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...