Kerela Backwaters

Canal at sunset and group selfie, thanks to Nick. Palm tree sunset, thanks to Damion.  

India 15

India 15 

We drove from Madurai to the Kerela Backwaters for our last night of the tour. The route offered more views of the deep, verdant valleys of the Cardamom Hills of the Western Ghats, with misty mountains folding into the distance. We passed tea plantations dotted with tall silver-or-silky oak, peppercorn plants winding up the trunks. Travelled past the African Tulip with its orange flowers glowing on the very crown of the tree. The many switchbacks mean you’re often looking down on the next stretch of road, or up at the bit you just travelled; the sunny side of the bus changes every few minutes.  We descended from the land of spice farms to the lower heights of rubber tree plantations via a narrow, two-lane highway. Despite the roadworks to repair damage from the floods we still found ourselves facing, at times, up to 3 vehicles abreast heading in our direction. Everyone slows down, inches out of the way, and life goes on. 

Students waited for busses and tuk tuks - this part of India has many schools, including residential schools, and most of the ones I spotted were located on hilltops. Women passed carrying loads balanced on their heads - even long items such as brooms and sugar cane. We passed small homes of old handmade brick and thatch or corrugated roofs; airy bungalows with wide verandas; and large 2 and 3 story homes. Much if life is lived outdoors even at home, it seems, on rooftops, and in large room-sized verandas shaded by coconut palms. Barred windows help keep monkeys at bay. 

It is clear even on the highways that India is full of people. Small collections of flimsy store fronts line the roads at frequent intervals. People often walk across the highways, even climbing over concrete dividers. Vehicles stop suddenly to pick up or drop off passengers. There are virtually no overpasses here so roads frequently intersect the highways, not always at right angles, and everything slows down so everyone gets their turn without anyone waiting too long. In the north, cows will sit, stand, or sleep on dividers in the middle of the highway. Everywhere, a herd of goats will also bring traffic to a standstill. 

Sudden towns appear with crowded streets and traffic cops. A mob of people, gathered for a festival, will clog the road. You watch pedestrians weave their nonchalant way through traffic. Bicycles, rickshaws, tuk tuks, motorbikes, cars, busses, big trucks, and sudden death seem only inches away. And a few moments later you’re back out on the “open road”.  

We spent the last night of our tour at a homestay in the peace and quiet of the backwaters. Homemade food was our lunch, dinner and breakfast. We were led on a walk through the village, beside homes and gardens, between rice fields which sit below sea level requiring the constant work of land reclamation, and past schools. Then we hopped into a canoe and listened to the quiet village sounds as night fell. It was a “take me now” moment, when you know that if you happened to die just then, you’d die supremely content. The night too was quiet and the morning 1 1/2 hour boat ride to our bus reflected that peace - a strongly contrasting end to the noise and excitement of most of our trip. Every minute has been a joy.  

Cardamom Hills

India 14

Madurai to the Cardamom Hills 

Yes, the Cardamom Hills! It is the stuff of dreams. I’m in the Western Ghats again.  We visited a lovely family plantation where the owner took us on a tour of his “garden”. We saw and tasted so many leaves and seeds of various spices. Imagine having allspice, nutmeg, cloves, peppercorns - which you can have as green, white or black, chilies of all sorts, basil - several different kinds, coriander, curry, lemon grass, vanilla, ginger, turmeric, cardamom, bay, and stevia (super sweet leaves) growing in your yard. They do. Here you can go to your garden, pick them and toss them straight into your cooking pot. Not to mention coffee, cocoa, bananas, lemon, grapefruit, oranges, lime -sweet and regular, eggplant, papaya, and passion fruit. These are partial lists. This is such a gorgeous part of the world.

I went to a Kadathanadan Kalari Centre to watch a demonstration of an ancient martial art. I don’t think I can express how exciting it was; you had to be there. There were 5 men; graceful, agile, flexible, fast as lightening and incredibly strong. It was like watching a martial arts Cirque de Soleil. They perform knife, sword, short and long stick fights. One relieved another of his knife using only a cloth scarf. Another took a sword using a stick. One man twirled long sticks so quickly they were just a blur - with and without fire. They climbed walls and did flips off them. They jumped over 8 people and landed lightly as gazelles. They jumped through burning hoops of fire. 

And they shook hands and posed for pictures at the end. One looked like a young Johnny Depp. From my seat I could see the room they waited in between appearances and another was apparently quite blind without his glasses because he took them off just before his entrance and replaced them immediately on exit. If you saw him on the street you’d think only that he was a mild-mannered, hardworking student. You had to think of Clark Kent. If you are in the vicinity, I recommend this show.

Ghandi Statue, Puducherry

Puducherry, Madurai

Village Shrine

India 13

Yesterday we drove from Mahabalipuram to Puducherry (Pondicheri, of old). It is one of India’s territories; not a state, and not even centralized since its component parts are scattered geographically. Territories have their own unique history and/or cultural traits that differentiate them from the nearest, or surrounding, state. Puducherry was once under French colonial rule and its influence is still evident. In the food - I actually had delicious single portion quiche here two days in a row! In the signs - some store fronts have French names. In the city itself - as in Nanjing, there is a French concession or cantonment area, known here also as White Town. In the language used - a police officer passing on motorcycle paused as he passed me, “Bonjour, madame. Comment ça va?” And of course in street names - one leading to the Bay of Bengal is called Rue de la Marine.  

We visited the richest ashram in India, that of Sri Aurobindo and Mirra Alfassa, known as Mother. It’s a calm and peaceful place and devotees come and pray at the tombs of these much-loved spiritual leaders. Others come to sit in quiet contemplation on the grounds. The loudest disturbance came from bird song. 

When we plunged back into the streets we stopped at Arulmigu Manakula Vinayagar Temple famous for its ornate, colourful paintings and its resident elephant. The people of the city love the elephant so much that when it was sick, recently, people fasted to hasten its return to health. Twice a day it sits outside the temple and bestows a blessing on people with its trunk. Of course, I got one of those blessings! It felt strangely heavy as it touched first my head then my shoulder. 

After this, we walked to the ocean promenade, where the waves punish the shore and signs warn the foolish that it is forbidden to swim there. There stands a statue of Ghandi, the most revered leader of all. Today in Madurai, we visited the Ghandi Museum. It is a sobering experience, even when you are familiar with the history, to read the story of so much human suffering. The museum has many pictures of the Mahatma (great-soul) who, somewhat surprisingly, looks as such a man should look: both noble and humble. It houses the loin cloth he wore when he was killed. Madurai is where he decided to take up the loin cloth as the outward expression of his bond with the lowest caste people of India. On the drive to Puducherry, we had passed the salt pans (now flooded with fresh water and having lost months of work to the cyclone) and of course, in my mind’s eye I could see Ben Kingsley in his role as Ghandi, scooping up the salt in defiance of British law. The complexity of that struggle and the complexity of Indian politics today are mind boggling. 

On the way to Puducherry we had passed a roadside village shrine. These were constructed by lower caste people who were not, before Ghandi, allowed into the temples attended by higher castes. They have no walls, signifying that all are welcome, and they are still lovingly maintained by the people of the village. As with so many things Hindu, they are bright and colourful. Set amongst the luscious growth of trees and grasses, they possess a serenity that temples do not.  

Monolithic Monuments, Mahabalipuram

India 12

We are actually staying in Mahabalipuram, rather than Chennai, near the beach on the Bay of Bengal. My bed is huge. I can literally stretch my arms overhead, lying crosswise on my bed, and only part of my hands are off the bed!

I haven’t yet seen much effect from last week’s cyclone but people still talk about the 2004 tsunami. Partly because the recession of the sea before the flood revealed stone structures not previously known to be there, although they are well-documented in local history and in western history too, by travellers to South India. 

The biggest draw here is the group of monuments remaining on land - monoliths, carved from the top down with incredible detail. Here is the world’s largest bas relief, larger even than those in Cambodia. A massive boulder balances on a sloped stone bed. The temples date from the 7th and 8th centuries and have lifelike sculptural detail. There were 7 shore temples at one time but only one remains at sea level. It sits on a narrow bit of land projecting into the sea which is bolstered by rocks to preserve it. There are more temples, farther from the water, that give one an idea of the skill and workmanship involved in their creation. And sometimes reflect the humour of the sculptors too. 

*If you look at the pictures posted, you’ll see one with a holy man standing on one leg. There is another of a cat in my a similar pose, imitating him. You know the joke when you notice his round belly and the cluster of rats/mice worshipping at his feet.  

Chennai and Bay of Bengal

Mysuru

India 11

From Kalpetta we traveled to Mysuru (known, incorrectly, as Mysore to English speakers). In the Western Ghats still, it is a spacious and beautiful city, encompassing plains and hills. Government buildings of graceful design can be seen everywhere. From the hilltop where Chamundashwari Temple is, you can see palace-like buildings dotting the flat city plains. They are hospitals and government buildings designed for beauty and grandeur. 

We ascended the hill (one of the 8 most sacred hills of India) to the temple with its intricately carved tower. There is a constant flow of pilgrims and we opted to stay outside of this temple because another, grander one is in our near future. Outside the temple there were the usual flower stalls for offerings, holy men willing to tie the bracelet blessings to your wrist for a few rupees (53 rupees to a dollar; 10-20 rupees a bracelet). And something new; here you can purchase small coconuts, always an odd number, because odd numbers are lucky, and smash them open into a small rectangular pit after the proper steps (removal of your shoes, lifting one up as you face the temple and circling the air with it three times, application of the coloured blessings powder to the middle of the forehead- a gesture I’m starting to like,but then I always liked the Ash Wednesday blessing too). All these steps are to help your payers along. I’m not sure but maybe it’s the same philosophy as that which prompts the loud ringing of the bells at Hindu services, to get the gods’ attention.

We stopped at St Philomena church, a modest imitation of the cathedral of Köln, on our way to Mysuru Palace. It seems an odd thing to come all the way to India and visit churches here. Then we saw one of the architectural highlights of this trip, the second most visited site in India, after the Taj Mahal. (Not sure where the Golden Temple of Amritsar fits in, but perhaps political struggle puts it out of the running.) The palace is grand and rambling, with the typical Indian architectural idea of each room, each entryway, opening and framing a new inner or outer vista to please the eye. It’s lavishly built of marble, gilt, and other fine materials, painted and decorated with attention to every detail, and situated in a large garden with imposing gates in every direction. The guide stressed repeatedly that the royal family incorporated western, Muslim and Hindu elements because they were liberal, tolerant and open minded rulers. Of course, they rule no more but the family still possesses vast wealth, lives in part of the palace and takes the lead role in festive celebrations, ensuring the elephants are properly dressed with the gold trimmings the family owns, among other things. The palace is adorned with thousands of lights which are lit Sundays and for festivals and it must be a magnificent sight.

A visit to the old city market followed, with the many vendors I’ve come to expect hawking their wares; fruit and vegetables, incense, brightly coloured powders, spices, jewelry, wooden boxes, flowers, etc. The city square, centred around a dysfunctional fountain, was filled with people and dogs and cows lounging, walking, and sleeping on the cement. 

Today we relaxed in the morning then boarded a train for the 8 hour journey to Chennai, formerly known as Madras. The train was new, clean and air conditioned with comfortable, and comfortably spaced, seats. Snacks, water and supper were provided. One thing we’ve never lacked in India is food. Delicious food, with a pleasant heat and interesting spices to it. 

Edakkal Caves

Today we climbed endless steps - though not as many as in the step well - up a mountain to reach an ancient cave with carvings ranging from 6000BC to 400AD. The oldest are pictures of people and animals, the most recent are Sanskrit writing. It was worth every step. (42 floors on my phone, 50 on Nick’s.)