Happy, Smiling People

I'm enamored with the smiles of the India people. G Adventures has managed to allow us to see a side of the country that I think is rarely viewed by foreigners. If the waving shop keepers and laughing children chasing our rickshaws is anything to go by, they are equally as happy to say hello to us as we are to them. Their smiling energy is infectious. I couldn't help but to wave back at all the school children we passed and all the pedestrians out for a walk. What started as a bike rickshaw tour through Madurai, India's fifth largest city, turned into a memorable event.

Sanjay took us on a walk around our hotel the previous evening, after driving 6 hours to Madurai, with a brief stop at the Ghandi Museum; where we learned the whole war history of India from the 1300's or so, to the East India Company's evil take over and slavery of the Indian people, to the mean British empire crushing the Indian people's rights, and eventual to Ghandi's inspirational theories of a peaceful protest to make India its own state and unite all the different religious sects. There was a lot packed into the small museum and much of it was Indian sided with slightly ambiguous facts on who did what. We had to ask Sanjay how Ghandi died because the museum just housed the shroud he wore when he died, complete with blood, but didn't explain how the blood got there. Apparently some disgruntled Hindi shot him, shouted two words about God,and then never said another word; later dying in prison. 

Back to walking the streets the previous evening; we side stepped hordes of people awaiting massive buses that tried to kill us as they pulled to the curbs and numerous food stalls as mosquitos relentlessly drank our blood, undetered by the copious amounts of poisonous Deet slathered on our skin. We traveled down hospital row- at least six eerie, multistory buildings that might house a fair number of ghosts along with free medical help for all and lines of sick waiting inside. I'm not sure I want to go inside, unless it's to photograph what appears to be abandoned mental asylums from the outside, but is in fact, operating hospitals inside. We lasted about 45 minutes wandering through rush hour and being eaten alive before it held no interest for anyone anymore. No one was particularly impressed with the city that evening, but the next morning, it was revealed why we came to Madurai.

We visited the Thirumalai Nayakkar Mahal Palace in the morning, a structure that is 1/4th the size it used to be. It was worth it for the Chinese inspired Dragon carvings looking down at everyone who entered like cartoonish gargoyles and the numerous photogenic doors and windows. If only I had models to photograph, it would have been perfect. Moving on, we removed our shoes and walked barefooted through the largest and best looking Temple I've seen this whole trip. Meenakshi Amman Temple was built around the 6th century and every century or so, a new addition was added. This Temple is unique because every other Temple in India is built to honor the male Gods. This Temple honors mainly Shiva - the Destroyer and his wife, Pavarthi (who also goes by Meenakshi) - the Goddess of Power. There are also mini temples inside the main Temple that honor the other two major Hindi Gods and their wives: Brahma - the Creator and his wife, Saraswati - Goddess of Education, plus Vishnu - the Protector and his wife, Lakshmi- goodness of Wealth.

There are seven massive towers that shoot straight into the sky and are situated at the main entrances of the Temple grounds - East, West, South, and North. The grounds more so resemble a mini city with modern day shops and food vendors inside, a reflecting pond, various statues that Hindu's give offerings to, and a museum housing artifacts they've unearthed from the grounds. Most of the reliefs and etchings tell stories of the beloved Gods and Goddesses. There is a festival once a year that draws millions to the site and reenacts the carriage ride of Shiva going around the Temple walls as well as some kind of love story between Shiva and his wife - them sleeping together for seven nights, and then something happening on the eighth night. It was a little confusing trying to understand our local guide and I mostly just got that people waited seven days while a God had sex and then the God did something nice for the people. 

There are a lot of weird Hindu stories, but the one I thought was great was the Story of Pavarthi. She was born from fire ( created by her mother, some powerful Goddess) and had three breast, which was considered sacred and wonderful (probably not for Pavarthi herself, but more so for the men that saw her). Pavarthi was told that her third boob would vanish when she met the man she was to marry. Now Pavarthi was the protector of a village, but this was a village that Shiva wanted. So like any egotistical male God, he flew down to Earth and challenged Pavarthi for the town. The minute she saw Shiva, her third breast disappeared and so Pavarthi found the love of her life. Since Shiva got to marry Pavarthi, he inherited the town, therefore getting what he came to Earth for in the first place, along with a little something extra - a beautiful wife.

Two hours later and after vigorously scribbling the dirt and unmentionable sludge off the bottom of our feet, we all got to window shop. I think if it wasn't so heat-strokey out, I might have enjoyed seeing 100's of seemsters and seamstresses inside one of the old temple courtyards. Luckily we were allowed a mini reprieve of the sun by lunching in a local restaurant and chilling in our hotel room until the afternoon. When it was considerably less hot, we boarded bike riskshaws for a tour of Madurai. Robby and I were slightly worried at the start because our bike driver was an older looking gentleman that had the illusion of needing to ride in the back of the rickshaw inside of pedaling too curry stuffed sods around in 90 degree heat. We didn't want to give him a heart attack, but after he started to pedal us around without huffing and piffling and we got a good look at his skinny, but muscle toned calves, we weren't so worried.

This bike tour actually turned out to be amazing and a definite highlight of the whole India trip. Madurai didn't look like much, but then we'd only scratched the surface of its brilliance. We passed the creepy hospitals and hung a left when we'd stopped exploring the night before. Heading through back alleys and down narrow streets, we ended up in the heart of the city. Villagers who barely saw foreigner smiled and shyly waved while their children shouted with glee and waved with gusto as we drove past. It was heart warming to see their smiling faces and know we were the reason they had a moment of joy. I also got to practice drive by shooting...with a camera. 

We stopped for a while to visited Rumpelstiltskin's abandoned lair - a weavers workshop that housed spider web covered pieces of weaving wheels and spools of colorful, dust covered yard. Between the sewing decay was an old man fitted between white strings attached to a seven-foot wheel. He wound the strings and moved between them like the Faiths of Time, intimately knowing which to pull or turn in time with the spinning of the wheel. Stepping outside, and back into about the early 20th century, we visited a local metal pot maker. He received three pieces of metal from a manufacturer and using fire, a hammer, and tongs, he melted them all together, hammering out the shape of urns, and polishing them to look like a machine created water jug. It was pretty amazing to watch and no doubt a skill to learn. I just feel sorry for the worker because his workshop had to have been 90 something degrees and South India is still entertaining the concept of "winter". I can't imagine how he stays conscious during the summer months with physical exertion and stiffing heat in a small room. 

Our lovely bike driver picked us up again and rode to a banana market. Under the canopy of tarps and wooden majors, we encountered rows upon rows of bananas. India grows about 170 different types of bananas and this market held at least 30 different varieties. We got to taste a red banana, which taste like a typical banana and a plantain's baby. Stepping out of the shade of the banana market, I captured a few great pictures of vegetable sellers and their customers in the veggie market. This one happened to look very clean, the veggies sitting on mats and bags instead of the dirt floor. 

The bike tour lasted about 3 1/2 hours, way longer then anyone expected and vastly different then what we had imagined, but in a good way. Where I thought an old man was going to pedal us into his grave and we'd see dirty streets, weave between honking cars, and never stop to explore, we saw the heart of the city and the joy of the people. Madurai is now a must go for any Tourist in Southern Indian. 

photos part 2

Robby and me riding in a tuk-tuk for the first time in India. Robby looks like she's scared.

The Red Fort in Delhi.

Anyone want some clothes?

Robby and I looking like losers at a Temple.

Want a banana?

Just grocery shopping.

Lady making popadons.

Typical Shot of the Taj.

Taj at sunrise.

walkway at a Palace.

Tessa and her boyfriend, Mitch riding bikes through the bird sanctuary. They made friends with the cow.

Hidden walkways for the women and the King at Agra Fort.

I love this shot. At the train station in Mysore waiting for our train to arrive.

Village people we encountered on our nature walk.

Laundry time.

Why did the peacock cross the road?

I call this "Profound". One of my favorite photos.

Waiting for the bus in "White" Town, Pondicherry.

beauty can be found even in the grimiest of situations.

Hand welding a pot.

One happy family.

Bricklayers.

grocery shopping

Trains, Cults, and the French

Trains are fun. Interesting, but fun. We had a 7.5 hour train ride from Mysore to Chennai. I thought it would be like our last, three hour, train ride, with people walking down the aisles offering samosas, chai, briyani, and other goodies that you would call out and buy. But this train fed us about every two hours for free. I guess it was included in the ticket price, but it was nice not to have to buy food from the passing people - althought I think that's what makes a good story - "I'll take the lumpy thing on the silver tray. Hum, not too bad." Now it was, "they handed me fluffy wheat strings that resemble cotton candy, the healthy version."

Since Robby and I had previously started to entertain the tour group with murder mysteries and riddles by the campfire when we stayed at the jungle resort, the tradition continued on the train. Kate, the Canadian, downloaded a riddles app to her iPad and for two hours we guessed the most random stuff out of the most ambiguous clues. Apparently, six of us combined make a smart group because never once did we have to ask for the answer. Occasionally we needed to get clues, but we eventually solved all the riddles. Good bonding time during a long ride. 

We arrived I'm Chennai, India's fourth largest city, at 9:30pm. Sanjay gave us the simple instruction of "follow me, don't get separated," before stepping off the train and into madness. I've been to a fair amount of train stations throughout the world, but the Chrnnai train station seemed to have no order to it. Not even organized chaos, just pure craziness. Our train car was at the end of a very long tunnel. We exited and headed towards center mass of the station. A quarter mile later, after passing the scary looking second class train that could double as a horror film set, and while trying to hold our breaths because the tracks were a "free" toilet, we pushed, clawed, maneuvered through hordes of other weary travelers, groups of sleeping people, and pandemonium. Even though half the signs were in English, if I was on my own trying to find a train to take, I'd probably miss it due to running in circles trying to figure out where the right track and train were locationed while trying to avoid groups of Indians that push and pull. Sanjay's warning was a good one and a little hard to follow for the older people in our group. Twice I thought we lost two stragglers, but i'd look back and see Wolf, a tall German, and know he was the path beacon for the slow people. 

Since 7.5 hours was not enough time to be sitting on our butts, we hopped in our semi-cramped bus to drive two more hours to the ocean town of Mamallapuram. While driving through Chennai, seeing lights, festivals, and the world's longest beach, Robby and I really didn't want to go to some sleepy little town where Sanjay says most of the people swim or relax. We wanted excitement and sites to visit, not pools. How quickly our minds changed the next morning when we went on a petal biking tour of the local monuments. We started early because even though it's winter, it was 28 degrees celsius with 50% humidity. Makes me wonder how hot summer is and glad I decided to come to India in the winter. The bikes were pieces of crap, "it's made in India," the shop owner told Robby. "I would have never guessed," Robby responded. My third bike was the winner. Even though my knees were in my chest and I had no brakes, my arms reached the handle bars and the chain was on the gears. It was a little like Golddielocks when picking out a bike, "nope, too big. Nope, too small. Ok, semi alright."

We got a small taste of biking through traffic- weaving between morons crossing the street, cows meandering, dogs trailing us, and buses barreling past. Thank god we were in a small town and not a crowded city or we might have been pancakes. There were two occasions that most of us had to stop because challenging a SUV or a dump truck is not smart. Better to wait for it to pass.

In the center of town there's a park that houses four separate archeological sites. There's a giant egg shaped rock that sits precariously at the edge of a rock plateu and can not be moved. In the 6th century, the King tried to move it with the help of seven elephants and it didn't budge. To this day it just chills where it sits. There were a couple temples dedicated to the three main Hindu Gods and their wives. All lavishly carved, telling the stories of their adventures and lives. There is a tall tale in North India about five brothers that all accomplished great feats and are important figures. South India heard about the brothers and although the tales reflect only North India, South India wanted to honor the five brothers, so they built them a bunch of temples. 

One of the structures in the park was a five roomed temple with elaborate carvings on the outside, but blankness on the inside. The five rooms represent the brother's bedrooms and there were suppose to be carvings on the inside, but war broke out and nothing was finished. This war, which we had to ask Sanjay when it was and how long it lasted, was the main cause as to why so many of temples in the area have no reliefs inside. The war apparently was lots of little wars that basically lasted until the British came and took over India. Just a mere 1300 years or so.

By far, the best relief that we saw was the world's biggest solid carving and it's from the 6th century. The second is in Ankor Wat. This relief depicts the Destroyer, Shiva, as one of his incarnations (he's been nine different animals and people on Earth and supposedly his 10th incarnation will be his last and is prophethized to be a farmer that will help stop the end of the world) meditating and starving so that he can find enlightenment. For some reason there is a fat cat that is imitating the reincarnation by pretending to meditate because he was starving and saw that people gave offerings to the meditating man and therefore if he "meditates" he'll get offerings. There are a bunch of mice surrounding the cat, so it is assumed that the cat ate the mice, didn't starve, and was a bad Buddhist. Very odd, but awesome story that is etched in stone forever. I wonder what the moral is? 

More of the relief tells of the demo-Gods and other Gods coming to the aid of the humans during a war. The sun and the moon Gods stare at each other from opposite sides of the relief; it's divided into two sides - the Earth and Heaven, and each side loosely resembles the side profiles of giant elephants facing each other with all the carvings inside their body's. It's pretty expansive and detailed. It's called, "The Descent of the Gangees". The relief is about 27 meters tall and maybe 50 meters long, but the stone it is carved into stretches from the end of the last carved elephant to another relief over a football field away with two temples occupying the middle area.

Leaving behind the temples, we biked to a 6th century light house and then to see the Five Brothers Rithas - Five individual temples all carved out of one solid rock and designed in five different styles - Chinese, Buddhist, Hindi, Egyptian, and something else. To me, three of them looked the same, but it was impresssive how the architects chiseled away at what must of been a massive rock to make the temples. A small country ride alongside some pastures, with a warm breeze blowing through our hair and only motorbikes to compete with, we ended up at the Seashore Temple. This temple used to be a part of seven temples, but over the years, the ocean reclaimed them. Most of the town's inhabitants didn't even know there were more temples until the 2004 tsunami pulled the water back three miles, revealing the lost art pieces before rushing inwards to kill 10,000 people. Beauty and secrets come with a price.

This remaining temple was also the only place in all of India, that I've seen so far, to be completely devoid of trash. For India, trying to be an up and coming modern day society, no one here has truly figured out the garage system. Litter is everywhere. Children play in it, cows eat it, dogs sleep on it, and humans pee on it. It's gross and dirty and just everywhere. It took a second for my brain to comprehend why the Seashore Temple was different...the grass was green and neatly mowed, a nice rock path lead to the ruin, and the place emanated peace; being perched on an ocean cliff and devoid of all gross trash. A perfect spot for a picnic and maybe a little meditation.

After our temple bike adventure, Sanjay released us into the wild...well to our own recognitance. I was starving and opted to branch out from the group in search of something yummy and non-Indian. There is only so much India food I can eat before my stomach has a hole burned through it from the spices or my taste buds stop deciphering the various favors and everything just mushes into "substance". I saw a sign that said "pizza" and I was sold. While sitting on an adorable second floor porch balcony, I enjoyed "pizza" (Naan with cheese and vegetables), a fresh Greek salad (did I mention veggies?!), and a yummy nutella crepe (dosa with nutella and fruit). It was peaceful, relaxing, breezy, and just nice to sit and know you don't have to rush anywhere.

The part of Mamallapuram that we stayed in made it seem like we were in a sleepy little town next to the beach. Small shops with vibrant dresses, intricate stone carvings, and bejeweled handbags enticed us on our way to sit and admire the India Ocean. Ute and Olivia were already sunbathing when we found them laid out next to the five star hotel staircase. The water was clear, the beach had a mix of cows, trinket sellers, and weird gawkers, but for the most part, it was empty enough to find a bit of serenity. Unfortunately the heat chased Robby and I into some shops for shade and present shopping. The afternoon quickly passed and night arrived with a fancy, 5-star hotel dinner to celebrate Wolf's birthday and to enjoy fresh, local seafood. The perfect ending to a lovely day.

We woke early to drive to the new society of Auroville, near Pondicherry. Auroville is for everyone. There is no religion or deities or thoughts. Auroville welcomes all and teaches its people to find consciousness and apparently the attainable disillusionment of "perfection". Auroville was founded in 1967 by The Mother. She wanted a mini utopia where everyone could live happily with one another without religion or race or sex getting in the way. It took about 45 years to complete her vision of a giant gold ball with a completely white inside showcasing a light that represents the inner bulb of a lotus flower. The outside of the golden ball, which represents the sun, is suppose to be surrounded by 12 gardens that all stand for ideas like patientce, wealth, harmony, etc. The gardens are still being built and need more money from all the private donors to be complete. There was an overview map of the town with the golden globe, Matrimandir (Shire of Mother?) in the center with the gardens and houses spining off from the globe. The globe is slightly off center as the true center is an old Banyan tree - sacred to India. The map looks like a futuristic circuit board sprialing into the shape of the Gold Mean. It's a little weird.

So far 2200 people from tons of different countries currently live in Auroville. It is a place of meditation and serenity. The grounds span 3700 acres and the main portions are closed off to the causual visitor. For a place that accepts everyone and claims to be "free from religion", there certainily are a lot of rules one must follow to belong: no talking in the gardens, you may only enter the golden dome with permission (from whom, I'm not sure as everyone is "equal") and only of you are serious about finding your consciousness, you have to give up all your processions, you need to seriously like meditating, and you are suppose to follow the words of The Mother. I think I smell a cult, but one I want to send my dad to; It's pretty, people get along, you meditate, eat off the land, and live in India.

Escaping "A Wrinkle In Time", we made our way to Pondicherry - the old French city in India that is still home to French ex-pats, French Indians, and South Indians alike. There is a "white" city and a "black" city to this day. Can anyone guess who lives where? We stayed in "black" city and wandered very New Orleans-ish looking streets. There were chai sellers on every street corner, a fruit and flower market crammed into an alcove, motorbikes lining the curbs, and a horde of pedestrians, but there was a distinctly French vibe to the place. We even stopped for lunch in a French cafe and besides there being crossaints (more yummy bread and carbs for me to chow down on), there was blessaded real, true, black coffee.

As Robby puts it, "how can a country that grows and sells coffee make such bad coffee?" How indeed and why must I suffer? If we only came to Pondicherry for that one coffee break I would have been happy, but instead we got to stay and I got to bliss out on strong, dark, black espress for a day and a half. The typical South Indian coffee is flavored water with 3/4ths cup of milk and a pound of sugar mixed into a Dixie cup. North Indian coffee is weak Nescafé. 

Sanjay took us on a tour of "white" town and the difference is astounding. Barely any trash, lots of white people (if you see any people at all), clean shops, French decorum, and a kind of emptiness that some might call peace, but I felt it was missing the hussle and bussle of true India. It could have been a cute, small town anywhere. A lot of the buildings were dilapidated and derelict, making me wish I had some models because if anything, "white" town is the coolest place to take artsy photographs.

White town parallels the Beach (because the French decided they wanted the prettier views and had the power to take the land they desired), which we walked along. More hassling trinket sellers and food rickshaws lined the rocky shore, but Indians and French people alike, were out enjoying the soothing sounds of the waves and the fresh ocean air. After a brief tour of the area, Sanjay released us to wander on our own. We all ended up at happy hour. What better way to spend a warm evening then to drink a cold jalapeño whiskey soda and enjoy the loveliness of the water and the quietness of no honking horns?

The peace lasted until dinner. Since we were in French town, we all assumed the French food would be great. I think it might have been, but the service we received at this beautiful garden restaurant ruined the experience. We were all captivated by the star lanterns hanging from the trees and promises of fresh fish. Instead, the food was adequate, but the service was atrocious and made it so the whole meal was ruined. We were ignored for a good 30 minutes upon sitting and then Ute just ordered ice cream and lemon pie. After the six of us had received and mostly demolished our meals, Ute still hadn't received her food. Everyone asked at least five different waiters to bring Ute her food. We watched as they gave us the India head shake which can mean, "yes, coming right up," or "sure, I'll shake my head because it looks like I'm agreeing but I really don't know what you're saying." Apparently the head shakes were the latter.

1.5 hours after sitting down, Ute was hungry, tired, and a little pissed off. She basically told them she just wanted the bill, no food anymore, and was ready to leave. This was interpreted as, "I'll go grab your dessert". The pie arrived with the wrong type of ice cream and the waiter explaining that it would have come earlier, but they accidentally gave her order to someone else. Interesting. Ute said the pie wasn't too bad, but could have been defrosted longer - straight from the freezer (maybe that's why it took so long to arrive), but she couldn't really enjoy it since she was so angry. The best part was when they brought the bill, they charged Ute for the more expensive lemon pancake and added a scoop of ice cream. So in total, she waited 1.5 hours for crappy, half-frozen lemon pie with the wrong flavor ice cream and was double charged. Everyone decided to pay food our bills and dine and ditch on Ute's food. She had said she didn't want it and they brought it instead. Then she only ate two bites and was pissed. So, French places in India are Indian slow with French rudeness - at least that's my impression.

On that note, I'll end this very long rant so you all can have a breather. 

Jungle Fever

While staying in the middle of nowhere Wayanad, we managed to do a bunch of stuff. Our hotel was a bit interesting, a giant concrete tower standing above the town and each room was incorporated into suites of three 2-bed rooms. Robby and I shared a suite with two other women from the group; kind of like being back in college, except everyone went to bed by 10:30pm and you showered in cold water.

In the morning we hiked our way up a winding road for a mile and then climbed tons and tons of mismatched steps to reach the mouth of Edakkal Cave. This cave holds petroglyphs from 6000AD. When we first walked in, huffing and puffing from our refreshing, yet hard climb (mostly due to the majority of the group being out of shape, it being hot, and Robby and I being sick), all anyone saw was a bunch of scribbled geometric shapes carved into the sandstone walls. Swirls, lines, and squares were indecipherable amongst each other. Luckily this little journey came with a guide who was kind enough to point out figures - king and queen, an elephant, a flower, some tools, and a deer. I would have never guessed much of anything without his help, but it was actually easy to identify the images once you knew what you were looking at.

Back down the hill we went after learning the history of the petroglyphs - some society put them there to tell the story of their village or Kings and added SanSkirt and one of the local Indian languages for the region. In India there are over 600 different languages, each city or region has their own and not everyone speaks Hindi, so it's a little hard to communicate "thank you" to someone in their own language. Luckily, most everyone speaks a little English.

We hopped on our bus to arrive at some local villages. While getting there, we drove past tea, coffee, and Banana fields. South India is very lush, green all year long and excellent at agriculture - the main source of income for the people. The local villages were not what I expected. We walked down a lovely coconut tree lined road with nicely built houses on either side, stopping at one house to watch a group of ladies cut up coconuts for the markets. Since the women don't much venture away from their homes, the neighboring men bring them their coconuts to break, so the women have something to do and so they don't have to. I guess it's a good trade off. 

While walking on our jaunt down the well paved dirt road, four young men joined us. They lead us to their village (I think they lived there or at least knew everyone who did live there) and showed us about. The village of the Panyas people was still modern looking. Homes, some with electricity and wooden shutters on the windows, new doors, beds inside, etc - littered the landscape. Laundry swayed in the light breeze, strung across ropes while the villagers peeked out from their doors to watch us. The Panyas people are farmers, they work the fields, growing bananas, rice, ginger, and other stuff. Sanjay pointed out cardamom, pepper, fern trees and some other stuff I forgot, but basically if you got strained in the middle of this area, you could live a long life and never be hungry.

We got to walk by banana grows, across the rice fields, through the ginger plants to the neighboring village of the Kuruma people. It was a gorgeous sight - multiple shades of green stretch as far as the eyes could see with different sizes of trees lining the horizon. A few farmers sat under a grove of banana trees enjoying the shade and watching us with equal curiosity. Apparently the villages get non-Indian visitor once a month or longer. They wanted to know why we would be enjoying their livelihood (because it's vastly different then living in a city and not seeing farming, especially maintained by archaic machinery and stock animals) while we wanted to know how they worked the fields and what they grew. Our guide explained what we wanted to know.

The Kuruma's still live like it's the olden days - staying together as one giant family and supporting themselves by living off the land. Their houses seem to be almost as up-to-date as the Panyas', but the people were more shy and wore typical, traditional clothing. The lovely walk through the farmlands and villages ended at a "shaman's" house. The family living in the house have been the villages' doctors for centuries, still using some of the old equipment their ancestors owned. We got to hold an old medicine account book, tools, bowls, a money box, and some weapons dating back 150 years or more. Nice family heirlooms.

The next day we drove about six hours on a small little bus across bumpy and curvy roads to a "resort"  in the middle of the Mudumalai Tiger Reserve. The resort, a loose term, was a large expanse of land with small stone huts (where we stayed) lined across the middle; a unsafe looking kids playground that is still in use; a rose garden, minus the roses; and a restaurant. Two of the sides of the property are open to the surrounding jungle which incidentally allowed some large creature to throw our neighboring cabin's chair off the porch and leave behind a massive crap to wake up to on the front stairs. Robby and I, but not our neighboring touristers, slept right through the ruckus. It's strange, but this resort was the first and only night that both Robby and I slept through the night, not waking up at least once. I guess birds chirping, trees swaying, animals stomping, are peaceful sounds to our subconscious'. 

Before actually sleeping though, we got to go on an Indian safari through the tiger reserve. We loaded into open air jeeps and headed into the jungle...well, along the paved road lining the jungle. The reserve only allows the forest service to venture into the jungle, everyone else drives on the road and looks for the animals. Our "safari" became a Where's Waldo - who can spot the wild animals first as we drive by at 30mph. At first we were all disappointed because really, why would a wild tiger meander  to the side of a busy road and chill for photos? Sanjay assured us that the animals were used to the cars and came to the road.

He was right, we photographed water deer in droves, a family of peacocks crossing the road (I'm sure there's a joke there somewhere), some wild boars, and....elephants!!! A family of them were munching on the trees not 15 feet from about 25 people and four vehicles. It was so surreal. They didn't give a shit as long as they got dinner and we got to see Elephants! The whole safari was therefore a huge success. I didn't even care that I didn't see a tiger. I'm pretty sure one saw us, but I don't think they are dumb enough to get close to the road like the other animals.

When we left Mudumalai, we bused through Bandipur Tiger Reserve on our way to Mysore. I guess all the jungles in the area are Tiger reserves and the name changed because we changed States. We saw more deer and more elephants. This time they we right on next to the road. One almost walked up to the bus, I really wish he would have, but Sanjay was getting nervous and told the driver to move along. :( 

Mysore is a huge metropolis in South India and happiness for me. I love the quaint towns with a small marketplace and the surrounding jungle or farmlands, but I also thrive on a city atmosphere. I feel like I need the chaos of traffic, people running about, industrial noise, and more options. Our hotel was perhaps a little slice of heaven in this country. The shower was amazing - continuous hot water with a shower head that sprayed with enough strength to drench my head, a flushing flush toilet, and clean and dry towels. The bed was soft and cozy and there was a working ac unit, although I apparently wasn't smart enough to figure it out, so we spent most of the night sweating since the thing was set to just blowing about the hot air in the room. Either way, I was so excited to be clean and comfortable, even if it was for one night.

We spent the morning delving into Mysore history. First stop was the Mysore Palace - a gigantic palace that was home to the Royals for centuries. The country became a democracy under British rule in the late 1800's and it's own independent Country in 1949. The Roayls were allowed to live in their palace up until 1974, when the Palace was turned over to the government, effectively ending the reigns of maharajas in Mysore forever. The first Palace was comprised of solid wood, a sight to behold I'm sure, but a fire in the kitchen one evening burnt 95% of the place to the ground. The queen commissioned a new, grander palace to be built using every non-flammable construction material available. The outcome, a beautiful, multistory palace with ornate columns lined in gold, peacock etched stained glass windows, semi precious stone inlaid steps, silver doors, painted ceilings depitching the three main Hindu Gods, nine gates, a Terrance, gardens, meeting hall, and much more. The second palace took 12 years to make and was completed around 1910.

We weren't allowed to take pictures inside the palace or wear shoes. There's something to be said for walking barefoot through a rather large home, amidst 1000's of other tourist. Needless to say, my feet needed a good scrub afterwards. Since there was no guide at this location, we were given headsets that told the stories of the rooms. It was great up until Robby's player died. We tried to share, but Sanjay wouldn't hear of it and ran back to the front of the palace to get us another recorder. This one was temperamental and if you made one wrong move, it flashed "error" and turned off. My player worked, but you had to jiggle the cable to listen out of only one ear. Robby stole my player and poor Sanjay ran back and forth to the headset room four more times. I'm not sure if Robby and I just had bad luck or if the tape lady kept giving Sanjay the same bad players, but it took five tries to get a player that not only stayed on, but actually played the history. No one else seemed to share our tape player bad luck. Hum.

As the sun was setting, we arrived at a Hindu Temple honoring one of the main Gods wives. We got in line to look at a statue and then were herded out into the courtyard, I was roped into buying an offering of smelly flowers, so I hope I'm granted good luck or whatever the goddess grants. Many people deposited their offerings, said a small prayer, and kissed the image of the goddess. It was nice to see so many people rejoicing in their faith and happy.

The last stop of the Mysore tour was to visit the worlds second largest bull statue. The bull is the travel animal of the Hindu God Brama, the creator. It was a 25 tall, black painted bull that looked very friendly and a little goofy. He sat on top a hill and looked out on all of Mysore below. Next to the statue, Sanjay treated the group to fresh squeezed sugar cane with ginger and lime smushed in the middle. It was a tad sweet, but very refreshing drink.

And so Mysore ends, we slept in a grand hotel (according to my standards), and enoughed the major highlights of a big city.

Lovely Kochi

Cochin, better know as Kochi, is in the recent state of Kerala. When Ute, Joshua (two members from our previous tour group), Robby, and myself flew from Delhi to Kochi at 6am we knew that we would be flying to a warmer climate, but we didn't expect to land in a humid jungle populated with palm trees, fresh air, and less traffic. It's like a different world in South India. More so resembling southern Thailand or the Caribbean coast of Guatemala, according to Robby. People are much friendlier here, leaving you alone when you say "no thank you" in regards to buying their trinkets, and it's a more relaxed environment where tourists feel like they have all the time in the world to amble along the coast line, admiring the Indian Ocean, eating an ice cream, and occasionally popping into a shop to browse without fear of upsetting the owner for not buying anything.

Kerala used to be part of another state in India and was run by the Royal family, which was a matriarchal society - kids even took their mother's last names. Eventually Britain took India during some war and put it under British rule. And when India won independence from Britain in the mid 1900's, Kerala filed a separation from the rest of India and formed its own State. To me, the parts of Kerala that I've seen, seem to be a bunch of islands all connected by bridges. We spent two lovely days in Fort Cochin relaxing and enjoying a more stress free and laid back environment.

It was nice to wander along the beach and look at the Chinese fishing boats that support up to 20 families with their monthly catches. Fresh fish (beware of the flies circulating around them) is sold to order in local restaurants and in open air shops, ice cream stands liter the roads (it's about 90 degrees with 50% humidity here - a vast difference from the 50 degrees or lower in Delhi), families flock to the waves and enjoy soaking their clothes because bathing suits are apparently not a thing here, and kites fly high into the sky - some even a 1/2 mile into the blue. I guess after the hassle and bustle and go, go, go of Dehli, Kochi was just what we needed. 

Our new tour group Is comprised of 9 people ranging in ages from 25-63. There are two Brits, three Americans, three Germans, and one Canadian. Everyone is slightly less energetic compared to the previous group, but it could also be because most of them are jet lagged and their true personalities aren't shining through yet. The four of us that came from up North seem to be sticking together a lot. Maybe because we already know each other or maybe because we're willing to venture out of our comfort zones and eat street food and wander into any ole shop. But in Fort Cochin, there is no shortage of tourists. It seems to be a busy hub bub for visitors of all countries. A mini paradise amongst the chaos of normal life.

Our tour guide, Sanjay, took us on a walking tour to see a Portuguese Church that has the tomb of the first Portuguese sailor to step foot on India soil. Kochi has a lot of Dutch and British influence to its buildings and religions, but their are also Portuguese, Jewish, Muslim, and Christian themes throughout. A maudepodgue of cultures. We got to step foot on one of the Chinese fishing rigs, a giant net tied to an "a" frame type wooden structure and then lowered into the water at high tide to catch fish, crabs, baby sharks, and whatever else floats in. The net is lowered with the help of five men pushing up the wooden post and it is pulled out of the water by thick ropes, one of which I got to pull. It was fun, but I don't think I'm considering a career change anytime soon.

We took tuk tuks to Jew Town. I finally found a place that I can use the word "Jew" and not get yelled at for being inappropriate. Even though I'm Jewish, apparently you can't say "Jew" many places, but in Kochi it's ok. A bunch of Jewish immigrants came to India in the 1700's and set up a mini town, hence the name. There were five synagogues, but now there is only one that remains open for services. It is orthodox and caters to 100 people. The temple is beautiful with tons of oil lamps hanging from the ceiling. The men sit on the ground floor while the women go upstairs and pray behind screens.

We meandered through the Jew Town shops, saw a museum, and enjoyed lassies on the waterfront before attending a show about the Kerala fighting style known as Kalaippayattu. Robby and I were the only ones initially interested in seeing the fighting, but we convinced three others to come with us. In a small dojo, we learned how the fighters start their training - mostly by doing a lot of yoga looking exercises, the splits, and high kicks. They are very flexible. Once they've garnered a healthy respect for endurance and strength, they learn the wooden weapons - long stick and short stick. Next, they move onto metal - swords, hand knives that are seriously scary looking, and curved blades. Afterwards they train in hand-to-hand combat. Our demonstrators were three young men whom had trained for 10 years, 7 years, and 2 years. All of them we're well muscled and a little intimidating if you happened to get on their bad sides. 

After the fight show, Sanjay had organized a traditional Kerala dance show to show us all the different styles of dance that are preformed in this state. Most of them involve a lot of over exaggerating of the eyes to convey happy, sad, angry, and 20 other moods. There is also a 24 letter "sign language" the dancers learn and use while they dance out stories pertaining to their gods and life in the villages. I managed to sit through 25 minutes of the show before making a hasty retreat. I'm sure Kathakali is a lovely art form, but watching a guy, who's face is covered in yellow paint (enough to emulate a mask, which I thought it was at first), roll his eyes into the back of his head and then shift them side to side to the beat of an ever increasing drum roll, just about made me throw up. The eye roller was accompanied by a drummer and a mini cymbal clapper that echoed extremely loud. So much for me experiencing new things.

I guess I was semi lucky since I left the show early because apparently there was a story about the Gods that went on 20 mins longer than necessary and all the musicians on the stage looked increasing bored. They must have been thinking "geez, what has my life become? Performing for stupid tourists everyday. If they're bored, imagine how I feel; I've been hitting this drum for five years now." While the rest of my group suffered in silence, I got invited by the Kerala fighters to watch them practice some more. People hitting sticks together in fluid motion is much more entertaining than a guy wiggling his eyes up and down in over exaggeration to convey weird emotions like Valor. And I'm still trying to figure out how Valor is even an emotion. 

Anyhow, my impromptu ditch out sort got me ditched by the group. I guess I wasn't watching the clock all that well and when I exited the Martial Arts studio, the show seemed like it was still going on, but apparently it was a new show and everyone from the dance show had made a mad dsh for the exit. When I asked the ticket guy if the dance show was still going on (I heard music coming from the theater) he said "yes", so I assumed that my tour group was still inside. But, I was wrong. Robby showed up five minutes later and said that everyone left. When they had exited the show they had looked for me everywhere, but the martial arts studio, and assumed I was sick and just went back to the hotel. I do have a lovely cold and what I call the "India Cough" - most everyone here coughs like a frog is trying to escape their throats- but I wouldn't just leave the group behind.

Since Robby had our hotel key and knew I would never just leave without telling her, she came back to look for me after the tour group hopped in tuk tuks to head to dinner. I probably would have waited until the second show let out, seen that no one I knew was in the audience, and then tuk tuked back to the hotel, but I guess it was a good thing Robby came back for me. It was still a little annoying that since I exited the fight studio five minutes after the dance show had ended, everyone had vanished. I guess I'm just glad I knew where I was and how to get back to the hotel. It might have been bad if I hadn't memorized Fort Cochin, having already been here one night. I hope I don't get ditched anywhere else. I guess a note to self "don't be even a minute late, Sanjay won't wait for you."

And so that ends my Kochi adventure. I'm now traveling by train to Some other city and I think I'm going to enjoy the beauty from my window and pray that I don't get train sick as I'm seated backwards. Until next time, go do something adventurous and I was try not to get lost. :)

Jaipur Adventure and shopping nightmares

I have to say that Jaipur is amazing. I love this town. I can't tell if it's because I've been in India for about 8 days now and I've acclimated to the craziness or if the town is just a tad cleaner, a little less dusty, and the people more friendly than Delhi. Maybe I feel more "local"- I'm getting the hang of navigating the streets, knowing prices of street food, bargaining, and ignoring most of the persistent vendors. Lots of people come up to you on the streets here or at the main attractions and they offer you ridiculous prices for trinkets. If you make the mistake of showing interest in something, you're basically screwed. "Interested" equals "yes" to them. Saying "no" is a potential "yes". Just looking at them is a potential "yes". So, they stalk you and ask where you're from, then ask you to look at all their stuff.

My problem yesterday, as I wandered around the Amber Palace in Jaipur, was to look at hand painted paper. The seller handed one to me and then one more and one more while asking for an absurd amount of rupees. The problem was, I was interested but didn't want to pay the over inflation, so I tried to hand the art back. The seller just kept handing me more art and eventually my tour group headed out and I was stuck holding a shit ton of art that I didn't want to pay for and the seller wouldn't take anything back or get the hint that I wasn't interested. I think that many people in our group just bought stuff to get the sellers to back off. It's like being stuck in a room with the best car salesmen in the world who speak like auctioneers- intimidating, fast, and persuasive. Robby kept telling me to put the art on the ground and walk away because I couldn't give it back, but then I felt bad and eventually just stuffed the art into the guy's hands and ran away. Ugh.

The sellers are also amazing with facial memory. I talked to one vendor at the beginning of the Palace tour and said "I'll think about it", so when we exited the Palace, he was there waiting for me, "do you remember me? You said to come look." Anyhow, on to the lovely city of Jaipur. It was built in 1727 to protect the inhabitants in its 7km circumference, 20meter high, walled city with 9 gates. Jaipur is also called the "Pink City" because in the 1860's, Prince Edward came for a visit and to honor him, the government painted all the buildings and the wall pink. To Indians, pink is the color of friendship and welcome. Pink to Indians is also an orange-ish salmon color because everyone here might be colorblind.

Our tour took us to view Hawa Mahal, the Wind Palace. In the olden days, women were always behind screens, never to be seen except by their husbands or other women. The Queens and ladies in waiting in the Palace were extremely bored being locked up all day inside the Palace walls, so the King built the Wind Palace to appease them. The palace has a five story facade with screened windows that face out onto the main market street. The women would sit behind the screens and look down on the streets, allowing them to be part of the city, but not be seen. The King also made it so that many of the parades would have to go down the main street, so that the women could watch and be entertained. 

Most of the royals lived in the Amber Palace. A beautiful small city housed on a hill and surrounded by a 17km wall with a military fort next to it. Inside the palace there are lots of mini palaces and an apartment complex for the 12 wives of the King. I'll backtrack a second here, India is made up of different regions/states and in each region there is a capital and a fort and a different King. So, Jaipur is in Rajasthan and Delhi is in Delhi providence. The Palace over looks a floating garden that is supposed to look like a flying carpet when the water is high.

There is also the Water Palace that sits in the middle of a lake (it was on a river and then the King dammed the water to create the lake) and needs a boat to get to. The Water Palace was supposedly the picnic spot of the Royals. Seems a bit extreme, but if you have power, why not flaunt it and use it to your advantage? (not really my belief, more so the power hungry, murderous royal types) The City also has a Palace that is quite big and sits inside the walled old city. Today, about 60% of the Jaipur population lives in the new city and the remaining 40% live inside the walls.

So that's the history part of Jaipur that we visited. Towards the end of our time in Jaipur, everyone wanted to visit a local textile factory and see how block printing was done. A lot if the clothing is hand printed with unique dyes and stamps. As far as shopping goes, it was quite nice to go in a big group as you know that someone will buy something. You don't feel as horrible when the shop owner gives you a 10 minute demo on block printing, free chai, and then pulls out 20 different kinds of gorgeous rugs, blankets, shirts, and pants for you to see and feel the texture of. He laid them all on the floor and then allowed us to browse on our own and pull out more cloths. By the time a customer leaves a shop, there is about $5,000 dollars in merchandise strewn across the floor and a grumpy store clerk that knows he has to put everything back in order. If a shop owner is lucky, he might have sold one or two items. This owner got very lucky and might have been happier if I had bought all the things I was eyeing, but alas, it's only the first week of my adventure and I don't need to be carting around a bunch of goods- even if they were soft, silky, and pretty- for the next two weeks.

We spent our last evening in Jaipur wandering the market place and taking in the smells, sights, and sounds. 7 other brave souls from our group ventured out to see real India, even willing to try the street food and bargain for gifts. Robby and I now feel like pros at street eating, but it is starting to seriously effect us in cholesterol as everything is fried. I love the taste, but I might gain a ton of weight and oil is kind of gross after a while. luckily there are a tons of vegetable markets around, and if the vendors that don't have all their products laid out on a dirty mat across a mud and cow covered shit field, they are decent places to purchase fresh fruit and veggies.

The one thing about the markets though is that cows are everywhere. Since a cow is very expensive to own and if it doesn't supply milk, there is no used to keep it. In India, cows are considered sacred. The owners can not kill them or eat them, so the best option is to let them free in the market place. You would think that people would be annoyed and the cows would starve, but the first bread of every day must be given to the cows. The cows also like to hang out near the busy roads because all the traffic helps reduce the amount of flies they need to swat away and the bus and car exhaust gets them high. So basically you're walking by fat, stoned cows as you sip some chai and shop for produce. I wonder how this would go over in America?

That's it for Jaipur. I'm now stuck on a 6hour bus back to Delhi. Fun fun. In the mean time, I will pretend I am social and go talk with my tour mates. Until next time...

White people, Conniving Sons, and Pretty Birds

Delhi is unlike any place I've ever been. It's wonderful and amazing, but extremely dirty and loud, smelly and sweet, crowed and calm. People are everywhere, in your face asking you to buy trinkets and elephants toys and food, but then they want to know where you are from and take pictures with you because apparently being "white" is an anomaly to them. When Robby and I first ventured off on our own, we were asked by a group of teenage boys to take a picture with some of them. When one finished, the next would jump in and ask for a photo. They shook our hands and smiled. I thought that it was some weird "western women are loose" type of thing because Indian men don't intentionally touch Indian women unless the are family or married.

Shiv, our tour guide, told us that most of the Indians live in villages and don't venture too far outside of their hometowns - places tourists don't visit. So when they come to view all the main attractions (like Taj Mahal or the temples), they think that white people are as interesting are we think Indians are. Robby, myself, and pretty much everyone on the trip have been snapping pictures of the beautiful women in brightly colored sarees and the adorable children dressed in blankets and hand-me-downs. So to an Indian, we might be the first white people that they've ever seen, not on TV. The best is when a parent sends their 10-year-old daughter to stand near you while they try to sneak a photo. I usually just tell them they can snap a photo with me and their kid, would look better anyhow. When we sneak a photo of the Indians and we getcaught, we're just asked for money. Kind of unfair, but most of the Indians in the bigger cities know they can make a buck off having their picture taken.

So our tour group is fantastic. A great group of people from Britain, Australia, Canada, and the US. We range in age from the mid twenties to the mid sixties, but everyone seems to mesh well and is excited to try new things. Julia, a Brit, quickly became our street food buddy. She's been in India for two weeks already, so she's built up a tolerance to the local street fare and well pretty much eat anything. She isn't afraid to push her way to the front of a food cart, point, and wait for yummy goodness to be handed over. Most of the time the food is spicy, flavorful, and cheap. The tour is big on stopping at local restaurants that cater more to tourism and weaker stomachs - the food is often bland and non spicy. Robby and I are all for saving a buck and eating peasant food. We don't care what it is (almost everything here is chicken or vegetarian), as long as it's delicious and if it's not, it is a waste of 25 cents. The tourist places cost about 300% more for the same thing, abit, you get a bigger serving.

Let's see, in Delhi we had the pleasure of walking the streets of old Dehli with a teenage guide that used to live on the streets. He now works for the organization that took him and other abused, homeless, and poor children in. Salaam Baalak Trust is a government organization that is like child welfare, but the child gets to decide if they want to stay or go back to their families or the streets. They educate the kids that stay while trying to find their families. If the children have no family, they are allowed to live at one of the five housing centers until they are 17. Our guide, Ejaz, was wonderful. He has almost completed his English language certificate and he is now independent - working for Salaam Balaak Trust and at a kitchen in Delhi. 

Next we went to a temple, Guadwara sis Ganj Sahib, that celebrates a recently new religion that honors everyone, gives food to the poor, and believes in good karma. From there, we drove 6 hours to Agra - the lovely city that has the grand Taj Mahal. The gist of Agra's history is that it was the Capital of the Northern region of India until the New King moved it to Delhi in the 17th century. Everyone used to live in Agra Fort, the original Red Fort. The Fort took 99 years to build and only housed the city for 100 years before they moved the captial to Delhi. 

In the late 16th century, there was a king who dressed up like a woman to visit the women's market and in doing so, he met and fell in love with his 3rd wife. He already had two wives from diplomatic partnerships with neighboring countries, but this wife was the one he truly loved. (Back then men were allowed four wives). They were married a week after the market meeting and she gave him 14 children- 4 boys and 2 girls having survived into adulthood - in 19 years of blissful marriage. She unfortunately died giving birth to the 14th child and on her deathbed, she made the king promise three things: he would not sleep with another woman or marry them, he would love all their children equally, and he would build a monument for her that expressed his love of her for the whole world to understand. 

Hence the Taj Mahal was commenced in 1631 and completed 22 years later in 1653. It is built from the best marble in the world; inlaid with semi precious and precious gemstones, gold, and other fancy stuff; it is constructed to take into account earthquakes or natural disasters so nothing will be damaged to greatly; and since it was designed by a muslim architect, it has passages of the Koran written all over. It is rumored that the King planned to build a black Taj across the river from the Taj Mahal and connect them by a bridge, so that his wife and him would always be connected, but as faith would have it, that was not to happen. The King's third son was a little shithead and he imprisoned his father inside the Royal Palace before moving him to the Agra Fort, where the King spent his last 8 years of life never being able to be with his beloved - who was entombed inside the Taj Mahal. He could see the Taj, but never go there, as his prison was about 3 miles away from the Taj and looked down upon it.

The 3rd son justified the imprisonment of the King by telling the Agra people that his father spent a ridiculous amount of money on the Taj, but nothing on the city or them, so he's a bad King. Since his older brothers were to be king instead of him and he didn't want the younger brother to steal the throne, he chopped their heads off and presented them on a silver platter to his father. Cruel right? Well, the King did the same thing to his siblings, so what comes around, goes around. Sucks to live in the middle ages.

Agra Fort was built to protect the city and house the military and the King, or in this case, the 3rd son. Agra also has the Baby Taj, a mini, look-a-like of the Taj Mahal, but build 30 years or so beforehand. The King loved the symmetry of the Baby Taj and and incorporated it into the Taj Mahal. The Baby Taj was built as the resting place for the Palace accountant and his family. Designed by his wife to look like a money box from above.

The next day, we did a quick three hour drive to Bharatpur, a city only known for its bird sanctuary. It used to be the Kings duck hunting grounds, but it was taken over by the government in the '60's to become a nature preserve. Birds from Russia, any country with a "Stan" at the end, and neighboring countries, flock to the marsh lands during the winter time. Robby and I weren't going to go at first, because who really gives a shit about birds but ornithologist, which we clearly aren't. A bird is a bird some are just prettier than others. But boredom and the thought that "this city is know for this place and we're not even going to see it?" convinced us to check it out. About 8 of our 15 person group bundled up (it's kind of chilly in North India - about 40 degrees) and decided to see the birds. It turned out to be a great adventure.

Shiv found us a local bird guide who spotted the smallest birds hiding in the farthest trees and showed them to us with his telescope. The park also houses water deer, jackals, cows, and reptiles. It was quite enjoyable to tool around the park in the back of a bike rickshaw and jump out when any one of us spotted a pretty bird and started snapping away with our cameras. Who knew birds could be so fun to see? 

Since Bharatpur is only known for the birds, there was just our hotel left to see at the end of the day. We luckily had nothing to fear for the bored part as Shiv started a fire amongst the fog and the bellboys turned into smiling barkeeps. Four of us, me included, decided to teach ourselves an Indian dance. We tried to get Shiv to help with the moves, but he claimed that he wasn't drunk enough to dance. It didn't matter because he helped choose the music and laughed at our idiocracy. The fun helped to drown out the noise of 50 or so school children on a field trip. They pretty much had full run of the hotel, and since their parents weren't there, they made a lot of noise. Luckily they had a teacher that made the go to bed by 11pm. It was just another form of birth control to witness.

And so, with that note, this concludes this entry into the wonderful and amazing adventure of my India trip. Tune in next time for more craziness and excitement.