Madurai and Mysore Photos

The Meenakshi Amman Temple in Madurai:















Photos from Mysore:

"Frid Rice" anyone?



This is a temple at the Mysore Palace:





Mysore Palace:



On the streets of Mysore, near the market:



Market in Mysore:









For some reason that I never figured out, all the cows in Mysore were dyed yellow:



One of the greatest things about India is their tailors. Tailor are found everywhere and you can take anything to them and they'll fix it or make you a brand new one in a different fabric. I had this guy remove some elastic from the sleeves of a dress; it took him all of three minutes and I paid $0.40 for it.

Tales from India

Big City Charm (Madurai, Tamil Nadu)

It took me until breakfast this morning--while inhaling my favorite, masala dosa--to find some appreciation for this city. Madurai is the largest city I've been to thus far, and wow can I feel it.

I arrived yesterday evening around 5:30pm after a six hour bus ride from Munnar. I was lucky enough to find a friend for the bus ride, a young 20-year old Aussie named Isaac (ironically, after spending over eight hours together, it wasn't until we parted ways last night that we exchanged names). He was moving on later in the evening to another city, but we had some time to dine together and relax in my little motel room for a few hours. I was quite happy to have his company, in fact, as I think it made my transition from a nice little town in the(comparatively) quiet green hills to the hustle and bustle of the city a bit less daunting.

This morning, I woke early (as I often do while I'm traveling) and after a little leisurely reading I headed out hoping to find something--anything--open for business. It's funny, most places, with the exception of a few restaurants (and only a few!) don't open until around 10am here. I walked along a main road toward the tourist office among school children and hundreds of people of all ages on foot, bicycle, motorbike, rickshaw and automobile. It's crazy here. I walked along, following not far behind an older man who eventually veered off to somewhere I didn't notice. Only moments later, the smell started; human urine is a smell that can't be mistaken. I noticed that I was no longer walking on pavement, but in large damp dirt-covered area with a white powder of sorts sprinkled everywhere. Then, the OTHER undeniable smell of human feces set in. It was too late; I was in the middle of a public toilet and I had no choice but to continue marching on. That, my friends, is how I started my morning. In a swamp of human piss and shit.

Oh, naturally the tourist office was closed. Needless to say, I walked along the street on the way back.

My next task of the morning was getting myself a train ticket to leave this city tonight for Mysore, up in the next state. Shockingly, it went quite smoothly. I'm on the "wait list" for a ticket, but the Reservation Supervisor left me with the encouraging words of "You come back at 7. I find you a ticket. You ride train and be happy." Somehow, I trust him. They do set aside a certain percent of "tourist" tickets for trains, as most often one needs to book in advance as you can imagine in a country with so many people the trains fill up fast. Here's hoping I'll find myself with a ticket tonight at 7pm.

It was soon breakfast time. I sat down in a typical little restaurant and ordered my favorite breakfast in India thus far, a masala dosa (masal dosai in this joint). A dosa is like a big, but very thing and flat, pancake made of lentil flour. It often comes out piping hot and folded up, as unfolded it would be the size of a fairly sizable blow-up beach ball. The masala part is a tasty mixture of potatoes, carrots, green beans and onions flavored with typical curry and spices that's folded up inside. The dipping sauces include a delicious coconut chutney (my preference) and a somewhat hot soupy dal. The whole meal really is delightful.

About halfway through my meal, a middle-aged woman and who I can only assume to be her mother sat across from me at my table. This happens from time to time when tables are full, random strangers inviting themselves to your table. I really don't mind, though. I had just gotten my chai tea that I'd ordered, and this was a first for me. In a little metal cup was what appeared to be the tea; in a larger but shallower cup was warm milk. I had no idea what to do, so I just lifted the smaller cup and took a sip of tea. The woman, bless her, came to my rescue. She took my tea and milk and proceeded through an elaborate mixing process that involved pouring the tea into the milk dish, then pouring them back and forth several times to mix things nice and thoroughly. The more elaborate part came from her pouring from quite high above the dish. After thanking her, I took a drink and it was indeed much tastier than my first sample of the "tea."

This was when I smiled inside, being thankful for life and what energy this city has brought into my life.

The Honeymoon Phase is Over

I wish I could explain the chaos of an Indian city. Anything I say could never do it justice--in it's charm OR its incredible lack of appeal. Despite what I said above, I've developed a love-hate relationship with this city (and I can only assume any other large-ish city in India) throughout the day.

Up to now, my time in India has been far more relaxed and chilled out than I could have ever expected. But, I'm now officially entering the India that so many talk about--the India full of annoyances interspersed in the charm. There are so many people in this country; anywhere I walk at anytime of day, I'm surrounded by people moving every which direction in every which manner. It's madness. The honking only adds to the insanity. Though, at the same time, it's comforting for me to always be surrounded by so many human beings. It somehow makes me feel safer.

I've now seen my first child-beggars, and have been approached to but things or for money more today than I have my entire two weeks in this country thus far. It's not unusual for Indian men to come up to me and want a little chat and, depending on my mood, my initial reading on the man and the situation, I may or may not give him a few minutes. Eventually (whether that be 30 seconds or ten minutes later, I'll politely excuse myself; if that doesn't work, I become firm and just walk away as I say "goodbye"). Ignoring them often does the job. I've done that plenty of times, too. But, today, this has happened to me a few times and for the first time, I was actually followed for a few moments. He's one of the ones I became quite stern with before quickly making my escape. After making a stop in a tailor's shop on a whim (the guy summoned me in and I was in a curious mood, as I plan to get some clothing made here at some point), I had decided against having anything made at this shop because it was more than I wanted to spend and the guy was a little pushy. Believe it or not, after politely telling him I was going to go have lunch and think about it, he followed me along the street for a solid five minutes, stopping when I stopped and going when and where I went. Finally, I said "Sir, I don't want you to follow me anymore. Why are you following me?" He assured me that he had not been following me, but I knew better. He told me he was going "there" to the market where he also sells things. Truth or no truth, that got rid of him.

Being stern works. And believe me, today I was in a stern mood. Before that, earlier this morning, I had received a knock on my motel room door. The motel was full of Indian men, and I had noticed one watching me as I entered my room. I usually don't make eye contact with men here, for they've been known to take that as an invite of sorts, but I found myself accidentally meeting the eyes of this one man. Harmless, just standing in the hallway looking down below. But, the knock on my door came too soon and all I could think about was whether it was the young man I had made eye contact with. I ignored it. More knocking and a "Hello?" Finally, I ask who it is. His response was "Can you open the door?" A stern no came out of my mouth directly. Yes, my adrenaline was rushing, but I was more angry at the annoyance than I was scared. Too many other people around for me to be scared and a huge opening down to the hotel employees where one yell is all it would take. "Open the door?" he said again. "No! Go away." And, that was that! He came back one more time inquiring whether I wanted tea or coffee, but I ignored him. I honestly think it was the hotel staff, but if they can't properly introduce themselves than I will NOT be opening any doors to anyone.

[Side note to mom and dad: I wasn't going to write this because I don't want you to worry--but it's all part of the experience and I really didn't feel threatened. I promise!!!]

I'm starting to understand why people have said that India is equally beautiful as it is annoying, equally magical as it is intense.

Shit Out of Luck...

Or, should I say "in luck"??

I can't recall whether or not I mentioned how I was shat on by a bird my first full day in India, out in Fort Cochin. I was peacefully sitting on a bench, admiring the Arabian Sea, when SPLAT. Right on my forearm, shirt AND pants. Good aim. Well, today, while admiring an historic and beautiful Hindi temple, I heard that same SPLAT. This time, thankfully, about a foot away from where I was standing on the pavement. I laughed to myself, only to realize a young woman had caught the whole thing and was also laughing with me. You know, in England it's supposed to be good luck if you've found yourself the victim of bird droppings...

Paradise Found

I found a nice little restaurant for lunch here in Varkala, down in a basement and full of Indian men. Chicken curry (the only thing on the lunch menu) and porotha (or, paratha... so many different spellings for these foods) and a chai for at least half the price I'd pay just a five minute walk away along the beach in the tourist-laden restaurants.

Varkala, where I've been the past two nights and will stay at least two more, is on the Arabian sea and set up on a few high cliffs above the actual beach. I wandered here, a little weary of what seemed to be a very touristy area, but have found myself a nice little room in a less-touristy part, and only a three minute walk from the beach. As usual, I can't complain!

To rewind, first, however...

I left Alleppey smelling of sandalwood. My host-father, when I was departing, came up to me and smeared some scented oil on me. He said "Now, when you go on bus, everybody will smell you"--or, something along those lines. It was the exact scent that I had in fact noticed a few days before, but couldn't grasp. I kept periodically smelling my arm for the next several hours, it smelled so nice and fresh :)

The father then walked me to the bus station and proceeded to ensure that I got on the right bus at the right time, but not before a quick stop to view his friend's wife's dead body. "My friend's wife passed away. I must go see a dead body before a half-hour. Ten minutes, I will see you at the bus station."

I felt quite taken care of, and was sad to say goodbye, but happy to be on the move... And toward the beach!

As I've said, I've settled myself in nicely to Varkala. My first night wasn't so grand, as I was set off by an obnoxious rickshaw driver who, despite me having requested something different, still went about things his way. I specifically (or, so I thought) bargained with him to take me to the South Cliff near the accommodation and I would then find my own. "Okay, okay." Naturally, he took me to his friend's resort (which is three times what I'm paying for a room now). I said no, too expensive. He said "Okay, I know a place. 300 rupees." I gave him one more chance... Fail. Over on the back streets of the north side he took me to ANOTHER friend's place, they wanted 500. I was tired, annoyed, hot and hungry, so I bargained for one night at 400 Rs. I was happy to have a place to call my own and rest, but I left quite early the next morning in hunt of somewhere else... And found it. I should have known better than to trusty those rickshaw drivers... Next time I'll be a bit more demanding. Or walk.

I've spent yesterday and today reading, eating delicious Indian cuisine (the masala dosa I had for breakfast yesterday was to die for!), drinking chai (not one coffee since stepping foot in India!) and enjoying the beach. At sunset, down in the southern part of the beach where I'm staying, it seems to be where the Indian tourists and locals come for--well, tourism, as well as religious ceremonies. True, Varkala is riddled with tourists, most of them European, but I sat on the beach at sunset last night surrounded by all Indians. The others stay mostly to the north. I only saw a few non-Indians for the hour, all just passing by. It was really quite nice, just watching the ocean and the Indian families--women beautifully adorned in their magnificently colored saris--doing the same as me. Just enjoying the moment :)

So much more to say... It shall come in due time...

Varkala Photos

Welcome to Varkala...

A masala dosa. One of my favorite dishes of all in this country (this photo doesn't really show what it is, sorry):



My first sunset on the beach with all the Indian tourists:












I couldn't help but observe this woman helping up an elderly woman... They walked down to the water and put their feet in the Arabian sea before walking off again :)







In a lot of places, you can get beer but it's not exactly legal... Perhaps because the restaurants don't have licenses or whatever. Either way, this place served their beer in tea pots! My first Kingfisher beer in India up on this cliff, in a lovely white tea pot, with my British friend Leon:





Leon and me, my first real buddy in India:







An afternoon at the zoo in Trivandrum, after leaving Varkala and before going to Munnar up in the hills:



Their teachers were making them wave; they didn't seem to mind :)

Incredible India!

(So says the travel advertisements I've seen on television while in Korea...)

Going on day number seven here in the south of India; Kerala to be exact. Varkala, to be even more precise. I arrived to Kochi airport the evening of January 10th (a birthday shout-out to my little brother) and, to my slight surprise, things have been easy ever since. Almost too easy...

Upon arriving to Malaysia, I was sick, and completely exhausted from the previous week's running around. My first few days there, I felt a bit apprehensive about taking on India. I wasn't sure that I felt ready to face what I had heard time and time again to be all but complete chaos. Thankfully, after some solid nights of sleep and a few days to get myself back into travel mode, by the time the 10th of January arrived I felt more than ready.

I have loads of little rambling thoughts to share... Many of which I've jotted down in my notebooks and will more or less copy into text here... Some likely will spring to mind as I write those... So, expect a scattered and disorganized little synopsis here of my first week in India...

My first steps on Indian soil, I should say, weren't easy in fact. Immigration rejected me because I didn't have the name of a specific motel. They sent me away and told me to write "any" motel name down. The man was less than friendly... So, I did what he said and chose the name of a place in Fort Cochin called "Princess Motel." I was feeling a bit facetious... I ended up the second time around at the counter next to his, and apparently these guys knew what was going on because, though much friendlier and in a joking manner, they gave me a hard time but eventually let me through. By the time I got to the baggage claim, it was finished and I found my poor little pack toppled over on it's side as though somebody had just pushed it off the belt. At least I found it... And in one piece...?

Lesson learned: Always write the name of a motel on your arrival card; I should have known better, as I confronted the same problem in Japan last summer.

Enter the Indian head wobble and the anything but helpfulness of airport employees. Kochi airport, despite being international, was not nearly as large and bustling as I had expected. Silly me with my expectations. The tourist info counter was abandoned, and I asked three different employees where I could find a bus to Fort Kochi (or, Fort Cochin), about 1.5 hours away. I got nothing but the head wobble and very vague responses. Finally, using my brain (it happens from time to time), I figured the guy directing traffic outside with the whistle MUST know. So, I followed the sound of the whistle and sure enough, he pointed me in the right direction. Naturally, he told me nothing of use. But a good ol' fashioned point was good enough and I was soon on my way.

Fort Kochi's a nice little town on the sea. Historically a fishing town, and still very much so. They've got these ancient-style Chinese fishing nets set up along the coast, that, as described by Lonely Planet, look like huge "spiders" as they are made of a handful of long wooden poles and it takes about four or five men to manually operate. Terrible description, I know. Google it.

There's a little area of Fort Kochi that's obviously geared toward tourists; but, it's not hard to escape this with a ten minute walk to the other areas of town, which include a primarily Catholic area, Hindu area and Muslim area. Walking around these parts made me feel much more like I was in India, as I was the only non-Indian looking person most of the time.

It's funny, I've felt just as safe--of not safer--here in Kerala as I have in most other places where I've traveled alone. I don't know if it's the actual places I've visited thus far, or my ever-growing experience traveling abroad solo. Either way, it's nice. I've wandered streets for hours and taken all public transport (though, there's always been at least one other foreigner on the bus with me)... Most of the time it's just me and hundreds and hundreds of Indians, and I've felt incredibly comfortable each time. There you have it, mom and dad. You can sleep a bit more peacefully tonight :)

I consider Fort Cochi my confidence-building city. It gave me just the confidence boost I needed to face the rest of my trip. But, as always, there comes a time for change and Alleppey was it.

Alleppey's on the tourist track, just like Fort Kochi, but here in India this doesn't bother me so much as it might in other places, because regardless, I'm still surrounded by Indians! I probably only saw about 30 tourists during my three-day stay in Alleppey--and no shortage of Indian tourists, either.

I consider Alleppey my lucky city. I arrived after a few hours on a hot bus, tired and hungry. The last thing I wanted to do was go on that annoying hunt for accommodation; it can wear on a person. Luckily, only moments after stepping off the bus, I was approached by a young man who presented an offer for a room with a home stay. Home stays seem to have been the thing in Kochi and Alleppey, rather than hostels or guest houses. He offered a good price, so I figured I might as well go check it out. Turns out it was a good thing to have trusted my instinct on this one...

This family's house was about a ten minute walk from the bus station, away from the noises of the city, nice and quiet, and surrounded by banana, coconut, mango and papaya trees, sitting along one of the backwater canals that Alleppey is so famous for. (People come to this town solely for the purpose of enjoying boat rides of all sorts around the backwaters--anything from early morning canoe trips and week-long house boat trips). My three-day Indian family was a husband and wife, likely in their 60s, and their 30 year old daughter. I knew I was "home" the moment I stepped foot in their home... A big room to myself, the woman of the house eager to feed me her food, and referred to by her husband as "the best cook in Alleppey." And WOW. Was the food amazing. My first meal was some kind of chapatti (general term for breads over here) made from rice, not unlike some of the little rice cakes found in Korea. Four of these to dip into a coconut and spice chutney and I am a happy woman. Oh, and of course, the chai. The rest of the afternoon was devoted to wandering the city, though, like most cities that don't offer some historical sights or anything famous like that, I felt I had enough after a few hours. I headed back "home" after that to enjoy my evening meal of fish curry, vegetable curry, pickled mango, rice and some crispy, airy, puffed-up bread of sorts.

The next day, rather than splurging on an over-priced tourist trap of a boat cruise in the backwaters, I heeded the advice of my guidebook at took a local ferry 2.5 hours to they town of Kottayam. I had been told by a lovely German woman on that ride that there was nothing to see, so I more or less turned around and came back to Alleppey on the next ferry. Perhaps not quite as peaceful or scenic as an expensive tour might have been, this ferry ride cost me a whopping 20 rupees, or around US$0.36. Definitely worth my time.

I felt quite at ease with my temporary Indian family... Kind, friendly and curious they were. Always wanting to please. I spent a short while both evenings watching a little television with them, the first night some singing contest show (I supposed like American Idol), and the second evening some Indian film. When I ate, the mother and daughter would check up on me and watch me, almost to a point of discomfort on my end, but I think they just wanted to see that I was enjoying my food. My first meal there, I got the nod of approval for what I can only assume was eating with my right hand in a proper manner.

The Indian head wobble became ever more apparent in this house, however... Each family member spoke limited English, so when there was some issue with communication my only response from the mother or daughter was the head wobble and an almost apologetic look in the eyes. Funny. So far, I've interpreted the head wobble as possible meaning: I don't know, I don't understand, yes, no, maybe, or, a nonverbal way of saying I approve, thank you, or I understand. That's a lot of possibilities...

Time for a break in writing. My stomach's growling for some curry and I've been on a computer too long for one day... Hopefully I'll get around to rounding out the tales of my first week tomorrow!

Kerala Photos

Fort Kochi

My first breakfast in India, idley (fermented rice cakes) and coconut chutney with peppercorns that were so prevalent in Keralan food:



The famous Chinese fishing nets of Fort Cochin:





Girls at one of the local Catholic schools:



One of the many historic Catholic churches in the area (in addition to several mosques and temples):



Chai, parotha and vegetable curry... Mmmm...



Break time at a food cart full of fried goodies (and not so good treats). I couldn't resist a sample of chai and three of the various snacks, some savory and some sweet. All you have to do is walk up, take whatever you want and enjoy it on one of the little plastic stools, gladly accept the man's offer for chai (why turn it down?!) and then pay a whole five rupees for each one. I even got a few to go, to continue my sampling, wrapped in newspaper (newspaper is India's "to-go" container).



And now, Alleppey...

On the walk to my home stay:





My room in the home stay:



The front yard and house in which I stayed:





Views from the ferry I took from Alleppey to Kottayam for a day trip:














I really wish I had taken some photos of the lovely meals my host-mother cooked while I stayed there... Mmm...