Friday, March 28, 2008
Fun Times in Mumbai
Yesterday we hosted a party for the couchsurfing gang--I made American party food; chips and salsa, a veggie platter, bread and cheese, etc., and Manu prepared a great Indian feast of palao (similar to rice pilaf) and choley (spicy chickpeas in a thick sauce), which unfortunately we were all too full to ever eat! But, it made the perfect lunch the next day. We danced to Hindi pop music, drank wine, and luaghed harder than I have in a long time. I feel like I've known these guys for years-- Manu, Rahul, Vaibu, Prem, Kislay--it's like they've been my best friends forever. I am so happy here. I find myself smiling all the time and for no reason other than absolute contentment, pleasure, and love of my life. I am happy from deep down inside my soul and its a feeling I hope that everyone can experience at some point in their lifetime. Its a feeling everyone deserves.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Loving Mumbai
So this may be the longest I've gone without writing in my journal or updating the blog, but I've been having so much fun and been kept so busy here in Mumbai that I've haven't really had the time or desire to write much! I've been in Mumbai since Friday morning, staying with Manu and Rahul who I met through couchsurfing. There is a very active, close-knit group of couch surfers here and so I've been spending much of my time with them. Saturday was Holi, a fun, colorful and crazy festival that is celebrated throughout northern India. Holi is celebration of the changing of the seasons and of the coming harvest. Colorful dye is thrown, smeared, and splattered everywhere. Water fights break out of nowhere. Drinks flow. Food is endless. People walk down the streets covered in bright pinks, oranges, greens, and blues. Today, three days later, my hair is still an amazing rainbow of red, yellow, and green, and my neck and arms have an attractive blue tint to them! I'm determined to start Holi in the US...Indians sure do know how to have a good time!
Manu and Rahul have been great hosts, going out of there way to make sure I have a wonderful and memorable stay in Mumbai. There is a saying in India atithi devoh bhavah (guests are like god) and its no doubt that I've been treated as such. I am actually thinking about finding an organization to volunteer with and stay for a few weeks or longer. Well, I'm off to see the premiere of the Bollywood film, Race.
Manu and Rahul have been great hosts, going out of there way to make sure I have a wonderful and memorable stay in Mumbai. There is a saying in India atithi devoh bhavah (guests are like god) and its no doubt that I've been treated as such. I am actually thinking about finding an organization to volunteer with and stay for a few weeks or longer. Well, I'm off to see the premiere of the Bollywood film, Race.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Just touching base...
I am alive and well, enjoying myself in Hampi. The internet is expensive here so I haven't had the chance to update the blog, but tomorrow I'm taking the train to Mumbai so will catch up on things there. I've connected with a couchsurfer so I have a place to stay for a few days while I get my plane ticket to Africa sorted out and take care of some other little errands while I'm in the big city. Thanks for all of the comments and emails, they make those hard days so much better! Hugs.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
An Adventure is Never Far Away
Hampi is a desert oasis. Strewn with ruins and temples, the tiny town is a major tourist center. Tourists flock here from the over-run beaches of Goa to relax by the river and bask under the stars. Shops line the main street in town with colorful clothing, jewlery, and plenty of roof top restaurants offering all of the western favorites like pasta, pizza, and falafels. I just had a fantastic lunch at a more local spot while enduring the smiles and comments of other customers. They must not get too much business from tourists. I need some new pants, so after this cup of chai I'm going to go see what kind of deal I can bargain on some clothes that I would never dare to wear at home!
A few hours later...
This afternoon I set off to explore the town and surroundings of Hampi. I followed the shops and guest houses down to the river where local kids splashed in the water and the more daring of the bunch jumped from boulders into the cool, refreshing water below. A steady flow of tourists were boarding boats to take, I'm assuming, a tour of the river and a nearby "traditional" village. I continued down the path along the river. After a few hundred meters the path turned uphill, lined on either side by dense banana tree plantations. After passing through a small parched village, trucks loaded with their banana harvest, and a small restaurant, I saw a small, unassuming sign tacked to a palm tree, Waterfall, it announced pointing down a well troddened foot path. The dirt trail led me back down towards to river and eventually gave way to a mountain of boulders. I scurried up the boulders eager for the view on the other side. A lush green valley lay before me. Massive boulders piled on top of each other to create hundreds of mountains, a majestic river lined by coconut palms and banana trees lazily meandered through fields of rice paddies and sugar cane. It's what I imagine the wandering camel caravans would hope to happen upon during their long journeys through the deserts just north of here. A hidden desert oasis. In my awe, I lost the path I'd been following and instead of finding it again, I opted to hop along boulders, zig zagging my way down river, relishing the silence and beauty of my surroundings.
The sun was hot, pounding down on my head and bare shoulders. The feeling of sand started filling my mouth and throat. My lips became sticky with dried saliva. I really needed some water. The gentle flow of the river tumbling down rocks was a cruel and constant reminder of my thirst. Yet despite its enticing gurgling, I knew that drinking the river water would be something I would come to regret. I headed further down river spotting Hampi's massive temple not too far off. I precariously ambled my way through the rows of rice paddies and sugar cane fields, which eventually led me to the banana plantations. I started into the banana trees, but soon worried that the density of the trees would be disorienting and that I'd end up wandering aimlessly through the trees until nightfall. I turned around and made my way back down to the boulders and the river. Hopping along the boulders once again, town in sight, hardly able to swallow as the feeling of sand in my mouth intensified, I was sure I'd be back in town soon. But then I hit a dead end. It was swim across the river or turn back. I had my camera and passport with me, so swimming was never really an option. So I turned back to towards the banana plantation, and started into the trees. The road has got to be just ahead, I kept telling myself. And sure enough it was. After a long 10 minutes of trying desperately to walk through the mud and muck of the plantation in a relatively straight line, I found the road. Unsure how far I was from the village I originally passed through and remembering from my days as an organic farmer how wet the trunks of bananas trees are, I peeled off a good chunk of banana tree trunk and chewed on that until I reached the village. The moisture from the tree trunk helped to quench the sand from my mouth, and water from the village well had an almost spiritual quality. I've never been so thirsty.
Just before town, I stopped at The Mango Tree restaurant, a serene and blissful restaurant situated under an ancient mango tree overlooking the banks of the river. I sipped on fresh lemonade and laughed as I recalled my little adventure.
A few hours later...
This afternoon I set off to explore the town and surroundings of Hampi. I followed the shops and guest houses down to the river where local kids splashed in the water and the more daring of the bunch jumped from boulders into the cool, refreshing water below. A steady flow of tourists were boarding boats to take, I'm assuming, a tour of the river and a nearby "traditional" village. I continued down the path along the river. After a few hundred meters the path turned uphill, lined on either side by dense banana tree plantations. After passing through a small parched village, trucks loaded with their banana harvest, and a small restaurant, I saw a small, unassuming sign tacked to a palm tree, Waterfall, it announced pointing down a well troddened foot path. The dirt trail led me back down towards to river and eventually gave way to a mountain of boulders. I scurried up the boulders eager for the view on the other side. A lush green valley lay before me. Massive boulders piled on top of each other to create hundreds of mountains, a majestic river lined by coconut palms and banana trees lazily meandered through fields of rice paddies and sugar cane. It's what I imagine the wandering camel caravans would hope to happen upon during their long journeys through the deserts just north of here. A hidden desert oasis. In my awe, I lost the path I'd been following and instead of finding it again, I opted to hop along boulders, zig zagging my way down river, relishing the silence and beauty of my surroundings.
The sun was hot, pounding down on my head and bare shoulders. The feeling of sand started filling my mouth and throat. My lips became sticky with dried saliva. I really needed some water. The gentle flow of the river tumbling down rocks was a cruel and constant reminder of my thirst. Yet despite its enticing gurgling, I knew that drinking the river water would be something I would come to regret. I headed further down river spotting Hampi's massive temple not too far off. I precariously ambled my way through the rows of rice paddies and sugar cane fields, which eventually led me to the banana plantations. I started into the banana trees, but soon worried that the density of the trees would be disorienting and that I'd end up wandering aimlessly through the trees until nightfall. I turned around and made my way back down to the boulders and the river. Hopping along the boulders once again, town in sight, hardly able to swallow as the feeling of sand in my mouth intensified, I was sure I'd be back in town soon. But then I hit a dead end. It was swim across the river or turn back. I had my camera and passport with me, so swimming was never really an option. So I turned back to towards the banana plantation, and started into the trees. The road has got to be just ahead, I kept telling myself. And sure enough it was. After a long 10 minutes of trying desperately to walk through the mud and muck of the plantation in a relatively straight line, I found the road. Unsure how far I was from the village I originally passed through and remembering from my days as an organic farmer how wet the trunks of bananas trees are, I peeled off a good chunk of banana tree trunk and chewed on that until I reached the village. The moisture from the tree trunk helped to quench the sand from my mouth, and water from the village well had an almost spiritual quality. I've never been so thirsty.
Just before town, I stopped at The Mango Tree restaurant, a serene and blissful restaurant situated under an ancient mango tree overlooking the banks of the river. I sipped on fresh lemonade and laughed as I recalled my little adventure.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Spending the Night in Hospet
I just spent the entire day on the bus! From 7am this morning I've been napping, reading, eating, and daydreaming all from the very cozy and bumpy bus seat. I was trying to make it to Hampi all in one day, but missed the last bus by about an hour, so I am spending the night at the bus station's lodge in Hospet. It's surprisingly clean and way up here on the top floor I'm pretty much removed from the constant hustle of the station. Hampi is only another 13km from here, and there are plenty of autorickshaws willing to take me, but seeing that it's 10pm, venturing out by myself with an auto driver would not be the brightest of ideas! Someone's pulled some scary moves on me once already in their attempt to grope me at night and there's no way I'm risking that again.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Mysore and Beyond
I don't know what Mysore is all cracked up to be--it's just another city, with a beautiful palace in its center, that's fast-paced, chaotic, and dirty. Everyone I've talked to says that Mysore makes their "must-see" list, but honestly I can't figure out why. I guess if you come for the yoga. Mysore is one of India's epicenters for yoga study, but most of the yoga schools are located pretty far outside of town, so I never saw them anyways. One day was more than enough for me.
Tomorrow I'm going to try to make it all the way to Hampi, but its a good 14 hours from here, so we'll see. Today I've seriously re-evaluated my plans for India--I was trying to see way too much in the 3-months I've planned to stay here. My top priorities are to spend 2 weeks studying yoga and meditation, and to do some trekking in the Himalayas. The other stuff I can always come back for. So for the next week or so, I'll be zipping through Hampi and Mumbai, stopping just long enough to rest and get a feel for the place as I work my way to the far north. I don't want to see India from the blur of a bus window, seeing every site recommneded to me just to say that I did it. I want to stop and enjoy, I want to spend more than a night or two somewhere, I want to stop trying to do it all!
Tomorrow I'm going to try to make it all the way to Hampi, but its a good 14 hours from here, so we'll see. Today I've seriously re-evaluated my plans for India--I was trying to see way too much in the 3-months I've planned to stay here. My top priorities are to spend 2 weeks studying yoga and meditation, and to do some trekking in the Himalayas. The other stuff I can always come back for. So for the next week or so, I'll be zipping through Hampi and Mumbai, stopping just long enough to rest and get a feel for the place as I work my way to the far north. I don't want to see India from the blur of a bus window, seeing every site recommneded to me just to say that I did it. I want to stop and enjoy, I want to spend more than a night or two somewhere, I want to stop trying to do it all!
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Adventures in Mysore
It's amazing what a few turn of events will do for a sour disposition! After lunch while I was wandering around Mysore, I started chatting with Aslum who offered to show me how incense and essential oils were made. We walked up to a tiny, hole in the wall shop where in the back room a woman was sitting on the floor expertly and almost mechanically rolling incense sticks. 7,000 per day, that's her quota. Behind her a man sat and eagerly began telling me about the oils he produces. Eucalyptus for headaches and cough's, almond for skin health, geranium for dysentery and vomiting (good to note!). And the list went on and on. I wonder if they really work? I didn't make a purchase, but he did give me 2 incense sticks as a parting gift along with written explanations about each of his healing oils. Alsum showed me around Mysore from the back of his motorbike, I treated him to a cup of chai at his favorite coffee house, and then after a few hours of good conversation he dropped me back at my hotel. It was so refreshing to actually strike up a friendship with an Indian with no strings attached!
Around dinner time I went next door to Parkland Restaurant which was highly recommended in my India travel book. It was amazing. A 3-story restaurant with spiraling staircases, elaborate jungle-themed decorations(complete with a massive tree in the middle of it all), and service comparable to home. The general manager even came around to inquire that everything was to my liking. I just had a fresh lime soda (fresh lime juice, club soda, and a tiny bit of sugar syrup) so as not to break the bank and did some people watching. Hungry, I paid my tab and walked back to my hotel, stopping at a small store along the way to buy some crackers. By this time it had started raining and the store was down some steps. The cement was incredibly slick, and before I knew what was happening, I found myself tumbling down the stairs, face first, belly-flop style. I landed with my face at the bottom of the stairs, my body hugging the muddy steps, and my legs still up at the top of the staircase. The shop owner ran over mortified as I just got up and tried to play it cool. What is it with me and falling these days? Well it turns out that I knocked my knees pretty badly and now I have the beginnings of what will likely become golf-ball sized, black and blue lumps on both of my knees!
Around dinner time I went next door to Parkland Restaurant which was highly recommended in my India travel book. It was amazing. A 3-story restaurant with spiraling staircases, elaborate jungle-themed decorations(complete with a massive tree in the middle of it all), and service comparable to home. The general manager even came around to inquire that everything was to my liking. I just had a fresh lime soda (fresh lime juice, club soda, and a tiny bit of sugar syrup) so as not to break the bank and did some people watching. Hungry, I paid my tab and walked back to my hotel, stopping at a small store along the way to buy some crackers. By this time it had started raining and the store was down some steps. The cement was incredibly slick, and before I knew what was happening, I found myself tumbling down the stairs, face first, belly-flop style. I landed with my face at the bottom of the stairs, my body hugging the muddy steps, and my legs still up at the top of the staircase. The shop owner ran over mortified as I just got up and tried to play it cool. What is it with me and falling these days? Well it turns out that I knocked my knees pretty badly and now I have the beginnings of what will likely become golf-ball sized, black and blue lumps on both of my knees!
Missing Home
I had one of those moments today on the bus when I started daydreaming of home--of family and friends, of clean clothes, of a daily routine, of all things normal. I'm getting tired of traveling. A new place everyday, living out of a backpack, and noreal friends out here, it gets lonely. I so wish I could just go home for a few days, or week even--to embrace my family, to laugh with my friends, to eat my favorite foods. There's a movie theater just down the road from where I'm staying, maybe seeing an American film will provide me with a temporary escape from my longing of home.
I arrived in Mysore early this afternoon and began feeling much better after a good scrub down in the shower (it had been a few days!), a few sips of a chilled King Fisher, and the anticipation of a vegetable curry for lunch. Home always feels furtherest away when you haven't showered in a few days and the guy sitting next to you on the bus won't stop berating me with questions. But inbetween the endless questioning, in moments of relative silence, I got to thinking about my plans for African and my eventual return home. I've connected with A Running Start, an organization baed out of NYC that works in East Africa to harness the immence running potential of the region's youngsters. One of their trainingprograms works exclusively withyoung girls and uses running as means of empowerment. The facility is located just outside of Arusha, Tanzania and its director a former Olympian, Zach Gwandu, has offered for me to come and work with the girls. I'm not sure what role I would play, but it seems like somthing I would greatly enjoy. Combining my love for sports, Africa, and public health is always something I've dreamed of. In July, I'll meet up with Lara and Kate for a week of luxury in Kenya, after that hopefully my family or one of the many friends who promised to visit make the journey to visit, and by October I think I wil be ready to go home. I ant to be home for Emily's 17th birthday, for Thanksgiving, and for Christmas. This will be Emily's last year at home and I want to make sure I'm around for it. I really miss my baby sister!
I arrived in Mysore early this afternoon and began feeling much better after a good scrub down in the shower (it had been a few days!), a few sips of a chilled King Fisher, and the anticipation of a vegetable curry for lunch. Home always feels furtherest away when you haven't showered in a few days and the guy sitting next to you on the bus won't stop berating me with questions. But inbetween the endless questioning, in moments of relative silence, I got to thinking about my plans for African and my eventual return home. I've connected with A Running Start, an organization baed out of NYC that works in East Africa to harness the immence running potential of the region's youngsters. One of their trainingprograms works exclusively withyoung girls and uses running as means of empowerment. The facility is located just outside of Arusha, Tanzania and its director a former Olympian, Zach Gwandu, has offered for me to come and work with the girls. I'm not sure what role I would play, but it seems like somthing I would greatly enjoy. Combining my love for sports, Africa, and public health is always something I've dreamed of. In July, I'll meet up with Lara and Kate for a week of luxury in Kenya, after that hopefully my family or one of the many friends who promised to visit make the journey to visit, and by October I think I wil be ready to go home. I ant to be home for Emily's 17th birthday, for Thanksgiving, and for Christmas. This will be Emily's last year at home and I want to make sure I'm around for it. I really miss my baby sister!
Friday, March 14, 2008
Ooty, India
Ooty is another hilltop town shrouded in mist. Colorful homes cover the hills in pinks, blues and yellows, laid-back locals fill the streets, and endless acres of tea plantaions give the hills a magical beauty. The might Mt. Doddabetta towers above Ooty at 2638 metes, and is India's highest peak south of the Himalayas. This morning I takced the 25km roundtrip hike up to Doddabetta's peak. The higher I climbed, the dnser the mist became and unfortunately at the peak the visibility was down to just a few meters. But of what I could see I enjoyed--thick Eucalyptus forests, rolling tea plantations, and sign after sign reminding visitors to be kind to nature. About half-way up I stopped at a tea factory and museum to learn about India's tea industry and see tea production in action. After touring the factory and sampling a few varieties of the tea, I purchased some to send home and went on my way. In total, the hike took me about 4 hours and already my legs are sore, but its good practice for theREAL mountains of Nepal!
Thursday, March 13, 2008
The Nilgiris Mountain Railway
After just a day and a half in Cochin I was ready to leave. It was to hot, too humid, and it was way too touristy. It was nice spending my time there with Mark--having the same conversation with Indian teenagers over and over again gets a little repetitive! But, things got wierd between Mark and me on the last night when he asked me if I wanted to keep things platonic. When I said yes, he got really embarrased and started acting really insecure. Oh well, whatever. We went our seperate ways; I headed back inland for the hills and he went south.
I only made it as far as Mettupalayam where I stayed for the night. Thismorning I caught the Nilgiris Mountian Railway to Ooty. I showed up to the train station without making a reservation figuring I could just hop on and buy a ticket once onboard. Wrong. The train was jam-packed by the time I arrived, but I managed to squeeze myself on and wedge myself amongst a group of boys all wearing soccer jerseys. Because I didn't have a ticket, I wasn't supposed to be onboard, and risked a hefty fine if I got caught. But luckily I never got questioned. Before too long I was chatting with the soccer team, singing Tamil and American folk songs, and sharing snacks. I even got to rest my legs after two hours of standing when one of the boys insisted that I take his seat.
The Nilgiris Mountain Railway is Asia's longest meter-gauge railway. Over the course of 45km it traveses some fo the most treacherous and spectacular terrain ever covered by rail. The railway was started in 1891 by the British to transport supplies to an ammunition factory in Ooty, but today carries tourists and railway buffs from Mettupalayam up to Ooty. The 45km took 5 hours to cover...that should give you an idea of truly how steep the terrain was and how slowly the train clawed its way up the mountain!
I only made it as far as Mettupalayam where I stayed for the night. Thismorning I caught the Nilgiris Mountian Railway to Ooty. I showed up to the train station without making a reservation figuring I could just hop on and buy a ticket once onboard. Wrong. The train was jam-packed by the time I arrived, but I managed to squeeze myself on and wedge myself amongst a group of boys all wearing soccer jerseys. Because I didn't have a ticket, I wasn't supposed to be onboard, and risked a hefty fine if I got caught. But luckily I never got questioned. Before too long I was chatting with the soccer team, singing Tamil and American folk songs, and sharing snacks. I even got to rest my legs after two hours of standing when one of the boys insisted that I take his seat.
The Nilgiris Mountain Railway is Asia's longest meter-gauge railway. Over the course of 45km it traveses some fo the most treacherous and spectacular terrain ever covered by rail. The railway was started in 1891 by the British to transport supplies to an ammunition factory in Ooty, but today carries tourists and railway buffs from Mettupalayam up to Ooty. The 45km took 5 hours to cover...that should give you an idea of truly how steep the terrain was and how slowly the train clawed its way up the mountain!
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
This is one BIG country!
I'm starting to feel a little overwhelmed by the enormity of this country. After plotting out all of the places I still want to see in southern India, I don't expect to get to Mumbai until right around April 1st, and once there, I'm only half way done! I'll still have all of the north and Nepal to cram in before flying to Africa in late-May. I want to see as much as I possibly can while I'm here, but run the very real risk of trying to do too much and exhausting myself in the process. But how do you choose what to leave out? So long as I odn't get sick I think I can do it, but losing a few days or longer to illness would really wreck my plans! Unfortunately it seems like getting sick in India is a law of the universe, but maybe, just maybe I can defy it!
Monday, March 10, 2008
What do beer and teapots have in common??
I showed up at the bus station at 6:45 this morning knowing full well that I had a long day of travel ahead of me. Well, 12 hours and 3 buses later I finally arrived in Cochin on India's south-west coast. On the last leg of the journey I met Mark who saved me from a near horrible situation when the bus began pulling away while I was grabbing a snack and my backpack was saving my seat on the bus. I looked up from the snack vendor to see the bus driving away and Mark yelling out the window. Thankfully all of Mark's commotion caught the attention of the driver and he waited for me as I ran, samosa and chai in hand, and jumped (literally) onto the bus. So of course, Mark and I got to talking and became friends. Once we arrived in Cochin we had to catch a ferryt out to Fort Cochin, a small island that offers postcard perfect charm; it's colonial, cosmopolitan India with the sparkling Arabian sea as its backdrop. After dropping off out bags, we both agreed that after such a long day of travel an icy cold beer was definetly warranted. Beer in India can be very hard to come by.
Many states have only recently lifted prohibition, so there is a stigma attached to alcohol consumption, and even now alcohol sales are left to the discression of local officals. Needless to say alcohol licenses can be hard to come by. But of course, there is always a way around the system. We ordered beers from the hotel's restaurant and a few minutes later the waiter returns with 2 teapots and mugs. Under the disguide of tea, we sipped two perfectly chilled beers. Very clever!
Many states have only recently lifted prohibition, so there is a stigma attached to alcohol consumption, and even now alcohol sales are left to the discression of local officals. Needless to say alcohol licenses can be hard to come by. But of course, there is always a way around the system. We ordered beers from the hotel's restaurant and a few minutes later the waiter returns with 2 teapots and mugs. Under the disguide of tea, we sipped two perfectly chilled beers. Very clever!
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Dolphin's Nose
I woke up early this morning after a great night's sleep (there's something about the cool air and the coziness of warm wool blankets) feeling a little nauseous. Unsure if it was hunger or something else, I walked around town a bit and finally settled on a leisurely breakfast at one of the hotels. I saw cornflakes on the menu and instantly knew that's exactly what I needed. A little dose of American food did just the trick, and before long I was on my way out to the scenic lookout point of Dolphins Nose. Along the way I met a villager, David, who spoke fantastic English and who turned out to be a trekking guide. We got to talking and soon he invited me back to his home for a cup of chai and to meet his beloved dogs. At one point he had 17 dogs, but 10 died recently from what sounded like, eating too many flies. His dogs that didn't have such an unfortunate fate were beautiful--pure bred Great Danes and Huskies. I'm not sure where he found pure bred dogs in India, but it was evident that they were his pride and joy. We drank tea, played with his dogs, and discussed life in India. But, he had business to attend to and I had a hike to do, so I went on my way after expressing my gratitude for his generous hospitality.
The 90-minute walk out to Dolphin's Nose was quiet and tranquil in the early morning hours. The fresh, distinctive scent of eucalyptus filled the misty air as I made my way down the tree-trunk rutted path. Thick clouds shrouded most of the views, but the serene quiet was a perfect way to start the day. Dolphin's Nose turned out to be a giant rock that juts out over an amazing valley. With or without the clouds, being way out there, hanging over a valley hundreds of meters below was exhilarating. After taking in the splendor of my surroundings for what could have been 15 minutes or 2 hours, I have no idea, I started back up the path. The quiet serenity of the morning was last as Indian tourists filled the path. The hike back was immensely more challenging, be it the elevation, the uphill climb, or me simply being out of shape, I'm not sure, but my lungs were burning and my heart was pumping! I eventually made it back to town after a few curious detours, devoured lunch, and then treated myself to Kodaikanal's speciality--chocolate. A hearty sweet-tooth is welcomed here with nearly every shop selling a wide assortment of homemade chocolates, honey, and ice cream. I filled up on cashew and almond dark chocolate, settled back into my cozy bed, and took a nice long nap. It was pretty much a perfect day. Now, I'm sitting in a fancy hotel in the center of town, enjoying a cup of coffee, writing in my journal, and watching people stroll by on the street. Another great day in India.
The 90-minute walk out to Dolphin's Nose was quiet and tranquil in the early morning hours. The fresh, distinctive scent of eucalyptus filled the misty air as I made my way down the tree-trunk rutted path. Thick clouds shrouded most of the views, but the serene quiet was a perfect way to start the day. Dolphin's Nose turned out to be a giant rock that juts out over an amazing valley. With or without the clouds, being way out there, hanging over a valley hundreds of meters below was exhilarating. After taking in the splendor of my surroundings for what could have been 15 minutes or 2 hours, I have no idea, I started back up the path. The quiet serenity of the morning was last as Indian tourists filled the path. The hike back was immensely more challenging, be it the elevation, the uphill climb, or me simply being out of shape, I'm not sure, but my lungs were burning and my heart was pumping! I eventually made it back to town after a few curious detours, devoured lunch, and then treated myself to Kodaikanal's speciality--chocolate. A hearty sweet-tooth is welcomed here with nearly every shop selling a wide assortment of homemade chocolates, honey, and ice cream. I filled up on cashew and almond dark chocolate, settled back into my cozy bed, and took a nice long nap. It was pretty much a perfect day. Now, I'm sitting in a fancy hotel in the center of town, enjoying a cup of coffee, writing in my journal, and watching people stroll by on the street. Another great day in India.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Kodaikanal
Kodaikanal is a great little hilltop town. Located hours from any city, it has the feel of an alpine summer retreat. The views from around twon are spectacular, although looking down into the valley in late afternoon once the smog has settled in is an erie remindeder of the San Bernardino Valley in the peak of summer. The town itself is situated around a lake where Indian families come to picnic and enjoy a ride in the paddle boats. There's a big international school here and today was their annual field day, so I sat and watched the school's track meet while snacking on pineapple slices, peanut salad, and other treats beign sold by street vendors. I spent much of the afternoon cruising around the lake and itno the hills on a rented bike, and of course stopping to pose in pictures with enthusiastic school groups. The air is cool and refreshing up here, a welcomed change from the thick, wet heat of the coast. It's obvious that the residents of Kodaikanal take great pride in their city as rubbish is thrown into designated bins, not on the streets; the blare of horns is replaced with the chirping of birds; and signs all over town remind you to reduce, reuse, recycle. This is very much progressive India.
Friday, March 7, 2008
India Pictures
Ok, here they are. The much anticipated first set of pictures from India. As I went back and scrolled through these photos, I realized what a colorful country this is. Enjoy!
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Water Splashing and a Day in the Village
I got up before dawn this morning to witness the water splashing ritual at the temple I entered through a back gate rather than through the main entrance with all of the pilgrims and by doing so avoided huge queues and the annoying hassles of locals waiting to scam me out of a few hundred rupees to walk me through the temple. The temple itself has 22 wells, each containing holy water. Every morning, thousands of people push and shove their way to each of the wells to be soaked by its water. A similar scene was taking place just down the road at a local beach, which too is considered holy. Hundreds of men, women, children, and even a few cows bathed in the sea, praying, chanting, and singing. The festival is observed in honor of the Lord Siva. It is believed that Lord Siva married Pavartha today. Happy Anniversary Siva! Lord Siva is the most esteemed deity among Hindus, as he is the God of immense large heartedness. That's according to the local paper. I guess that means he's generous and loving. It is believed that people who utter the names of Siva during Maha Sivaratri with perfect devotion and concentration will be freed from all sins.
By 9am the heat had set in and by 10am the flurry of commotion witnessed this morning had all but dissipated. I took refuge in my hotel room, drenched myself with the cool water from the shower head, turned on the fan, laid soaking wet on my bed, and read about Hillary's latest victory in The Hindu, the National paper of India.
After a few hours of holing up in my room avoiding the heat, I couldn't bear to sit still any longer, so decided I'd go rent a bike and explore the area. I headed south out of town on the main road, and before long the life of the town gave way to open endless expanses of ocean, sand, shrubs. I was passed occasionally by auto rickshaws who waved and honked, and every now and then by a motorbike loaded with at least 3 people, all staring, bewildered to see a white girl on a bike headed seemingly nowhere, before erupting into laughter and cheers. I eventually came to a temple where I was able to sit in the shade of a palm tree to cool off while sipping on fresh coconut juice, all under the perplexed gaze of locals. I always wonder what they're thinking when they stare at me. Having already covered close to 10km, I figured it'd be best to head back towards town. It had been a long time since I had some good, hard exercise and I didn't want my legs to give out on me in the middle of nowhere!
As I approached town, I saw a small, but well worn dirt road off of the main road and decided I'd check it out. I ungracefully bumped and jolted my way down the road trying to avoid the thorny twigs that were scattered along the road (I'd already returned one bike to the rental shop with a flat tire and really didn't want to turn up with another punctured tire!). Eventually the road narrowed into a sandy footpath, so I parked the bike and continued on foot. After passing through a grassy meadow and a heap of garbage, I reached a small village. Sitting on the stoop of the village temple were two women. They called me over. We exchanged pleasantries and they offered me dates and coconuts. I happily accepted. After snacks, lots of smiling, and very little understood conversation, they invited me to go to a nearby temple, which they claimed was much more powerful. Having nothing else to do but go back to the hotel, I nodded my acceptance. As we walked to the temple we were joined by Karuppiah who spokea tiny bit of English, at least a little more than Mari or Southaya. We went through the standard questions; What is your good name? Where are you from? How old are you? How long in India? etc...But after that, the conversation was pretty difficult to understand.
We reached the temple where a group of young boys were swimming in the pond, blessed ourselves with the water, removed our shoes, and went into the temple. Mari and Southaya went through the standard motions of Hindu temple etiquette; bow, utter a prayer, offer blessings, smear your forehead with white, yellow, and red paste, kneel and place forehead on the ground as a sign of respect, utter another prayer, repeat. I followed their lead and completed this ritual for all 3 of the deities at the temple. Afterwards, I was instructed to sit down. The women pulled 2 large newspaper-wrapped packages from their bags. After removing the string that was holding them together, they revealed rice and all of the various sauces needed for thali wrapped up perfectly in banana leaves. Spreading out the banana leaves in front of us, they uished for me to dig in. Having not eaten anything but fruit all day, I was really excited to see all of that food! Using my fingers I mixed in a few of the sauces (many are similar to curries) to the pile of rice and enjoyed my banana leaf thali.
The curiosity of the young boys form the pond had them milling around me, looking, examining, smiling. So to indulge their interest in me, I took out my camera and became an instant hit. The belly laughs that ensued from seeing their faces on the LCD screen were priceless.
The women invited me back to their home for coffee and again I happily accepted. We gathered up our things and headed back to the village. I was paraded through that village like an icon; children running up to me, jumping and screaming, waving exuberantly. Women smiling and throwing out Hello! like ----. Karuppiah stopped when he spotted his buddies to introduce me. This is Dona. She is from California. She is 25 years old. Her father is a doctor, her mother is a nurse. She has a 16 year old sister, and she isn't married. I'd just smile and nod, shaking countless hands, feeling like a patient who's vital signs were being shared with medical professionals eager to diagnose. With each stop I was handed water, sodas, sweets, and other snacks. They were insistent that I eat every last crumb, but after a few stops I wanted to throw up. I couldn't eat anymore, but when I tried to refuse the food I was simply given a sympathetic smile and told to finish it. I obliged. After close to 2 hours of being serenaded through the village we made it back to town where I dropped off my bike (Yes, I did get another flat tire. Those damn thorny twigs are everywhere!), and Karuppiah motioned me to follow. Where are we going? I questioned, tired and in need of a shower, I really just wanted to go back to my hotel room. Yes, yes, come. Southaya's house. Oh great, I thought to myself. This means more food.
We wound our way through rows of thatched houses and makeshift chai stalls until we reached Southaya's home. Inside Southaya and Mari were waiting for us, dressed in their finest. I was brought to the back room to wash up while the growing entourage of neighborhood kids waiting anxiously for my return.
I spent the next few hours sitting in Southaya's one-room thatched home, sipping coffee, and taking pictures of everyone, while they all jabbered away in Tamil, passing glances and smiles in my direction. I played with the kids and taught them a few basic English words. Soon Southaya presented me with dinner, an egg dosa which was delicious, even though the thought of food at that point was pretty repulsive. I was the only one who ate, everyone else just sat around and watched. I guess I'm getting pretty comfortable doing everyday, normal things under the scrutiny of others, as eating alone didn't even phase me. And that was it. Karuppiah walked me back to my hotel, we said our goodbyes, and I took that much needed shower.
Today I was blessed by the generosity of strangers and reminded of the true, sincere kindness that we all hold inside of us...some are just better at showing it than others. And sadly, it tends to be those who have very little to give. Why is it that the more we have the more we horde our wealth and shut others out?
By 9am the heat had set in and by 10am the flurry of commotion witnessed this morning had all but dissipated. I took refuge in my hotel room, drenched myself with the cool water from the shower head, turned on the fan, laid soaking wet on my bed, and read about Hillary's latest victory in The Hindu, the National paper of India.
After a few hours of holing up in my room avoiding the heat, I couldn't bear to sit still any longer, so decided I'd go rent a bike and explore the area. I headed south out of town on the main road, and before long the life of the town gave way to open endless expanses of ocean, sand, shrubs. I was passed occasionally by auto rickshaws who waved and honked, and every now and then by a motorbike loaded with at least 3 people, all staring, bewildered to see a white girl on a bike headed seemingly nowhere, before erupting into laughter and cheers. I eventually came to a temple where I was able to sit in the shade of a palm tree to cool off while sipping on fresh coconut juice, all under the perplexed gaze of locals. I always wonder what they're thinking when they stare at me. Having already covered close to 10km, I figured it'd be best to head back towards town. It had been a long time since I had some good, hard exercise and I didn't want my legs to give out on me in the middle of nowhere!
As I approached town, I saw a small, but well worn dirt road off of the main road and decided I'd check it out. I ungracefully bumped and jolted my way down the road trying to avoid the thorny twigs that were scattered along the road (I'd already returned one bike to the rental shop with a flat tire and really didn't want to turn up with another punctured tire!). Eventually the road narrowed into a sandy footpath, so I parked the bike and continued on foot. After passing through a grassy meadow and a heap of garbage, I reached a small village. Sitting on the stoop of the village temple were two women. They called me over. We exchanged pleasantries and they offered me dates and coconuts. I happily accepted. After snacks, lots of smiling, and very little understood conversation, they invited me to go to a nearby temple, which they claimed was much more powerful. Having nothing else to do but go back to the hotel, I nodded my acceptance. As we walked to the temple we were joined by Karuppiah who spokea tiny bit of English, at least a little more than Mari or Southaya. We went through the standard questions; What is your good name? Where are you from? How old are you? How long in India? etc...But after that, the conversation was pretty difficult to understand.
We reached the temple where a group of young boys were swimming in the pond, blessed ourselves with the water, removed our shoes, and went into the temple. Mari and Southaya went through the standard motions of Hindu temple etiquette; bow, utter a prayer, offer blessings, smear your forehead with white, yellow, and red paste, kneel and place forehead on the ground as a sign of respect, utter another prayer, repeat. I followed their lead and completed this ritual for all 3 of the deities at the temple. Afterwards, I was instructed to sit down. The women pulled 2 large newspaper-wrapped packages from their bags. After removing the string that was holding them together, they revealed rice and all of the various sauces needed for thali wrapped up perfectly in banana leaves. Spreading out the banana leaves in front of us, they uished for me to dig in. Having not eaten anything but fruit all day, I was really excited to see all of that food! Using my fingers I mixed in a few of the sauces (many are similar to curries) to the pile of rice and enjoyed my banana leaf thali.
The curiosity of the young boys form the pond had them milling around me, looking, examining, smiling. So to indulge their interest in me, I took out my camera and became an instant hit. The belly laughs that ensued from seeing their faces on the LCD screen were priceless.
The women invited me back to their home for coffee and again I happily accepted. We gathered up our things and headed back to the village. I was paraded through that village like an icon; children running up to me, jumping and screaming, waving exuberantly. Women smiling and throwing out Hello! like ----. Karuppiah stopped when he spotted his buddies to introduce me. This is Dona. She is from California. She is 25 years old. Her father is a doctor, her mother is a nurse. She has a 16 year old sister, and she isn't married. I'd just smile and nod, shaking countless hands, feeling like a patient who's vital signs were being shared with medical professionals eager to diagnose. With each stop I was handed water, sodas, sweets, and other snacks. They were insistent that I eat every last crumb, but after a few stops I wanted to throw up. I couldn't eat anymore, but when I tried to refuse the food I was simply given a sympathetic smile and told to finish it. I obliged. After close to 2 hours of being serenaded through the village we made it back to town where I dropped off my bike (Yes, I did get another flat tire. Those damn thorny twigs are everywhere!), and Karuppiah motioned me to follow. Where are we going? I questioned, tired and in need of a shower, I really just wanted to go back to my hotel room. Yes, yes, come. Southaya's house. Oh great, I thought to myself. This means more food.
We wound our way through rows of thatched houses and makeshift chai stalls until we reached Southaya's home. Inside Southaya and Mari were waiting for us, dressed in their finest. I was brought to the back room to wash up while the growing entourage of neighborhood kids waiting anxiously for my return.
I spent the next few hours sitting in Southaya's one-room thatched home, sipping coffee, and taking pictures of everyone, while they all jabbered away in Tamil, passing glances and smiles in my direction. I played with the kids and taught them a few basic English words. Soon Southaya presented me with dinner, an egg dosa which was delicious, even though the thought of food at that point was pretty repulsive. I was the only one who ate, everyone else just sat around and watched. I guess I'm getting pretty comfortable doing everyday, normal things under the scrutiny of others, as eating alone didn't even phase me. And that was it. Karuppiah walked me back to my hotel, we said our goodbyes, and I took that much needed shower.
Today I was blessed by the generosity of strangers and reminded of the true, sincere kindness that we all hold inside of us...some are just better at showing it than others. And sadly, it tends to be those who have very little to give. Why is it that the more we have the more we horde our wealth and shut others out?
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Rameswaram and the Nasty Flies
I headed out of Tanjore first thing this morning hoping to make it to Rameswaram in one day. The jouney took me thorugh some very rural villages and along some very dusty and bumpy dirt roads. It took me close to 8 hours before I finally reached Rameswaram, a tiny, remote island village off the south eastern coast of India. Rameswaram is home to Ramanathaswamy Temple, one of the most holy pigrimsites in India; second only to jumping in the waters of the Ganga at Varanasi. Turns out my visit coincides with Masi Sivarathiri, a festival held each March and as such, finding a room was next to impossible and the streets are flooded with Indians making pilgrimages here.
Walking down the streets I couldn't help but notice the excessive amount of flies swarming about. This town seems no dirtier than any other city or village I've been to, but I've never experienced flies like this before. These aren't just little house flies either, they are big, fat, red-headed flies, that surround you. It's what I imagine it must be like during a locust invasion. I was literally scared to take too deep of a breath for fear of inhaling a fly either through a nostril or staight into my windpipe! My room is full of flies too. Laying on my bed cooling off under the ceiling fan I noticed not only flies all over the room,but falling occasionally onto the bed. Grossed out, I'd wave my hand over them encouraging them to move on, but they just laid there, completely unfazed by my hand. I think they got a little too close to the ceiling fan!
Walking down the streets I couldn't help but notice the excessive amount of flies swarming about. This town seems no dirtier than any other city or village I've been to, but I've never experienced flies like this before. These aren't just little house flies either, they are big, fat, red-headed flies, that surround you. It's what I imagine it must be like during a locust invasion. I was literally scared to take too deep of a breath for fear of inhaling a fly either through a nostril or staight into my windpipe! My room is full of flies too. Laying on my bed cooling off under the ceiling fan I noticed not only flies all over the room,but falling occasionally onto the bed. Grossed out, I'd wave my hand over them encouraging them to move on, but they just laid there, completely unfazed by my hand. I think they got a little too close to the ceiling fan!
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Tanjore, India
Tanjore is home to Brihadishwara Temple, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. I wasn't sure I was ready to see yet another temple, but I figured I was here, I might as well. The temple was stunning. It's sweeping lawns and castle-like walls make the temple seem like a movie-set, but yet, its still a fully functional temple. Visitors are greeted and blessed by an elephant, worshipers wander the complex barefoot, chatting and praying, and the temple is eternally guarded by Nandi, a giant sculpture of Shiva's bull.
Once again I was bombarded by Indians wanting their picture taken with me, but this time i was primarily elderly women and their grandchildren. I happily obliged. They were so excited to have had their photo taken and absolutely tickled by seeing themselves on the camera's LCD screen. In turn, my arms were stroked, my hands were shaken, and I was granted hundreds of head bobbling, toothless grins. This is the India I love.
Once again I was bombarded by Indians wanting their picture taken with me, but this time i was primarily elderly women and their grandchildren. I happily obliged. They were so excited to have had their photo taken and absolutely tickled by seeing themselves on the camera's LCD screen. In turn, my arms were stroked, my hands were shaken, and I was granted hundreds of head bobbling, toothless grins. This is the India I love.
I've had enough of Pondy
There was something about Pondy that made me uneasy. Its hard to say what since all I did was swim in the ocean, read on the beach, bicycle through Auroville, and enjoy great food. Sounds great, right? Yet, despite how peaceful and relaxing it was to be there I was really ready to leave. Maybe it was being in the presence of all of the Aurovillians--Auroville's long-term residents. Founded 40 years ago, Auroville is a community of 4,000 vegan, meditation and yoga loving, new-agers. While I was enjoying a swim in the waves at sunrise, the majority of the early risers were doing sun salutations on the sand. Auroville and its residents were just a little too granola for me. So this morning, I jumped (literally) onto a massively overcrowded bus headed south for Tanjore. Not really sure what to expect in Tanjore, I was just happy to get out of Pondy, Auroville, and back into the real India.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
A Barracuda Feast!
It turns out Sebastian is a professional diver and has been diving for close to 20 years. He's also a very accomplished free diver and proved his abilities firth thing this morning when, after disappearing under the water for over 2 minutes, he resurfaced with a big grin on his face and a 4-foot baracuda! It was awesome. I napped, read, and tried not to bake in the sun while the others explored the sea floor. After a few hours out on the water, we returned to Pondy to prepare for a big feast. One of the divers, Erik, a guy from New York and Sebastian's boss, took the baracuda home to be cooked up for dinner by his chef. Erik and his wife live a very luxurious, pampered life--a personal chef, driver, wait staff, cleaning crew, guard, etc. He claims he hasn't washed a dish or lifted a bag in the 5 years he's been living in India, and while I was a bit uncomfortable being driven around by his driver (of course as I'm chatting away on my cell phone in the back seat!), it does provide a stable and decent livlihood for people who may otherwise struggle to support their families. His chef did a surpurb job of creating a baracuda curry and all of the side dishes you could imagine for a true Indian feast. What I found so funny was that when we sat down to eat in his extravegent dining room, we still ate with our hands in the typical, traditional Indian fashion. I felt a little ridiculous eating with my fingers at a grand dining room table, surrounded by fine art and butlers--that's definetly not something that would ever happen at home!
The Head Bobble
The head bobble gets me every time. It looks suspiciously like they are shaking their head no, especially when combined with the smug look of indifference. But its simply the Indian way of confirmation. Can I have a coffee? Head bobble, pursing of the lips. No? I ask confused. Yes, yes, coffee! Head bobble. That's going to take some getting used to. It sill confuses me on a daily basis and has made me realize how much I rely on facial expressions when communicating. Here facial expressions are more or less obsolete, its the head bobble all the way!
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Mahabalipuram Temples and Pondicherry
It has been one heck of a day. I woke up early and set off for the bus station which proved to be much more challenging to get to than I had anticipated. It took me nearly 2 hours to travel 15km, but I made it on local transportation, without the luxury and ease of simply hailing a taxi. After grabbing a great breakfast at the station and figuring out which bus I needed to be on (all while simultaneously talking to my dad and Linda!), I grabbed a window seat on the left hand side of the bus (I wanted to make sure I got a good view of the ocean!), and waited for our departure to Mahabalipuram. The 2 hour journey to Mahabalipuram was uneventful, if not the most crowded bus I'd ever been on. Typically inter-city buses pack passengers on like sardines, but long distance buses usually have designated seats. Not this one. People were hanging off the sides, smashed against windows, and for those lucky (or maybe unlucky) enough to have a seat, they had at least 2 people sitting on their lap.
Mahabalipuram is the half-way point between Chennai and Pondicherry. The once sleepy fishing village now crawls with tourists who flock to its beaches and its ancient temples. I enjoyed the temples and never made it down to the beach, although by the time I got there the sun was blaring and the place was filled with Indian school children, tour groups, and dozens of families picnicing. I couldn't walk 5 minutes without being asked for a photo, and at one piont I had at least 15 teenagers posing with me. There were plenty of other western tourists, but they weren't getting any of the attention I was. Maybe it was because I was alone? I don't know, but I felt like a celebrity.
After a few hours of celebrity status, I'd had enough and flagged down the bus to Pondicherry, the once French capital of Tamil Nadu. Here I met up with Sebatian, rented a bike and rode along the beach, which looked surprisingly enough a lot like Santa Cruz, sat and watched the waves, drank coffee, and purused the shops. I do have to say that it was nice to be amongst westerners again. After Sebatian finished work, we went to the home of a few of his friends for a BBQ. There is a very large French community here and the majority of people at the get-together were French. Despite the language barrier, I really enjoyed myself, especially when it came time to eat--kebabs, couscous salad, delicious and varied finger foods, French wine, and plenty of chocolate. We stayed until nearly 1:30am, laughing, drinking, and eating, and then, get this, had to ride our bikes to Sebatians house. This was no small bike ride, close to 10km with my big backpack strapped to my back. I had be traveling since 7am and was utterly exhausted, but had no other option than to pedal myself those 10km. The bike ride turned out to be not that bad, but by the time we got to Sebatian's I was in desperate need of a shower and a serious dosage of sleep!
Mahabalipuram is the half-way point between Chennai and Pondicherry. The once sleepy fishing village now crawls with tourists who flock to its beaches and its ancient temples. I enjoyed the temples and never made it down to the beach, although by the time I got there the sun was blaring and the place was filled with Indian school children, tour groups, and dozens of families picnicing. I couldn't walk 5 minutes without being asked for a photo, and at one piont I had at least 15 teenagers posing with me. There were plenty of other western tourists, but they weren't getting any of the attention I was. Maybe it was because I was alone? I don't know, but I felt like a celebrity.
After a few hours of celebrity status, I'd had enough and flagged down the bus to Pondicherry, the once French capital of Tamil Nadu. Here I met up with Sebatian, rented a bike and rode along the beach, which looked surprisingly enough a lot like Santa Cruz, sat and watched the waves, drank coffee, and purused the shops. I do have to say that it was nice to be amongst westerners again. After Sebatian finished work, we went to the home of a few of his friends for a BBQ. There is a very large French community here and the majority of people at the get-together were French. Despite the language barrier, I really enjoyed myself, especially when it came time to eat--kebabs, couscous salad, delicious and varied finger foods, French wine, and plenty of chocolate. We stayed until nearly 1:30am, laughing, drinking, and eating, and then, get this, had to ride our bikes to Sebatians house. This was no small bike ride, close to 10km with my big backpack strapped to my back. I had be traveling since 7am and was utterly exhausted, but had no other option than to pedal myself those 10km. The bike ride turned out to be not that bad, but by the time we got to Sebatian's I was in desperate need of a shower and a serious dosage of sleep!
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