Farewell India

I can’t believe that this is it. I walked to work this morning trying to absorb as many sights and sounds as possible – the man on the bullocks cart piled high with hay, the two schoolgirls racing on their bicycles with their plaits (braids) perfectly in place, the old woman in a sari with 50’s Buddy Holly style glasses, another woman with an eye patch, the three men smoking beedies in their dhotis, and the different way that each woman ties her sari.

Last night I tried to squeeze as much in as possible – another trip to the temple, shopping at the temple markets and Hajeemoosa, a walk around town, and dinner on the rooftop of a hotel.

I’m really going to miss this country, it’s been an amazing experience, and I hope to be back soon.

As much as I’ve loved India, though, there are a few things I’m looking forward to…
Family and friends
Mexican food/Pizza/Salads (in that order)
Going for a run
Mani/pedi
Being outside
Not being gawked at
No more eau de mosquito repellent

See you soon, state-side
Katherine

One last trip

Steph and I spent an absolutely wonderful weekend in Kodaikanal – it was both of our favorite places yet. The first thing that we noticed about this mountain town at 7500ft was the cooler temperature. It was downright cold at night! But compared to the 100’s of Madurai – it was a welcome relief. The scenery was so different from the other parts of India that we’ve seen, and at times, we had to remind ourselves that we were in India.

They had incredible shopping for jewelry, pottery, and scarves at unbelievable bargain prices – and you all know what a bargain shopper I am! We had a couple of delicious meals of Tibetan noodle soups and momos (kind of like dumplings) that took Steph back to her Tibetan travels. I’ll admittedly appreciate anything but Indian at this point. I never thought I’d say it, but I’m really sick of Indian food. We visited the markets – they grow incredible fruits and vegetables up here. We took in the breathtaking views of the valley from Coaker’s Walk and walked around the lake, giggling at all of the Indian men out in the paddleboats – they were all laughing and waving – it doesn’t take much to bring a smile to their faces.

At our inn, during breakfast in the English garden, we chatted with a couple from Paris that we had also run into Madurai – he was Indian, and she was Caucasian, and they had two absolutely beautiful boys. Before coming here, I would have thought it crazy to bring kids here, but if you’ve got the time and you can afford the plane fare, I now think it’s a great place. Europe is just so completely lost on pre-teens and India could be such an adventure for them, the zoo like atmosphere with animals everywhere, and the colors and sounds. She told us that although she and her husband had been sick, the kids had been fine, and were just having a great time, and loving the trip.

The bus ride home was rather miserable, I have to admit. Steph and I had to stand for the first hour. I really don’t mind standing that much, but it was the view that killed me. From that perspective, it was so much easier to see down the steep ravines on the side of the road, the close calls with oncoming traffic, as well as the swaying of the bus towards the cliff’s edge as it took hairpin turns at horrifying speeds. At one point on the ride the left, back corner of the bus did actually hit a passing truck, but apparently not enough that either driver felt like stopping. It gave those of us in the back quite a scare, though. It was only after we had safely arrived in Madurai that Steph filled me in about the bus accident that she had experienced in Nepal. Although no one was hurt, the two buses had become entangled, and they been stranded for hours.

Just a couple more days and then we head home.

Not exactly an American business trip

Today we went on a full day tour to another Aravind Hospital in Teni. I had planned to go before I left, and I was glad to find out that they had no problem with Steph coming along. We were to join a group of about 20 men and two women from six other hospitals throughout India who were in for a week’s worth of training to learn about the Aravind model. Teni is about two hours outside of Madurai, and so at 8am we all piled in a bus and headed off. We visited a vision center, another eye camp, and the hospital. I was so glad that Steph was able to see it all because although I’ve tried to describe what Aravind does, you really do have to see it to believe it. It was funny to see that business trips among Indians weren’t that different than U.S. ones. There was the smart ass guy that they called “the captain” who was constantly cracking jokes. And a lively group that included one man who had ridden on motorcycle from Calcutta to London in 1979. They were all very friendly though, and curious about why Steph and I were along. The Aravind staff later let us know that it’s great for them to have international people also interested in the model. There was one major occurence, though, that Steph and I could never imagine happening in the U.S. which was that on the way home, they all sang songs to each other. Since they were each from different states in India – Bihar, Orissa, and West Bengal, as well as the Aravind staff from Tamil Nadu - they each had different native languages and so went back and forth singing and shouting. It was hilarious, and Steph and I talked about their enjoyment in the simple pleasures here. I mean, can you imagine 20 men singing to each other in the U.S. on a business trip, and sober, no less?

Back to Madurai

Although it had been recommended that I travel by 3 tier AC, the woman at the train station really wouldn’t let us book the tickts, and instead booked us the S class. For a variety of reasons the tickets would have been $20 instead of $4, and whereas it didn’t sound much to us, we figured it would basically be like paying $250 for a $50 with the only difference being AC, and it sounded ridiculous to them.

About 10 years ago I took a night train before from Moscow to St. Petersburg, and so I had in my mind the individual compartment that my friend Leigh and I had shared where we’d been able to change into our pj’s, and brush our teeth, etc. before climbing into bed. This one was a little different. First of all there were no closed compartments, but rather the whole car was open to about 10 sections of 8 people each, three and three sitting across from one another and two more across the aisles. All of the windows were open as there was no AC, and so it was very noisy, as you could hear everyone in the whole car. I was bummed to not have a window seat, but when I was later able to crawl into the matching number of my top berth about 6ft up, I was relieved. I don’t think I would have been able to sleep very well, with everyone walking by looking down on me, and my head right next to the window (esp. after at one point when people outside threw rocks at the side of the train and a piece of cement came flying through the window in the next section – to be fair the Indians did seem as alarmed as us, and I don’t think it’s a normal occurrence). Fortunately, our neighbors were very friendly although they didn’t speak any English which was too bad bc that’s the way they entertain themselves for the whole ride – by talking to strangers. Again, so different than in the US – with our books, computer, ipods, etc. I would never think to chat with other travelers for hours on end. At about 10 pm we climbed up into bed and read until the lights went out. I was basically laid out a steel plank(with an 1/8 inch of padding), using my towel as a blanket, and of course being as tall as I am I had to curl up or my feet would have been hanging out into the aisle. Thank god for Ambien and Steph’s ear plugs or I wouldn’t have been able to sleep at all, but I was actually able to get a decent night’s sleep. We arrived at 7:30 and then headed back to the guesthouse for breakfast and a shower, and then I went into work.

Mysore

Okay so I’ve finally experienced this sea of humanity thing, as Steph and I tried to navigate the train and bus stations of Bangalore. There were thousands of people waiting to head back to their villages after Sunday shopping in Bangalore. Everyone was sitting on the floor, and enthralled with the two white girls trying to get through with their backpacks. We first headed to the train station, as Steph’s guidebook highly recommended the train because of what was sure to be a terrifying bus ride, but we just missed the train by 20 minutes and the next one wasn’t for 6 hours later. We decided to take our chances and walked to the bus station, which was the Indian equivalent of moving through Times Square station at rush hour. The bus was leaving in a half an hour and would get us into Mysore at 11:00 instead of 2:00am. We climbed into what was a glorified school bus where I spent most of the ride bracing myself for the next speed bump that sent me flying out of my chair.

We arrived in Mysore late and headed to the nearest hotel, which was not exactly what we were hoping for – as the beds had huge lumps in them, and the sheets smelled of Ayurvedic oil. We agreed to “upgrade” the next day. Of course, we moved to our new hotel the next morning only to find that it had a squat toilet. But besides the accommodations, Mysore was lovely and reminded me a bit of Madurai – somewhere between the other small towns we’d been in and Bangalore. We spent the morning in the train station getting a refund on our other tickets and booking an overnight train from Bangalore to Madurai. We had a delicious lunch of thalis served on banana leaves at a restaurant where the only other foreigners were a table of Buddhist monks. That afternoon we signed up for an afternoon tour which seemed like an easier way to get around town. The whole tour ran from 8:30am – 7:30 pm, but we thought that seemed a bit ridiculous and only signed up for the afternoon to meet them at 2pm.

We went to a lot of temples, and the Manarajah’s palace that had a spectacular royal wedding room with a beautiful stained glass ceiling. At the palace, Steph and I ended up with a line of Indian families that wanted to take a picture with us. We literally had to cut it off and announce that we wouldn’t do anymore. Although, I’ve kind of gotten used to it, Steph still thinks it’s the weirdest thing, and we have to wonder how many framed photos we’ll be displayed in. The most impressive part of the tour, I thought, was the Krishna Raja Sagar dam. With all of the rains, and flooding in the north, after evacuating 21,000 in the people, they’d released 1,13,000 cusecs (whatever that means, it was A LOT of water, though). There were thousands of people there and I got some great pics that I’ve added to Ofoto if you’re interested.

That night we dined at our favorite restaurant yet. There was live music and it was fairly crowded. We even saw our first cute foreign guys. Just our luck that the restaurant seats women and families around the balcony and only single men downstairs. They also seat Indians around the perimeter and foreigners in the center to discourage fraternizing. Oh well, at least the food was amazing, and it was so good we went back the next day for lunch.

The next morning we paid a taxi driver $7 to drive us around for the morning to Chamundi Hill to see the temple, Shiva’s bull, and Shiva’s bull’s balls (see photo). He also suckered us into stopping at an incense and oil shop where I’m sure we got swindled (but only out of about $20). We then hit the Mysore markets, not much in the way of shopping, but I did get some more great pics. Finally, we hit up the last store before leaving Mysore where between the two of us we bought 5 pashmina’s (I just can’t get over these prices!). We then headed to the train station for our big adventure home – a 14 hour overnight train from Mysore to Madurai.

Get me out of Goa!

The monsoon has finally really caught up with us. After showing up at the train station last night at 10pm to find out that our 16 hour train to Kerala was canceled, and wouldn’t be running again for at least another three days from now, we’ve spent the last 12 hours figuring out a way to get the hell out of Goa. We showed up at the internet café this morning at 9 only to have the shop not open until 12 to look at flights on-line. Of course, none of them left before 3 so we headed to the bus station to be told that we’d have to take a 14 hour bus to Bangalore at 6pm, which meant another day of waiting in Goa – No Thanks!. We decided to try our luck at the airport and vowed on our way there that we would only leave by plane. We arrived at the airport to be told by Jet Airways that there not taking anymore new reservations – even to Bangalore – which is retarded since everyone is trying to get to Bombay and they’re almost the opposite direction. I think this is also why people tell you to take at least a month to travel through India, bc these delays seriously impact our week long vacation. Oh well, Steph and I have remained optimistic, and smiled most of our way through this, recognizing that if we were a couple, we’d probably be yelling at each other by now. Again we’re just lucky that we never had any real plans to go through Bombay because they’re still not flying in there today – which means there’s been a backup for about five days. It looks like our dreams of Kerela backwaters and ayurvedic massages are over though as we’ve run out of time to get there, and so have decided to head to Mysore outside of Bangalore instead.

Goa Beaches

We had a most perfect first day in Goa, even with the monsoon coming in and out every few hours, which has made the humidity ridiculous. After breakfast, we inquired about renting a scooter, which is supposedly the only way to travel in Goa. I stretched the truth a bit when I said that I had driven one before – okay so I way only on the back of one that Kirby was driving in Portugal last summer. After I wobbled the way down the road on my trial run, Steph and I agreed that now was probably not the time for me to learn - what with the sometimes torrential rain, enormous potholes, water buffalo, and left side of the road business. Although I’m sure with a little practice, I would have been fine, but Steph later let me know that our normally extra-smiley innkeeper Nelson had turned to her glumly and said,”but my bike’s not insured…”.

As everyone who’s anyone gets around Goa on two wheels, we felt like quite the losers starting off walking. I can’t even tell you how hot it was, though, so after about 1km of 10km we gave in and said yes to the Indian man offering us a ride on the back of his motorcycle. We climbed on to the back and took off (yes three adults on one – but I did see three adults and two kids on the back of one in Hyderabad). After just a few minutes the driver stopped at a house and started honking for someone to come out, he was also fiddling with his cell phone and telling us that it would be just a few minutes. I had a feeling that he wanted to show us off to some of his friends, but he proved me wrong when after a few minutes, he filled us in that he wanted to let his wife know that he was taking us into town. It certainly made me feel better about the straddling I was doing in the middle spot that seemed to worsen with every bump. My spot was still better than Steph’s though since she had no foot rest but had to hold her legs up using her inner thigh strength for the 15 minute ride into Calangute.

Calangute and Baga were cute, but sleepy little towns. We stumbled onto some incredible shopping deals, although they didn’t offer much. Steph and I picked up some sandals that she swore would cost me $60 in NYC for $5, some great jewelry and a few other things. We wandered down to the beach and posed in a few Indian tour groups photos as the token “foreigner” before heading to lunch – which consisted of a great mushroom pizza (okay, maybe it wasn’t that good, but after a month of Indian food – anything else tastes better!)

We wandered around town for a while longer, profusely sweating, as the humidity must have been at 99% and eventually found our way to the Ayurvedic Health Center. We signed up for an ayurvedic massage. These ones were much better than the last one I had – far less oil and no trying to shower it off at the end. The treatment ended with me climbing into a steam box (yes, one of those things where you sit down and only your head pops out) – it’s supposed to cause the oil to absorb into your skin. The lady sat and chatted with me explaining how wild the place was during the season and how the beaches are wall to wall chairs and people, and you can barely walk down the road. I’m pretty glad that we missed that time of year. It was hard to imagine though as our limited time on the beach was less than great. It was very dirty and again, everyone wanted to take pictures with us with our clothes on. I couldn’t very well imagine being in my bathing suit.

We had a really nice dinner at an upstairs reggae bar type place that you could tell was probably quite the scene in the on-season, but for us consisted of one other foursome of travelers and some weird Indian guy who offered us some of his joint halfway through our meal. We politely declined and were glad to see him move to the other side of the restaurant. We decided that we’d had enough of the unexciting Goa beach scene (at least for this time of year) and planned to go to Panaji (the capital of Goa) the following day.

Not a whole lot to report about Panaji, it was almost too hot and sticky to do anything, the highlight for me was probably getting to watch a good old Hollywood blockbuster – The Island. Not exactly a great movie, but I’ll take whatever American media I can get at this point. If the other 7 movies playing hadn’t been Hindi, I’d have been happy to sit for a double feature. Also the banana pancakes at the adorable inn we stayed at should get mention. I had them two days in a row - I’m just glad to not be eating idlys and dhal again. Ahhh, the simple pleasures...