Random Thoughts from Bill's perspective

Greetings from a guest contributor …… (That's me, Bill !)

Reading Clarissa's blog causes me to reflect …… What is it about India that has me so intrigued?

Certainly, it is not the "major sites". They are frequently underwhelming and/or repetitive.

The temples are crazy neon smorgasbord of Indian gods, including the elephant – headed Ganesh…. but they tend to be remarkably similar after a while.

As an Anglophile, I adore the British Raj railway stations and government buildings… but, again, they are few and repetitive.

There is no Statute of Liberty, no Bourbon Street, no Chinatown, no Disneyland, no Grand boat rides, no Times Square or Piccadilly Circus, Louvre or Met Museums …… few “must– see” sights.

So what is it? It is the random, daily details that make the experience so compelling.

The appeal is the "small" sights.... the small, bare-bones, metal, kiddie carousel in the middle of the beach… that is powered by a hand crank…… and the proprietor waving you over for a ride.

The sport/thrill/aggravation of negotiating for an auto rickshaw ride … then sitting back during the scenic ride and realizing you've been arguing over ten cents!! And then the driver short - changing you at the end of the ride!!

Two proper traffic lanes filled five “lanes” of horn-honking car, motorcycle, moped, and auto – rickshaw traffic, moving at different speeds but somehow managing to flow smoothly.

Walking Bose Street in Chennai, navigating through old ladies selling garlands of flowers, honking motorcycles, the occasional cow, bizarre groupings of shops (car steering wheels, anybody?), occasional beggar, and more… an assault on all the senses of hearing, smell, and sight. Exhilarating!

Several times a day someone comes up to you and asks you, ”What is your country?”, followed sometimes by “What is your good name?” (the literal meaning of ”surname”!).  Always followed by, “what do you think of India?”. Then they walk away. Unlike Egypt, they are not trying to sell you anything.

It is the incredible variety of faces ….. easily 1/3 of the faces you see on the street  (any street, any time!) are etched with character worthy of a major photo on your wall.

Standing with my backpack on the platform in Delhi’s main railway station (previous trip), being bumped from behind, turning around, … it is a cow wandering on the platform. 

The doors in almost all railway cars are left wide open during the ride …  which makes sense, because they frequently don’t fully stop at the various stations. You sometimes need a running start to jump on board.  Hanging out the door with the wind in your face watching life go by is one of the highlights.

A place so intense that either you love it, you hate it, or have a love/hate relationship.  There is no ”It’s okay” middle ground.  Much like New York City… which explains why we live here !!

Random Post 2

By the time we were set to leave India, I had had enough of it.  Not that there was any one thing that weighed on my psyche, but the noise, dust, crowds, and the ever present tang of urine was beginning to take its toll on me.  I was happy to be at the airport and glad to get on our flight to the UK.  

As we spent time telling Anna and Andy about our trip, and filling in Lyn and Alan as well, I began to feel a bit nostalgic for the street scenes.  I commented to Anna, that when I next washed my hair, I'd be getting rid of the last of India.  That saddened me.

Bill has always said that as one takes a plane away from India, you start conversations with your seat mate and discuss how you were glad to see the end of your Indian experience.  As the plane nears its destination, however, you are starting to think about your next trip to the sub continent.  

It took more than a plane ride, but as I am writing this now, I am wistful about my time in Tamil Nadu.  In its totality, the trip was eye opening, breath taking, (both literal and figuratively) as well as a journey into a cuisine that I had familiarity but only with the North Indian foods.  My taste buds still long for Idli, Sambar, Dosa, and Dal Makhani.  I can keep these close to my heart by preparing them often, but my versions will not come with the noise, dust, crowds, tang, and cows that wander the streets in Tamil Nadu.

Perhaps I am ready to venture into northern India.  Only time will tell.  The calmness of the south was very soothing as were the gentle ways of the people that live there.  The chatter of car horns and motorbike horns were never in anger, but were notification that someone else was near by.  

I also miss the call to prayer that echoed 5 times a day in most of the towns and cities that we visited.  It served, for me, as a reminder that I should take out time to be thankful for the opportunities that I am lucky enough to have and take advantage of.  My life would not be this way but for Bill.  While it is not pray time, I want to thank him for his never ending generosity, kindness, and thoughtfulness.  I don't know where I would be without his mellowing influence. 

Saturday, Feb 10 and Sunday Feb 11

As our time in India is coming to a close, we are scrambling to get all of the "sights/sites" in before we leave on Feb. 11.

Today, we opted to go to Saint Thomas Cathedral which is the one on the eastern coast, as opposed to the one on the Mount.  

We wanted to take a suburban train again.   We trek to Egmont Station, buy our tickets and head over to platform 10.  To get to where we want to go, we need to take the train north 2 stops to change to the appropriate south bound train.  All goes well.  I'm in the ladies only car, and Bill is hanging out the door again.  

We spoke to the train station master before getting on the north bound train, and he said to cross over to the farthest platform to get the south bound train.  Which is exactly what we do.

After about 5 minutes, an announcement comes on that the south bound trains are being canceled until 4 pm.  Perfect.  We now need a plan B.  We exit the station and find a tuk tuk to take us to the Cathedral.

We are a bit confused because by now, we understand Chennai geography, and we seem to be heading in the wrong direction.  Perfect.  But, it does turn out that using maps.me we can see what the driver is doing and relax into the ride.  We go through neighborhoods that we have never been in or driven through.  I am enthralled by the street life.  

We get to the Cathedral.  It was founded by the Portuguese when they ruled south asia.  There is a large girl's school trip there at that moment.  We troop into the sanctuary after them.

This is the first time either Bill or I have seen a fully clothed Jesus on the cross.

A couple of young men took our photos in the choir chairs.  These were the MOST uncomfortable chairs I have ever sat on.  The arm rest, which our photographer insisted we put our arms on, were so high it was obviously not meant as an arm rest!  In India, you need to take off your footwear when entering holy places.  That's why we are without shoes or socks for that matter.

After visiting the sanctuary, and headed into the gift shop, because, what do kitsch hunters do?  Nada, there were no glow in the dark Jesus' or other such items.  Bill is regretting not buying the glow in the dark Mother Theresa at the other St. Thomas on the Mount.

We were told that there are only 3 churches on the spots where an apostle died, St. Peters at the Vatican, Campostelo in Spain, and this one.  There was a crypt/chapel across from the rear of the church that was more of a meditative place.  It was a long narrow space with pews on each side and a central aisle to the altar.  It was cool and quiet.  Much needed at this point in the day.

After we left the church, I was getting hangry, so what else is new???  Bill spied this Kati roll place.  In we went.  The rolls were quite tasty.  A kind of Indian burrito of sorts.  Stuffed with the veggie item of your choice.  I think it was opened recently and catered mostly to school kids and young people looking for a quick bite.  He offered us some homemade ice cream, it was paan flavored!  A strange taste sensation.  Sweet, savory, fennely/anise-y, and creamy.  

We wandered around a little bit longer and took a tuk tuk back to the Pandian Hotel.  We retired into the bar and had a couple of Kingfishers and, I believe, went up to bed as we had to catch a 7 am flight to London the next morning.  

In other posts I referred to the light switches in Indian hotel rooms.  Here is a picture of one.  Now, imagine another 3 or 4 of these multi-panels and you can see our problems.  No idea which switch turns on which light in the room.  The one you rock may not turn on any light in your room.

This panel was next to Bill's side of the bed.  The rheostat knobs controlled the speed of the two ceiling fans 

This panel was near the door to the room.  These rockers may turn on the bathroom, over bed lights, over head lights, lights over the mirror in the bathroom, etc.  No idea!

Another interesting quirk of Indian hotels was the toilet rolls.  They were miniscule.  Good for one go maybe 2.  

We didn't quite get it when we checked into hotels that the bellhop would ask how long we were staying, then return with 2, 3, or 4 rolls depending on the length of your stay.  Invariably, this would be insufficient and we would need to get more at some point.  Even rolls sold in stores were on the tiny side.  Must be an Indian thing.

We awoke at 3 am in order to be ready to get our 4:30am cab to the airport.  Cab ride was uneventful and we arrived at the airport just as the sun was starting to make its appearance.  At that hour, the airport was surprisingly busy.  I guess there were lots of international flights going out.

We checked in, found the gate, boarded, and landed at Heathrow around 2 pm GMT.  What a shock in terms of the weather:  rainy, cold, chilling.  No longer 80 F sunny and humid.  Could already feel my shoulders starting to lock up!  

We holed up at a Costa coffee in the airport drinking coffee trying to figure out how to get cash and which tube line/s we would take to get to Greenwich where our niece lived.

We arrived at Anna and Andy's beautiful apartment around 5:30 pm.  Let we go in reverse here.  We exited the tube station at North Greenwich and because we didn't have wifi, we needed a cab.  We find the black cab queue and got into the first one.  We take off, and are cruising around for what seemed to be too long a time.  The cabbie turns down Bannister (?) street and is driving back and forth looking for the address.  We finally ask him if he wouldn't mind calling Anna or Andy to find out where we should get out.  Back and forth we go again, and finally Bill says, we'll just get out and figure it out on foot.  We knew we were close.  We find the building, the entrance is off the street and just steps from the Thames Walk.  We ring the flat.....ring, ring, buzz, in we go into the lobby.  We walk over to the elevator lobby which is divided from the entrance by a door that needs to be buzzed in or you use a key fob.  Elevator door entrance locked.  Back to entrance buzzer, buzz, buzz, buzz, no response.  Another couple exits the building, and we dash into the lobby again.  Eventually, there is another couple going to the elevator.  We follow like sneak thieves.  We let them go up, and then realize that we need the key fob to use the elevator.  We didn't even know what floor their flat was on!

Bill exits and heads to the nearest pub to try to call Anna again.  He returns, no better luck.  So we head to that pub, the Pelton Arms, and sit down for a glass of wine and beer.  For us, it is about midnight and we still have these gigantic packs on our backs...  Andy arrives and is quite sheepish, as he said he never heard the door bell and had been waiting at home for our arrival.  We are so grateful, he came to the pub to rescue us!

Andy had thoughtfully prepared a beef stew for dinner and all was right with the world by the time Anna arrived home.

And thus ends our Indian adventures.

I was truly sorry to see it end.  

Friday Feb 9, Chennai

Soooo, we are back in Chennai and looking for things to see and do.  We settle on taking a suburban train a couple of stops and going up to Saint Thomas Mount to see the church and views.  This is reputed to be the site of St. Thomas' death.  What's confusing is that there are 2 St. Thomas churches that are relatively close to each other.  One in the southwestern suburbs (where we are going today) and one one the southeastern coast (we will hit that one later).

The train ride was quite uneventful.  We were able to get on and comfortably find room to stand.  Bill was soooo excited.  He loves Indian trains.  You can tell by his expression.

We hired a tuk tuk to take us up to the very top of St. Thomas Mount.  This was a very good thing because we just kept climbing up  and up in the little tuk tuk.  We swerved past a construction site that appeared to be laying piping below sidewalks and up against the businesses and homes.  Up we continued, going round and round until we finally reach a gate where the tuk tuk driver asks if he should wait, we say no because we didn't know how long we would be.  So off he goes, and we are hit up with a 10 rupee "parking" fee, even though we did not park.  It's India, Jake!  

Climbing up the hill we take in the vista over all of Chennai before us.  I did not realize that the city had so many parks and green areas.  There was a bit of a haze, but it did not obstruct the views.

It was a very hot day and I was desperately looking for a shady place.  On the campus of this shrine there was a gigantic banyan tree around which was built a circular bench.  There were many people taking advantage of the shade, and we sat and drank water for a while.  

I am not sure what I was expecting, I suppose a large church, instead, there was a small chapel which was AC'd.  YEAH!!!  Within the chapel were several stools and behind a glass barrier was an altar dedicated to St. Thomas.   The space was quiet and was truly a space for people to pray.

The little chapel, the item at the base of the altar in the middle of the floor is a bible in a stand.  People enter the chapel and will use it as they pray and then return it to the stand.

 Mother Theresa

Pope JP II

We wandered the grounds some more and found the "church".  It was a narrow space with pews on one side.  

As we left this space, we saw an ice cream stand and stopped to get some.  As we are unwrapping our cones, up walks a large cow.  

We finish our cones as the cow ambles off and we start to head down to the entrance gate.  We now realize that it is hot, really hot, and it is a very long walk down hill and around and around and tuk tuk regret sets in.  We see a driver waiting in the shade and I ask if he is available, no he is waiting for people who are in the cemetery.  Sigh, we continue down the hill.  Where the hill hits a main road, of sorts, we get a miracle.  A tuk tuk is running by and we flag him down and head to the train station.

We decide that we will take the train a couple of stops (2) to explore another area that Bill wants to visit.  I rode in the women only car and Bill got his hanging on the train fix.  We exited the train on to a street that was jammed with people.

You could hardly move and it did not let up.  On each side of the street were stores selling clothing, snacks, jewelry, all sorts of stuff with the wares spilling out into the cramped street and sidewalks.

This heaving mass did not let up when we found the main street.  About now, I am super crabby and really need to get something to eat, but of course, being hangry, I can't figure out that I am really, really hungry.  We are looking for a particular silk shop, and can't find it.  We go to a restaurant that is on the main drag.  It didn't have AC, but had powerful fans.  Didn't matter, I was happy.

The fascination for me was the table behind Bill.  2 men were sitting there.  The one man I could see was quite fancifully dressed.  A lush paisley printed nehru jacket with a red pocket square.  Around his neck was a large, heavy necklace with a medallion hanging from it.  On his right wrist was another large and flashy bracelet.  I then noticed his pants were bright red, matching his pocket square.  He was having an intense conversation with the other man, gesticulating and jangling his jewelry.  I thought that it looked like a lovers quarrel, but could not be sure.  Eventually, they got up to leave, and the red pants, were really like a longhi worn like pantaloons.  They were open around his shins and looked comfortable, but too heavy for the weather, especially when paired with that nehru jacket!  Taking a photo would have created an international incident, so I let it be!

After lunch, we went into several different silk shops as I was looking for some scarves.  It was like being in an episode of "Are You Being Served" as I would be escorted to a particular gentlemen at a particular counter.  He would then reach into a cabinet and pull out a box and would display the various scarves with a lackluster flourish.  The scarves were really beautiful and quite inexpensive. 

Under the flyover outside these shops was an impromptu bazaar.  Selling all sorts of things, socks, underwear, bracelets, hair ribbons, human hair hanks, sun glasses, etc.  We wandered around a bit and had a good laugh at some of the items.

We decide to head east to a particular cocktail bar.  Along the way, we thought that we would see another bazaar, but my guess was that the shops on either side of the road constituted a bazaar.  

One of the difficulties of navigating in India is that roads change names frequently and numbering on the road is not consistent.  We are trying to find this particular bar and we finally do, only to be told that it is not open yet.  Across the street was another bar.  We ran over there.  The name of this bar was 10 Downing, an homage to England, but it is not on Downing Street, or anything like England.  

We settle in and order our beers, we are told it is happy hour and that there is a special on beers, so we take advantage of that.  I start watching the TV which is just off to my left.  It was very difficult to follow.  I am used to the crawl on CNN or other stations, but India does it one better, well 3 or 4 times better.  The news reader is reduced to a smaller square and below her are not 1, not 2, but 3 crawls which have nothing to do with what she is reporting on.  On the right hand side of the screen is another information rectangle, I think it was either stock or weather.  I was so overwhelmed at trying to figure out which crawl related to the main story, I was getting a headache!  Decided to work on the puzzles in the newspaper.  I'm starting the suduko, and the waiter comes over and tells me that I have made a mistake.  I thought it was a bit cheeky, but then I see that he was correct.

About an hour or so later, we wander over to the original choice. The entrance is on the side of a hotel.  We go up 2 flights and find ourselves in an empty bar, well almost empty, there was one gentlemen in a booth.  We sit at the bar and decide on our drinks.  The bartender looked about 15, but made up for it with enthusiasm.  I ordered and pointed to the Manhattan cocktail.  Bill gets a beer.  I am watching the bartender start to make a cocktail.  There is vodka, and fruit juices, and assorted things going into the shaker....I'm thinking someone else, unseen, has ordered this.  It is with a bit of disappointment as he puts the drink in front of me.  He was so earnest, I couldn't say, dude, that's a cosmopolitan, not a manhattan.  I drank it.  

As the evening progresses, he is juggling limes then moves to empty beer bottles, and then beer bottles with shaker bottoms.  A floor show with our drinks.  Again, he was so earnest and clearly enjoying himself, we were charmed.  At one point, he offers Bill a taste of an Indian whiskey.  Bill declines, but I jump in and say, I'll try it.  He gives me a small taste, complimentary, ma'am.  It was really good.  It was Royal Challenge.  I had two additional shots.  Really, really tasty.  I subsequently found out has a rum base and only 12% is whiskey.  I was trying to find it on the web, no go.

We toddle off to the Pandian to sleep it off.  

Wednesday, November 1

Little did we realize that we were safer in Israel than in NYC.  We heard about the guy who drove into people on the bike lane and were shocked.  I began noticing how many soldiers there are around in the cities in Israel and just how many machine guns are casually strung from strong shoulders.  I felt safe, which was a strange realization as I don't like guns, and am deathly afraid of them.

We had 2 tours booked, one of Old Yafo and one of the history of Yafo.  The first tour started from the clock tower at 1, so we had a little bit of time to explore the Tel Aviv market.  See array of spices.

We walked back to the center of Yafo to catch the tour.  We started out winding our way along the cobbled streets, seeing sights that we had seen the day before and new ones.  We headed up the hill, winding up quaint narrow streets where people live.  We stopped outside one apartment built right into the wall which was opposite a crumbling wall and surrounded by art.  Turned out it was a famous artist and these were some of his work.  Art was a general thread through our visit thus far.  Art for art's sake, architecture, decorative

work, sly graffiti and posh art galleries.  In Tel Aviv, the art felt integral to the city, in Jerusalem, the art seemed more contrived and less organic.  Haifa, we will see later on was a further extension of art as breath.

At the top of the hill, was an old church and fantastic view of the Mediterranean Sea beyond.

The view from the top should not be missed.  It’s 180 degrees of sea splendor with skyline view of Tel Aviv to the north!  

After wandering down we came to a kiosk offering a free video of “Old Yafo”.  Inside was one of the guys we met from Sandemans in Jerusalem.  We went into the exhibit and watched a cheesy, tongue-in-cheek video about the roots of Yafo.  We wandered around the exhibit to see the artifacts on display and left.  

We headed off to a well reviewed restaurant across the square named __________.  We were “early”for dinner and without a reservation.  We were given a great table up against the window overlooking the water and the sunset.  Truly a beautiful sight. The meal was excellent.  Certainly worthy of its high ratings.

This was the view from our table.  These were __________ rocks, as legend goes, she was saved from certain death by ______________.

 Bill is looking happy as we look over the menu

We wandered back along the sea wall to our apt, and found this photo frame and couldn’t resist taking the touristic shot or two!

2/7 and 2/8 Wednesday and Thursday Madurai to Chennai - overnight train

Yahoo, Indian brekkies again.  This place, the PurpleTree, has only toasts as a Western breakfast, but they have wonderful idly and dosa as well as eggs on the Indian side.  At breakfast, we met two English women, Clare and Tricia, who were wondering how we got milk coffee and they just got black.  Bill explained to them that you had to ask for milk coffee, not coffee with milk.  Don’t know why it couldn’t be understood, but you were guaranteed to get black coffee if you asked the other way around.  

Ever helpful Bill, invited them over to the table so we could give them some hints about Madurai.  They got our Madurai chunks from Lonely Planet and Rough Guide, as we were heading back to Chennai at night.  We made plans to meet for dinner OR we would leave a note under their door regarding what might be different.

After breakfast, Bill and I just hung around the room reading, getting ourselves packed up and organized for our trip.  

We realized that meeting at 6 would be cutting our timetable a bit close as the train was earlier than we thought. We had assumed it was around 10, but it was 8:30.  We left a note under their door explaining that a 6 pm dinner would be too late, and we were heading over to the Chentoor around 4.

We packed up, checked out just before 4.  This is a good thing as the Chentoor doesn’t open their rooftop bar/restaurant before 4 pm.  I ordered the chicken coconut curry.  Really good.  Bill had mushroom 65 and some other paneer dish, which wasn’t very good.  Around 5:30 or 6 Tricia and Clare show up and we ask how their visit to the temple went.

Here is our last night selfie cast:  Bill, Clare, Tricia, and me.  These were two very intrepid ladies.  They were staying  in an AirBnB outside of Pondicherry and had come into Madurai to see the temple before heading back to Pondy.

This is the view from the Chentoor looking south.  There are rules in the city that nothing can be higher than the Temple.  Hence all the low rise buildings.

If you ever wondered what a sleeper train was like, worry no more.  

 The cabins have 2 “bunk” type beds on each side of the compartment.  With a small table between the 2 bottom beds.  You given sheets, blanket, pillows and a towel.  At the start of our journey, there were 3 of us in the cabin.  

Bill and the Indian gentlemen both took upper bunks, and I had a lower.  At this point in time, the 4th bunk was empty.  The 3of us sat around and talked before making up our beds and hitting the sack.  This guy worked for IBM and lived in NJ.  It was a pleasant discussion touching ever so briefly on local politics and not national.  He helped me pull the “bed” part down.  This was the seat back we were leaning on while we were talking.  I made the bed and hopped in.  I put my glasses on the little side table, in fact, you can see them in the photo.  Lights were turned out and we commenced to try to sleep.  The train never got up a steady rocking motion, it was a bit herky jerky and not very soothing.  

Around midnight, the compartment door opens and the conductor and another man are standing there.  The man asks if there is an unoccupied cabin that he can have.  The door closes.  A few minutes later, the door reopens and a man enters with luggage.  There is much bumping into things, expected, noise while you try to find space for your suitcase.  Perfectly reasonable.  Then he knocks into the little table and my glasses go flying across the floor.  He settles on his bed, pulls out his phone and proceeds to have a long conversation with someone at quite a loud volume.  It wasn’t a hi, I made it call, but a how you doing, hows the kids, what about grandma, etc.  (Of course, this is not the exact content of the call because I don’t speak Tamil.). It sure sounded like a mundane phone call that could have been made in the hallway.

We arrive in Chennai abound 5 am, and we sling on our packs and head to Hotel Pandian which was on Kennet Lane, which is directly across the street from Egmore station.  Perfect!  We check in, pay, and fall to sleep for a few hours.

Bill wakes up to get our laundry to the hotel in order for it be done within 24 hours.  

Our laundry list!  The hotel charges by the piece and we were so in need of clean clothes that we didn’t care what the price was.  

Around 9:30 we headed down to breakfast, which was included, and I got my idly on.  They also had vada and sambar.  I was so happy.  The coffee was milk coffee but presweetened and very sweet.  They served it in tiny espresso sized cups, so we were constantly at the coffee thermos filling our cups.  We met Lindsay, an intrepid English woman who has been on the road since June.  I couldn’t help but admire her gumption and fortitude.  Don’t know if I could do that.  She was spending 3 months in India and doing the entire country.  Good on her!

After breakfast we decided to get some culture and walked over to the Municipal Museum.  This museum is famous for its bronzes of gods and goddesses.  We breezed through that part being ignorant as well as overwhelmed with the sameness of the statuary.  As we left this part of the display were ran into a huge group of school kids on a school trip.  They were all trying to practice their English by yelling hello and shaking our hands.  We felt like rock starts, running down the rows of kids giving them hi 5’s or down low’s.  It made up for the lack of air conditioning.

We wandered into other parts of the museum and were fascinated by the skeletons of various animals and their comparative anatomy displays.  Mostly, the explanations were rather cursory and vague with very little detail.  In one case, the labeling of 2 North American species was incorrect.  They had labeled the raccoon as an opposum and visa versa.  I was particularly interested in their small mammal collection so I could try to figure out if indeed we saw a mongoose or an otter.  The collection was not that helpful.  The star of the day was the animated T-Rex display.  At certain times during the day the T-Rex starts to roar and move about.  a young boy, maybe 3 or 4, was there with his parents and it scared the piss out of him.  He ran away and was crying his eyes out.  The parents scooped him up and took him to a different part of the museum.  

The entire museum was sort of a hybridization of a natural history museum and an art gallery.  It was a great way to spend a sticky afternoon.

We wanted some sustenance and grabbed a tuk tuk to Amethyst, a combination floral shop, gift shop, and cafe.  We grabbed a table under a fan and ordered pizza and I ordered they special khao soy noodles, along with water.  We sat there a good long while reading and enjoying the beautiful surroundings.  The grounds were a lush oasis that you would never know you were in the middle of Chennai with roaring traffic just 100 feet away.   We ordered some masala chai, which we sadly let brew too long and tried drinking it without milk because we didn’t notice the pitcher on the table.  Let’s just say milk is important.

We left Amethyst and headed back to our hotel bar and headed up to our room.  Once upstairs, we received our laundry back.  It was amazing.  Each shirt was folded and between the front and back of the shirt was a half page of yesterdays newspaper to keep the shirt from shifting around.  We thought it was hysterical.

All our bits were compared to the list that Bill made and we fell immediately into the arms of Morpheus.

Tuesday, 2/6 Kodaikanal to Madurai

We again were given a brekkies is waiting call, which fortunately, we were already up and dressed!  We feasted again on the Indian half of the buffet.  I got idly, as always, as well as sambar, chutneys, and a savory pongal.  Pongal is a wheat or rice dish where it is cooked to a porridge-like consistency, not soupy, but sticky, that can be made from wheat noodle bits, or from rice, or probably any other left over grain.  It is really good, either sweet or savory.  It is usually only a breakfast item.

The young lady who waited on us our entire time in the hotel was Mary.  She has been working there for 4 years and seems relatively happy.  I asked her if she was fed the same buffet stuff that we are getting and she said that they have staff meals, but I got the impression they were nothing like what was on the table.

I was wondering if the female staff lives on “campus” as it is because on Saturday night we watched a large number of male staff leave the compound at 9 pm.  The women were still around.  This made me wonder, are they traveling home alone after 10 or 11 pm?  I was hoping that they were living in the hotel so that they would be safe.  I felt I couldn’t ask Mary this straight out.   She is from the Bengal area and deeply misses her home area food.  She indicated that things are called the same name, but they taste different, and she misses her home food.  I can see that.

This is Mary

We checked out and had to hang around until 2 pm when we were to pick up our bus home.  We were not sure yet exactly when .  Turns out, the pick up was just up the street at the R and R hotel (which is under renovation/improvements). Don’t know if any guests are there.  It is right next to a gas station.

Our bus, Subbu, was waiting and we were directed to climb on and take the very back row seats.  While these seats might have been good for children, you could not sit on them AND have you feet touch the ground.

The seats, if you sat a bit sideways, you could get your legs and knees to be perpendicular.  Otherswise, you had to sit splay-legged with knees akimbo to face front.  This left Bill in a tough situation.  He had a seat directly in front of him, but the aisle was next to that.  He had to press one leg up against the seat in front and hold on for dear life on the back of that seat’s headrest.  I had a much easier time, and if we had switched seats, he would have been even more miserable as he would have been unable to seat comfortably facing front.  His knees would have been jammed to his chest.  The bus was full up.  The only extra seat was one of the two that Bill took over to get his leg in the aisle.  There were various Indian couples, middle age and younger, some family groups of parents and child, and an American group who are in India for a wedding.  That groups consisted of a daughter, her male friend, and her mother.  Mom was a Chatty Cathy, and if the only empty seat hadn’t been taken by a young man we would have slit our wrists.  

The trip down the mountain was much quicker than the ride up.  This was for several reasons, 1) gravity, 2) the driver was a much better driver than the guy who took us up.  He had complete control of the vehicle around all the curves.  I just relaxed and enjoyed the smoothness he drove with.  Bill was not so comfortable with the ride.  Part of that may have been not enough air flow to prevent him feeling queasy, part was he gets motion sick very easily and couldn’t watch the road.

We arrived in Madurai about 7:00 and the American’s all 6 of us got off the bus and headed to our various hotels.   Turned out that the trio were staying in a hotel near ours in Madurai.  Bill asked our other Americans if they wanted to meet us for a drink and meal at Chentoor and gave directions, and off we went to The Purpletree.

This was the most distasteful experience of the entire trip.  Our previous stay there was strict 48 hours.  Since we had checked in there at 5:30 am, we had to check out at 5:30 am.  We assumed that if we check in at 7:30 pm, we would check out at 7:30 pm then get our overnight train to Chennai.  Nope, the manager was not going to budge on the noon checkout.  Bill kept explaining that previously we had been given the strict 24 hours timing and expected it again.  The manager was not relenting, Bill tried to explain that we made his life easier by checking out at 5:30 am and he should use the same rules again.  Finally, Bill was very frustrated and said, if we don’t get a 7:30 pm check out we will rate you a 0 on Trip advisor.  That flipped a switch for the manager.  He relented and we went upstairs to dump our bags.

The staff was really nice, and were unsure of how to handle our check out request, and it was the manager that was being so difficult.  I bet from his point of view, we were the difficult ones.  We wanted the late check out because of our overnight train.  Neither of us wanted to schlep our packs around for 8 hours.

We headed to Chentoor for beer and dinner.  We imagined that the other group of Americans might meet us.  We ordered, drank, and ate, and toddled on home.

2/5 Monday Kodaikanal

We awoke to a phone call alerting us that breakfast was ready and were we interested in coming down.  Groggily, I answered, “we’d be right there”.  Slap on some clothes, brush the teeth, comb the hair and presto, brekkies presentable.  

The breakfast buffet was quite lovely.  On one side of the buffet table were western delights, such as fruit, cereal, oatmeal, etc., and on the other side were lovely Indian treats.  The usual idly, various rice dishes, chutneys, and ubiquitous sambar.  Oh how I am missing sambar as of this writing.  There were also some lentil dishes.  The lentil machne (sorry for spelling) was absolutely devine.  It was a spicy concoction of lentils, vegetables, and spicy base.  It was made with the black lentils, which gave it a dark brown color.  The texture, for me, was wonderful.  Thick, but not too, chewy, but not too, and spicy, but not too.  Delicious.  I fell in love with it.  Never yet getting an equal to this one.  There was another lentil dish, more closely related to dhal, it was tasty, but my heart was drawn to the other.  

We were asked if we wanted omelets, which we said yes to.  We just as easily should have said no, as the meal was quite filling, and the omelet really put it over the top.  We rounded out the breakfast with copious amounts of milk coffee, which was not presweetened, thankfully!

Retiring to the room, we needed to figure out a) what we were going to do, and b) how were we going to catch the bus back to Madurai.  We decided to walk over to Croakers Walk and see where that led us before choosing another activity.  We stopped at reception on our way out and Bill inquired if they could help us contact the tour “director” and ask where our pick up would be the next day, and at what time.  My anxiety was already worrying about the logistics.  

We headed up the hill to Croakers Walk.  This is a cliff side walkway overlooking the valley and mountains around Kodaikanal.

The walkway has been paved and has been in use for a very long time.  There was a modest entrance fee and there were many stands selling either food items or souvenirs. At the end of the path, you were unceremoniously dumped out onto a road way.  A coin toss had us going to the right and we came upon this entrance into a church.

We did not enter the church yard, but kept going along the road way. The greenery was quite beautiful.  All around there were these lovely Daturas and various shrubbery getting ready to bloom.

 Also there were the interesting road signage, such as above.

We decided to take a look at Bryant Park that were off to our left.  Again, there was a modest entrance fee and in we went.  The gardens spilled down from the hillside to the lake.  At this moment, we did not know that.  We walked along the high path and descended into a middle pathway which led to a green house.  We went in, careful to obey the signs to not touch anything, nor to take photos.  The touching I got, but missed why we shouldn’t take photos of what looked like the set up for a botanic garden pot sale.  

We found the water garden, which was currently not in bloom fully, just a few odd water lilies getting ready to bloom.  The water looked a bit murky and of questionable quality.  On exiting the gardens, we saw a bird that was probing the ground looking for some food.  Its head resembled a woodpecker, but its beak was more like a sandpiper, but it had beautiful plumage.  The garden’s exit deposited you at a midway of sorts.  Stands selling winter outerwear, as there were young women in sarees  shivering and buying outerwear seemed like a sensible thing to do.  As the midway wound down, there was a section given over to pony rides.  We quickly exited that as the smell was overwhelming for me.  

It was a beautiful day, so around the lake was our “structure” at that moment.  It is about 4-5 km around the lake.  It was a very pleasant walk, there were people out paddle boating and enjoying their time in the country.  Along the way we noticed quite a few trees had fallen over into the lake.  Judging from their roots it had happened fairly recently.  I couldn’t tell if they were dead, or the ground had gotten too soft and they toppled for lack of support.  

 A look back at our hotel at the start of our walk.

 A road side amusement randomly set up on the road side.

 other looks at our hotel as well get further and further away.

About 1/2 way around the lake, we stopped for a roasted corn with lime and chili that was being sold at a cart.  The cart consisted of a fire set up inside an old can with a hand cranked bellows to get it smoking hot.  

 The woman took an ear of corn and husked it, saving the husks, which I did not understand at the time, then added a few twigs to the fire on top of the can, cranked the bellows and roasted the

Corn over the open fire before rubbing it all over with a lime half that was stored in a tub of slat and chile.   The husks were saved as a serving dish.  It was delicious, not the sweetest corn in the world, actually kind of starchy, but very tasty.

We continued our trek around the lake back to the hotel.  It was a beautiful afternoon for the walk.  Clear, warm, and relatively quiet.  Just the occasional motor scooter or cow ambling by.

On returning to the hotel, we found the bar and settled in with our books until dinner time, just enjoying the amenities at the hotel.  Bill went off to explore the convention tent and I stayed and read.  When Bill returned, one of the gentlemen sitting at an adjacent table struct up a conversation with us as it seemed to him we were happily married and he wanted to know the secret.  Bill, good soul that he is, responded.  This was not a great place to be giving marital advice.  As they chatted, it became clear that this guy was having marital problems and was asking (sort of) for the key to our marriage.  He had been drinking the whole time we were in the bar with his buddies, who had abandoned him at this point.  it became clear to Bill that this was a nonending conversation, and he started to try to wrap it up.  We realized that if we did not leave the bar, we were going to be stuck with him the rest of the night.  At this point, he has tears streaming down his face and it nursing a whisky.  We exited and went back to our room.  Bill stopped at the front desk for something, and I was overlooking the lounge area when I noticed the barman escorting our “friend” out of the bar.  We retired to our room until dinner time.

I ordered the lentil machne hoping for a similar experience from brekkies, but sadly, it was not as delicious.  It was good, but not “faboo”.   Bill ordered chicken stroganoff and we ended the meal with some carrot halvah and rice pudding, both so sweet it was difficult to eat, but we persevered until our teeth itched.

Off to bed.