Home Again

I thought when I came home, everything would feel different. Or maybe everything would feel the same. I guess I didn't really expect much but I definitely didn't expect this feeling of confusion. Everything is familiar but it doesn't feel right anymore. It feels weird to wake up in my bedroom. It feels strange using this computer to write this. And even stranger to look out the window onto my quiet gray street. It's too cold outside, and too gray out there. My old clothes are too western. Everything is too western as a matter of fact. I miss the vibrancy, the 'differentness' of life in India. I miss not knowing. Familiarity is no fun. I thought I would be glad to feel relaxed in my home culture. And I do, but it's boring.

India has taught me a lot though. It taught me to go with the flow. To be open to new concepts, however crazy they sound at first. India taught me that traffic lights aren't always necessary (don't worry, I'll still obey them!). That you can wear green, red and yellow in the same outfit. And that eating with your hands is way more fun than with a fork.
Now all I have to do is remember those lessons and apply them to my life here. And of course, go back and visit soon!
Thanks India, I miss you!

Goodbye India!

It's unimaginable, but I leave India tomorrow. While I can't say I feel completely at home here, there are still things that stress me out, confuse me and frustrate me, I think back to my first few weeks here and how lost I felt then. This was a good lost. An 'I'm completely out of my comfort zone, but it's great' kind of lost. Now I can barter, I know what a capsicum is, I know I don't like rasam, and I can make dosa. I am looking forward to peanut butter, hassle-free shopping and clean wide streets. I will miss the peanut chikki, the triumph of a successful barter, and, believe it of not, the garbage though; it's India! I'll also miss all the people I met here, of course. The adventure, and the curves this country can throw at you.

If you're interested, keep checking for new blogs, I think I'll write a few more posts explaining how I'm adjusting back into western culture.

And for your viewing pleasure, here are some pictures from the Sunday market last week.

Clouds and Peaks

We revisited the cliffs near Kodai recently and I got some amazing and atmospheric shots of clouds. Here are some.

Up the Palani Ghat

Some pictures from one of the roads up to Kodai, one that I hadn't been on yet. More dramatic and less traveled than the other one. At one point you can look onto the plains and see the road you've just traveled snaking up the hill. This road has 14 hairpin turns and at one point if you look out the window you can see... well nothing! The road drops so steeply off that one swerve and you're plummeting into the valley. I love driving in India!

Kerala

After taking a night train down the west coast, or Konkan Coast, we drove inland through the state of Kerala back to Kodaikanal. I took pictures out of the window of the car. At one point we were stuck in traffic on the main road of a smallish town, while we were almost stopped I took a lot of pictures of the store fronts. We also passed a truck carrying a remarkably calm elephant. We also stopped at the base of the Kodai hills for some tea and stumbled across a herd of grazing water buffalo.

Holi

Ever since I did a speech about Holi in grade school, I've wanted to see it. You have no idea how excited I was when I discovered that I would be in India during the holiday. You also have no idea how disappointed I was to learn that Holi is hardly celebrated in the south. BUT...

I was lucky enough to stumble upon it while I was in Goa. Goans celebrate Holi because there are so many people living there from the north. Lucky me!

Holi is a Hindu festival celebrating the beginning of spring. It's celebrated like a food fight, only with unnaturally bright, highly toxic, super fun powdered dyes. Only men really throw powder and women usually tend to hide inside. There is a lot of drinking and often bhang, marijuana. It can often get out of hand and we had to be pretty careful.

We were planning on going into the nearest big city, Margao anyway that day to see the covered market there. Someone remembered at breakfast that March 1 was Holi but we figured that it wouldn't be such a big deal since we were fairly far south. Fortunately we were wrong.

Driving in an auto rickshaw through little coastal villages on our way to Margao, we started noticing villagers with bright pink powder on their faces. It was a good sign.

In Margao, the number of coloured faces multiplied to every second group of young guys on motorcycles but we hadn't seen anyone throwing powder. We found the covered market and started shopping but soon we heard music. Curious, we poked our head out of the safety of the market and well... we found Holi.

About 50 people, all men or young boys were dancing in a public square decorated with streamers. And they were all covered in multi-coloured dye. For the sake of my photography, I ventured out on the street with the idea of taking a few pictures and running back inside unscathed. Well that was wishful thinking!

I don't even know who threw the first powder at me but once you have a bit on you, your fair game to everyone. Luckily the people were fairly nice to an obvious tourist with an expensive camera. If I said no confidently enough, they would usually leave me alone. Usually. A couple times I had to make an undignified scurry out of the line of fire.

One of the most interesting things was there were women selling food and flowers inside 'party central' and no one dared throw anything at them.

By the time I'd shot 10 pictures, I had dye in my hair, on my face and my shirt, in my bag and, most alarmingly, on my camera. Feeling a little silly, we went back into the covered market. I really felt like I couldn't bargain anymore because no one would take me seriously with a pink and purple face. Luckily everyone understands and we got lots of compliments and friendly 'Happy Holi!'s.

Back at our hotel we tried to wash up. The dye was washed out of our clothes and I lovingly wiped all the stuff off my camera except for one button that still has red in it. What a souvenir! We got every other colour off our bodies except pink. I had pink on my chin and forehead that wouldn't come off. I still have a pink streak in my hair.

Totally worth it though!

Panjim, Old Goa and Spices

If holidayers in Goa can pry themselves away from the beach for a day, they usually go on a day trip to Panjim, the capital of Goa, Old Goa the old capital and a spice plantation. Of course, that's what I did too. Sometimes you just have to follow the pack!

Panjim is a modern Indian city situated along a busy shipping river. Goa was occupied by the Portuguese for a long time and their influence is very evident here. Just like in Pondicherry, the buildings, especially along the river, have a distinct European flavour. Again, streets are wider, there are more trees and things are a bit cleaner. There are lots of higher end shops and restaurants and women dress more modernly here.

Old Goa used to be Goa's capital until outbreaks of malaria and cholera forced the people to move down the river to Panjim. Now it's an over touristed little town with ruins, old cathedrals and various other old buildings, mostly of the religious persuasion. The most fascinating building was the one we stumbled on first. The fantastic ruins of a monastery that had been destroyed because of the outbreaks.

Only one corner of the building still stands at its full height and the rest is a mess of bricks and mortar. Beautiful though!

In typical Indian style, only three bits of painted wall are being protected from the elements and the tourists, and only the main chapel has been restored at all. I prefer it that way though. It was so much fun to wander around the ruins in their natural state. You'd see an archway here and a window there with only your imagination to fill in the gaps. There was a group of four puppies living just outside the cathedral who were so cute I just wanted to take them all home.

After that monastery, the rest of the cathedrals were a bit of a disappointment. Not nearly as artistically crumbling, it felt as though you were in Spain or well, Portugal! The main attraction, the Bom Jesus Cathedral (the brown building in the picture) was crowded with Indian Christians and was fairly nice although a bit too ornate and tacky for my taste.

At the spice plantation, we got a nice home-cooked Goan lunch and a little bit of watered down feni, a liquor distilled from cashews, a Goan specialty. We took a short walk through the edge of the plantation and saw such things as cocoa, cinnamon, turmeric, jackfruit, pineapple, betel nut, vanilla and chilies. It was all very interesting to see what is a vine (vanilla), a bush (chilies) or a root (turmeric).

It was a long, hot day but interesting! I was so ready for a refreshing swim and some aloo gobi when we got back.

Goa

Goa is the premier beach destination in India. It's a tiny state with beach resorts all along the coast and quite a modern populace what with all the foreign tourists. English is more prominent on shop signs and women dress more often then not in pants and a long shirt. Even housedresses, which usually look like floor length nightgowns are more form-fitting and only come to the knee.

The beach was visited largely by rich North Indian tourists and long baked older Europeans with a few younger people around too. The water is beautiful and the sand is silky and makes the faintest squeak when you walk. Shops line the beach and the towns selling the same sun dresses and jewelry. It's impossible to walk five minutes down the beach without someone coming over to convince you to look in their shop, go parasailing or, of course, give them money. Mothers with babies at their hips, tribal women dancing or little kids will come right into restaurants to beg only to get shooed out by the waiters. It made me feel awful; here I am, enjoying myself lazing on the beach when these people don't have enough to eat!

Other than the beggars, there's more on the beach to remind you that your in India. Stray dogs sleep under beach chairs and play in the water. As you get closer to town there are cows lying in the shade and water buffalo being cooled off in the ocean. Every morning the local fishermen unload their catch on the beach, throw away what they don't want and elaborately fold up their fishing nets right in front of the tourists baking, er... sunbathing.

Indian Railways

"Chaichai? Chaichai-uh?"

"Cuppie coffee? Cupyuh coffee?"

"Panipani, pani-water?"

These are the melodious sounds that wake you up at 5 in the morning on the train. Night trains are really common here, and they're lots of fun. A non A/C trip of 10 hours or so will cost you about 4 dollars. Which means that all kinds of people take the train and it's always full. I was half expecting the trains that you see in National Geographic specials; cars so packed there are people hanging out of every door, having to fight your way onto the train through hundreds of people and so on. While 2nd class train travel here isn't luxury, it's not nearly as bad as that.

It's true, you do have to use your elbows to get into the train car with all your luggage, and there isn't a whole lot of personal space. There's eight people to a section. Two people in two-tier side berths and six in two three-tiers. The upper berth is inches away from three whirring fans but you can climb up there and sleep any time you want and it's the most private of the three. The middle berth folds down to form the back rest of the bench you sit on during the day and the advantage is that you get some air from the windows. The bottom is the most easily accessible (women in saris love this one, no chance of flashing anyone while they climb on) but the least private and you have to keep an extra close eye on your stuff. All bunks have minimal padding and a sticky vinyl covering. Everyone brings their own pillows (mine was a rolled up towel) and a sheet. You sleep with your purse wound around your shoulder and your big bags chained under the lower berth. It's not nearly as loud as I thought it would be. No snoring- the sound of the train drowns that all out. And the rhythmic movement and chugging lulls you into a shallow sleep.

Then you wake up to the chai wallahs at 5 am, but who needs a full eight hours anyway?

The best thing to do on the train is to go to the open door and watch the scenery rush by. There are different techniques to this, you can stand up holding onto the walls or you can sit with your feet dangling out as long as you remember to tuck them in when you come up to a station. At any point, of course you could loose your balance and fall out onto the tracks but who cares about safety? It's about the wind on your face and the countryside rushing past.

Bathrooms aren't too bad at the beginning of the trip but after 10 hours it's best if you hold your breath. No such thing as a septic tank, everything just goes onto the tracks. They appreciate it if you don't go when the train is stopped at a station. As you can imagine!

We took one day train through the mountians to Goa when I got a chance to take some pictures. All the ones above are from that trip.

Hampi

In my opinion, no trip to India would be complete without a trip to Hampi.

Hampi is the ruins of a fabulous city from the Vijaynagar civilization dating from the 15th century, although you'd never guess. At times I felt I was looking at Greek or Roman ruins, something much older than 500 years.

Apart from the crumbling temples, avenues, arches and Hindu deities, the landscape here is fascinating. Huge boulders are piled precariously in stacks that must have been arranged by giants. It looks like these rocks could come tumbling down at any moment, like the scree slope on a mountain only 100 times as big. I'm not sure of the exact reason for this bizarre landscape but it has something to do with the fact that it's located near the tip of the Deccan Plateau. The combination of the crumbling stone carvings of man and the impossible natural formations are, there's no other way to describe it, magical. And of course heaven for me and my camera!

In this barren landscape, it's difficult to imagine a civilization thriving here. Upon closer inspection though, it makes sense. Invading armies would have a lot of trouble climbing over these giant rock hills unnoticed, and oases of banana are around most corners.

The ruins are so spread out, it's impossible to see them all. Early in the morning we climbed a big, rocky hill to a tiny, vandalized temple at the top. The disappointing temple was irrelevant because the view was so breathtaking. Below was the remains of a long courtesan's walk, a street framed with columns on either side. The avenue leads to a beautiful temple that was completely tourist-free and a banana grove off to one side. Near the top of the hill we met a super cute stray dog who followed us the rest of the way up, past a group of three monkeys clinging dangerously to the side of the cliff. One of them was eating the ribbon from an old cassette tape. At the top we sat and enjoyed the breeze, it was already 30 degrees outside and sipped tea from a chai wallah who hikes up the hill every day at 4 am to serve tea to tourists and pilgrims at the top. He can only take as much water as he can carry, so he barters for his customer's water bottles. We have him an almost full one in exchange for a discount on our tea.

There are huge temples, giant monolithic statues of Ganesh and a Nandi (bull), beautiful houses, shady pavilions with roofs held up with columns and stepped baths.

What I found interesting was the way the modern inhabitants of Hampi interacted with the ruins. With typical Indian resourcefulness, the people of Hampi converted the existing stone ceilings into homes for themselves. At first glance the structures look like typical huts, but on closer inspection, you see how they've incorporated the ancient stones. It's fascinating!

Hampi bazaar (two short streets) is incredibly touristy- giving off a hippy vibe similar to Auroville. Most people working in Hampi are from the north, often Nepal and work in Hampi for 10 months of the year, spending 2 months back home.

Hampi is my favourite place that I've been to so far, and I haven't met anyone who hasn't loved it yet. If I ever come back to India, I'm spending a week there, biking around to every single ruin!

Bangalore

If you've been wondering why I haven't been writing lately, it's because I've been on another little trip, up the west coast of India to the single most touristy area of the country, Goa. With a couple of stops in between.

After taking a night train, which I will describe a few posts from now, we arrived at our first stop, Bangalore. Bangaluru, as it's supposed to be called now is the capital of Karnataka, and is known as the silicon valley of India. We arrived early in the morning to a quiet, clean and modern (all relative) city. Streets are wide, young women dress largely in western clothes and shops abound.

We stuck to the downtown area, with posh hotels, modern coffee shops and shopping malls. Of course there were still shoe-repair guys sitting on the sidewalk, fancy sari shops and a million motorcycles everywhere. We were still in India after all!

Outside the government buildings was a building full of typewriters and typists who make their living typing documents for the illiterate and those without access to computers.

For meals we visited the classic places like the Indian Coffee House which has waiters who wear old-fashioned turbans and have the most refined manners. Despite these genteel details, the restaurant is basic, with the usual Indian shabbiness. Good coffee though! We had lunch in the refuge of an A/C hotel where the female figure on the washroom door was wearing a sari. For dinner we went to Koshi's which is known as the hangout of Bangalore's intellectual elite. Also nothing fancy, it was full of people holding heated debates and had pictures of Bangalore from the 20's.

After dodging a fight in the street and a long auto ride through the rush-hour traffic, we collected our luggage at the train station (that's why there aren't any pictures, I just couldn't carry my camera around all day in the heat) and waited in the women's room until our second night train arrived. While brushing my teeth in the bathroom there, I saw my first Indian rat. A nice big fellow.

Tomorrow I promise lots of pictures of our next destination, Hampi.

Two IVs on the Peach Tree

My aunt and uncle have a goofy, little (relatively) Rottwieler puppy named Max, who has been sick for the last few days. He threw up once every hour for more than 24 hours straight, poor guy. By this morning he was so dehydrated that he could hardly move.

The local vet came this morning to give him an emergency IV because without one, Max probably would have died. Actually a large animal vet, the doctor luckily knew enough about treating dogs to diagnose a type of viral infection that should clear up in about 5 days. The vet told us that he'd spent most of yesterday doing a post mortem on a horse in a nearby village.

Max got his IV outside between the cottage and the house under a peach tree on the kitchen table (covered with plastic). He was hooked up to two drips, saline and electrolytes that are still hanging from the tree outside. He will probably need another IV or two in the next few days.

Max, a very strong 10 month-old, was too weak to protest when we tied a rope around his mouth for a muzzle, rolled him onto an old blanket and put him on the table. He barely twitched when the vet struggled to find a vein. Throughout the half hour that he was hooked to the IV he barely opened his eyes. The vet was assisted by his driver, whom he'd used for five years, and who now acts as a self-taught assistant. The driver held Max's leg, the one with the IV, and let the doctor know when Max had gotten the specified amount of fluid. That driver has a pretty sweet gig, he has a regular customer AND he gets to assist with all kinds of vet work, from horse autopsies to dog IVs.

Kodai

Here are some pictures that I've taken in and near Kodai.

An unknown flower taken with a friend's awesome macro lens. (above)

A pear blossom.

Kodai Lake and boat club.

Tiles... I like the symmetry.

A Dr Seussian plant.

Cool sign.

A spice? plantation.

Kodai Meat Market

WARNING: Contains graphic content

There is a tiny meat market in Kodai that butchers cow and goat. Hidden away down a short alley from the main road, are four or five stalls that will sell you any part of the animals that you want.

Not for the faint of heart, the market is well.. graphic. I think every meat eater in the world should go to one of these though. And if you can't stomach it- you should stop eating meat. Period.

This is no meat section of the grocery store. The last time I went, there was a goat tied up, waiting for it's imminent death. It was unconcernedly eating garbage which I think made the scene that much worse. He looked so innocent.

By far the worst part is the smell: the smell of death. Hot and acrid, blood pools here and there. Severed hooves with a bit of the leg still attached are propped up as if on display. I watched a guy chop up four of those for my aunt and uncle's dog, Max. To the left of me was the skinned hide of the latest cow to meet its end. Destined for someone's leather belt or shoes, the hide just looked like a deflated cow, as long as you didn't look too close. I found that I had a morbid fascination with trying to figure out which part used to be the neck, the nose, the stomach. I also saw the skull; 99% cleaned of meat, it looked like the ones we examine in biology class.

Let's just say I prefer the vege market!

The Places In Between

Here are some photos from through the windshield and in little places we stopped on our way through the state.

A typical ox cart. This is on the highway.

Decoration on a building's front gate. People usually use just the banana leaf and a bit of the stem, this one is the entire plant, bananas and all!

You see a few of these around. Probably given by the government to people who can't pedal a normal bike because of disease or accident.

Rice straw, fresh from the fields.

A minaret under construction, they are usually painted green and white.

To switch religions, a gopuram (entrance tower to a Hindu temple) in the process of getting a fresh coat of paint.

A lorry navigating its way through a fine set of Dindigul potholes.

Typical traffic through Dindigul, a small industrial city.