Wanderlust

One of Goa's hidden gems

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.

Dubare elephant + mahout

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.

Sravanabelagola pilgrims

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.

Sravanabelagola village

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.

Roadside temple family

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 just a ruse to attract tourism dollars? Perhaps I’ve grown just a little jaded. I suppose we all participate in some form of capitalism or another. This particular form just happens to be extremely irritating.

All hail the exhalted Nandi Bull!

Roadside temple family

Roadside temple family

Brand new, tech-industry sky scrapers

After 17 hours of suspended animation, I touched down in Bangalore (aka Bengaluru) at approximately 6:00 AM local time. My familiar stateside rhythms have been officially turned upside down. I’ve been teleported 12 hours into the next day and spit out into what could very easily be another planet… INDIA. Over 2.3 billion strong! She has welcomed me into her arms, so what is left to do other than dive in?

The taxi ride to my hotel confirmed that the stories I heard about kamakazee Indian drivers were true. A cacophony of car horns and 2-stroke engine exhaust filled the atmosphere. Albeit, the adrenaline rush was invigorating. We narrowly avoided pedestrians, motorcycles and buses by less than 6 inches.

Drivers stopped at a red light - a rare sight.

We weaved and swerved and throttled through so called intersections… Places where multiple directions of traffic intersect, but without the benefit of stop lights or traffic signals of any kind.

After checking into my hotel, I headed out for some exploring. It’s definitely an unusual experience when every single detail of sensory input is new and exotic.

I suppose that is what makes traveling so much fun, right? Being the white, western dude, I managed to attract quite a few curious looks. Here, the taxi drivers hail you.

Everyone is a jay walker

Quite persistently too I might add. I didn’t get very far before a stalking auto-rickshaw driver marked me as a target. He waved me down, repeatedly. I insisted that I wanted to walk and stretch my legs, and the enthusiastic little man just wouldn’t take no for an answer. He followed me until I relented. I eventually jumped in… What could be better than a city tour and an white-knuckled roller coaster ride all in one? Plus, he promised me some fine local dining.

It was all good. The food, the drive-by sightseeing and the auto-rickshaw NASCAR race. Thankfully I returned to my hotel alive to tell about it. Now for a little R&R/jet lag recovery.