an ugly bird. I immediately liked this girl, because I was pleasantly surprised at her tone with a complete stranger. So, later, when I came across the couple resting, I stopped to say hello. Her name was Parvathy, and she did almost all the talking. His name was Srijith, a genuinely nice guy who was basically a lapdog.
Let me tell you about these two before I continue. Both are 19 years old, and they've been lifelong friends, probably because Parvathy needs and Srijith gives. No, they aren't a couple. In fact, Parvathy married (a love marriage, supposedly) when she was 16, and had her daughter that same year. Her husband is currently in Singapore, and her daughter is at her parent's place (where she goes only once a week). Next year, both Srijith and Parvathy are getting stationed in Dubai for their work. And they maintain a far too close relationship that both agreed gets disapproving looks. But, Parvathy doesn't care, and Srijith does whatever she wants.
I hung out with them during the rest of our time at the zoo. It turns out that they were supposed to be working, but they skipped out for the day since their boss wasn't there. They worked at a branch of Capella, an advertising company that made tourism brochures for the government of Kerala. They were also both 19 years old, thus adding a level of immaturity to everything they did. Actually, Srijith was the mature one. The whole while, Parvathy (who goes by Nisha) kept telling me "Come come" when I'd slow down to see an animal more closely. As a tourist, apparently, if I didn't follow them, I'd get lost in the zoo. I was that clueless. During our time there, she had me repeat silly and apparently obscene things in Malayalam. Thankfully, Srijith would yell for me to stop before I really said anything bad. She also had me repeat the words of some songs she liked; I said firmly that I wouldn't sing. She was also receiving phone calls continuously. Sometimes, she handed the phone to me to talk with her friends and to tell them these same obscene things. Yes, this was an Indian girl! Crazy, right?
After the zoo, the true Parvathy came out. She desperately wanted a Pepsi, and she asked if I'd buy it. No, she didn't ask. She told. And I said fine. I needed a water anyway. What started as one Pepsi because a Pepsi, a water, and a bag of chips (54 rupees). Okay...
Parvathy really wanted me to see their office, so we trucked over there. We hopped on a bus, and I noticed that their office was only about two minutes away from my hotel. We stayed at the office for a bit...she showed me some brochures and such. She said that I NEEDED to come with her and Srijith to Kovalam the next day. This beach town wasn't on my list, because it was too commercialized, and I was actually leaving for Varkala the next day anyway. Plus, by this point, I was getting a little sick of Parvathy anyway. So, after much pushing, I convinced her that I couldn't go. By this point, she needed to get home, and Srijith typically dropped her off (poor fool...she could easily take care of herself), so Parvathy said that I should accompany them. But first, she hadn't eaten all day, and was very "Huuuuungry." And unfortunately, her wallet had been stolen from her purse earlier that day. She showed me the tear in her purse, which really could have happened at any point. This of course meant that she couldn't pay for anything. And of course her next payday was in a week. Obviously, I was suspicious, but perhaps India had made me too paranoid. She noticed my hesitancy, and said that I came back in a week, she treat me all day. Uh huh. So, of course I paid for coffee (12 Rs) for both her and Srijith (who gets paid by Parvathy, apparently). Then, the riksha (25 Rs) ride to her cousin's place, where she stays during the work week. At that point, I brought out my camera, which caused a riotous flurry of primping and dressing up that made them look exactly the same as before. This part was fun. Their immaturities definitely came out during this time, though. Then, Parvathy ruined it by insisting on having copies. She said that we should go to a photo place and print out some pictures, which would ONLY cost me about 200 Rs. I firmly said no, and I told her that I'd e-mail them to her. She didn't like this, but she really had no choice. Finally, Srijith and I left. Beforehand, though, he bought her some food, even though she was going to eat in an hour anyway. Yeah, he was whipped. And the riksha ride cost me another 25 Rs.
The next morning, at around 11am, I walked to their office. I braved this because I knew that they were leaving for Kovalam at noon, and that they were going to the Sri Padmanabaswamy Temple (where I was going to go that afternoon) in the evening. Srijith was at the office. Parvathy was an hour late. I met the other employees. When she arrived, it seemed like she had done nothing wrong by being late. She was that manipulating. Even more so, much to my chagrin, she convinced their boss to give them the afternoon off (they'd go to Kovalam in the evening) so they could hang out with me. Gawd! What had I done! The plan was to go to the bank (so I could get money for my travels), then to the Temple. Before going to the Temple, Parvathy would need to go home to put on a sari, and Srijith and I would need to rent dhotis. The Temple has a strict dress policy. The idea of spending another 50 Rupees and who knows how long on this trip to her place forced me to say no to the Temple. She really wanted to dress up. Too bad. However, along the way, we ended up at a restaurant. One vadai (for me, apparently) also meant two dahi vadai, one chai, and two coffees (35 Rs). After much discussion, she finally said fine...no Temple. At least not the inside. We would still go there, but just to see the outside. Fine. But no walking. Another riksha (15 Rs). The temple was okay...nothing special. Then, she wanted a gift to remember me by. A bawdy Krishna statue. We went to some shops, but I finally said no. The pictures would be the remembrance. I needed the money for my trip. "But they're ONLY 50 Rs!" No. Okay, she had to break down. But, she got me another way. She asked if I was thirst, and I said sure. So, I took a Pepsi. She had a Pista Milk. He had a Badam Milk. Fine. What I didn't see was that she had told Srijith to buy another Pepsi and a bunch of snacks for their trip to Kovalam. The bill for my Pepsi was 150 Rs!!! I could have said no, but lots of people were watching us, and this would have created an issue with the cashier. I paid, and then needed to end it.
Excuse: A checkout time coming soon (I lied; it wasn't for three more hours).
So, back at my hotel, I said goodbye to them and slowly choked on the 318 Rupees I had spent for them during the past two days. By this point, I wanted to get the hell out of Trivandrum and reach the beaches of Varkala. So, I checked out early, and got to the bus station. I left Trivandrum and didn't look back. Actually, I left Parvathy (who wants me to invite Srijith and her to my wedding) and didn't look back.
Let me tell you about these two before I continue. Both are 19 years old, and they've been lifelong friends, probably because Parvathy needs and Srijith gives. No, they aren't a couple. In fact, Parvathy married (a love marriage, supposedly) when she was 16, and had her daughter that same year. Her husband is currently in Singapore, and her daughter is at her parent's place (where she goes only once a week). Next year, both Srijith and Parvathy are getting stationed in Dubai for their work. And they maintain a far too close relationship that both agreed gets disapproving looks. But, Parvathy doesn't care, and Srijith does whatever she wants.
I hung out with them during the rest of our time at the zoo. It turns out that they were supposed to be working, but they skipped out for the day since their boss wasn't there. They worked at a branch of Capella, an advertising company that made tourism brochures for the government of Kerala. They were also both 19 years old, thus adding a level of immaturity to everything they did. Actually, Srijith was the mature one. The whole while, Parvathy (who goes by Nisha) kept telling me "Come come" when I'd slow down to see an animal more closely. As a tourist, apparently, if I didn't follow them, I'd get lost in the zoo. I was that clueless. During our time there, she had me repeat silly and apparently obscene things in Malayalam. Thankfully, Srijith would yell for me to stop before I really said anything bad. She also had me repeat the words of some songs she liked; I said firmly that I wouldn't sing. She was also receiving phone calls continuously. Sometimes, she handed the phone to me to talk with her friends and to tell them these same obscene things. Yes, this was an Indian girl! Crazy, right?
After the zoo, the true Parvathy came out. She desperately wanted a Pepsi, and she asked if I'd buy it. No, she didn't ask. She told. And I said fine. I needed a water anyway. What started as one Pepsi because a Pepsi, a water, and a bag of chips (54 rupees). Okay...
Parvathy really wanted me to see their office, so we trucked over there. We hopped on a bus, and I noticed that their office was only about two minutes away from my hotel. We stayed at the office for a bit...she showed me some brochures and such. She said that I NEEDED to come with her and Srijith to Kovalam the next day. This beach town wasn't on my list, because it was too commercialized, and I was actually leaving for Varkala the next day anyway. Plus, by this point, I was getting a little sick of Parvathy anyway. So, after much pushing, I convinced her that I couldn't go. By this point, she needed to get home, and Srijith typically dropped her off (poor fool...she could easily take care of herself), so Parvathy said that I should accompany them. But first, she hadn't eaten all day, and was very "Huuuuungry." And unfortunately, her wallet had been stolen from her purse earlier that day. She showed me the tear in her purse, which really could have happened at any point. This of course meant that she couldn't pay for anything. And of course her next payday was in a week. Obviously, I was suspicious, but perhaps India had made me too paranoid. She noticed my hesitancy, and said that I came back in a week, she treat me all day. Uh huh. So, of course I paid for coffee (12 Rs) for both her and Srijith (who gets paid by Parvathy, apparently). Then, the riksha (25 Rs) ride to her cousin's place, where she stays during the work week. At that point, I brought out my camera, which caused a riotous flurry of primping and dressing up that made them look exactly the same as before. This part was fun. Their immaturities definitely came out during this time, though. Then, Parvathy ruined it by insisting on having copies. She said that we should go to a photo place and print out some pictures, which would ONLY cost me about 200 Rs. I firmly said no, and I told her that I'd e-mail them to her. She didn't like this, but she really had no choice. Finally, Srijith and I left. Beforehand, though, he bought her some food, even though she was going to eat in an hour anyway. Yeah, he was whipped. And the riksha ride cost me another 25 Rs.
The next morning, at around 11am, I walked to their office. I braved this because I knew that they were leaving for Kovalam at noon, and that they were going to the Sri Padmanabaswamy Temple (where I was going to go that afternoon) in the evening. Srijith was at the office. Parvathy was an hour late. I met the other employees. When she arrived, it seemed like she had done nothing wrong by being late. She was that manipulating. Even more so, much to my chagrin, she convinced their boss to give them the afternoon off (they'd go to Kovalam in the evening) so they could hang out with me. Gawd! What had I done! The plan was to go to the bank (so I could get money for my travels), then to the Temple. Before going to the Temple, Parvathy would need to go home to put on a sari, and Srijith and I would need to rent dhotis. The Temple has a strict dress policy. The idea of spending another 50 Rupees and who knows how long on this trip to her place forced me to say no to the Temple. She really wanted to dress up. Too bad. However, along the way, we ended up at a restaurant. One vadai (for me, apparently) also meant two dahi vadai, one chai, and two coffees (35 Rs). After much discussion, she finally said fine...no Temple. At least not the inside. We would still go there, but just to see the outside. Fine. But no walking. Another riksha (15 Rs). The temple was okay...nothing special. Then, she wanted a gift to remember me by. A bawdy Krishna statue. We went to some shops, but I finally said no. The pictures would be the remembrance. I needed the money for my trip. "But they're ONLY 50 Rs!" No. Okay, she had to break down. But, she got me another way. She asked if I was thirst, and I said sure. So, I took a Pepsi. She had a Pista Milk. He had a Badam Milk. Fine. What I didn't see was that she had told Srijith to buy another Pepsi and a bunch of snacks for their trip to Kovalam. The bill for my Pepsi was 150 Rs!!! I could have said no, but lots of people were watching us, and this would have created an issue with the cashier. I paid, and then needed to end it.
Excuse: A checkout time coming soon (I lied; it wasn't for three more hours).
So, back at my hotel, I said goodbye to them and slowly choked on the 318 Rupees I had spent for them during the past two days. By this point, I wanted to get the hell out of Trivandrum and reach the beaches of Varkala. So, I checked out early, and got to the bus station. I left Trivandrum and didn't look back. Actually, I left Parvathy (who wants me to invite Srijith and her to my wedding) and didn't look back.
Trivandrum 1: Red Flags and Vomit-Inducing Naturopathy
Trivandrum was my first spot in the great state of Kerala (the one state EVERYONE told me I had to visit, though they really could never pinpoint why). Trivandrum is the capital, and it's in the southern part of the state. As soon as I stepped into the city, I could see the differences between this state and the others. Kerala had the first ever democratically-elected Communist government (in 1967), and now it's the most developed and educated state in the country. It has a literacy rate of 91 percent, which is amazing. Most things in Trivandrum were written in both Malayalam and English. The city buses were by far the most posh I've seen. And everyone just looks educated, even in the more slummy parts of town. In fact, my first day in Trivandrum, I didn't see a single beggar. Not one! Amazing, yes?
Being a Communist state that prides its democratic process, Kerala sees a great amount of protests and strikes in its capital of Trivandrum. I witnessed one on my first full day there, while I was walking the 3 kilometers along MG (Mahatma Gandhi) Road. The road was choked with a thousand people chanting something for the AITC and waving large red flags. I asked someone, and he said that they were representing the Commerce Party, or something like that. Ah, if only I could understand Malayalam. Still, it was fascinating.
I ducked into a restaurant for lunch, and to avoid the protestors. This is where I came across one of the weirdest meals ever. It was completely naturopathic, and really represented more a philosophy than anything else. The meal started with five juices that I had to drink in a particular order. Some were good and sweet. Others were salty, warm, bitter, or just with a strange texture. After this, I was served small amounts of five different foods, which I had to eat in order. This was on the top of a banana leaf, and all the food was eaten with only the hand. Oh, and it was all vegetarian. Some of the foods were delicious. Others caused a little gag reflex. Yet, I had to eat it all before I could move on. And move on I did. He placed five on the bottom of the leaf. Then five on the top. Then three on the bottom. Three on the top. By this point, I was getting sick from all the food. SO MUCH. And of course he then put a giant pile of unprocessed rice on the bottom of the leaf. Gawd! I was force-feeding myself! Since I've arrived in India, my stomach has shrunk, meaning that I can't eat very much to begin with. Too bad. I had to finish. And once I did, all the while trying not to moan and collapse, he poured a dessert on the leaf. Being a liquid, eating with my fingers became a messy endeavor. Finally, when I slurped up the last bit of the tasty sweet, he poured honey on my hand to lick off. And that was it. I walked out of there near dead. And walk I did, another 1.5 kilometers. The whole while, I had to fight to keep in the food. Every now and then, I'd stop and will my stomach to hold it in. Luckily, I did, though I still felt sick for a while, even after I reached the zoo...where the Manipulator comes in. And man, was she a whirlwind!!!
Being a Communist state that prides its democratic process, Kerala sees a great amount of protests and strikes in its capital of Trivandrum. I witnessed one on my first full day there, while I was walking the 3 kilometers along MG (Mahatma Gandhi) Road. The road was choked with a thousand people chanting something for the AITC and waving large red flags. I asked someone, and he said that they were representing the Commerce Party, or something like that. Ah, if only I could understand Malayalam. Still, it was fascinating.
I ducked into a restaurant for lunch, and to avoid the protestors. This is where I came across one of the weirdest meals ever. It was completely naturopathic, and really represented more a philosophy than anything else. The meal started with five juices that I had to drink in a particular order. Some were good and sweet. Others were salty, warm, bitter, or just with a strange texture. After this, I was served small amounts of five different foods, which I had to eat in order. This was on the top of a banana leaf, and all the food was eaten with only the hand. Oh, and it was all vegetarian. Some of the foods were delicious. Others caused a little gag reflex. Yet, I had to eat it all before I could move on. And move on I did. He placed five on the bottom of the leaf. Then five on the top. Then three on the bottom. Three on the top. By this point, I was getting sick from all the food. SO MUCH. And of course he then put a giant pile of unprocessed rice on the bottom of the leaf. Gawd! I was force-feeding myself! Since I've arrived in India, my stomach has shrunk, meaning that I can't eat very much to begin with. Too bad. I had to finish. And once I did, all the while trying not to moan and collapse, he poured a dessert on the leaf. Being a liquid, eating with my fingers became a messy endeavor. Finally, when I slurped up the last bit of the tasty sweet, he poured honey on my hand to lick off. And that was it. I walked out of there near dead. And walk I did, another 1.5 kilometers. The whole while, I had to fight to keep in the food. Every now and then, I'd stop and will my stomach to hold it in. Luckily, I did, though I still felt sick for a while, even after I reached the zoo...where the Manipulator comes in. And man, was she a whirlwind!!!
Crazy thoughts and observations
Alright, here are what've been on my mind for the past few weeks, as well as strange things I've noticed:
1. In restaurants, there are four staple ways of preparing meat items (chicken, fish, mutton): Fry, Chilly, Manchurian, and 65. You can pretty much guess as to the first two. The last two stump me. The Manchurian style isn't even really all that Chinese. And 65??? These are just boneless, spiced pieces. How did "they" get 65???
2. Speaking of meat, I have a question about mutton. Not mutton in general. As we know, mutton (something I don't eat) is a fancy way of saying sheep meat. You can get mutton at almost any non-veg restaurant throughout the South, and apparently, it's really popular. Well, I've traveled throughout the South, even to and through at least two hundred small villages and farming communities, and I have yet to see a single sheep. Which begs the question: Where is the mutton coming from, and is it really made out of sheep???
3. You know how, in the U.S., we often say that minorities look alike? You know, all Indians or East Asians look the same...well, I've begun to notice that here. I swear, most South Indian men follow a couple of forms, either super skinny, slim but pure muscle, or slightly stocky but not really fat. They all have the same bushy mustaches, and wear similar clothes. I keep thinking that I'm seeing the same people each day, and when someone does recognize me, I have a hard time placing him. With women, it's easy. Their outfits are so bright, you don't even notice whether they look the same or not.
4. Kids and pens. I've talked about this before, but it's worth another peek. No matter where you go in India, kids will ask one of three questions: "Pen?," "One pen?," "One schoolpen?." Why? Who told them to ask that? And why is this so universal? Is this a same request in other developing countries as well? Many of my fellow travelers and I have pondered over this issue, and so far, it confounds us.
5. As Cartman would say: "Damn Hippies." Yes, they are everywhere here in India. Coming for spiritual enlightenment, meditation at ashrams, instruction in yoga, and, of course, MARIJUANA (or weed, hashish, dope, the ganj, etc.)...not that there's anything wrong with that. Many of these hippies have left the real world, and have been traveling in India for years, lighting up along the way. They dress in "travelers" clothes, which really accentuate the fact that they don't belong to the real world. They learn, somewhere along the line, that Indians wear these...and of course you'll never see an Indian wearing them. They also have a know-it-all attitude that just kills me. Hell, I'm Indian, and I haven't even come close to knowing it all. In fact, I've become more cautious, saying to fellow travelers that: "In Saurastra Gujarat, we do this..." because who knows if they do the same things in the rest of Gujarat? But the hippies...they know...Damn hippies.
6. You know what warms the cockles of my heart? No, not when hippies are wrong, or when I can tell Indian men apart, or when I know that I don't need to even deal with mysterious mutton meat (MMM). Sure, they're great. But what's better? Kids in school uniforms. Not because they look cute or they match or they all ask for schoolpens at the same time. No, it's because they're getting an education. Especially seeing schoolgirls puts a great smile on my face. So sue me, education makes me happy. Hell, I was in school for 18.5 years, and the rest of the time, I was either in diapers or teaching. Education of kids in a developing country ROCKS!
7. I like the number "seven." That's all. I'm sure I'm forgetting something, and it'll be posted later.
1. In restaurants, there are four staple ways of preparing meat items (chicken, fish, mutton): Fry, Chilly, Manchurian, and 65. You can pretty much guess as to the first two. The last two stump me. The Manchurian style isn't even really all that Chinese. And 65??? These are just boneless, spiced pieces. How did "they" get 65???
2. Speaking of meat, I have a question about mutton. Not mutton in general. As we know, mutton (something I don't eat) is a fancy way of saying sheep meat. You can get mutton at almost any non-veg restaurant throughout the South, and apparently, it's really popular. Well, I've traveled throughout the South, even to and through at least two hundred small villages and farming communities, and I have yet to see a single sheep. Which begs the question: Where is the mutton coming from, and is it really made out of sheep???
3. You know how, in the U.S., we often say that minorities look alike? You know, all Indians or East Asians look the same...well, I've begun to notice that here. I swear, most South Indian men follow a couple of forms, either super skinny, slim but pure muscle, or slightly stocky but not really fat. They all have the same bushy mustaches, and wear similar clothes. I keep thinking that I'm seeing the same people each day, and when someone does recognize me, I have a hard time placing him. With women, it's easy. Their outfits are so bright, you don't even notice whether they look the same or not.
4. Kids and pens. I've talked about this before, but it's worth another peek. No matter where you go in India, kids will ask one of three questions: "Pen?," "One pen?," "One schoolpen?." Why? Who told them to ask that? And why is this so universal? Is this a same request in other developing countries as well? Many of my fellow travelers and I have pondered over this issue, and so far, it confounds us.
5. As Cartman would say: "Damn Hippies." Yes, they are everywhere here in India. Coming for spiritual enlightenment, meditation at ashrams, instruction in yoga, and, of course, MARIJUANA (or weed, hashish, dope, the ganj, etc.)...not that there's anything wrong with that. Many of these hippies have left the real world, and have been traveling in India for years, lighting up along the way. They dress in "travelers" clothes, which really accentuate the fact that they don't belong to the real world. They learn, somewhere along the line, that Indians wear these...and of course you'll never see an Indian wearing them. They also have a know-it-all attitude that just kills me. Hell, I'm Indian, and I haven't even come close to knowing it all. In fact, I've become more cautious, saying to fellow travelers that: "In Saurastra Gujarat, we do this..." because who knows if they do the same things in the rest of Gujarat? But the hippies...they know...Damn hippies.
6. You know what warms the cockles of my heart? No, not when hippies are wrong, or when I can tell Indian men apart, or when I know that I don't need to even deal with mysterious mutton meat (MMM). Sure, they're great. But what's better? Kids in school uniforms. Not because they look cute or they match or they all ask for schoolpens at the same time. No, it's because they're getting an education. Especially seeing schoolgirls puts a great smile on my face. So sue me, education makes me happy. Hell, I was in school for 18.5 years, and the rest of the time, I was either in diapers or teaching. Education of kids in a developing country ROCKS!
7. I like the number "seven." That's all. I'm sure I'm forgetting something, and it'll be posted later.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
KK #2: Kanniyakumari - Pilgrimage Site or a Day at the Beach?
After Kodaikanal and my return to Madurai, I took a 7 hour bus trip down to Kanniyakumari, which is the southern-most point in all of India. The British called it Cape Comorin. Travelers call it the "Land's End." Whatever its name, this is the place where the Indian Ocean, the Arabian Sea, and the Bay of Bengal meet. You can see the sunrise and the sunset over water just by turning around (and waiting half a day). Kanniyakumari is also known for Swami Vivekananda, the great Hindu thinker who meditated on a rock here for three days (presumably) before coming to the realization that religion isn't just about spirituality, but it's also about social awareness. So, there are three, yes three, buildings/museums here devoted to the Swami. I visited two. One of them is actually on the rock, which is an island, on which he meditated. Next to it, on another rock, is the large statue devoted to famed Tamil poet Thiruvalluvar. This is supposedly the "Indian Statue of Liberty," simply because it's a big statue on an island. I visited both places with my friend Mark (not the same one as from Mamallapuram), who is from Vancouver. Previously, I also visited the Gandhi Memorial, which housed Gandhiji's ashes before they were immersed into the ocean. Other than seeing the sites, I spent the rest of the time (typically before I met Mark) sitting at the ghats and on the beach, trying to find peace amongst the carnivalesque chaos of the city.
Kanniyakumari is also a really important pilgrimage site (but which place in Tamil Nadu isn't???), and pilgrims come from all over the country (but mainly the South) to bathe in the salty water. So, they come in by the busloads, only staying a day, and frolicking in the water to wash away their impurities. But in truth, as I sat at the beach or the ghats, taking it all in, I began to wonder what was really happening. The pilgrimage thing seemed like an excuse to come down to the beach and play in the water. Because that's what I really saw. Only a few old men were being spiritual, and were really seeming austere. All the young men were simply splashing and taking pictures and trying to dunk each other and swimming and laughing and playing. Sure, some of them bathed, but it seemed to be for a more practical reason than for washing away sins (of course, how clean can you really get in salty water, anyway?). So, is Kanniyakumari a religious place? Sure, just count the hundred of pilgrims passing through there each day. Is it a spiritual place? Only if playing in the water with your closest friends counts as spiritual.
Kanniyakumari is also a really important pilgrimage site (but which place in Tamil Nadu isn't???), and pilgrims come from all over the country (but mainly the South) to bathe in the salty water. So, they come in by the busloads, only staying a day, and frolicking in the water to wash away their impurities. But in truth, as I sat at the beach or the ghats, taking it all in, I began to wonder what was really happening. The pilgrimage thing seemed like an excuse to come down to the beach and play in the water. Because that's what I really saw. Only a few old men were being spiritual, and were really seeming austere. All the young men were simply splashing and taking pictures and trying to dunk each other and swimming and laughing and playing. Sure, some of them bathed, but it seemed to be for a more practical reason than for washing away sins (of course, how clean can you really get in salty water, anyway?). So, is Kanniyakumari a religious place? Sure, just count the hundred of pilgrims passing through there each day. Is it a spiritual place? Only if playing in the water with your closest friends counts as spiritual.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
More pics
So, my first Yahoo Groups site is pretty much filled to capacity with pictures, leading almost through my time in Kodaikanal. If you want to keep viewing my pics, please sign up for my second site, at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/sapans_india_trip_2. Doing so takes about 30 seconds. Thanks.
KK #1: Kodaikanal and the Polka-Dotted Cows
Every now and then, you need a break from India...from the heat, the dust, the rush, the honks, and the flatness. Every now and then, you need Kodaikanal. This hill station founded by the Americans was a breath of fresh air...literally. My asthma disappeared (but don't worry...it's back!) as the cool air took over. 65 degrees during the day. Freezing at night. My hotel had hot showers (supposedly...the geyser was turned on randomly), wool blankets (most hotels don't even provide bed sheets to use to cover yourself!), and satellite TV. The town also had about 5 massive power outages a day. But no worries...the place still rocked.
Unfortunately, my traveling buddy, Wolfgang, got quite sick as we got up there. He had aches and pains, a sore throat, and diarrhea. Thank god for the TVs. And for the separate rooms. Unfortunately still, being the off-season, the weather rarely cooperated. Heavy mist and downpours made trekking impossible. We wanted to go the 7km (one-way) to Pillar Rocks...definitely not possible if you can't see more than a few feet in front of you. Still, when the weather was decent, I went wandering. I explored all of Kodai, and then showed Wolfgang when he was feeling well. We walked around all 5 km of the lake. Hell, any walk was a trek. Even getting to the main road from our hotel required us to walk up about 100 meters of 50 degree incline. We were puffing by the time we reached the top.
Kodai had no shortage of tourists, even during the off-season. This also meant that there were plenty of great restaurants. I loved the Tibetan food (Kodai has a huge Tibetan population), and a new place, the Sip N Munch, became our favorite during our five-day stay. But most fascinating were all the places selling homemade chocolate. Nobody grew cocoa beans or processed the chocolate themselves. No, everything was made from powder. Still, supposedly tourists love chocolate. So, I counted at least 20 shops...and this isn't including those in the surrounding villages. Still, I enjoyed having freshly made dark chocolates on occasion, knowing that if I walked anywhere, I'd burn away that fat and calories.
Wolfgang and I decided to stay for Pongal, the largest celebration throughout Tamil Nadu. Pongal, which celebrates the harvest, consists of two days. People Pongal is strictly for families...no real parties then. Cow Pongal is public, and for the...cows. Hence, on cow pongal, we saw cows dotted with numerous different and vibrant colors. We also went wandering to the different celebrations. We saw a musical dance performance with an exceptionally annoying female singer (high pitched singing completely off-key). We saw older men do a choreographed dance that reminded me a slower, stationary garba. We then wandered to a village farther away to witness a game played among two teams of young men. We joined the large audience and quickly learned the game. The two teams have about eight members. The winner is the team with anyone remaining in the game. Team A would send a member over to Team B's side. Guy A's goal is to tag any member of Team B and then cross over to his side before getting stopped. Team B's goal is to grab or tackle Guy A, thus halting him. If Guy A succeeds, the person who is tagged must leave the game. If Guy A fails, then nothing happens. The game was pretty interesting, and the audience found Wolfgang, a tall German, even more interesting. Still, we had fun. And it was nice to see all the polka-dotted cows.
Eventually, we had to leave. This was after having met a Gujarati from London named Kalpesh. Still, he was leaving for Ooty, so he wouldn't have been any reason to stay. Wolfgang and I felt sad to leave Kodai, with it's beautiful scenery and perfect weather (and clean, asthma-free air), but we had no choice. Down to Madurai we went, where we then met our friend Marlous. Then, on to Trichy for Wolfgang, and down to Kanniyakumari (KK #2) for me. Kodai was wonderful, and I'd love to one day return during the high season, when I can actually do more trekking.
Unfortunately, my traveling buddy, Wolfgang, got quite sick as we got up there. He had aches and pains, a sore throat, and diarrhea. Thank god for the TVs. And for the separate rooms. Unfortunately still, being the off-season, the weather rarely cooperated. Heavy mist and downpours made trekking impossible. We wanted to go the 7km (one-way) to Pillar Rocks...definitely not possible if you can't see more than a few feet in front of you. Still, when the weather was decent, I went wandering. I explored all of Kodai, and then showed Wolfgang when he was feeling well. We walked around all 5 km of the lake. Hell, any walk was a trek. Even getting to the main road from our hotel required us to walk up about 100 meters of 50 degree incline. We were puffing by the time we reached the top.
Kodai had no shortage of tourists, even during the off-season. This also meant that there were plenty of great restaurants. I loved the Tibetan food (Kodai has a huge Tibetan population), and a new place, the Sip N Munch, became our favorite during our five-day stay. But most fascinating were all the places selling homemade chocolate. Nobody grew cocoa beans or processed the chocolate themselves. No, everything was made from powder. Still, supposedly tourists love chocolate. So, I counted at least 20 shops...and this isn't including those in the surrounding villages. Still, I enjoyed having freshly made dark chocolates on occasion, knowing that if I walked anywhere, I'd burn away that fat and calories.
Wolfgang and I decided to stay for Pongal, the largest celebration throughout Tamil Nadu. Pongal, which celebrates the harvest, consists of two days. People Pongal is strictly for families...no real parties then. Cow Pongal is public, and for the...cows. Hence, on cow pongal, we saw cows dotted with numerous different and vibrant colors. We also went wandering to the different celebrations. We saw a musical dance performance with an exceptionally annoying female singer (high pitched singing completely off-key). We saw older men do a choreographed dance that reminded me a slower, stationary garba. We then wandered to a village farther away to witness a game played among two teams of young men. We joined the large audience and quickly learned the game. The two teams have about eight members. The winner is the team with anyone remaining in the game. Team A would send a member over to Team B's side. Guy A's goal is to tag any member of Team B and then cross over to his side before getting stopped. Team B's goal is to grab or tackle Guy A, thus halting him. If Guy A succeeds, the person who is tagged must leave the game. If Guy A fails, then nothing happens. The game was pretty interesting, and the audience found Wolfgang, a tall German, even more interesting. Still, we had fun. And it was nice to see all the polka-dotted cows.
Eventually, we had to leave. This was after having met a Gujarati from London named Kalpesh. Still, he was leaving for Ooty, so he wouldn't have been any reason to stay. Wolfgang and I felt sad to leave Kodai, with it's beautiful scenery and perfect weather (and clean, asthma-free air), but we had no choice. Down to Madurai we went, where we then met our friend Marlous. Then, on to Trichy for Wolfgang, and down to Kanniyakumari (KK #2) for me. Kodai was wonderful, and I'd love to one day return during the high season, when I can actually do more trekking.
Madurai: The Final Temple Town
I didn't spend too long in Madurai, which wasn't too far away from Trichy. Only two nights; a day and a half. There really isn't much to tell. Madurai was great for two reasons: 1) I loved the Sri Meenakshi Temple. Though much much smaller than all three previous temples (in Trichy, Thanjavur, and Tiruvannamalai), it had a great combination of crazy vitality and austere spirituality. From the beautiful gopurams to the meditation room to the Lotus Pool to the constant chanting of "Om Ishwara" to the large statue of Sri Vinayagar (Ganesha, the elephant-headed god) to the surging insanity of the Sri Meenakshi darshan to the many pilgrims, this temple had it all. After entering through the South gopuram (the largest and most intricately carved), I went straight to the Sri Meenakshi shrine for darshan. I was waiting in the surprisingly orderly line for 25 minutes when suddenly a bell started to ring. The young men behind me surged forward to catch a darshan reflected through a mirror located right above me. Chaos ensued as about 50 men rushed in front of me, pushing and shoving and nearly knocking me over (not that I had room to fall...I'd just crash into the people). Finally, things settled down a bit, after some yelling from the brahmins, and I got to do proper darshan. Overall, I spent about 2 hours in the temple. I would have been there longer, but they kicked everyone out for their mid-day break.
The night before, outside my room at the KT Lodge, I met a guy named Wolfgang as we both needed to do laundry. We had dined together at a rooftop restaurant with a nice night-time view of the Temple. The next day, after visiting the Temple, we met up for lunch and for a trip to the Gandhi Memorial Museum. Unless you want to read a history book about Gandhiji's life and about the Independence movement (starting with the Battle of Plassey in 1757), don't bother with this place. My head hurt so much from reading that I had to skim over much of it. We spent two hours at the Museum, which consisted of only a few small rooms. And Wolfgang, who is German, chose to read everything. With his basic English knowledge, doing this took him way too much time. The only thing worthwhile about the Museum were some of its artifacts, like some of Gandhiji's chappals. The best, and perhaps most tear-inducing, was the loincloth Gandhiji was wearing when he was shot...still with splatters of blood on it. Why would such an important piece of Indian history be in Madurai??? Because, this was the first place Gandhiji ever donned a loincloth.
Let me quickly talk about the KT Lodge. It was run by two crazy and all-together fun older men. They actually made a bet as to whether I was Indian or not. They stopped me one evening, after I had visited the Temple and thus had a kanku on my forehead, to say that I looked Indian. When I told them that I was in fact Gujarati, they started laughing hysterically, and one gave money to the other. Another great thing about the Lodge was how I was constantly getting the good rooms while Wolfgang got screwed. You see, we stayed at the Lodge on the way back from Kodaikanal as well, much to the surprise of the crazy men. And both times, Wolfgang and I paid the same amount, but for some reason, my room was always MUCH bigger than his, with a double bed, a working shower, and a Western toilet. He always got a closet. Finally, the KT Lodge was a great place to meet people. In fact, the particular intersection of two hallways, where our rooms seemed to always be, was the place. That's where I met Wolfgang. That's where we met Marlous, a Dutch woman who had just arrived from Munnar (a 9 hour bus ride!) the day we arrived back from Kodai. The three of us had a great time together that evening, and now I've gone on to recommend this Lodge to others traveling to Madurai.
Okay, not much to say turned into a lot to say. That's it for Madurai. Temple City. My last temple in Tamil Nadu...thank God, or Arunachaleswara, Brihadiswara, Ramanathaswamy, Vinayagar, and Meenakshi.
The night before, outside my room at the KT Lodge, I met a guy named Wolfgang as we both needed to do laundry. We had dined together at a rooftop restaurant with a nice night-time view of the Temple. The next day, after visiting the Temple, we met up for lunch and for a trip to the Gandhi Memorial Museum. Unless you want to read a history book about Gandhiji's life and about the Independence movement (starting with the Battle of Plassey in 1757), don't bother with this place. My head hurt so much from reading that I had to skim over much of it. We spent two hours at the Museum, which consisted of only a few small rooms. And Wolfgang, who is German, chose to read everything. With his basic English knowledge, doing this took him way too much time. The only thing worthwhile about the Museum were some of its artifacts, like some of Gandhiji's chappals. The best, and perhaps most tear-inducing, was the loincloth Gandhiji was wearing when he was shot...still with splatters of blood on it. Why would such an important piece of Indian history be in Madurai??? Because, this was the first place Gandhiji ever donned a loincloth.
Let me quickly talk about the KT Lodge. It was run by two crazy and all-together fun older men. They actually made a bet as to whether I was Indian or not. They stopped me one evening, after I had visited the Temple and thus had a kanku on my forehead, to say that I looked Indian. When I told them that I was in fact Gujarati, they started laughing hysterically, and one gave money to the other. Another great thing about the Lodge was how I was constantly getting the good rooms while Wolfgang got screwed. You see, we stayed at the Lodge on the way back from Kodaikanal as well, much to the surprise of the crazy men. And both times, Wolfgang and I paid the same amount, but for some reason, my room was always MUCH bigger than his, with a double bed, a working shower, and a Western toilet. He always got a closet. Finally, the KT Lodge was a great place to meet people. In fact, the particular intersection of two hallways, where our rooms seemed to always be, was the place. That's where I met Wolfgang. That's where we met Marlous, a Dutch woman who had just arrived from Munnar (a 9 hour bus ride!) the day we arrived back from Kodai. The three of us had a great time together that evening, and now I've gone on to recommend this Lodge to others traveling to Madurai.
Okay, not much to say turned into a lot to say. That's it for Madurai. Temple City. My last temple in Tamil Nadu...thank God, or Arunachaleswara, Brihadiswara, Ramanathaswamy, Vinayagar, and Meenakshi.
Big Fat Lies!!!
Okay, I want to mention the two greatest lies (though they weren't meant to be that way) that I heard before coming to India:
1. "Don't worry about change or small bills; everyone uses bigger bills." Yeah, in which India? Small bills are highly coveted by all travelers here. Hell, I use 50 paise, 1, 2, and 5 rupee coins CONSTANTLY. In fact, when I don't have these coins, or a ten rupee bill, I'm lost. I can't pay for anything. 'Cause, nobody has change. I can't go to temples, which all ask for small donations. Basically, I'm stuck. Very few people can do a thing with 50 or 100 rupee bills, let alone 500 or 1000. Truthfully, this is a case where smaller is better.
2. "You won't have a language problem in the South; everyone speaks English." Okay, I heard this from so many people, and after about two months of traveling in the South, I still have yet to find any truth in this. Perhaps people are thinking about Kerala, which I just stepped into today. In Karnataka and Tamil Nadu, outside the bigger cities of Bangalore, Chennai, and perhaps Mysore, very few people actually speak English. Also, not very many places have English signs either, thus forcing me to blindly search for anything and everything. In Tiruvannamalai, perhaps only one store in about 100 had any English on the sign, and maybe had an employee who understood some of the language. Not surprisingly, only the really touristy spots of Mamallapuram and Kodaikanal had plenty of English. Truth be told, prepare yourself, no matter where in India you go, to be out of luck, language-wise.
1. "Don't worry about change or small bills; everyone uses bigger bills." Yeah, in which India? Small bills are highly coveted by all travelers here. Hell, I use 50 paise, 1, 2, and 5 rupee coins CONSTANTLY. In fact, when I don't have these coins, or a ten rupee bill, I'm lost. I can't pay for anything. 'Cause, nobody has change. I can't go to temples, which all ask for small donations. Basically, I'm stuck. Very few people can do a thing with 50 or 100 rupee bills, let alone 500 or 1000. Truthfully, this is a case where smaller is better.
2. "You won't have a language problem in the South; everyone speaks English." Okay, I heard this from so many people, and after about two months of traveling in the South, I still have yet to find any truth in this. Perhaps people are thinking about Kerala, which I just stepped into today. In Karnataka and Tamil Nadu, outside the bigger cities of Bangalore, Chennai, and perhaps Mysore, very few people actually speak English. Also, not very many places have English signs either, thus forcing me to blindly search for anything and everything. In Tiruvannamalai, perhaps only one store in about 100 had any English on the sign, and maybe had an employee who understood some of the language. Not surprisingly, only the really touristy spots of Mamallapuram and Kodaikanal had plenty of English. Truth be told, prepare yourself, no matter where in India you go, to be out of luck, language-wise.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Trichy and Thanjavur
What can I say about these two places located in central Tamil Nadu? Perhaps slight disappointment might be the way to go. Unfortunately, the seemingly never-ending rain in Trichy made seeing the sights very difficult. I had originally planned to see the Rock Fort and the Sri Ranganathaswamy Temple in one day, and then take a trip to Thanjavur the next. Three nights total. Yeah right.
First of all, my hotel cost me the most money I've had to pay thus far...it was the cheapest I could find at 360 Rs a night (about $8). Luckily it had a television, because the persistant downpour outside made going outside difficult. In addition, the fact that the hotel had room service also proved a plus, particularly when I got sick. Yes, once more, a cold overtook me. I often partook of the restaurant's great bhel puri and phav bhaji while I attempted to feel better. This was after my trip to Thanjavur. But, I'm getting ahead of myself.
The first day, I traveled to the Rock Fort. The rain wasn't so bad, but it made going to the Temple all the more difficult. The Rock Fort, which is found right in the center of the sprawling Trichy, was an easy climb to the top. The views would, of course, have been better if it hadn't been raining. I spent the rest of the day in an internet cafe out of the rain.
The next day, I decided to go to Thanjavur. Of course, leave it to me to spend the only nice day in Trichy in another city. The two hour ride to Thanjavur was uneventful. The Brihadishwara Temple, known locally as the "Big Temple" was a nice complex with mandapas and gopurams of styles completely different from elsewhere in South India. First of all, the towers and temples were all brown, instead of white or painted. And they were definitely old. The complex had a nice feeling of spirituality to it, which was ruined by loud speakers spouting out discussions and encouragement for the workers attempting to renovate the temple. I appreciated the purpose, but the constant loud talking really hurt the serene atmosphere. From there, I walked to the old Tanjore Palace Complex. Most of it unimpressed me. However, once I entered the ancient library's museum, everything seemed worth it. The museum had an amazing collection, including one of the world's smallest palm manuscripts, with the Ramayana written on it, a detailed depiction of Chinese torture techniques, and other fascinating things. And then, after this, I climbed up the precarious Bell Tower, which offered me a great view of the city and the Big Temple. In all, I spent 4 hours in Thanjavur, which equaled my traveling time. I think Thanjavur was worth it.
The next day, I fell sick. And the rain was coming down, though not too heavily. Still, while I could have gone to the Sri Ramanathaswamy Temple, I chose not to put my health to risk. So, the day was pretty boring...another 360 Rs down the drain. Now, I could have left Trichy without having seen the temple, but Lonely Planet described it as perhaps India's largest temple complex, at 60 hectares and with 7 concentric courtyards. So, I waited for the next morning. And when it came, the rain was downpouring like mad. I almost felt that all was lost. I had wanted to visit the temple in the morning, and then leave for Madurai in the afternoon. No such luck. The rain finally stopped, and I was feeling better, so I risked it. After the bus journey through Trichy, I approached the entrance. The gopuram was amazing. at about 65 meters high, it was by far one of the largest gopurams I had ever seen. Unfortunately, that feeling of awe simply couldn't last. As I walked under that entrance, I was taken aback by the fact that nothing had changed. There were still restaurants and regular shops, streets going off in all directions with people driving both four and two-wheelers on them. Sure, it was all enclosed, with gopurams supposedly at the ends of each street (I didn't walk to see), but nothing felt different. It was simply an enclosed town. Only when I got to the final entrance did the actual temples start. And I had to wander before I found something I felt comfortable going into. And it still wasn't all that comfortable. Darshans took about 45 minutes in the lines...I really didn't want to wait for that long to see a god or goddess I had not even ever heard of. Unfortunately, this feeling remained. The temple simply didn't seem spiritual or religious to me. I really had a hard time finding any sense of the holy in this whole mess.
The one redeeming factor was my great enemy: the rain. As I was getting ready to leave from this inner complex, I looked up to notice that the clouds signaled a great storm. I ran under a covered area, pulled out my windbreaker, and put it on. I knew what was coming. And the moment I even looked out from the covered area, I saw the rain come down with an amazing force. Dry ground became lakes in a matter of minutes. Stuffing my bag under the windbreaker, I ran out, barefoot, through the many small gopurams, which were now stuffed with people avoiding the rain. People thought I was crazy. I thought I was trying to get away before I would have to swim out. By the time I reached the final gopuram, the main entrance, the rain had passed. I walked barefoot through the ponds, and had a blast doing so. The rain saved my trip to the temple.
I didn't leave that day, because by the time I returned to the hotel, it was simply too late to head out to Madurai. So, I left today, and found my way to a hotel charging a lot less (but still a bit, I think). I met a guy, Wolfgang, from Germany. We'll probably go to the Temple and perhaps the museum tomorrow, and then I may join him for a couple of days in Kodai, before I head down to Kanniyakumari. Hopefully the Sri Meenakshi Temple won't disappoint!
First of all, my hotel cost me the most money I've had to pay thus far...it was the cheapest I could find at 360 Rs a night (about $8). Luckily it had a television, because the persistant downpour outside made going outside difficult. In addition, the fact that the hotel had room service also proved a plus, particularly when I got sick. Yes, once more, a cold overtook me. I often partook of the restaurant's great bhel puri and phav bhaji while I attempted to feel better. This was after my trip to Thanjavur. But, I'm getting ahead of myself.
The first day, I traveled to the Rock Fort. The rain wasn't so bad, but it made going to the Temple all the more difficult. The Rock Fort, which is found right in the center of the sprawling Trichy, was an easy climb to the top. The views would, of course, have been better if it hadn't been raining. I spent the rest of the day in an internet cafe out of the rain.
The next day, I decided to go to Thanjavur. Of course, leave it to me to spend the only nice day in Trichy in another city. The two hour ride to Thanjavur was uneventful. The Brihadishwara Temple, known locally as the "Big Temple" was a nice complex with mandapas and gopurams of styles completely different from elsewhere in South India. First of all, the towers and temples were all brown, instead of white or painted. And they were definitely old. The complex had a nice feeling of spirituality to it, which was ruined by loud speakers spouting out discussions and encouragement for the workers attempting to renovate the temple. I appreciated the purpose, but the constant loud talking really hurt the serene atmosphere. From there, I walked to the old Tanjore Palace Complex. Most of it unimpressed me. However, once I entered the ancient library's museum, everything seemed worth it. The museum had an amazing collection, including one of the world's smallest palm manuscripts, with the Ramayana written on it, a detailed depiction of Chinese torture techniques, and other fascinating things. And then, after this, I climbed up the precarious Bell Tower, which offered me a great view of the city and the Big Temple. In all, I spent 4 hours in Thanjavur, which equaled my traveling time. I think Thanjavur was worth it.
The next day, I fell sick. And the rain was coming down, though not too heavily. Still, while I could have gone to the Sri Ramanathaswamy Temple, I chose not to put my health to risk. So, the day was pretty boring...another 360 Rs down the drain. Now, I could have left Trichy without having seen the temple, but Lonely Planet described it as perhaps India's largest temple complex, at 60 hectares and with 7 concentric courtyards. So, I waited for the next morning. And when it came, the rain was downpouring like mad. I almost felt that all was lost. I had wanted to visit the temple in the morning, and then leave for Madurai in the afternoon. No such luck. The rain finally stopped, and I was feeling better, so I risked it. After the bus journey through Trichy, I approached the entrance. The gopuram was amazing. at about 65 meters high, it was by far one of the largest gopurams I had ever seen. Unfortunately, that feeling of awe simply couldn't last. As I walked under that entrance, I was taken aback by the fact that nothing had changed. There were still restaurants and regular shops, streets going off in all directions with people driving both four and two-wheelers on them. Sure, it was all enclosed, with gopurams supposedly at the ends of each street (I didn't walk to see), but nothing felt different. It was simply an enclosed town. Only when I got to the final entrance did the actual temples start. And I had to wander before I found something I felt comfortable going into. And it still wasn't all that comfortable. Darshans took about 45 minutes in the lines...I really didn't want to wait for that long to see a god or goddess I had not even ever heard of. Unfortunately, this feeling remained. The temple simply didn't seem spiritual or religious to me. I really had a hard time finding any sense of the holy in this whole mess.
The one redeeming factor was my great enemy: the rain. As I was getting ready to leave from this inner complex, I looked up to notice that the clouds signaled a great storm. I ran under a covered area, pulled out my windbreaker, and put it on. I knew what was coming. And the moment I even looked out from the covered area, I saw the rain come down with an amazing force. Dry ground became lakes in a matter of minutes. Stuffing my bag under the windbreaker, I ran out, barefoot, through the many small gopurams, which were now stuffed with people avoiding the rain. People thought I was crazy. I thought I was trying to get away before I would have to swim out. By the time I reached the final gopuram, the main entrance, the rain had passed. I walked barefoot through the ponds, and had a blast doing so. The rain saved my trip to the temple.
I didn't leave that day, because by the time I returned to the hotel, it was simply too late to head out to Madurai. So, I left today, and found my way to a hotel charging a lot less (but still a bit, I think). I met a guy, Wolfgang, from Germany. We'll probably go to the Temple and perhaps the museum tomorrow, and then I may join him for a couple of days in Kodai, before I head down to Kanniyakumari. Hopefully the Sri Meenakshi Temple won't disappoint!
Sunday, January 08, 2006
Religion Pointers and Thoughts
Here are some things to remember if you ever visit a temple while in India (keep in mind that, while the South may be different from the North, some things are constant):
When in doubt, remove your shoes. Even when I visit ruins of temples, I take them off. Just beware of monkeys taking them. Oh, and for the reason of constantly removing your shoes, it's best to buy sandals with no back straps.
If you're walking around the outside of a temple, go clockwise. Walk to the left of a temple, not the right.
Accept any tika powder or holy liquids with your right hand, not your left. Never your left!
You can apply tika powder to your forehead any way you'd like. I say that less is more. Just dab it at the spot right above the space between your eyebrows (unless you unfortunately have a unibrow!). Dispose of the rest of the powder. When you're visiting temples, you'll be getting LOTS of tika powder and ash. Eventually, you'll have a lot on your forehead anyway; why rush it with the first batch?
Avoid pointing the soles of your feet in the direction of any person or any statue. The only time this is really okay is when your prostrating yourself before a statue.
Darshan is the most important word you'll see and hear. Darshan is most simply a viewing of the god or goddess. For some reason, this is REALLY popular in the South. In Tirupati, for example, pilgrims wait in line for six or seven hours simply to have darshan, which may last for about 20 seconds. This need to see the god confounds me, though I find myself wanting it as well.
Okay, pointers are over. Here is a general amendment to my previous discussion of religion. I don't get it. Religion for me is just a way to find peace, and yet I have a hard time doing so in some of these temples. Take the temple I visited today, for example. I waited for three days in Tiruchchirappali (Trichy) for the pouring rain to abate so I could visit the Sri Ranganathaswami Temple. At 60 hectares (what's a hectare, anyway?), it's the largest temple complex in India. Coming from the absolutely amazing Arunachaleswara Temple complex (10 hectares) in Tiruvannamalai, I was expecting this to be something astoundingly spiritual. No, it was hectic, devoid of actual temples, and it seemingly lacking in anything peaceful. When I finally found a temple, I paid 5 Rs to have a "Special Darshan," which meant that i wouldn't have to wait in the general line for 1.5 hours. No, instead I waited for a half hour. Then, I never actually got to do darshan, because the crowd was so much, I couldn't even see the murti (statue). No peace to be had in all the chaos. I couldn't feel any god within those walls.
Perhaps I'm being too critical. Perhaps my definition of religion is too specific. And I'm sure that many thousands of people find peace within the walls of that temple complex. But not me. And that's really sad. We'll see what the famous Sri Meenakshi Temple holds for me.
When in doubt, remove your shoes. Even when I visit ruins of temples, I take them off. Just beware of monkeys taking them. Oh, and for the reason of constantly removing your shoes, it's best to buy sandals with no back straps.
If you're walking around the outside of a temple, go clockwise. Walk to the left of a temple, not the right.
Accept any tika powder or holy liquids with your right hand, not your left. Never your left!
You can apply tika powder to your forehead any way you'd like. I say that less is more. Just dab it at the spot right above the space between your eyebrows (unless you unfortunately have a unibrow!). Dispose of the rest of the powder. When you're visiting temples, you'll be getting LOTS of tika powder and ash. Eventually, you'll have a lot on your forehead anyway; why rush it with the first batch?
Avoid pointing the soles of your feet in the direction of any person or any statue. The only time this is really okay is when your prostrating yourself before a statue.
Darshan is the most important word you'll see and hear. Darshan is most simply a viewing of the god or goddess. For some reason, this is REALLY popular in the South. In Tirupati, for example, pilgrims wait in line for six or seven hours simply to have darshan, which may last for about 20 seconds. This need to see the god confounds me, though I find myself wanting it as well.
Okay, pointers are over. Here is a general amendment to my previous discussion of religion. I don't get it. Religion for me is just a way to find peace, and yet I have a hard time doing so in some of these temples. Take the temple I visited today, for example. I waited for three days in Tiruchchirappali (Trichy) for the pouring rain to abate so I could visit the Sri Ranganathaswami Temple. At 60 hectares (what's a hectare, anyway?), it's the largest temple complex in India. Coming from the absolutely amazing Arunachaleswara Temple complex (10 hectares) in Tiruvannamalai, I was expecting this to be something astoundingly spiritual. No, it was hectic, devoid of actual temples, and it seemingly lacking in anything peaceful. When I finally found a temple, I paid 5 Rs to have a "Special Darshan," which meant that i wouldn't have to wait in the general line for 1.5 hours. No, instead I waited for a half hour. Then, I never actually got to do darshan, because the crowd was so much, I couldn't even see the murti (statue). No peace to be had in all the chaos. I couldn't feel any god within those walls.
Perhaps I'm being too critical. Perhaps my definition of religion is too specific. And I'm sure that many thousands of people find peace within the walls of that temple complex. But not me. And that's really sad. We'll see what the famous Sri Meenakshi Temple holds for me.
The Best New Year Ever!!!
Here is the story of my New Years Eve...it was a very long day, and a fairly eventful story, so just bear with me. This is taken almost directly from my journal, which I wrote the next day, when I wasn't in such an inebriated state:
Everything worked out the way they were meant to. Waking up at 10am (the first time getting up after 7am for the past two weeks!) meant that I would have to have a late brunch. Seeing the "Tapas" sign next to the "Siesta" restaurant meant that my interest would be sparked. Asking for sugar from the next table meant that my lack of an Indian accent signaled me as a foreigner. This allowed me to meet an Aussie named Mark, a fairly loud-mouthed, divorced, drug-using, chain smoking, older man who spoke his mind and who had already been traveling the world for two years. He hadn't even been in India for more than 12 hours when he met, which was also by luck, since the previous guest house had raised his tariff more than 200 Rs, thus forcing him to change to the Sri Murugan, which owned the "Siesta." We chatted for a bit, but then I had to leave. He needed to finish checking into his room. So, we parted ways.
On the way out, a Dutch girl named Sille, and her brother, Klaas, stopped me to ask about any parties happening that evening. I knew nothing, but chatted with them for a few minutes. As I said good bye, I bumped back into Mark. Since he was done checking in, we decided to go exploring together. We got a little lost in the back farms, got yelled at by a guy only speaking Tamil, and saw: two mandapas, the Lakshmi Temple, the Lighthouse, the Five Rathas, Arjuna's Penance, the Ganesha Ratha, Krishna's Butter Ball, Trimurti Cave, and the Shore Temple. By about four pm, we were exhausted, and stopped at a beach cafe for a beer and some pancakes (a really bad combination, by the way!). We stayed there for about 2 hours, talking about anything and everything. Mark was such a great character, that he was really easy to like. We got along very well. We eventually had to split, but he told me that he was meeting some people at Moonraker's Restaurant at 8pm, and perhaps he'd see me there.
At 7:30, I met up with Soeren, my Danish friend from the night before. I mentioned that we could meet Mark, and he thought that was fine. But first, we had to buy some questionable, but ultimately fine, vodka from one of the "wine shops," which had tons of vodka in stock. While the shop offered whiskey, brandy, gin, "Night N Day," wine, and other drinks, vodka was by far the most popular. At Moonrakers, we met Mark and his Dutch friend Cora. On the way to the roof, I bumped into my friends from the morning, Sille and Klaas, who were just finishing dinner. They said that after buying alcohol, they'd find us. So, soon enough, the six of us were having a great time. After dinner, we decided to wander down to the beach, and somehow we lost Cora along the way. I bumped into my French friends Natalie and Guillerme, who stayed in the same guest house as me in Hampi; they joined us for a bit before disappearing for dinner.
On the beach, we saw a bonfire, which lured us with its bright light. Many already drunk Indian male students loved having foreigners around, and consistently yelled out "Happy New Year" and "I Love You!" for no particular reason. They latched onto the men, but didn't really know how to act around Sille, a theme that would continue for the rest of the night. Klaas, who had only been in India a week, and for whom this was his first experience ever in a developing country, felt a little overwhelmed (another major theme). After a while of just standing there and talking with drunk Indians, we decided to check out a party happening at a resort further up the beach. It was all very posh. We climbed up a wall to get in, and just sat there, backs to the beach, watching as the people partied. We received many suspicious glances, but while we just sat there, we didn't pose a threat. So, of course this had to be ruined. Silla and Mark thought they could get into one of the dance areas, so the moment they both stood up and took one step in the wrong direction, waiters came over. We needed to pay 4500 Rs each in order to stay. Back to the beach we went.
Then, I remembered seeing a sign earlier for a party at Mamallapuram Stirling, another resort. So, that's where we went. All the while, I was drinking a liter mixture of Sprite and bad vodka. Soeren had vodka and a Fanta. Everyone else had beers that Mark convinced a beachside restaurant to simply give us. He is very charismatic, which is why he took over when the security guards at Sterling wanted us each to pay 700 Rs. Mark convinced them that we had friends inside who had our tickets, so the guards let us in for free. We sat down, drank, and listened to really lame live Tamil music. Still, as midnight approached, we all felt the need to get onto the stage. Once we counted down and the fireworks went off, chaos ensued. The music changed, and drunk Indian men rushed the stage. They grabbed Soeren and started jumping with him, punching him, and generally trying to show off their masculine stamina. Soeren, who turns 40 soon, told me proudly that he was able to keep up. Still, being the tallest and definitely most foreign of the guys, he made an easy target. Sille, the only girl on the stage, had guys staring at her confusedly. Their lower inhibitions made her very attractive to them, thus prompting me to dance with her often to "save her." Klaas was VERY lost. He had a hard time understanding the touching and grabbing and jumping and did I mention touching? Later he said that, as long as they didn't try to grab between his legs, he was fine. At least near the end of the night, after he had gotten somewhat used to it. And Mark, in a typical Mark fashion, was cool about eveything. Nothing phased him. And what of Sapan? Being an Indian, I blended in. But since I came with the foreigners, I was still a bit of an oddity. I participated in my share of the jumping and can-can dancing and touching and grabbing and such.
Never was the "men touching each other" issue so apparent as with a bunch of drunk Indian young men. In fact, many homosexual tendencies were openly displayed. Two men were grinding so closely they were actually rubbing their...ummm...together. We had no doubt as to their tendencies, though I'm sure they never would have revealed it sober. Still, I had never seen such openness in India. It shocked me. And yet it was also a little relieving, because it showed that India wasn't as prude as it seemed. Sure, it took lots of alcohol to reveal this side, but at least that side existed.
The crazy dancing continued until around 1:30. During that time, I had a somewhat scary moment. Because of the alcohol, I had to use the bathroom. On my way back to the dance floor, a guard stopped me. He asked me for my ticket...suddenly, I imagined that I would be the reason my friends and I would get kicked out of the party. I attemped to explain, in a semi-drunk stupor, that my "friends" staying at the hotel had the tickets. I just hoped that he didn't ask to meet these "friends." Thankfully, since he didn't speak much English, and since I knew no Tamil, this exercise was more than he could deal with. He thought I might be Tamil, thus making this easy. No such luck. Being New Years, he really didn't care enough. He let me go! Whew.
After we left at 1:30, we wandered back to Othavaadai Street, which was where all our hotels were. Silla had to use the bathroom, so I let her use the one at my guest house. Before I knew it, Mark and Klaas also were using the bathroom. And Soeren? Gone. I went looking for him, but I couldn't find him. I gave up the search, and we retired to Siesta, where the day had begun. We had more beer, but by this point, I was really tired. Sille asked us a few questions, such as new year resolution and latest loves. Finally, at around 2:30, I couldn't keep awake any more. So, I said farewell, and we all decided to meet the next day for a late lunch. As I was walking back to the Tina Blue View (my place), I found Soeren wandering down the now empty road. We chatted for a bit before walking back to our respective places. There was a crowd outside my place, as it seemed a drunken fight was brewing. I was too tired to see what would happen. Because it was so late, the gates into the guest house were locked, thus forcing me to climb over the fence. Oh well. Sleep came quickly and easily for me.
This was the best New Year celebration I had ever had. Perhaps my other ones had sucked, though the one in San Francisco with Sejal, Joe, and Jamie was a lot of fun. No, this was simply a wild, crazy, long-lasting night with some great personalities from all over the world, in a different country, experiencing something wholly new. It was a blast! Of course, there's really no way to fully express what had happened in words, as the whole night was a chaotic meshing of different sights, sounds, smells, and of course, touchings. You'll just have to take my word on it, that it was a great night. And if you still don't believe me, let me know. I'll send you the e-mails for Mark, Soeren, Sille, and Klaas. Ask them. I dare you! Okay, I'm off topic. That's all...
Everything worked out the way they were meant to. Waking up at 10am (the first time getting up after 7am for the past two weeks!) meant that I would have to have a late brunch. Seeing the "Tapas" sign next to the "Siesta" restaurant meant that my interest would be sparked. Asking for sugar from the next table meant that my lack of an Indian accent signaled me as a foreigner. This allowed me to meet an Aussie named Mark, a fairly loud-mouthed, divorced, drug-using, chain smoking, older man who spoke his mind and who had already been traveling the world for two years. He hadn't even been in India for more than 12 hours when he met, which was also by luck, since the previous guest house had raised his tariff more than 200 Rs, thus forcing him to change to the Sri Murugan, which owned the "Siesta." We chatted for a bit, but then I had to leave. He needed to finish checking into his room. So, we parted ways.
On the way out, a Dutch girl named Sille, and her brother, Klaas, stopped me to ask about any parties happening that evening. I knew nothing, but chatted with them for a few minutes. As I said good bye, I bumped back into Mark. Since he was done checking in, we decided to go exploring together. We got a little lost in the back farms, got yelled at by a guy only speaking Tamil, and saw: two mandapas, the Lakshmi Temple, the Lighthouse, the Five Rathas, Arjuna's Penance, the Ganesha Ratha, Krishna's Butter Ball, Trimurti Cave, and the Shore Temple. By about four pm, we were exhausted, and stopped at a beach cafe for a beer and some pancakes (a really bad combination, by the way!). We stayed there for about 2 hours, talking about anything and everything. Mark was such a great character, that he was really easy to like. We got along very well. We eventually had to split, but he told me that he was meeting some people at Moonraker's Restaurant at 8pm, and perhaps he'd see me there.
At 7:30, I met up with Soeren, my Danish friend from the night before. I mentioned that we could meet Mark, and he thought that was fine. But first, we had to buy some questionable, but ultimately fine, vodka from one of the "wine shops," which had tons of vodka in stock. While the shop offered whiskey, brandy, gin, "Night N Day," wine, and other drinks, vodka was by far the most popular. At Moonrakers, we met Mark and his Dutch friend Cora. On the way to the roof, I bumped into my friends from the morning, Sille and Klaas, who were just finishing dinner. They said that after buying alcohol, they'd find us. So, soon enough, the six of us were having a great time. After dinner, we decided to wander down to the beach, and somehow we lost Cora along the way. I bumped into my French friends Natalie and Guillerme, who stayed in the same guest house as me in Hampi; they joined us for a bit before disappearing for dinner.
On the beach, we saw a bonfire, which lured us with its bright light. Many already drunk Indian male students loved having foreigners around, and consistently yelled out "Happy New Year" and "I Love You!" for no particular reason. They latched onto the men, but didn't really know how to act around Sille, a theme that would continue for the rest of the night. Klaas, who had only been in India a week, and for whom this was his first experience ever in a developing country, felt a little overwhelmed (another major theme). After a while of just standing there and talking with drunk Indians, we decided to check out a party happening at a resort further up the beach. It was all very posh. We climbed up a wall to get in, and just sat there, backs to the beach, watching as the people partied. We received many suspicious glances, but while we just sat there, we didn't pose a threat. So, of course this had to be ruined. Silla and Mark thought they could get into one of the dance areas, so the moment they both stood up and took one step in the wrong direction, waiters came over. We needed to pay 4500 Rs each in order to stay. Back to the beach we went.
Then, I remembered seeing a sign earlier for a party at Mamallapuram Stirling, another resort. So, that's where we went. All the while, I was drinking a liter mixture of Sprite and bad vodka. Soeren had vodka and a Fanta. Everyone else had beers that Mark convinced a beachside restaurant to simply give us. He is very charismatic, which is why he took over when the security guards at Sterling wanted us each to pay 700 Rs. Mark convinced them that we had friends inside who had our tickets, so the guards let us in for free. We sat down, drank, and listened to really lame live Tamil music. Still, as midnight approached, we all felt the need to get onto the stage. Once we counted down and the fireworks went off, chaos ensued. The music changed, and drunk Indian men rushed the stage. They grabbed Soeren and started jumping with him, punching him, and generally trying to show off their masculine stamina. Soeren, who turns 40 soon, told me proudly that he was able to keep up. Still, being the tallest and definitely most foreign of the guys, he made an easy target. Sille, the only girl on the stage, had guys staring at her confusedly. Their lower inhibitions made her very attractive to them, thus prompting me to dance with her often to "save her." Klaas was VERY lost. He had a hard time understanding the touching and grabbing and jumping and did I mention touching? Later he said that, as long as they didn't try to grab between his legs, he was fine. At least near the end of the night, after he had gotten somewhat used to it. And Mark, in a typical Mark fashion, was cool about eveything. Nothing phased him. And what of Sapan? Being an Indian, I blended in. But since I came with the foreigners, I was still a bit of an oddity. I participated in my share of the jumping and can-can dancing and touching and grabbing and such.
Never was the "men touching each other" issue so apparent as with a bunch of drunk Indian young men. In fact, many homosexual tendencies were openly displayed. Two men were grinding so closely they were actually rubbing their...ummm...together. We had no doubt as to their tendencies, though I'm sure they never would have revealed it sober. Still, I had never seen such openness in India. It shocked me. And yet it was also a little relieving, because it showed that India wasn't as prude as it seemed. Sure, it took lots of alcohol to reveal this side, but at least that side existed.
The crazy dancing continued until around 1:30. During that time, I had a somewhat scary moment. Because of the alcohol, I had to use the bathroom. On my way back to the dance floor, a guard stopped me. He asked me for my ticket...suddenly, I imagined that I would be the reason my friends and I would get kicked out of the party. I attemped to explain, in a semi-drunk stupor, that my "friends" staying at the hotel had the tickets. I just hoped that he didn't ask to meet these "friends." Thankfully, since he didn't speak much English, and since I knew no Tamil, this exercise was more than he could deal with. He thought I might be Tamil, thus making this easy. No such luck. Being New Years, he really didn't care enough. He let me go! Whew.
After we left at 1:30, we wandered back to Othavaadai Street, which was where all our hotels were. Silla had to use the bathroom, so I let her use the one at my guest house. Before I knew it, Mark and Klaas also were using the bathroom. And Soeren? Gone. I went looking for him, but I couldn't find him. I gave up the search, and we retired to Siesta, where the day had begun. We had more beer, but by this point, I was really tired. Sille asked us a few questions, such as new year resolution and latest loves. Finally, at around 2:30, I couldn't keep awake any more. So, I said farewell, and we all decided to meet the next day for a late lunch. As I was walking back to the Tina Blue View (my place), I found Soeren wandering down the now empty road. We chatted for a bit before walking back to our respective places. There was a crowd outside my place, as it seemed a drunken fight was brewing. I was too tired to see what would happen. Because it was so late, the gates into the guest house were locked, thus forcing me to climb over the fence. Oh well. Sleep came quickly and easily for me.
This was the best New Year celebration I had ever had. Perhaps my other ones had sucked, though the one in San Francisco with Sejal, Joe, and Jamie was a lot of fun. No, this was simply a wild, crazy, long-lasting night with some great personalities from all over the world, in a different country, experiencing something wholly new. It was a blast! Of course, there's really no way to fully express what had happened in words, as the whole night was a chaotic meshing of different sights, sounds, smells, and of course, touchings. You'll just have to take my word on it, that it was a great night. And if you still don't believe me, let me know. I'll send you the e-mails for Mark, Soeren, Sille, and Klaas. Ask them. I dare you! Okay, I'm off topic. That's all...
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Pondicherry, Mamallapuram, and Tiruvannamalai
Before I get into these three places, let me recap my trip so far, giving a quick rundown of all the places I've visited during the past month:
Mumbai - Family
Bijapur - Gol Gumbaz, Adil Shahi Empire
Badami - Cave temples, Chalukya Empire
Pattada Kalla - Many temples, Chalukya Empire
Hampi - Ruins and relaxation, Vijayanagar Empire
Bangalore - Family
Mysore - Palace and Incense, Wodeyar Empire
Somnathpur - Keshava Temple, Hoysala Empire
Chennai - Wedding
Pondicherry - Sri Aurobindo Ashram
Mamallapuram - Beach and Ruins, Pallava Empire
Tiruvannamalai - Aruchaleswara Temple
Tiruchchirappali - Rock Fort and Srirangam
Now, let me describe Pondicherry, Mamallapuram, and Tiruvannamalai in as simplistic terms as possible:
Pondy: Spirituality
Mamallapuram (also called Mahabalipuram outside Tamil Nadu): Friends
Tiruvannamalai (also called T.V. Malai): Contrasts
Pondy:
I stayed with my Uncle's brother, Madhu Bhai, in the famous Park Guest House. This place usually fills up months in advance, and it's prime location right on the Bay of Bengal makes it highly popular. Whenever I would tell someone that I was staying at the Park Guest House, I savored the look of jealousy that would suddenly come my way. And of course, Madhu Uncle paid for my stay, though I really wanted to contribute something. We spent our time at the Sri Aurobindo Ashram, at which he is a great devotee. I did my first ever meditation...man, is it hard! I would try to clear my thought, but my busy mind didn't allow it. Then, I'd focus on my breathing, but as a psychosomatic thing, my asthma would always kick in. So, I'd start to focus on how I can't cough...and before I know it, thoughts are shooting through my head like mad. Also, at the Samadhi (the shrine), the hundreds of agarbatis (incense sticks) really aggravated my coughing. So, my meditations never lasted for very long. Still, I discovered a great Ganpati temple, which I started visiting twice a day. I was also caught in my first Indian downpour. At first, the rain felt great...that was until it soaked all the way through me. I went on a few tours, one of which had the goal of selling me anything made by the Ashram. Still, Pondy was very nice. I had fun with Madhu Uncle, though sometimes the amount of spirituality overwhelmed me. Pondy was a good place...just perhaps not fully for me.
Mamallapuram:
I loved this place. It never once felt like I was in India. That's because this place was so laid back that I really could let go. Also, this place had an amazing combination of things, all of which I mentioned earlier: New Years, the beach, ancient ruins, many travellers, great seafood, the sound of expert sculptors, the South Indian Dance Festival. The ruins were great, but what was better was hanging out with my friend Mark as we went to see them. Eating was great, but what was better was sharing meals with my friends Soeren, Mark, Sarita, Cora, Sille, and Klaas. New Years was great, but what was better was dancing and drinking with Soeren, Mark, Sille, and Klaas. The Festival was great, but what was better was seeing the dances with Mark, Soeren, and Cora. Get the picture? However, one of my favorite things was to sit on the beach on Sunday and watch the interactions between the people there for holiday. And of course, there was the crazy night before. I will write later about my New Years, as it was by far the BEST NEW YEAR CELEBRATION I HAD EVER HAD!!! But, later...
Tiruvannamalai:
This was the first time I travelled with people I had previously met. I came with Soeren and Sarita, from Denmark and Italy, respectively. The two main sights here were the Arunachaleswara Temple, which celebrates Lord Shiva as an aspect of fire, and the Sri Ramana Maharishi Ashram, which provides quiet meditation for its devotees. We visited the Temple Complex twice. Each time was a tumultuous experience, with many sights and sounds wafting all around us: Pilgrims dressed solely in red and yellow swarming all around, a shackled elephant blessing anyone for one rupee, the constant tug of beggars asking for a little something, the blare of the puja songs coming over a loudspeaker, the loud colors covering all the smaller temples, the singularly painted peacock on a temple of all white, the overwhelming size of the four gopurams (the four outer temples), the massive crowd pushing and shoving just to glipmse Arunachaleswara during darshana, the many merchants peddling their wares inside the complex, etc. Every time we entered, we felt battered to the point of utter exhilaration. This contrasted entirely with the Ashram, which was a haven of peace. No talking. Only meditation. And climbing the mountain to the cave in which Sri Ramana Maharishi did sadhana (meditation) for 20 years. This climb came with an excellent view of the Arunachaleswara Complex, and it allowed me to work for my meditation. Our time in T.V. Malai was short, as we saw everything possible within a day. We never got to say farewell to Sarita, who had left for a day trip a little early. From Tiruvannamalai, I left on a 6.5 hour bus ride to Tiruchchirappali...better known as Trichy...where I currently am.
Mumbai - Family
Bijapur - Gol Gumbaz, Adil Shahi Empire
Badami - Cave temples, Chalukya Empire
Pattada Kalla - Many temples, Chalukya Empire
Hampi - Ruins and relaxation, Vijayanagar Empire
Bangalore - Family
Mysore - Palace and Incense, Wodeyar Empire
Somnathpur - Keshava Temple, Hoysala Empire
Chennai - Wedding
Pondicherry - Sri Aurobindo Ashram
Mamallapuram - Beach and Ruins, Pallava Empire
Tiruvannamalai - Aruchaleswara Temple
Tiruchchirappali - Rock Fort and Srirangam
Now, let me describe Pondicherry, Mamallapuram, and Tiruvannamalai in as simplistic terms as possible:
Pondy: Spirituality
Mamallapuram (also called Mahabalipuram outside Tamil Nadu): Friends
Tiruvannamalai (also called T.V. Malai): Contrasts
Pondy:
I stayed with my Uncle's brother, Madhu Bhai, in the famous Park Guest House. This place usually fills up months in advance, and it's prime location right on the Bay of Bengal makes it highly popular. Whenever I would tell someone that I was staying at the Park Guest House, I savored the look of jealousy that would suddenly come my way. And of course, Madhu Uncle paid for my stay, though I really wanted to contribute something. We spent our time at the Sri Aurobindo Ashram, at which he is a great devotee. I did my first ever meditation...man, is it hard! I would try to clear my thought, but my busy mind didn't allow it. Then, I'd focus on my breathing, but as a psychosomatic thing, my asthma would always kick in. So, I'd start to focus on how I can't cough...and before I know it, thoughts are shooting through my head like mad. Also, at the Samadhi (the shrine), the hundreds of agarbatis (incense sticks) really aggravated my coughing. So, my meditations never lasted for very long. Still, I discovered a great Ganpati temple, which I started visiting twice a day. I was also caught in my first Indian downpour. At first, the rain felt great...that was until it soaked all the way through me. I went on a few tours, one of which had the goal of selling me anything made by the Ashram. Still, Pondy was very nice. I had fun with Madhu Uncle, though sometimes the amount of spirituality overwhelmed me. Pondy was a good place...just perhaps not fully for me.
Mamallapuram:
I loved this place. It never once felt like I was in India. That's because this place was so laid back that I really could let go. Also, this place had an amazing combination of things, all of which I mentioned earlier: New Years, the beach, ancient ruins, many travellers, great seafood, the sound of expert sculptors, the South Indian Dance Festival. The ruins were great, but what was better was hanging out with my friend Mark as we went to see them. Eating was great, but what was better was sharing meals with my friends Soeren, Mark, Sarita, Cora, Sille, and Klaas. New Years was great, but what was better was dancing and drinking with Soeren, Mark, Sille, and Klaas. The Festival was great, but what was better was seeing the dances with Mark, Soeren, and Cora. Get the picture? However, one of my favorite things was to sit on the beach on Sunday and watch the interactions between the people there for holiday. And of course, there was the crazy night before. I will write later about my New Years, as it was by far the BEST NEW YEAR CELEBRATION I HAD EVER HAD!!! But, later...
Tiruvannamalai:
This was the first time I travelled with people I had previously met. I came with Soeren and Sarita, from Denmark and Italy, respectively. The two main sights here were the Arunachaleswara Temple, which celebrates Lord Shiva as an aspect of fire, and the Sri Ramana Maharishi Ashram, which provides quiet meditation for its devotees. We visited the Temple Complex twice. Each time was a tumultuous experience, with many sights and sounds wafting all around us: Pilgrims dressed solely in red and yellow swarming all around, a shackled elephant blessing anyone for one rupee, the constant tug of beggars asking for a little something, the blare of the puja songs coming over a loudspeaker, the loud colors covering all the smaller temples, the singularly painted peacock on a temple of all white, the overwhelming size of the four gopurams (the four outer temples), the massive crowd pushing and shoving just to glipmse Arunachaleswara during darshana, the many merchants peddling their wares inside the complex, etc. Every time we entered, we felt battered to the point of utter exhilaration. This contrasted entirely with the Ashram, which was a haven of peace. No talking. Only meditation. And climbing the mountain to the cave in which Sri Ramana Maharishi did sadhana (meditation) for 20 years. This climb came with an excellent view of the Arunachaleswara Complex, and it allowed me to work for my meditation. Our time in T.V. Malai was short, as we saw everything possible within a day. We never got to say farewell to Sarita, who had left for a day trip a little early. From Tiruvannamalai, I left on a 6.5 hour bus ride to Tiruchchirappali...better known as Trichy...where I currently am.
Some More Thoughts: Religion and Sapan
So, being in the South has definitely had the effect of making me much more religious. As many of you know, Sri Ganpati (or Ganesha, the elephant-headed god) has always been important to me. Now, it seems that I can't go a day without seeking out a Ganpati temple and receiving my darshan (viewing of the god). I walk every day with a kanku (or Tika) on my forehead, a sure sign that I've received a blessing. On the above picture, I've received about four different blessings, thus placing both ash and red powder on my forehead, and covering my earlobes with ash. Often times, I go back to the temple, or any temple, again at night. I don't know why this is. But it feels like a habit now.
And the thing is...I don't know what to pray for. I mean, I visit so many different temples and thus constantly pray, that I very quickly run out of things to say. So, I typically clear my thoughts and just give myself and my blank mind to the god. Or I just go through the actions so I can receive my kanku...I swear, it's like a drug now! I feel a sense of pride when I walk around with the mark on my forehead. It also helps me blend in a bit.
But here's the main question: When people pray so much, what do they pray for? Or, put another way, how is each new darshan made unique?
Darshan and kanku...the new drug...who'd have thunk it?
Basic Thoughts on India: It's All About the Men's Fashion
I don't get the clothes that guys wear here. Most wear traditional clothes, like dhotis, kurtas, and lungis (the Indian version of a kilt), or semi-Western clothes, like a collared shirt and trousers. But many of the younger guys have a style that is becoming ever more popular in India. And, as many of you know, I know zilch about fashion. Let's just say that color is definitely IN. Colorful shirts with vertical stripes, odd little flares, and very open collars (basically the shirt is only half-buttoned) seem very popular. This is coupled with jeans or slacks that are FAR TOO TIGHT! I mean, often times, you can see everything...even and especially if you don't want to. I don't understand how such pants can be comfortable. Look, I realize that many Indian men and boys are super skinny, but that doesn't mean that they need to wear pants that are too small. I mean, how do they sit in those? Another funny thing is the jean pants. I have yet to find a pair of "normal" pants, where nothing has been done to them. All popular jeans have been stone washed, acid washed, painted, striped, etc. They are super fancy. My jeans must feel like the Ugly Duckling.
As I said before, I know nothing about American fashion. Perhaps these clothes are popular in the States as well. But being a person who hate shopping and who nothing about fashion, I fine the taste to be quite remarkable. And of course, these clothes are only worn by younger men, and typically they are found on a small minority. But the fashion is still incredible.
As I said before, I know nothing about American fashion. Perhaps these clothes are popular in the States as well. But being a person who hate shopping and who nothing about fashion, I fine the taste to be quite remarkable. And of course, these clothes are only worn by younger men, and typically they are found on a small minority. But the fashion is still incredible.
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