Wanderlust

After the 20+-hour hike from The Coldest City on Earth (err, Denver) to Delhi, I’m happy to say that I’m hanging out with Seth and Sandy at the wonderfully named Hotel Cottage Yes Please. It is not warm in Delhi. In fact, our room, which resembles a garishly styled mausoleum, turns into a bit of a fridge at night. Down jackets during the day. This is the first time I’ve been in a 3rd-world city that is less than 90 degrees.

Delhi is vast. It smells acrid, sounds like car horns, motors, rapid-fire Hindi conversations, and barking dogs, and feels like a messy connect-the-dots picture. Here, a shanty town; there, a sprawling ambassador’s mansion; power lines hanging like spider webs atop alleys littered with cow pies, music, food, foreigners, locals, tinsel, Hanuman…everything is everywhere here. Picture 22 million people and enough urban sprawl to make Los Angeles shudder.

We’re not so much touristing here–though there are fantastic old colonial buildings and museums to be seen–as we are taking care of business, like buying alarm clocks and getting Sandy’s flight sorted out. We’re hiring a car and driver to make the 3 1/2-hour trip to Agra tomorrow. Today will be all about massages, haircuts, and food…

Thiruvanamalai Saddhu at Shiva Temple

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.

Making friends on the train.

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.

Thiruvanamalai and Mt. Arunachula.

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 Thiruvanamalai (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.

Arunachula temple map

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.

Thiruvanamalai locals

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

Thiruvanamalai jeweler

display of dance moves and goddess-like costumes.

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.**

Shiva Temple elephant blessing

Back alley of Thiruvanamalai.

Traditional Indian dance fest.

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.