After another wonderful Indian brekkies, we had about 2 hours to kill before we had to check out and then check in anew for the extension of 2 nights. This could not be done earlier, no, you must check out and then check in again. In NYC, makes no sense, but, somehow, it does here! Insert head bobble here!
In that time, I managed to catch up on the blog, and Bill was down in the lobby in full planning mode. After the process of checking out and in, we decided to go to the US Consulate which was a short walk south of our hotel. We walked over not sure which building it was, until I saw the tons of coiled razor wire and barricades with uniformed security guards. Not Marines, just local security guards in either blue or local police brown. I was not so sure I would rely on that crew for protection if the Consulate ever came under attack, I hoped that inside were US Marines!
Turns out that the Consulate to process any paperwork is only open until 12:30, we needed to go to plan B. We walked east toward the water. After about 45 minutes for so, we opted to find someplace to grab lunch and get some AC. There, as if in a mirage, was Nando’s! A Portuguese/Brazilian chain of chicken restaurants. Bingo! Inside it was perfectly AC’d, not too cold, not too hot, just right. I opted for the pulled chicken wrap and Bill got the butterfly chicken. Both meals were quite delicious. I was a bit concerned about the wrap as it came with some cabbage salad wrapped up in it. Given that we are in a foreign country, especially in Asia, any raw produce can cause gastric issues.
After attempting to scrap out some of the slaw, I decided I would chance it. It was, as of yet, an issue. (Famous last words before dashing to the loo!).
As we paid the bill, one of the servers commented on Bill’s map. We gave them the map and hoped that we could find another one at the hotel. (Fast forward, we were able to get another one). Before we gave away the map, we planned to head to the marina/beach to watch sunset.
We walked what seemed like another day and a half, but in actuality, was only about another hour and a half. The beach was quite deep. Probably about 200 yards or so. At the shoreline were many fishing boats pulled up onto the beach. Sitting on or next to were many people in groups or a couple using the boat as a wind break or sun shade. The water was a dusty gray with some white caps on a few crests. There was no one swimming in the ocean. In fact, there were only 2 small children frolicking in the surf down the beach.
We saw a man riding a horse to our left, and it turned out that the beach has it’s form of donkey rides for children and adults, a la Weston Super Mar, in Britain. A young couple with a small boy were near by and took up the opportunity to ride the horse. Dad first, then son hoisted up in front of him. The wife was left on the beach with the camera. The man lead the horse further down the beach at the firmer sand at the water’s edge for a way and returned. A perfect tableau for an afternoon at the seaside.
As we slogged down to the water, we noticed that there were many small shacks and carts that clearly sold food but were closed at the moment. Then we noticed that there were various amusements closed up nearby, a human powered carousel, a human powered Ferris wheel, etc. We assumed that the beach is a place where locals come to cool off and there are many services/foods for them to enjoy while passing the evening. it was now close to 6 pm and we did not want to hang around to see when things started to heat up and opted to take an auto rickshaw to find an adult beverage and some dinner. This is where our day took what Bill would term, “an Indian turn”.
We hailed the first rickshaw, and negotiated with the driver to take us to the Connemara Hotel, we hoped that there was a bar that served booze there. The driver gestures get in, and Bill asks how much? He, the driver, indicates a price known only to him and gestures us into the rickshaw again. Bill asks again, how much? The driver now says 100. Bill laughs, and says no, we walk away. Another rickshaw pulls us and says get in, we go through the ritual again, how much? Bobble, 100. Bill says no again, and walks away. Prior to this, Bill has written on a piece of paper in block letters C O N N E M A R A. H O T E L, which he shows to the driver, who promptly turns to anyone standing there and asks them what it says on the paper. This process is acted out 3 times with 3 different drivers. We finally find a driver who knows where the hotel is, and accepts the fare to the hotel of 70.
Off we go, whizzing through traffic that appears on the surface to be quite chaotic, but has its own balletic rhythm, I can’t figure out what to watch, the road, the street life, the traffic, and instead of getting anxious about it, I just enjoy it all allowing my mind to flit between the vignettes before me.
We arrive at the Connemara, only to see a guard in front who indicates that it is closed! Just another injustice of the day. We exit the cab, and try to figure out what we are going to do next, quite bemused by our predicament! I am willing to be that the driver understood what was going on and waited patiently at curb side for us to figure out what he knew. We negotiate another fare, and head to the Pandian Hotel and the Maharajah Bar. This trip too, had it’s unnerving moments with traffic going in all directions at the same time and difficult to understand from my perspective. As most vehicles were not moving at a high rate of speed, I figured that I would not get too injured if we had an accident as long as I kept my arms and legs inside the rickshaw!
We had to go around because the street we wanted, Kennet Lane, was one way the wrong way, and we went past the Egmore Train Station. It was a beautiful Victorian building strung with twinkling lights. We find Kennet, by we I meant, the driver! He is jerking to a stop at every other rickshaw driver and yelling out Hotel Pandian????? Some yelled back in Tamil and we jerk forward again to the next driver. This went one for a couple of more times, when I finally see the hotel and tell the driver we have arrived. He is paid, and seemingly quite happy and off he goes. This is where the evening gets curiouser and curiouser.....
We enter the bar, find seats where the light is reasonably good, Bollywood is on the front screen and WWE RAW is on the two side screens. I am fascinated by the front screen. The dancing is very precise and in a large group, but not very complex. Leg wagging, arm waving, head turning, all in unison, follow with foot stamping, bend knees, clap, clap, repeat! We order our Kingfisher beers and settle in for a bit of reading and watching Bollywood.
Snacks appear and so does more beer. Evening is heading into relaxation mode. While the food there was good, we decided to try another place, any place down the street. We settle our tab and off we go into the heaving throngs of people, rickshaws, bicycles, autos, (surprisingly, no ox carts, although, we have seen many cows tied up on the side of the road as well as goats grazing in a trash heap).
We head to the Victoria Hotel, and here is where the madness begins afresh. We enter, and the front bar room is completely empty and darkly lit. Heading through, we exit into a dimly lit second bar that is quite lively. All screens are playing Bollywood. We ask for a menu and are handed one. There was a plastic stand with a different menu on the table. We order a beer and a bottle of water, and order chicken wontons, fish and chips, and a palak paneer. The waiter returns and manages to convey that there are no chicken wontons. Bill goes through the order again, we get the head bobble and off goes the waiter. About 30-40 minutes later we are wondering where our food is, as other people are being served....It is not that we signal the waiter over and he explained that no, there is no food. Bill is quite outraged, and is yelling (in Bill world that is speaking emphatically without raising his voice) that he is quite upset that he didin’t tell us that there was no food earlier. Head bobble and off he goes never to be seen again. We ask for the tab, which only has our beer and water on it, pay 285R and walk out. Bill is in quite a state at this point.
We walk across the street to Savarana vegetarian restaurant. We order bottled water, cold, and I get a masala dosa and Bill orders the mushroom fry. There was a bit of a discussion with the waiter as to how many dosa and what size. I thought that I had ordered one small one. What arrived at the table was one ENORMOUS dosa on a metal tray with banana leaves as the plate on the tray. There were the usual accompaniments of sambar (a lentil sauce/soup), and 3 different chutneys, (coconut, coriander, and tomato/onion). The dosa was excellent, crip thin pancake with flavorful spicy potato filling. Bill’s order arrives and it is a melange of vegetables and mushrooms in a spicy brown sauce. We have another first! Bill’s dish is spicier than mine!
Looking around the room it is clear that we are the only westerners in the place and there are only a few Indian women in the place. We did not get the stares from the waiters, in fact, we were really left to ourselves. We settle up our tab, and head outside for the negotiation of a rickshaw home. The price starts at 150, drops to 130, which has Bill laughing, and saying no. Next is 100, Bill counters with 70, and we settle on 80.
Zipping through the traffic with a pleasant buzz, we are recognizing street names of places that we have walked, places we walked passed, places we have gone into, a nice sense of calm and getting ready for sleeping. We get to the Ibis Hotel, and Bill gives the driver a 100 bill, and expects change. he shows the driver the 80 he wrote down and agreed to. The driver hands Bill 10 back, Bill again shows him the 80 and he is handed a ten note and 2 “5” coins. We still have no idea if they are indeed 5 rupee coins or what. Bill is agitated, and I again start to sing the song from Frozen, Let it Go! Our cue to get over a minor issue. It has often been sung this evening.
I have to say, this evening has been a complete Indian experience from bureaucratic issues, to negotiations, to communication issues, to frustrating moments of possible fraud. I totally get why Bill loves this place. Never a dull moment.
As I was reflecting on the experiences of the night, I realized that the miscure with dinner was when the waiter cameover to explain no chicken wontons, he was really saying none of our choices were available, but neither party understood the other. In that light, it was much easier for me to see how the misfire had happened, and to attach little to it. This morning, Bill agreed that was probably what actually did happen.
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