Dec 2007

Sorry friends, this post is back dated. Clearly it has taken me quite a while to put this blog post together. **FYI - Blog posts will be more frequent as soon as my travel writer extraordinaire (Andrea) is on the scene**

There are far too many "must see" temples and villages to experience for one mere mortal. Anticipating its immensity, I intentionally reserved large blocks of the calendar to India. Yet I still have the undeniable feeling that I'm merely surveying the tip of a vast iceberg. BUT, I'm not finished yet!

I experienced my first sleeper car on the overnight train from Goa back down to Bangalore. I shared my compartment with two young Indian couples. They were nice, but when they learned I was American, their courteous small talk turned into a relentless barrage of prying questions. It seemed impossible to quench their thirst for knowledge. To them, any question was fair game. From the itemized purchase prices of my camera equipment, to the intimate details of my romantic life. I didn't divulge all my secrets, but it was admittedly amusing to see their eyes bulge out of their skulls while learning about anything American. The Q&A inquisition went on into the night, until alas I had to raise my white flag of surrender and retreat to the overhead bunk.

I ended up spending Christmas day traveling - by train and by bus. It hardly seemed like Christmas at all in Hindu land. The scant evidence of the holiday amounted to a 5-foot inflatable St. Nick in the hotel lobby, and something resembling a Christmas tree at the Catholic church across the street. But thankfully, by the miracle of Skype, I was able to call and talk to some loved ones back home. That in itself was the best gift I could have gotten.

So I have criss-crossed back through Bangalore and over to the southeast state of Tamil Nadu. I have been drawn to the small, unpretentious, yet spiritually potent town of Tiruvanamalai (Tiru for short). It's known as something of a hidden gem in small circles of travelers and pilgrims. I found Tiru to be especially beguiling. So much so, that I decidedly extended my stay (ahh the beauty of planning itineraries on the fly). Chanting of sacred scriptures rise up and fill the air above the local ashram. Mysterious sadhus clad in orange garb rove the area seeking alms. The town is also home to one of the largest temples in India. All is overshadowed by the venerated Mt. Arunachula, where it's an auspicious act to circumambulate the base and visit all 9 of the temples along the way. Scrambling up the blessed mountain requires that you remove your shoes (a compulsory sign of respect), and if you comply you can visit a cave where a great swami (Ramana Maharshi) lived and meditated for 19 years. I must admit however, that one of my favorite rituals was visiting the Manna Cafe each day for breakfast and dinner... the best food I've had so far in all of India!

Beyond Tiru, I bussed over to the coast of the Bay of Bengal. The Lonely Planet, aka travel bible, spoke very highly of an artists' enclave by the name of Mamallapuram. Although it's on the coast, it's not a beach destination. It's more renown for it's rock carvings. It seemed nearly each and every native had a hammer and was chipping away at a small piece of soapstone or a monumental piece of granite. They were extremely skilled in the art, which no doubt was handed down to each subsequent generation within their families. Also, a fortunate stroke of serendipity landed me in Mamallapuram during a traditional Indian dance festival. I scored a front row seat where I gaped at the mesmerizing display of dance moves and goddess-like costumes (see short video clip below).

From there I hired a car to get to the Madras airport and said goodbye to South India. The plan was to rendezvous in Delhi with my new traveling companion... Andrea: my luminous albeit jet-lagged girlfriend.

**Note - as I write this, an enormous camel with jingle bells and colorful regalia just cruised by (quite swiftly I might add) the door of my internet cafe. Wow, this is definitely not Colorado.**

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After some deliberation, I decided to head for the beaches of Goa for a few days of sun and surf. I took a bucking bronco bus ride through six hours of winding mountain roads littered with potholes. Bruised and battered, I eventually arrived in the coastal city of Mangalore (not be be confused with Bangalore) and caught a train up the west coast on the Arabian Sea. I was stunned when I finally rolled into the quaint beach town of Agonda at the southern tip Goa. The beach was so pristine and yet so unpopulated. It was a sweeeeeet reward for the past day and half of traveling. I checked into a basic beach side hut and spent the next two days exploring the beach and the village area.

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I took a short hiatus from traveling and checked into an authentic, ayurvedic retreat center for a few days. It was just outside of Mysore, surrounded by palm trees and sugar cane fields. Sort of off the grid, but extremely beautiful and peaceful. A welcomed experience after all of the recent hustle and bustle. For those of you who haven’t heard of ayurveda, it is the ancient complex science of indian herbal medicine and healing. It originated in India thousands of years ago. Traditional ayurvedic practitioners can work some serious holistic wonders. A 10,000 mile tune-up was just what the body needed.
Afterwards, the plan was to visit a wildlife national park, but the peak tourist season choked off all travel opportunities to that region. So I had to settle for something else. But I was at least able to see some elephants, and I didn’t have to go to a zoo to do it.
From there I paid a visit to one of India’s Tibetan refugee colonies - Bylakuppe. In the matter of a couple kilometers, the familiar Indian countryside dissolved into a haven of maroon and yellow robed monks. Bylakuppe’s crown jewel is the Namdroling Monastary which features a golden temple with none other than a 55-foot, gold-plated Buddha sitting inside. I spent the afternoon ducking under awnings and into temples trying avoid the persistent deluge of rainfall. There was plenty to see and do, but without a pre-arranged permit, foreigners aren’t allowed to stay overnight, which meant I couldn’t linger too long. There will be more opportunities to visit some Tibetan villages next month in the north, so I wasn’t too terribly disappointed.

A wise person once told me that 6 months of traveling is like 10 years of living. I'm truly coming to appreciate the validity of that statement. It seems that so many rich, new experiences are happening by the moment in this foreign land. Only a week has transpired on the conventional calendar since my last blog post, but it seems like I've had a month's worth of experiences. Not the least of which was the dreaded Kali's revenge, aka traveller's sickness. I somehow managed to get it just 7 days out of the gate. Not sure what or where I ate/drank, but whatever it was reared its ugly head and knocked flat on my a$#!. It made the traveling experience all the more authentic I suppose. On the up side, I managed to bounce back in under 48 hours, without having to take any harsh antibiotic recourse.

I ditched the nauseating tumult of the big city (Bangalore) about 4 days ago. The all pervasive diesel fumes and traffic horns got old pretty quickly. Some traveling friends and I (did I mention that my mother has joined me for a portion of the journey?) all hired a car and driver to take us about 70 miles southwest to Mysore. Home of the regal Mysore Palace, among other redeeming qualities. Driving on the highway here is more gut wrenching than driving in the city, due to the speed factor. Imagine weaving through bicyclists, tractors, oxen and oncoming traffic on your local 2 lane road... while going 60 mph. It's a thrill, to say the least.

There is a lot to see and do here in the surrounding area. We ventured 2 hours outside of Mysore through some wonderful rural/farmland to the little village of Sravanabelagola. There is a free standing 70 ft. Jain sculpture carved out of one piece of granite (looks like a standing Buddha) perched high upon the village hilltop. It's purportedly very sacred and definitely worth seeing. My favorite part, however, was on the way back to Mysore. We stopped off at a roadside temple run by a beautiful little rural family. After observing the short worship, we socialized and naturally I shot a few photos. They were as thrilled to see the images (on my LCD screen) as I was. Each of their faces carried a bright, joyful quality that is rare to see back in the states. We all had a lot of fun. I got their address so that I could mail them a few printed photos from the post office in Mysore.

We saw another highly revered, rock carving; a giant, black, cow... glistening in the late day sun, smothered in ghee (clarified butter). All hail the exalted "Nandi Bull." I'm starting to get a little peeved at the **aggressive** soliciting directed at foreigners. Sooner or later, one begins to ask, is this truly a holy place? Or a tourist trap? Perhaps I've grown just a little jaded. I suppose nearly all of us participate in some form of capitalism or another. This particular form just happens to be extremely irritating.

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