Fort Cochin (Kochi) – A Walk into Medieval Europe
Our last days in Kerala are spent here in the old trading port of Fort Cochin, the old part of the modern city of Kochi. It reminds me a little of the layout of Istanbul, where the old part of town is relatively intact and the modern city farther away - in this case, over a bridge away. Visitors can stay in lovely, restored homes or mansions and visit all the old places of interest, along windy streets small enough that only bicycles and autorickshaw and small cars are seen, all within a few blocks. It really is a walk in old Europe, just wandering the streets. Each boutique or café is an example of the old architecture and woodwork from centuries ago, different doors holding a different surprise inside. It doesn’t feel much like India, except for the saris of the local people and despite seeing a Bollywood film being recorded on the streets – and there are many tourists (and many sellers of things – again, having the sari is saving us a lot of "selling"). The city actually has two older parts, nearby Mattancherry, with its old Jewish section and synagogue as well as a Jain temple and Fort Cochin. Another unique feature of Fort Cochin are the old Chinese fishing nets still in daily use along the sea side - Eleanor and Matthew had the opportunity to help lower one of these nets!. These have many arched poles (like and octopus) operated by weights and levers and are efficient means for gathering fish, requiring at least four men to operate. It is said that the idea came with trading with Kubla Khan in the 1400’s. At 5:00 in the evening, the streets are lined with lovely fish, octopus, squid, all sizes and shapes, packed in ice and ready for sale.
Our first area of exploration was around our hotel. We stayed in a lovely room on Princess Street, the oldest street in the city. Shoes were left at the door, and the proprietor was a kind and gracious gentleman of great dignity. We are treated with such kindness and respect, partly because the people here are so kind and gracious and partly out of appreciation for our dress. We could only stay there one night and moved next door to the home of Walton and his family. Again, a wonderful family of Anglo-Indian descent and a Christian. Walton has been very helpful in getting a violin for Eleanor. He called a friend of his who teaches classical Western music who put us in touch with a good shop via our first trip on the local, city buses. Then, once at the shop, we called the music teacher who spoke to the clerks to make sure we were given good choices and prices. Truly, I am being given many, many lessons in the art of giving. Eleanor and I are invited, violin in hand, to meet the music teacher this evening. He was very excited to know that Eleanor had an extensive background. SO, our first real invitation to an Indian home!
Kochi was founded in 1341 when a flood created a natural safe port. In 1405, the royal family made it their new base, after which the city expanded rapidly, attracting Christian, Jewish, and Arab settlers. It was here, in the early 1500’s, that Vasco de Gama landed in his historic voyage from Portugal. He was buried here in 1524 for 14 years in the Church of St. Francis, the oldest church in India and built in 1503, and the title deeds, written on palm leaf, are still kept inside. The church’s original wood structure was replaced by stone in mid 1500’s. The façade, with its multi-curved sides became the model for most Christian churches in India. After 14 years, de Gama's remains were taken to Portugal, where they are to this day. The tombstone showing his place of rest is still to be seen in the church, as are many, many old tombstones, going back well into the 1500’s. The tombstones, like tombstones everywhere, reflect the history of this interesting area. The oldest tombstones have shields engraved on top with the heraldic devices of the knight the stone was commemorating. The words are chiseled in Latin, in the large, clear letters of the medieval period. Then, in 1663, the Dutch East India Company took over the area. All the churches and convents, with the exception of St. Francis, were destroyed. New tombstones were laid in the church – now in Dutch and with rounder script. The church became Anglican in 1795 and since 1949 has been attached to the Church of South India. The church is a simple and beautiful structure, with a lovely alter area and cross in stained glass above.
The other main church here in Old Fort Cochin is the Santa Cruz Cathedral. It is a Catholic Church, newly built in 1902 on the site of an old church. For me, it was an interesting surprise, as the church has retained its Portuguese flavor, including a shrine to Our Lady of Fatima, a miraculous apparition of the Blessed Virgin in Portugal around 1917. It is this area from which my family came and the church I attended as a small child was also dedicated to her. Many, many of the old people in my neighborhood in Massachusetts had either seen, or had family who saw, this apparition, so she was a very important part of our community. And here she was again! It was a little like going home, and my childhood swelled up and gushed forth. Eleanor handed me a candle, and a prayer was said for our loved ones at home, especially those in great need. The church is done in pastel colors in a Indo-Romano-Rococo style of decoration, with the whirling sun of the apparition behind the altar. The church has a convent school attached. As we entered the courtyard of the church, the children were at lunch and several girls waved and greeted us in their sing-song voices. When we left, I heard them doing group recitation of rote lessons, something quite different from the way we teach in America now. The church schools are one of the better educational establishments in India, outside of the expensive, elite schools (1000 rupee spending money each day – about $25 in US) also available. The government schools, as mentioned earlier, tend to be very poor in quality and families will do all they can to scrape together the money to send their children to school. Hearing the voices of the children added to the sense of homesickness – I’m certainly missing my little ones back home! Eleanor, too, is relishing in the wonder, but also feels the loss of the company of those dear to her. Travel gives much, and one thing is a sense of the beauty and love that is one’s home.
The other area near Fort Cochin is Mattancherry. This is where the old Jewish quarter is, already discussed a little earlier, and again, reminiscent of the Jewish quarter in Istanbul. I remember seeing some of the little screened balconies in Chennai, and wonder if that was once part of a Jewish quarter there. The Jewish Synagogue was founded in 1568 and rebuilt in 1664. Unfortunately, our visit corresponded to Sabbath so we were not able to see the inside. The floor is said to have hand-painted 18th century blue and white tiles from Canton, each antique, and depicting a love affair between a mandarin’s daughter and a commoner. One wonders what the story was behind this, as I am sure there is one. The Mattancherry Palace is also near this area. It is known locally as the Dutch Palace and was erected by the Portuguese as a gift to the Cochin raja in 1537 (after the Portuguese had plundered the nearby temple), though the Dutch did add onto the building. The squat exterior is not striking, but the interior is adorned with murals, some of the finest examples of Kerala’s school of painting, illustrating stories from the Ramayana on the first floor (16th century). These are very detailed and rich in color and is never strictly naturalistic, with facial features pared down to the simplest of lines for the mouths and aquiline noses. Naturalistic painting of sacred things takes away from the mystery and majesty of the sacred, something medieval Christian art knew well and was more or less lost during the Renaissance. The paintings are the highlight of the palace, but the collection also include old maps (I love maps), coronation robes, royal palanquins, weapons, and furniture. Photography prohibited. I was interested in looking at some of the black and white photographs of the family from the early 1800's to the mid 1900's. Except for the raja, the rest of the family (brothers, sisters, mother, aunts, uncles) were dressed in very simple white doti's. The women's was pulled up over the breasts - I think as a concession to the Western photographer. Eleanor heard a guide say that wearing clothing above the waist was "outlawed" (or not done) until 1858 when the Victorian British government took over India. In this hot climate with its accent on beauty and dignity, it's not at all surprising that simplicity in dress was a norm.
Also nearby is a Jain temple, very peaceful except at noon, when a loud bell rings to announce the daily feeding of the local pigeons. Anyone around is encouraged to help dish out grain to the hungry birds. The Jain religion began at about the same time as Buddhism (same century) and has a strong code of non-violence. Leather articles remain outside the temple. It had closed at 12:30, which we had not realized, and we were not even able to take a photograph.
Next stop: a few hours in Delhi as we indulge in a plane flight to Varanasi. 3 days on a train did not seem like a good use of time for Matthew and Patrick, who will leave in 10 days AND have another 2 day train ride from Varanasi back to Chennai. So… train travel delayed … again. But coming!
Saturday, January 24, 2009
1-22-09 The Beach Incident
We arose around 7:30, which seems to be becoming part of our routine, and had a lovely, large breakfast before returning our houseboat to the dock. There were so many boats that there was no space on the dock itself. We had to pass through two other boats before we reached dry land. I wasn’t feeling too well at this point, an unfortunate combination of eating something that didn’t agree with me and stuffing my face. But we decided to go to the beach anyway. Luckily, we were allowed to leave ou luggage at the Vrunsdavanam Hotel even though we’d already checked out.
The beach was extraordinary. Dad made a few comments about how good an investment it would be to buy some real estate and build up some resort, but mom did not approve. Patrick said that someone at the hotel had said this was likely to happen in the next few years, which is too bad. The entire beach was almost deserted. I really wanted to go for a swim but had not brought a swimsuit because they are not considered decent. This forethought, however, had unfortunate results.
I decided to wear just the tunic of my Shalwar Kamees and my underwear - no bra because they take forever to dry – and that was I would still have dry pants when I was finished and could dry off a bit with my shawl. I happily ran into the water. It was sheer bliss. There was a slight undertow but nothing unmanageable. The water was warm, the waves perfect, and I was having a grand time. My queasy stomach was completely forgotten for a time. Mom and Patrick were still on dry land, so I tried to convince them to join me and Dad, but to no avail.
I ran back to the water, intent on trying to body surf. This was my undoing. It went well the first few times, but then I caught a wave wrong and got absolutely pounded into the sand. Being pounded is a very unpleasant experience and I don’t recommend it. I landed on my head - which could have been dangerous but I got lucky – and scraped up my face, knees and shoulders. It only took half a second to assess the damage as I struggled to get up out of the continuous roll of waves. I was virtually unhurt, but my clothes were ruined. The tunic had ripped all the way up the right side, from bottom hem to sleeve, and I was lying on a beach in India in all my glory with small wavelets still tugging gently on my ruined clothes.
Dad had seen my failed attempt at body surfing and my accidental flashing of the whole beach (I was VERY glad at this point for whatever inexplicable reason made this beach unpopular. You must remember – no bra) I told him I was fine, but explained to him the clothes situation, all the while holding my ruined tunic around me. He handed me a safety pin he had in his pocket and I tried to place it in the most discreet position possible so I could climb, humiliated, out of the water to my bag, where more safety pins awaited. But I was still standing in the exact wrong spot of the ocean. Just as I almost had the pin fixed, Dad yelled at me to look out. I pulled the pin out just in time to avoid getting stuck as I, once again, tumbled into the sand, forced down by the crushing weight of water. I then merely wrapped my tunic around me and trudged, defeated, back up the beach to our camp under the shady palm trees, where I fixed my clothes as well as I could.
I spent the next hour sitting and standing in the sun, making sand castles, and staring jealously at my brother, who had finally ventured into the warm waves. Still, all in all it was a fantastic two hours at the beach. I thoroughly enjoyed myself and have, more or less, given up my original mortification in favor of the obvious humor of the situation.
After the beach incident, we went back to the hotel, had some coffee, got our bags, and rode to the bus station in two rickshaws. (I got changed too, but no one else did.) We had some difficulty in finding the correct bus, but did eventually. They leave every 20 minutes for Kochi, so even though we missed at least one, there were plenty of others. The bus ride was rather unpleasant for me because my stomach began to bother me again.
The beach was extraordinary. Dad made a few comments about how good an investment it would be to buy some real estate and build up some resort, but mom did not approve. Patrick said that someone at the hotel had said this was likely to happen in the next few years, which is too bad. The entire beach was almost deserted. I really wanted to go for a swim but had not brought a swimsuit because they are not considered decent. This forethought, however, had unfortunate results.
I decided to wear just the tunic of my Shalwar Kamees and my underwear - no bra because they take forever to dry – and that was I would still have dry pants when I was finished and could dry off a bit with my shawl. I happily ran into the water. It was sheer bliss. There was a slight undertow but nothing unmanageable. The water was warm, the waves perfect, and I was having a grand time. My queasy stomach was completely forgotten for a time. Mom and Patrick were still on dry land, so I tried to convince them to join me and Dad, but to no avail.
I ran back to the water, intent on trying to body surf. This was my undoing. It went well the first few times, but then I caught a wave wrong and got absolutely pounded into the sand. Being pounded is a very unpleasant experience and I don’t recommend it. I landed on my head - which could have been dangerous but I got lucky – and scraped up my face, knees and shoulders. It only took half a second to assess the damage as I struggled to get up out of the continuous roll of waves. I was virtually unhurt, but my clothes were ruined. The tunic had ripped all the way up the right side, from bottom hem to sleeve, and I was lying on a beach in India in all my glory with small wavelets still tugging gently on my ruined clothes.
Dad had seen my failed attempt at body surfing and my accidental flashing of the whole beach (I was VERY glad at this point for whatever inexplicable reason made this beach unpopular. You must remember – no bra) I told him I was fine, but explained to him the clothes situation, all the while holding my ruined tunic around me. He handed me a safety pin he had in his pocket and I tried to place it in the most discreet position possible so I could climb, humiliated, out of the water to my bag, where more safety pins awaited. But I was still standing in the exact wrong spot of the ocean. Just as I almost had the pin fixed, Dad yelled at me to look out. I pulled the pin out just in time to avoid getting stuck as I, once again, tumbled into the sand, forced down by the crushing weight of water. I then merely wrapped my tunic around me and trudged, defeated, back up the beach to our camp under the shady palm trees, where I fixed my clothes as well as I could.
I spent the next hour sitting and standing in the sun, making sand castles, and staring jealously at my brother, who had finally ventured into the warm waves. Still, all in all it was a fantastic two hours at the beach. I thoroughly enjoyed myself and have, more or less, given up my original mortification in favor of the obvious humor of the situation.
After the beach incident, we went back to the hotel, had some coffee, got our bags, and rode to the bus station in two rickshaws. (I got changed too, but no one else did.) We had some difficulty in finding the correct bus, but did eventually. They leave every 20 minutes for Kochi, so even though we missed at least one, there were plenty of others. The bus ride was rather unpleasant for me because my stomach began to bother me again.
1-21-09
In the late morning, we set off on a houseboat. This was the real reason we came to Aleppi – to travel the backwaters of Kerala in a houseboat. It was wonderful. It is clean, comfortable, and totally relaxing. I got in some quality sunbathing on the top deck. The food was incredible and there was lots of it. I was stuffed at the end of every meal.
After we had docked in the evening, but before dinner was served, Dad and I went on a canoe tour of a village. Canoes are really the way to get around here. We saw a group of kids taking the school boat to school, rather than the school bus. The village was simple, but nice. We passed by women doing their washing in the river, children playing, men working. Once we got out of the main canal, the small canal we were on was so overhung with trees that it was quite shady. There were parts that were so covered in water plants that it became extremely difficult to row.
Sunset was extraordinary. I went a little crazy trying to capture on camera the line of palm trees and picturesque houseboats separating the bright, warm colors streaking the sky and the same colors reflected in the still waters of the canal. It was beautiful.
The boat that had docked next to us, unfortunately, left its generator running for a large part of the night. Mom and I drowned out the noise with a fan, which was necessary anyway because it can be so stuffy inside mosquito nets.
After we had docked in the evening, but before dinner was served, Dad and I went on a canoe tour of a village. Canoes are really the way to get around here. We saw a group of kids taking the school boat to school, rather than the school bus. The village was simple, but nice. We passed by women doing their washing in the river, children playing, men working. Once we got out of the main canal, the small canal we were on was so overhung with trees that it was quite shady. There were parts that were so covered in water plants that it became extremely difficult to row.
Sunset was extraordinary. I went a little crazy trying to capture on camera the line of palm trees and picturesque houseboats separating the bright, warm colors streaking the sky and the same colors reflected in the still waters of the canal. It was beautiful.
The boat that had docked next to us, unfortunately, left its generator running for a large part of the night. Mom and I drowned out the noise with a fan, which was necessary anyway because it can be so stuffy inside mosquito nets.
1-20-09
We took a taxi from Kumily to Aleppi today. I am sorry to see this city go. It was the first place I could really feel at home. Ah well, moving on. Aleppi is nice as far as cities go. It is, however, at a much lower elevation than Kumily and near a bunch of canals. It’s also the first place to provide mosquito nets. This was worrying, but it isn’t so bad. (Coming from me, this means a lot. I am plagued by mosquitoes wherever I go.) Our hotel room is enormous- it is the family special. There is one giant room with a couch, a bed, and a table with chairs, plus lots of space to spare. There’s another room attached with another bed. At first glance, it looked lovely. After we really looked around though, Patrick decided somebody had been murdered there (I’m not quite sure why), Mom admitted that it was a bit creepy, and I was rather afraid of the massive amounts of dust. However, I hardly got allergies and I had no asthma whatsoever! Hooray, that homeopathy seems to be working! I think it was just our room that was bad. The other ones seemed fine, but we had already moved in. It was more expensive to get two small rooms than this suite, anyway. It was fine for one night.
There is a pet eagle in the garden. It is beautiful. When it preened itself, a few feathers fell out, so I picked them up and stuck them between the pages of my journal as a memento. I can’t bring them home, though, because it is illegal to own eagle feathers in the US. We asked one of the employees how they came to get a pet eagle. He said that when the eagle was young it flew into their garden, pursued by a flock of crows. They protected it, sheltered it, and fed it, so it stayed.
There is a pet eagle in the garden. It is beautiful. When it preened itself, a few feathers fell out, so I picked them up and stuck them between the pages of my journal as a memento. I can’t bring them home, though, because it is illegal to own eagle feathers in the US. We asked one of the employees how they came to get a pet eagle. He said that when the eagle was young it flew into their garden, pursued by a flock of crows. They protected it, sheltered it, and fed it, so it stayed.
1-19-09
Today is a rest day for all of us, except Patrick who is getting in some work. Mom and I went to a tailor to get sari blouses made, so we fit in more, but they were closed because Mondays are holidays in this part of Kerela. However, they said that one tailor was still open and gave us directions. So we walked to the new place, got measured, and the head tailor said we could return at 5:00. I am very excited about getting my very own sari blouse. None of Mom’s fit me. We saw an internet café, so we decided to spend an hour there, reading emails and checking up on things at home. I was feeling homesick, so I looked at a bunch of photos of Matteo, Sofia, and Zachu, some children I babysit. This only made it worse – much worse. By the time we left the café (we actually got locked in for awhile) I was a wreck. I had no idea I would miss them so much! I definitely miss them more than anyone else back home. (Sorry, no offense to anyone) I think it is because, in every other relationship I have, I am on equal footing with the other person or they are in a more maternal/paternal position, but with these three, I am the caretaker. I have also known each one of them since they were born and have watched them grow and change since that time. I was surprised to realize how completely I love them. I don’t suppose I can explain this to anyone who hasn’t already felt something similar. All I can say is that, although I already knew before this that I loved them, this was the point of no return, and I will feel the same way about them till the day I die.
I have now, officially, decided to go to IU instead of Notre Dame!! You can blame it on the three children mentioned above. (Among other things)
Mom wanted to get a sari ironed before lunch, so we stopped by a roadside ironing stall. The iron was old-fashioned (as in, not electric), but it was not heated on a stove like the typical old European iron. The inside was hollow and coals were placed inside. Mom and I decided that this is a better way of doing things. I is more efficient, the heating is more even, and no ash gets on the clothes. These irons also work better than electric irons, although they’re probably harder to use. But they certainly straitened out crinkles much more quickly.
After we ate lunch, Mom and I went to a spice plantation. Mom stole my journal to take notes, but I suppose that’s alright. She thoroughly enjoyed herself. Being the herbalist, Mom understood and absorbed much more than I did. But I do remember that the Pepper is called the King of spices and that the three types of pepper – green, white, and black – come from the same plant, but are prepared differently. Green pepper is pickled in brine, white pepper is soaked in water and has the husk removed before being dried in the sun, and black pepper is simply dried in the sun after it is picked. Cardamom is the Queen of spices and vanilla is the Prince, but there is no Princess. I also discovered a new plant to devour. It is called Stevia and its leaves are as sweet as sugar. It’s delicious.
I have now, officially, decided to go to IU instead of Notre Dame!! You can blame it on the three children mentioned above. (Among other things)
Mom wanted to get a sari ironed before lunch, so we stopped by a roadside ironing stall. The iron was old-fashioned (as in, not electric), but it was not heated on a stove like the typical old European iron. The inside was hollow and coals were placed inside. Mom and I decided that this is a better way of doing things. I is more efficient, the heating is more even, and no ash gets on the clothes. These irons also work better than electric irons, although they’re probably harder to use. But they certainly straitened out crinkles much more quickly.
After we ate lunch, Mom and I went to a spice plantation. Mom stole my journal to take notes, but I suppose that’s alright. She thoroughly enjoyed herself. Being the herbalist, Mom understood and absorbed much more than I did. But I do remember that the Pepper is called the King of spices and that the three types of pepper – green, white, and black – come from the same plant, but are prepared differently. Green pepper is pickled in brine, white pepper is soaked in water and has the husk removed before being dried in the sun, and black pepper is simply dried in the sun after it is picked. Cardamom is the Queen of spices and vanilla is the Prince, but there is no Princess. I also discovered a new plant to devour. It is called Stevia and its leaves are as sweet as sugar. It’s delicious.
1-18-09
Today, we went on the bamboo rafting tour. It lasted all day and involved a short hike, breakfast, a ride in a bamboo raft, more hiking, lunch, more rafting, and more hiking. I really enjoyed myself, despite the sunburn I (amazingly) acquired. I generally tan without burning, but Mom says a slight burn is quite becoming on me. It was very nice to relax on the raft, gliding across the lake while the guides did all the work paddling. We saw quite a lot of animals, from squirrels to elephants. One of the guides said we had a lucky day for sightings. Mom went crazy looking at the tracks in the dried mud – there were perfect conditions. There was one guide who was excellent at identifying animal tracks, scat, etc. I enjoyed looking at tracks and seeing who had been there before me as well. We even got to see a few tiger tracks but, unfortunately or fortunately, not the tiger who made them. I think we came quite close to seeing a tiger, though. We heard something growling behind the treeline, which the guide said was probably a tiger, but could also be a wild boar or a bear. It was probably only 30 feet away, at the most (I don’t know how well tiger roars carry through jungles) but some of the people made way too much noise and moved around a lot which is, of course, the last thing that will earn you an animal sighting. I was furious and frustrated because I’d really been hoping to see a tiger. To vent my fury, I spent the next 45 minutes or so thinking up all the evil things I could say on this blog. But they are quite rude and my temper has cooled somewhat so I won’t say anything. ( I actually typed out an “except that” end to the previous sentence, but deleted it. This was very difficult for me.)
To make up for not seeing a tiger in the “Periyar Tiger Reserve”, we did see lots of other wildlife. There were several pigs, both a number of lone ones and a large family. There was also a herd of buffalo, many varieties of birds, two squirrels (which are much larger than those in the US), and possibly 10 wild elephants. I especially enjoyed the elephants. Animals aside, however, it was a lovely day, with beautiful countryside to be traversed and excellent weather.
The tour ended at around 6:00 and I was both tird and ravenous, which is a bad combination. I also wanted a chance to take a nap before Patrick and I went on a night hike, so I was trying to organize everyone and hurry them along. We told the rickshaw driver to take us to Chrissy’s café because it’s close to our rooms and we knew what it was called, but when we got there, it was a bit outside our price range. I was a bit disappointed because I’d been craving lasagna, so when Dad said we had to find somewhere else to go, I said (a bit nastily, I’ll admit) could we pick quickly because I was hungry. HE lost his temper and marched off home, followed by Patrcik. Mom came out of Chrissy’s at this point, to see Patrick storming off and me fuming, rather loudly. It wasn’t until the next morning that I discovered that Dad’s heart had been troubling him and that he had to take a nitrite and rest when he got home. I felt terrible.
In the night, from 10-1, Patrick and I went on a night tour. I expected there to be at least a few people besides us, but it was just the two of us, our guide, and the guard who didn’t appear to be particularly competent with the rifle he carried. I can’t really talk though, because I have yet to shoot anything more powerful than a BB gun. It is very different in the jungle at night – it was beautiful, but I would not have wanted to be there alone. We saw lots of deer, probably around fifteen. There are three kinds of deer in these parts and we saw two of them. One was the Samba deer, I think, but the guide’s accent was quite thick and it was hard to understand more than “deer” or “cat” or “here is somebody, see?” Besides the deer, we saw a wild cat; it was about the size of a bobcat, but more than that I couldn’t tell. Of course, when we first spotted it I got over-excited and managed to convince myself that it was probably a baby tiger, but it wasn’t and that’s probably a good thing. Tigers are most likely to bears in that, where there’s a baby, there’s a mama nearby and if you mess with that baby or get too close, the mama is likely to get a mite touchy - to put it nicely. We also saw a few cast off king cobra skins and two porcupines. The porcupines were enormous. My first thought was that if Aunt Kathryn or Uncle Bill were here, they would have a heyday. (If you don’t know them, they both do quillwork.) I would say they were probably a good 2 ½’ - 3’ long and 1’-1½’ tall. And FAT: these were obviously well fed porcupines. Mom saw the tracks of some and was very impressed as well. By the end of the hike I was exhausted and was quite glad to flop into my bed, although I was still happy enough to describe the porcupines and the other animals to Mom. All in all, I think it was a good day
To make up for not seeing a tiger in the “Periyar Tiger Reserve”, we did see lots of other wildlife. There were several pigs, both a number of lone ones and a large family. There was also a herd of buffalo, many varieties of birds, two squirrels (which are much larger than those in the US), and possibly 10 wild elephants. I especially enjoyed the elephants. Animals aside, however, it was a lovely day, with beautiful countryside to be traversed and excellent weather.
The tour ended at around 6:00 and I was both tird and ravenous, which is a bad combination. I also wanted a chance to take a nap before Patrick and I went on a night hike, so I was trying to organize everyone and hurry them along. We told the rickshaw driver to take us to Chrissy’s café because it’s close to our rooms and we knew what it was called, but when we got there, it was a bit outside our price range. I was a bit disappointed because I’d been craving lasagna, so when Dad said we had to find somewhere else to go, I said (a bit nastily, I’ll admit) could we pick quickly because I was hungry. HE lost his temper and marched off home, followed by Patrcik. Mom came out of Chrissy’s at this point, to see Patrick storming off and me fuming, rather loudly. It wasn’t until the next morning that I discovered that Dad’s heart had been troubling him and that he had to take a nitrite and rest when he got home. I felt terrible.
In the night, from 10-1, Patrick and I went on a night tour. I expected there to be at least a few people besides us, but it was just the two of us, our guide, and the guard who didn’t appear to be particularly competent with the rifle he carried. I can’t really talk though, because I have yet to shoot anything more powerful than a BB gun. It is very different in the jungle at night – it was beautiful, but I would not have wanted to be there alone. We saw lots of deer, probably around fifteen. There are three kinds of deer in these parts and we saw two of them. One was the Samba deer, I think, but the guide’s accent was quite thick and it was hard to understand more than “deer” or “cat” or “here is somebody, see?” Besides the deer, we saw a wild cat; it was about the size of a bobcat, but more than that I couldn’t tell. Of course, when we first spotted it I got over-excited and managed to convince myself that it was probably a baby tiger, but it wasn’t and that’s probably a good thing. Tigers are most likely to bears in that, where there’s a baby, there’s a mama nearby and if you mess with that baby or get too close, the mama is likely to get a mite touchy - to put it nicely. We also saw a few cast off king cobra skins and two porcupines. The porcupines were enormous. My first thought was that if Aunt Kathryn or Uncle Bill were here, they would have a heyday. (If you don’t know them, they both do quillwork.) I would say they were probably a good 2 ½’ - 3’ long and 1’-1½’ tall. And FAT: these were obviously well fed porcupines. Mom saw the tracks of some and was very impressed as well. By the end of the hike I was exhausted and was quite glad to flop into my bed, although I was still happy enough to describe the porcupines and the other animals to Mom. All in all, I think it was a good day
1-17-09
Today was a lot of small events, but it was great fun. First thing after breakfast, we went on an elephant ride! I was so excited. I suppose it showed on my face because the boy who was riding the elephant before me, a complete stranger, gave me a brilliant smile as though to say I hope you have a fantastic time. I did have a fantastic time. Dad and I shared an elephant and Mom and Patrick shared one, because we thought the height difference was about the same. I got to go on the one with tusks, which made me happy. As we rambled down the streets., children would wave and call to us. I felt so completely happy. It was quite comfortable, although this is no surprise considering the number of blankets piled beneath us. I took my shoes off so I could wiggle my toes and scratch the elephant’s ears. Elephants are more hairy than I previously thought – their hair is very wiry.
After the ride, we got to give an elephant a bath. It climbed into a pool and had water sprayed all over it and we scrubbed it with brushes. It really seemed to be enjoying itself and blew hot air out of its trunk at me. After the elephant was a clean as our inexperienced hands would make it, we climbed, one at a time, onto the elephants back and had a shower. I went first. It was more like having a giant bucket of water dumped on you with considerable force than a shower, but it was great fun. I got thoroughly soaked. I also had a good time watching everybody else’s faces as they got sprayed.
We left the elephants and returned home to change, rest, and eat, then went out again for an Ayurvedic massage. It was extraordinarily oily, but I had been warned so it did not take me by surprise and I quite enjoyed myself. I have never had any other type of massage, so I can’t really compare. I will leave that to Mom – she is the massage expert. I can say, however, that I enjoyed it and felt healthier afterwards.
In the evening we went to two performances: one of martial arts and one of Kalakshetra Dance. The martial arts performance was impressive, but some parts seemed extremely unpractical. I have had “keep your hands up” drilled into my head for ages now, so it seems ridiculously stupid to me to have your hands down and your head sticking out. However, there is no denying that these young men were very comfortable with their weapons and in extremely good condition. I wouldn’t want to fight them, but I would be interested in seeing one of my more experienced friends from Monroe County Martial Arts spar with them, just to see how it worked out. I am going to take a month of lessons in this martial art. At first, I was a little disconcerted by its impracticality, but now that I’ve thought it over, I am glad. Combined with the other martial arts I have already studied, I think it will be very helpful. I also find the history of this art to be intriguing. It is about 3000 years old and is supposed to be the father of all martial arts. Supposedly, it was taught to the warrior Parashurama, an incarnation of Vishnu, by Lord Shiva himself.
The dance was fantastically intricate. I had no idea there were so many muscles in the face. The dance was a story of a demoness who falls in love with the son of Indra, the rain god, and how he rejects her advances. The costumes were also incredible, but while one can see costumes in a photo, the extraordinary array of facial expressions is harder to display. All I cans say is, you really have to see it for yourself.
After the ride, we got to give an elephant a bath. It climbed into a pool and had water sprayed all over it and we scrubbed it with brushes. It really seemed to be enjoying itself and blew hot air out of its trunk at me. After the elephant was a clean as our inexperienced hands would make it, we climbed, one at a time, onto the elephants back and had a shower. I went first. It was more like having a giant bucket of water dumped on you with considerable force than a shower, but it was great fun. I got thoroughly soaked. I also had a good time watching everybody else’s faces as they got sprayed.
We left the elephants and returned home to change, rest, and eat, then went out again for an Ayurvedic massage. It was extraordinarily oily, but I had been warned so it did not take me by surprise and I quite enjoyed myself. I have never had any other type of massage, so I can’t really compare. I will leave that to Mom – she is the massage expert. I can say, however, that I enjoyed it and felt healthier afterwards.
In the evening we went to two performances: one of martial arts and one of Kalakshetra Dance. The martial arts performance was impressive, but some parts seemed extremely unpractical. I have had “keep your hands up” drilled into my head for ages now, so it seems ridiculously stupid to me to have your hands down and your head sticking out. However, there is no denying that these young men were very comfortable with their weapons and in extremely good condition. I wouldn’t want to fight them, but I would be interested in seeing one of my more experienced friends from Monroe County Martial Arts spar with them, just to see how it worked out. I am going to take a month of lessons in this martial art. At first, I was a little disconcerted by its impracticality, but now that I’ve thought it over, I am glad. Combined with the other martial arts I have already studied, I think it will be very helpful. I also find the history of this art to be intriguing. It is about 3000 years old and is supposed to be the father of all martial arts. Supposedly, it was taught to the warrior Parashurama, an incarnation of Vishnu, by Lord Shiva himself.
The dance was fantastically intricate. I had no idea there were so many muscles in the face. The dance was a story of a demoness who falls in love with the son of Indra, the rain god, and how he rejects her advances. The costumes were also incredible, but while one can see costumes in a photo, the extraordinary array of facial expressions is harder to display. All I cans say is, you really have to see it for yourself.
1-16-09
I love it here! (Here is Kumily.) We have ventured into a jungle of sorts, high in the mountains. The bus ride was insane! I am not exaggerating; we sped around hairpin turns, passed cars and buses, teetered on the brink of cliff edges, and even his the side of the mountain once and stalled! I still enjoyed it though. It is wonderful to see real trees again: not just the odd palm tree, but a forest. When we got off our bus, with all of our luggage (it’s really rather ridiculous) and called the hotel we planned to stay at, but they only had one room. Fortunately, a man passing on a motor bike recommended a place. He was very helpful and not at all pushy. Mundakle Paradise Cottage is perfect. It is a homestay. The family is nice, the rooms are clean and quiet; it is on a side street of a main road, so it’s easy to get around without really feeling as though you’re in town. It is already fairly late. We considered seeing a few shows, but it would have been a hassle trying to get seats, so we plan on doing it tomorrow. We just had dinner and went home to rest. Mom and I watched The Princess Diaries on TV, which was amusing.
1-15-09
Today, we traveled, again by bus, from Tanjavur to Madurai. Our hotel is rather upscale, which is a relief after the string of budget rooms we’ve been staying in. However, there is a catch; the chief minister of something or another is visiting and there is a loudspeaker playing an odd cross between modern and traditional music outside our room to welcome him. There is no escaping. Hopefully, it will get turned off suring the night! e is a huge line to get into the inner sanctum. We gave it a pass – it did not seem
The music is off, thank goodness!!!
We visited the Meenakshi temple. It is both enormous and crowded. Ther worth the two hour wait since it is not even our religion. The main part of the temple seemed to me to be more comparable to the Grand Bazaar in Turkey than any of the temples we visited previously. There is also a sort of museum attached which we visited. I was, in a sense, glad to have to pay because it thinned the crowd considerably. The selection of statues is incredible – there were hundreds of them. There was one painting I found particularly interesting because it bears testimony to the considerable western (Portuguese) influence. It shows the wedding of Shiva and Meenakshi, but the faces look more European than Indian and there are two cupids flying in the upper corners.
We considered staying another night here in Madurai, but decided against it. While it is nice to rest in the cool comfort of the hotel, Dad predicted that this would be all we would do. He’s probably right – we would not have ventured out into the crowded streets. On to Kumaly!
The music is off, thank goodness!!!
We visited the Meenakshi temple. It is both enormous and crowded. Ther worth the two hour wait since it is not even our religion. The main part of the temple seemed to me to be more comparable to the Grand Bazaar in Turkey than any of the temples we visited previously. There is also a sort of museum attached which we visited. I was, in a sense, glad to have to pay because it thinned the crowd considerably. The selection of statues is incredible – there were hundreds of them. There was one painting I found particularly interesting because it bears testimony to the considerable western (Portuguese) influence. It shows the wedding of Shiva and Meenakshi, but the faces look more European than Indian and there are two cupids flying in the upper corners.
We considered staying another night here in Madurai, but decided against it. While it is nice to rest in the cool comfort of the hotel, Dad predicted that this would be all we would do. He’s probably right – we would not have ventured out into the crowded streets. On to Kumaly!
1-13/14-09
After Chidambarum, we traveled to Tanjavur. My cold had loosened its hold on me somewhat, so I felt up to the occasion of visiting the temple. It is a sight to behold! This temple was also a temple for Shiva – there seems to be a distinct trend in favor of Shiva as far as our temple visits are concerned. However, this temple was more than just another temple. It was also the civic and political center of the Chola Empire in the first part of the reign of Rajaraja (the “King of kings”). The Chola Empire was, for the most part, a seafaring, merchant empire and, as such, all organization was done through the temple, from education to tax-collecting. In the later part of his reign, Rajaraja built another temple dedicated to Shiva. He was exceptionally clever in the naming of this temple. Rather than calling it some variation of “Shiva’s Temple”, he named it Rajarajeswar – the temple for the God of the King of kings – thus connecting his own kingship with a religious power and strengthening his claim of being the rightful ruler.
The temple itself is both very beautiful and rather large. It is made of a lovely golden brown stone. The statue of Nandi, the sacred bull of Shiva, in front of the temple is the largest India. In its heyday, there were four hundred full time dancers employed there and each was given a small plot of land and a house for their use. There is also a small museum attached. It had many artifacts from the Chola Empire as well as records of all the gifts from Rajaraja, his sister, and various courtiers.
After seeing the temple, we went to the palace of the Maharaja which has been partly converted into a museum. He still lives there, however, so part of the house is off-limits. There were lots of old statues, and the architecture was impressive. Unfortunately, it was quite dirty. There is a secret tunnel going from the palace to the temple six kilometers away. People are allowed to go into the first part but farther along it has collapsed and is only traversed by king cobras and roaches. I was going to go into the first part, but it was rather disgusting and I heard something squeaking. The closterphobia got to me and I didn’t go more than ten feet. There were some nice weapons as well as other artifacts, including documents written on folded palm leaves.
We also climbed the watch tower. I considered not going because my cold had returned with new strength, thanks to my refusal to rest. By the time I reached the top, I felt like fainting, but I didn’t. It was a really nice view – you can see the palace and a quite a bit of the town. It was also nice to be so high up, in the fresh breeze, far above the hustle and bustle on the streets below. At this point, we were all ready for a rest. Mom and Dad meandered back through the town, stopping at shops along the way, but Patrick and I took a rickshaw because I didn’t feel up to a long walk in the afternoon heat.
In the evening we returned to the temple because it is Pongal and we wanted to see the celebrations. Pongal is a holiday to celebrate the harvest and is, therefore, more popular in rural areas, but it was still a huge occasion in Tanjavur. There was a contagious feel of festivity in the air that reached through to me even through the haze of sickness. There was one girl who bumped into me by accident. Even when she apologized and tried to look regretful, she had such a look of pure joy on her face. I think if I were to see her years from now anywhere else in the world, I would still recognize her. People were thronging in the temple. It was really nice to see so many people happily praying. It has been a long, full day and I am exhausted, but happy.
The temple itself is both very beautiful and rather large. It is made of a lovely golden brown stone. The statue of Nandi, the sacred bull of Shiva, in front of the temple is the largest India. In its heyday, there were four hundred full time dancers employed there and each was given a small plot of land and a house for their use. There is also a small museum attached. It had many artifacts from the Chola Empire as well as records of all the gifts from Rajaraja, his sister, and various courtiers.
After seeing the temple, we went to the palace of the Maharaja which has been partly converted into a museum. He still lives there, however, so part of the house is off-limits. There were lots of old statues, and the architecture was impressive. Unfortunately, it was quite dirty. There is a secret tunnel going from the palace to the temple six kilometers away. People are allowed to go into the first part but farther along it has collapsed and is only traversed by king cobras and roaches. I was going to go into the first part, but it was rather disgusting and I heard something squeaking. The closterphobia got to me and I didn’t go more than ten feet. There were some nice weapons as well as other artifacts, including documents written on folded palm leaves.
We also climbed the watch tower. I considered not going because my cold had returned with new strength, thanks to my refusal to rest. By the time I reached the top, I felt like fainting, but I didn’t. It was a really nice view – you can see the palace and a quite a bit of the town. It was also nice to be so high up, in the fresh breeze, far above the hustle and bustle on the streets below. At this point, we were all ready for a rest. Mom and Dad meandered back through the town, stopping at shops along the way, but Patrick and I took a rickshaw because I didn’t feel up to a long walk in the afternoon heat.
In the evening we returned to the temple because it is Pongal and we wanted to see the celebrations. Pongal is a holiday to celebrate the harvest and is, therefore, more popular in rural areas, but it was still a huge occasion in Tanjavur. There was a contagious feel of festivity in the air that reached through to me even through the haze of sickness. There was one girl who bumped into me by accident. Even when she apologized and tried to look regretful, she had such a look of pure joy on her face. I think if I were to see her years from now anywhere else in the world, I would still recognize her. People were thronging in the temple. It was really nice to see so many people happily praying. It has been a long, full day and I am exhausted, but happy.
1-11-09
Today was pretty laid back. It was Ramana Maharshi’s birthday, and Pujas began at the ashram at 4:30 in the morning. Mom and Dad got up in time, but I didn’t. When I did see the ashram, it was decorated all over with giant banana leaves standing up like small trees and ropes of flowers. The statue of Shiva was even more elaborately decorated than usual. It was beautiful.
Patrick and I made an attempt at renting a motorcycle for the afternoon, but it failed. We had already rented the bike, for only Rs. 100, but the gas tank needed to be filled up. Patrick rode it to a gas station, but no gas was available because the petrl truckers are on strike. Maybe we’ll try again in another city.
Patrick and I made an attempt at renting a motorcycle for the afternoon, but it failed. We had already rented the bike, for only Rs. 100, but the gas tank needed to be filled up. Patrick rode it to a gas station, but no gas was available because the petrl truckers are on strike. Maybe we’ll try again in another city.
1-10-09
Sorry I am once again behind.
Today, we began the day bright and early. Actually, it was too early to be bright. We met our guide at six o’clock to take us around the base of Mt. Arunachala, which means we had to rise considerably before six in order to wash up, get dressed, and walk to the ashram. Mom and dad arranged for the guide last night. His name is Saran and he came well recommended by both the ashram and Santosh, the young man who’s name I couldn’t remember before, who hiked to the top of the mountain with us. Unfortunately, also waiting for us at the ashram was Jodhi. We had met him on top of the mountain before and he had offered to give us a guided tour, but we had decided to go with an official guide. His presence made for a somewhat awkward situation.
We took the inner trail around the mountain, and I’m really glad we did. The outer circle, although it leads past many more temples, is in Tiruvanamalai itself and therefore is loud, dirty, and crowded. The inner path was peaceful and quite and, while there was only one shrine, led through a beautiful countryside. The first place we visited was the pond where Ramana Maharshi had bathed three times a week. It is supposed to have healing powers. It was a nice cool place for a rest, so we all dipped our feet in, except Patrick. Somewhere between the pond and the Kallapalayalam shrine, the sun rose, bathing the country in sunlight. We saw the five peaks which represent the five elements: fire, air, earth, water, and ether. There are also five cities representing each element in south India. Tiruvanamalai is the city of fire.
The mountain is supposed to look like Lord Shiva. Sometimes I thought this was a bit far-fetched, but occasionally, I could see part of what was being described, such as Shiva’s head, or his arm. However, I never did figure out which place was supposed to be Shiva Natraja, Shiva in his function as the god of Dance.
The single shrine we passed was dedicated to Kallapalayalam, one of the 63 devotees of Shiva. It is said that Kallapalayalam lived in the forest and knew nothing about Shiva, but one day he came across a Shivalingum. He realized that it was a thing worthy of worship so he cleared away the flowers that had been set there by a Sadu and offered a deer in their place. When the Sadu returned the next morning, he found the dead deer there and thought someone had intentionally defiled the Lingum. So he purified it before performing puja and offering more flowers. That afternoon, Kallapalayalam returned and, once again, cleared away the flowers and replaced them with a deer. This went on for some time. One day, when Kallapalayalam came to the lingum, one of the eyes was crying tears of blood. Without hesitation, he gauged out one of his own eyes and pressed it to the lingum and the bleeding stopped. But when he returned again, the other eye was crying, so he gauged out his other eye. By doing so, he proved his devotion to Lord Shiva.
Somewhere along the trail, we met two women who were begging. I didn’t have any spare change on me, so I wouldn’t have given them anything anyway, but Saran pointed out that they were wearing gold nose-rings and earrings. After talking to them for a while, he learned that they actually owned the property we were walking on! Ah well. I don’t suppose they’re full-time beggars; they probably just saw a bunch of rich, unwary tourists and saw no reason not to give it a try.
The end of the hike was through Tiruvanamalai, which was rather unpleasant, especially after the relaxing morning we had spent hiking, so after walking a bit, we hired a rickshaw. Somehow, we managed to squeeze all six of us into that tiny vehicle; I ended up sitting on Mom’s lap, which I don’t seem to fit into as well as I used to.
Tonight is the full moon, which means that thousands of people go on a pilgrimage around Mt. Arunachala. When Patrick, Dad, and I got coffee in the afternoon, there were already people thronging the streets. After seven o’clock, they close the streets to motor vehicles in order to make room for the people. By the looks of things, it will be neccsary.
Today, we began the day bright and early. Actually, it was too early to be bright. We met our guide at six o’clock to take us around the base of Mt. Arunachala, which means we had to rise considerably before six in order to wash up, get dressed, and walk to the ashram. Mom and dad arranged for the guide last night. His name is Saran and he came well recommended by both the ashram and Santosh, the young man who’s name I couldn’t remember before, who hiked to the top of the mountain with us. Unfortunately, also waiting for us at the ashram was Jodhi. We had met him on top of the mountain before and he had offered to give us a guided tour, but we had decided to go with an official guide. His presence made for a somewhat awkward situation.
We took the inner trail around the mountain, and I’m really glad we did. The outer circle, although it leads past many more temples, is in Tiruvanamalai itself and therefore is loud, dirty, and crowded. The inner path was peaceful and quite and, while there was only one shrine, led through a beautiful countryside. The first place we visited was the pond where Ramana Maharshi had bathed three times a week. It is supposed to have healing powers. It was a nice cool place for a rest, so we all dipped our feet in, except Patrick. Somewhere between the pond and the Kallapalayalam shrine, the sun rose, bathing the country in sunlight. We saw the five peaks which represent the five elements: fire, air, earth, water, and ether. There are also five cities representing each element in south India. Tiruvanamalai is the city of fire.
The mountain is supposed to look like Lord Shiva. Sometimes I thought this was a bit far-fetched, but occasionally, I could see part of what was being described, such as Shiva’s head, or his arm. However, I never did figure out which place was supposed to be Shiva Natraja, Shiva in his function as the god of Dance.
The single shrine we passed was dedicated to Kallapalayalam, one of the 63 devotees of Shiva. It is said that Kallapalayalam lived in the forest and knew nothing about Shiva, but one day he came across a Shivalingum. He realized that it was a thing worthy of worship so he cleared away the flowers that had been set there by a Sadu and offered a deer in their place. When the Sadu returned the next morning, he found the dead deer there and thought someone had intentionally defiled the Lingum. So he purified it before performing puja and offering more flowers. That afternoon, Kallapalayalam returned and, once again, cleared away the flowers and replaced them with a deer. This went on for some time. One day, when Kallapalayalam came to the lingum, one of the eyes was crying tears of blood. Without hesitation, he gauged out one of his own eyes and pressed it to the lingum and the bleeding stopped. But when he returned again, the other eye was crying, so he gauged out his other eye. By doing so, he proved his devotion to Lord Shiva.
Somewhere along the trail, we met two women who were begging. I didn’t have any spare change on me, so I wouldn’t have given them anything anyway, but Saran pointed out that they were wearing gold nose-rings and earrings. After talking to them for a while, he learned that they actually owned the property we were walking on! Ah well. I don’t suppose they’re full-time beggars; they probably just saw a bunch of rich, unwary tourists and saw no reason not to give it a try.
The end of the hike was through Tiruvanamalai, which was rather unpleasant, especially after the relaxing morning we had spent hiking, so after walking a bit, we hired a rickshaw. Somehow, we managed to squeeze all six of us into that tiny vehicle; I ended up sitting on Mom’s lap, which I don’t seem to fit into as well as I used to.
Tonight is the full moon, which means that thousands of people go on a pilgrimage around Mt. Arunachala. When Patrick, Dad, and I got coffee in the afternoon, there were already people thronging the streets. After seven o’clock, they close the streets to motor vehicles in order to make room for the people. By the looks of things, it will be neccsary.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Linda: Floating Palace, Aleppey
Floating Palace, Aleppey
For 22 hours, we rest in the lap of luxury on a beautiful houseboat, traversing the canals and backwaters of Kerala. We rented a lovely, lovely boat, owned by the owners of the heritage home we stayed in last night. Even that was an experience, as our lodgings was in a very large, 2 room complex in an 180 year old home, complete with two courtyards, fountains, and a resident eagle. It has not been particularly restored, but one can imagine its use as a family compound, with many apartments and rooms surrounding the courtyards. Our rooms were upstairs, away from the rest of the house, and you entered it through the entrance off the street. To go to the rest of the compound, you went either through a courtyard or a second entrance. After climbing a lovely teak staircase, we went through double teak doors into a very, very spacious room. It was sparsely furnished with old red tile floors and shuttered windows every 8 feet or so all the way around the room. There was a second, smaller room in the back. I suspect this is the room in which business was conducted for the family. One can imagine the proprietor sitting behind a desk with clerks and helpers, with ample room for others to come. When a break was needed, he could retire to the back room. As I said, the rooms were adequately, but not beautifully restored. One can imagine what once had been.
In the late morning we left this lodging for our floating palace. All was clean and tidy with a lovely table set behind the driver’s chair and two lovely rooms with four poster beds and bathrooms behind. Upstairs there was a second story terrace, partly covered with a table and four chairs and partly open with comfortable pillors and matting. We had a driver, a guide, and a cook, were treated like royalty, and fed absolutely delicious meals. The upstairs terrace area was particularly nice, as it gave you a lot of privacy and independence – as well as the ability to take photographs of the village life without being seen! Though this is a pricy venture, I highly recommend indulging in a boat with the upstairs (partly covered), and even we, on our tight budget, would have loved to do this for two days.
Relaxing, tranquil, quiet, and stunningly beautiful. All day, we were surrounded by a fringe of village life with delightful little homes surrounded by coconut palms, banana trees, other fruit trees, and the occasional goat, chicken, and cow. They got their water directly from the canals, which was about 20 steps outside their front door. Behind their homes were acres and acres and acres of bright green rice paddies – hand harvested! Everything these villagers needed was within a hands throw away: fruit, grain, meat, eggs, dairy. Perhaps there was a vegetable patch as well, though I didn’t see it in the front of the homes. We saw women washing their clothes in the clear water and men, women, and children bathing (with clothes on). We passed churches, schools, temples, and heard the Mahabharata broadcast over the loudspeakers in one area, beautifully chanted in a melodious tone uniquely Indian. The temples are very modest, which may be why I hadn’t "seen" many. They are often made of wood and blend into the environment splendidly. One also sees the influence of China and Indonesia in some of the homes and temples, whose rooftops have that lovely curved roof above the main roof. This second roof is where the warm air rises in the house and leaves, which keeps the entire house cooler. A similar structure is often seen in desert homes in the Middle East. Later in the day, school children were walking home, happily dancing in between the trees and flowers, as all children do. Some were taking the local boat home – 8-10 children piled into a hand-built wooden canoe and poled down the canal to home. The canals are of various width. Because we were on a large boat, we stayed in the bigger canals, which was 2-3 hundred yards wide. Later in the afternoon, Eleanor and Matthew took a small canoe into the villages, using the narrow canals that are only about 10 feet wide. These canals bypass and intersect for hundreds of miles, full of life: animal, people, flowers, birds.
Can one have a high point of high points? Really, the experiences here are so varied that they are beyond compare. And why should one? Why is it that we always must say this is more or less than that? Perhaps one lesson to learn is to let things just be, in the fullness of what they are, instead of comparing them. I think the people here are better at this than us analytical Westerners. Both types of thinking are necessary, but it is good to be able to do both. Sometimes we do. Sometimes we think. Sometimes we just are. Sometimes we love. Body, mind, spirit, heart.
And, life really can be simple, as the people along the banks of the canals can attest. (It does help to have the perfect climate, where heat and clothing are not really necessities.)
Someone once said that India changes one. For me, I’m old enough, experienced enough, and had a sense of purpose and center that I can’t say it’s changing me, but it is deepening the love and understanding of people, of life, of simplicity, of gratitude, and of prayer, which is a great gift.
For 22 hours, we rest in the lap of luxury on a beautiful houseboat, traversing the canals and backwaters of Kerala. We rented a lovely, lovely boat, owned by the owners of the heritage home we stayed in last night. Even that was an experience, as our lodgings was in a very large, 2 room complex in an 180 year old home, complete with two courtyards, fountains, and a resident eagle. It has not been particularly restored, but one can imagine its use as a family compound, with many apartments and rooms surrounding the courtyards. Our rooms were upstairs, away from the rest of the house, and you entered it through the entrance off the street. To go to the rest of the compound, you went either through a courtyard or a second entrance. After climbing a lovely teak staircase, we went through double teak doors into a very, very spacious room. It was sparsely furnished with old red tile floors and shuttered windows every 8 feet or so all the way around the room. There was a second, smaller room in the back. I suspect this is the room in which business was conducted for the family. One can imagine the proprietor sitting behind a desk with clerks and helpers, with ample room for others to come. When a break was needed, he could retire to the back room. As I said, the rooms were adequately, but not beautifully restored. One can imagine what once had been.
In the late morning we left this lodging for our floating palace. All was clean and tidy with a lovely table set behind the driver’s chair and two lovely rooms with four poster beds and bathrooms behind. Upstairs there was a second story terrace, partly covered with a table and four chairs and partly open with comfortable pillors and matting. We had a driver, a guide, and a cook, were treated like royalty, and fed absolutely delicious meals. The upstairs terrace area was particularly nice, as it gave you a lot of privacy and independence – as well as the ability to take photographs of the village life without being seen! Though this is a pricy venture, I highly recommend indulging in a boat with the upstairs (partly covered), and even we, on our tight budget, would have loved to do this for two days.
Relaxing, tranquil, quiet, and stunningly beautiful. All day, we were surrounded by a fringe of village life with delightful little homes surrounded by coconut palms, banana trees, other fruit trees, and the occasional goat, chicken, and cow. They got their water directly from the canals, which was about 20 steps outside their front door. Behind their homes were acres and acres and acres of bright green rice paddies – hand harvested! Everything these villagers needed was within a hands throw away: fruit, grain, meat, eggs, dairy. Perhaps there was a vegetable patch as well, though I didn’t see it in the front of the homes. We saw women washing their clothes in the clear water and men, women, and children bathing (with clothes on). We passed churches, schools, temples, and heard the Mahabharata broadcast over the loudspeakers in one area, beautifully chanted in a melodious tone uniquely Indian. The temples are very modest, which may be why I hadn’t "seen" many. They are often made of wood and blend into the environment splendidly. One also sees the influence of China and Indonesia in some of the homes and temples, whose rooftops have that lovely curved roof above the main roof. This second roof is where the warm air rises in the house and leaves, which keeps the entire house cooler. A similar structure is often seen in desert homes in the Middle East. Later in the day, school children were walking home, happily dancing in between the trees and flowers, as all children do. Some were taking the local boat home – 8-10 children piled into a hand-built wooden canoe and poled down the canal to home. The canals are of various width. Because we were on a large boat, we stayed in the bigger canals, which was 2-3 hundred yards wide. Later in the afternoon, Eleanor and Matthew took a small canoe into the villages, using the narrow canals that are only about 10 feet wide. These canals bypass and intersect for hundreds of miles, full of life: animal, people, flowers, birds.
Can one have a high point of high points? Really, the experiences here are so varied that they are beyond compare. And why should one? Why is it that we always must say this is more or less than that? Perhaps one lesson to learn is to let things just be, in the fullness of what they are, instead of comparing them. I think the people here are better at this than us analytical Westerners. Both types of thinking are necessary, but it is good to be able to do both. Sometimes we do. Sometimes we think. Sometimes we just are. Sometimes we love. Body, mind, spirit, heart.
And, life really can be simple, as the people along the banks of the canals can attest. (It does help to have the perfect climate, where heat and clothing are not really necessities.)
Someone once said that India changes one. For me, I’m old enough, experienced enough, and had a sense of purpose and center that I can’t say it’s changing me, but it is deepening the love and understanding of people, of life, of simplicity, of gratitude, and of prayer, which is a great gift.
Linda: Into the Jungle - Periyar Tiger Sacntuary
Into the Jungle
Periyar Tiger Sanctuary
A fond farewell to the city life. We left Tamil Nadu on a 4 hour bus ride, the last part ascending, ascending, beautiful mountains covered with plantations, little homes, and green, green, green. All was fresh and clean, and the little town of Kumily, where we are staying, is perched up in the mountains, surrounded by spice and tea plantations. This town is marvelously comfortable. The place we were planning to stay was booked, and a man recommended a place for us. He ended up being our knight in shining armor, arranging many trips and events for us, including transportation. We got all of these things at discounted rates and he still got a percentage from the businesses – so we all came out ahead. On top of that, he was one of the most kind and congenial people we’ve
met, which is saying a lot. His help, coupled with the immense beauty of this area, made this a place of joy, peace, and refuge.
And, as always, I am once again aware that I am not a city girl. As the hours and days went by, I found my vision and my heart going out in expanding circles, and hadn’t realized how closed in I was in the cities, where one can really only look across a street or over a building. I loved the temples and the sacred places, but my soul soars in the vastness of nature.
The jungle here is very maternal. The forests seem a lot like ours, bigger hills and waterways, but the right combination of tree and plant. Until you really start to look! Then, you realize not one of the trees are the same, or if they are the same, the flowers are much bigger. And the sounds! Monkeys (4 varieties each with their own sound), pigs, birds – all unique. Then, the tracks! This is a trackers paradise. We went on an all day excursion into the jungle through the forestry department here. There are 42 tigers residing in the preserve. (Last sighting was last December. Like all big cats, tigers are very hard to see – silent, elusive.) We hiked for a total of 4-5 hours and rafted on a quiet lake for another 4 hours or so. Breakfast and lunch included, as well as guides, rowers, and an armed guard with a World War II vintage rifle – not sure he really knew how to use it. It was glorious! We saw several wild pigs, including a rather large family later in the day. We saw three groupings of wild elephants, many small herds of wild bison, monkeys, a drongo (there really is one – it’s a bird), and a myriad of tracks!! Of course, I was the only one with my nose glued to the ground, but, fortunately, one of the guides was just as interested in tracks and plants as I am and answered all my questions. I got a tour of medicinal plants and saw the tracks of all the above mentioned animals as well as otter, porcupine (a 4 inch track!!! – wait for Eleanor’s story on porcupines), birds, dog, other rodents I wasn’t sure about, and a gorgeous 4 day old tiger track! At first I thought the tiger track was rather small, then I realized I was only looking at the foot pad and had missed the four toe pads! A lovely, round track with 4 beautiful round toes, claws in, as cats walk with their claws retracted, unlike dogs. It was the size of my full hand, extended, except for the last joint of my middle finger – so about 5 inches. I took a picture, which I hope Eleanor posts. We saw other tiger tracks as well, but they were a bit older. We also heard a very scary growl coming from about 15 yards away, with some rustling, followed by 2 more growls before the mother went up the hill. We think it was a pig – not an animal I want coming toward me either. There are also sloth bears and black bears here, too, as well as snakes – didn’t see any signs of any of those. So, for any trackers, the mud and sand here are perfect tracking conditions, the people are wonderful, the climate is perfect, and the cost, once you get here, is reasonable!!
Another adventure was an elephant ride through the jungle. I felt like a Maharani (great princess) sitting on top this wonderful animal. Patrick was with me and our guide was on the ground; Matthew and Eleanor were on the elephant in front. They are amazing creatures. The rocking movement is gentle and they are absolutely silent! Patrick was the first one to notice that they didn’t make a sound as they carefully placed their feet. We went through a few villages – the children all waved – and then went to a little tank of fresh water and gave the elephant a bath. I’d already experimented with favorite rubbing places. In fact, I’d found a particularly nice place to rub behind the elephant’s ears while we were riding and got the elephant in trouble. She stopped and groaned in delight, until the guide told her to move on. Another time she bent into the petting and started to wag her tail – very gratifying. She loved the bath and willingly laid there while we scrubbed her with halved coconut shells. Then, she sat up, we got on her back – one at a time, and she showered us – quite thoroughly – with large amounts of water. It’s a bit touristy, but a must do, and you’ll come away feeling very happy. Elephants make you feel happy.
We also saw a martial arts demonstration called Kalaripayattu which was impressive in many ways, and a little too contrived in others. Knowing a bit about fighting and fighting with sticks, knives, and staffs has its advantages. The demonstrations were staged, but it was still interesting to see, and they fought with great intensity. Still, they fought to miss – which, if you are really fighting, is not good practice. This particular martial arts form goes back 3000 years and, like many traditions here, is steeped in myth. Legend traces the art form back to Parasurama, the master of martial arts forms who was taught by Lord Shiva himself, and originated in southern Kerela. It is inspired by the power of the lion, tiger, elephant, boar, snake, and crocodile. The training is intense and wholistic, taking years to master. It includes not only physical training, but yoga, body, mind, and medicine. Stances are modified for jungle use, so there are many low stances. Weapons include the hands, staff (6 feet long), sword and shield, various knives, and sticks.
Kathakali is a traditional temple dance form here in Kerela. We were able to see a performance here, sitting very close to the stage. Usually, these intricate and detailed performances of the epics and mythological stories of India are done over a period of 1-3 days and nights in the temples. It takes three hours to do the elaborate make up of the characters, whose style and color tell if the character is evil or good, male or female. All roles are played by males, much like all theatre throughout the world until the 1700’s. The story is told through the subtlety of gesture and facial movements. Because this was a demonstration, we were shown all the basic hand gestures as well as an impressive array of facial gestures. Just watching the eyes was amazing. The eyes are trained to move very, very exactly – back and forth, up and down, sometimes at great speeds, and sometimes only moving rapidly, back and forth, only a fraction of an inch. It must take years to do this! And then, each muscle of the face can move independently and with great speed – or lack of speed. Yet, even though the face was very mobile, it was also very controlled – it wasn’t exaggerated, it was exact. We saw a few short demonstrations of acting, like asking someone to come in (three different ways – one nicely, one as a command, one as a reprimand – very interesting) and putting a baby to sleep. The play was only ½ hour – plenty for an introduction.
So, our time here was spent mostly in nature and in the company of the lovely family who hosted us – a Christian family of the Thomasian church. Unfortunately, I discovered this too late to ask questions of the son, whose English was the best. I’ve loved being up in the cool mountains … and the smells!! One smells cardamom just walking up and down the streets. If fact, we saw a circle of women sorting baskets of cardamom for a local spice factory, quietly talking in a shady area. I was too embarrassed to take a picture, but it was lovely. During drives, you see entire mountains covered with tea, steep mountainsides cascading with tea plants – and in some places rubber trees, with bags around them to capture the rubber. The mountains here remind me of the Smoky Mountains – round and maternal, green nearly to the top, but they are much, much steeper. And the people are quiet and easy to be with.
Periyar Tiger Sanctuary
A fond farewell to the city life. We left Tamil Nadu on a 4 hour bus ride, the last part ascending, ascending, beautiful mountains covered with plantations, little homes, and green, green, green. All was fresh and clean, and the little town of Kumily, where we are staying, is perched up in the mountains, surrounded by spice and tea plantations. This town is marvelously comfortable. The place we were planning to stay was booked, and a man recommended a place for us. He ended up being our knight in shining armor, arranging many trips and events for us, including transportation. We got all of these things at discounted rates and he still got a percentage from the businesses – so we all came out ahead. On top of that, he was one of the most kind and congenial people we’ve
met, which is saying a lot. His help, coupled with the immense beauty of this area, made this a place of joy, peace, and refuge.
And, as always, I am once again aware that I am not a city girl. As the hours and days went by, I found my vision and my heart going out in expanding circles, and hadn’t realized how closed in I was in the cities, where one can really only look across a street or over a building. I loved the temples and the sacred places, but my soul soars in the vastness of nature.
The jungle here is very maternal. The forests seem a lot like ours, bigger hills and waterways, but the right combination of tree and plant. Until you really start to look! Then, you realize not one of the trees are the same, or if they are the same, the flowers are much bigger. And the sounds! Monkeys (4 varieties each with their own sound), pigs, birds – all unique. Then, the tracks! This is a trackers paradise. We went on an all day excursion into the jungle through the forestry department here. There are 42 tigers residing in the preserve. (Last sighting was last December. Like all big cats, tigers are very hard to see – silent, elusive.) We hiked for a total of 4-5 hours and rafted on a quiet lake for another 4 hours or so. Breakfast and lunch included, as well as guides, rowers, and an armed guard with a World War II vintage rifle – not sure he really knew how to use it. It was glorious! We saw several wild pigs, including a rather large family later in the day. We saw three groupings of wild elephants, many small herds of wild bison, monkeys, a drongo (there really is one – it’s a bird), and a myriad of tracks!! Of course, I was the only one with my nose glued to the ground, but, fortunately, one of the guides was just as interested in tracks and plants as I am and answered all my questions. I got a tour of medicinal plants and saw the tracks of all the above mentioned animals as well as otter, porcupine (a 4 inch track!!! – wait for Eleanor’s story on porcupines), birds, dog, other rodents I wasn’t sure about, and a gorgeous 4 day old tiger track! At first I thought the tiger track was rather small, then I realized I was only looking at the foot pad and had missed the four toe pads! A lovely, round track with 4 beautiful round toes, claws in, as cats walk with their claws retracted, unlike dogs. It was the size of my full hand, extended, except for the last joint of my middle finger – so about 5 inches. I took a picture, which I hope Eleanor posts. We saw other tiger tracks as well, but they were a bit older. We also heard a very scary growl coming from about 15 yards away, with some rustling, followed by 2 more growls before the mother went up the hill. We think it was a pig – not an animal I want coming toward me either. There are also sloth bears and black bears here, too, as well as snakes – didn’t see any signs of any of those. So, for any trackers, the mud and sand here are perfect tracking conditions, the people are wonderful, the climate is perfect, and the cost, once you get here, is reasonable!!
Another adventure was an elephant ride through the jungle. I felt like a Maharani (great princess) sitting on top this wonderful animal. Patrick was with me and our guide was on the ground; Matthew and Eleanor were on the elephant in front. They are amazing creatures. The rocking movement is gentle and they are absolutely silent! Patrick was the first one to notice that they didn’t make a sound as they carefully placed their feet. We went through a few villages – the children all waved – and then went to a little tank of fresh water and gave the elephant a bath. I’d already experimented with favorite rubbing places. In fact, I’d found a particularly nice place to rub behind the elephant’s ears while we were riding and got the elephant in trouble. She stopped and groaned in delight, until the guide told her to move on. Another time she bent into the petting and started to wag her tail – very gratifying. She loved the bath and willingly laid there while we scrubbed her with halved coconut shells. Then, she sat up, we got on her back – one at a time, and she showered us – quite thoroughly – with large amounts of water. It’s a bit touristy, but a must do, and you’ll come away feeling very happy. Elephants make you feel happy.
We also saw a martial arts demonstration called Kalaripayattu which was impressive in many ways, and a little too contrived in others. Knowing a bit about fighting and fighting with sticks, knives, and staffs has its advantages. The demonstrations were staged, but it was still interesting to see, and they fought with great intensity. Still, they fought to miss – which, if you are really fighting, is not good practice. This particular martial arts form goes back 3000 years and, like many traditions here, is steeped in myth. Legend traces the art form back to Parasurama, the master of martial arts forms who was taught by Lord Shiva himself, and originated in southern Kerela. It is inspired by the power of the lion, tiger, elephant, boar, snake, and crocodile. The training is intense and wholistic, taking years to master. It includes not only physical training, but yoga, body, mind, and medicine. Stances are modified for jungle use, so there are many low stances. Weapons include the hands, staff (6 feet long), sword and shield, various knives, and sticks.
Kathakali is a traditional temple dance form here in Kerela. We were able to see a performance here, sitting very close to the stage. Usually, these intricate and detailed performances of the epics and mythological stories of India are done over a period of 1-3 days and nights in the temples. It takes three hours to do the elaborate make up of the characters, whose style and color tell if the character is evil or good, male or female. All roles are played by males, much like all theatre throughout the world until the 1700’s. The story is told through the subtlety of gesture and facial movements. Because this was a demonstration, we were shown all the basic hand gestures as well as an impressive array of facial gestures. Just watching the eyes was amazing. The eyes are trained to move very, very exactly – back and forth, up and down, sometimes at great speeds, and sometimes only moving rapidly, back and forth, only a fraction of an inch. It must take years to do this! And then, each muscle of the face can move independently and with great speed – or lack of speed. Yet, even though the face was very mobile, it was also very controlled – it wasn’t exaggerated, it was exact. We saw a few short demonstrations of acting, like asking someone to come in (three different ways – one nicely, one as a command, one as a reprimand – very interesting) and putting a baby to sleep. The play was only ½ hour – plenty for an introduction.
So, our time here was spent mostly in nature and in the company of the lovely family who hosted us – a Christian family of the Thomasian church. Unfortunately, I discovered this too late to ask questions of the son, whose English was the best. I’ve loved being up in the cool mountains … and the smells!! One smells cardamom just walking up and down the streets. If fact, we saw a circle of women sorting baskets of cardamom for a local spice factory, quietly talking in a shady area. I was too embarrassed to take a picture, but it was lovely. During drives, you see entire mountains covered with tea, steep mountainsides cascading with tea plants – and in some places rubber trees, with bags around them to capture the rubber. The mountains here remind me of the Smoky Mountains – round and maternal, green nearly to the top, but they are much, much steeper. And the people are quiet and easy to be with.
Linda: Overview of Kerela
Linda: Overview of Kerela
We have left the state of Tamil Nadu and have entered into the southwestern state of Kerela. It is interesting to see how different it is from one state to the next, not only topographically, but also with regard to housing, begging, litter, quality of buildings, English, and level of education. In Kerala, even the little villages in the hills have solid houses – built of concrete and without charm, but solid. In Tamil Nadu, most of the village houses were of thatch with clay floors; only the wealthier had more solid homes, and many were not very well maintained. Kerela is a much wealthier state than Tamil Nadu, with a smaller population and smaller cities. It be interesting to research the historical background of these areas to see why this is so. I suspect a large part of it is due to the spice trade – a big trade item for thousands of years. I also wonder how much of it may be due to the significant influence of the Christian and Jewish communities here, who would have helped the Indian population adjust to the era of Western trade. The Christian influence is much more evident with regard to churches and schools, but the Jewish influence and expertise was felt throughout this area by some accounts as early as the 11th century BC. It is saied that the first Jews arrived as part of King Solomon’s trading fleet in the 11th century BC. Others say in 587BC, when the Jewish people fled the occupation of Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar. Either way, they settled just north of Kochi (next stop) in Cranganone and traded in spices. They remained respected members of Keralan society and even had their own reuler until the arrival of the Portugeese inquisition in the early 16th century. At that time, when Jews were being bruned at the stake in Goa and evicted elsewhere along the coast, the raja of Kochi gave them a parcel of land adjoing the royal palace, which we will visit in a few days. The new Jewish community was much in demand as they spoke Malayalam, and they thrived during the great trading period under the Dutch and, later, British rule. There are 3 distinct groups of Jews in Kerala. The Black Jews were emplyed as laborers in the spice business and their community of thousands resulted from the eearliest Jewish settlers marrying and converting Indians. Brown Jews are thougt to have been slave converts. White Jews considered themselves superior to both groups, were orthodox and married only amongst themselves. By the 1950’s, most of Kochi’s Jews (White Jews?) emigrated when they were given free passage to Israel. The White Jews’ traditional ways of life are on the verge of desappearing as only seven families survive and their ideals and values have inevitably moved with the times.
One saw a few churches in all the cities in Tamil Nadu, and every town and city seemed to have one or more Christian based school. The school here in Kerala have been, in general, much better than the government schools with regard to education – if one was looking for a western education – specializing in the teaching of English which opened many doors to families with regard to occupation. These schools were not more rigorous than the traditional Indian schools of Vedic background, but they did prepare them for a world of opportunity with the west. I think that for many years, families had to choose between the two kinds of education. Now, some families are trying to do both – steep their children in the rich literature and doctrine of ancient India as well as having them learn English. It is a very significant moment in India, as the country is really on the edge of moving out of its third world status and become a developed nation – a mixed blessing, to say the least. So much to be lost of languages, lore, song, traditions, medicine, stories. Yet, we are in the present world at the present time. One can not go back, but hopefully, one can go forward while preserving a dignity and integrity that is uniquely India.
The Christian population is a definite minority here, but its presence is felt throughout the countryside. In the mountains and villages of interior Kerela, it is the Syrian based church brought by St. Thomas that is seen, though the white churches of Portugeese influence are also prevelant.. I haven’t found out yet how the Syrian church differs from the Orthodox or Catholic or Syrian Catholic traditions, outside of its obvious independence. From the little I understand, the differences are there, but mostly the churches are very similar. Again, I’d love to trace the history of this, and wonder how much of the present church is, in fact, the old church of St. Thomas and how much has been modified by Portugeese Catholic and English Anglican influences. One thing for sure, they have adapted to their new Indian world! The churches look like European churches, but the little shrines dotted throughout the countryside have a definite Indian flair, and boast some architectural features that I’ve seen in the big temples. Also, the schools and churches here are in excellent repair, as are the other colleges. The streets are reasonably clean, we’ve seen only one beggar (maybe it’s illegal here). This state enjoys the highest level of literacy – something like 90%, versus 65% in the rest of India. It is also immensely beautiful and a major area for tourism, appealing to loves of nature rather than cities. Consequently, there is much more English on signs. As a side, having been in areas where one mostly saw the Tamil script, I’ve noticed that it starts to become more familiar and less like a series of curly, round shapes. As a teacher, I find it interesting to see how much one “learns” just by immersion. I think it would be easier to learn the script now, after having been here for nearly 4 weeks, than it would have in isolation at home. Another interesting fact is that the elected governmental officials are Communist. This is the only freely elected Communist state in the world. Again, I’d love to know how that works, exactly.
Just a few side notes about travel. For me, there is a 3 week period of adjustment when traveling to a country whose culture and lifestyle is so different than one’s own. The first three weeks are tiring and one is always on edge. Everything is new and one is a little defensive. And yet, after three weeks, it all gets much, much easier – and the pangs of homesickness lessen a bit. One can embrace the people more, will try different things, and it is even more enjoyable on many fronts. You also learn what you like and what you need and how to get those things, which also helps. So, my recommendation, if you really want to “see” a country is 1) to NOT go with a tour, 2) stay in lots of different kinds of hotels/homestays/city/country and modes of travel – lots of variety, and 3) definitely stay 5 weeks or more, because the first three, though interesting, has a lot of adjustment and it’s not easy. AND, Eleanor and I are doing much better at “fitting in”. Our saris are “just right” now, and if walk down the street “just so” all the shopkeepers think we’re either Indian or have been here many times and don’t even bother to try to strike up a conversation with the hopes of luring us in. It’s WONDERFUL!! And the beggars don’t try very hard with us either. As our Sikh friend said, I thought you were from North India … until you opened your mouth! Silence is golden.
Also, enjoy the differences!! Yesterday, I needed to get my saris ironed, so I went to the local lady on the street who was ironing on a little flat cart. She was there every day, doing lots of ironing for the local people on a flat cart covered with several layers of fabric and … a coal iron. It was not like the irons I’ve seen in museums that the pioneers used where they would put it near the fire to heat, let it cool, then use it – often having 2 irons at a time, one to use and one to heat. This one was quite heavy and large, but hollow! Hot coals were put inside, so it had a continuous supply of even heat. The combination of heat and weight did a fabulous job – much better than my little iron at home. Besides the iron, she had an excellent way of folding and refolding the clothes while she ironed so that she got every bit ironed, but none of it fell to the dirty ground. Quite a little art. Once ironed, it was folded into newspaper and handed back – imminently more packable than its previous disarray.
And tailoring!! It is a tailoring paradise here. For $2.00, I had a sari blouse, fully lined, made to my exact measurements. The sari blouse is much cooler than our long blouses, rather tight fitting, beautiful, and … comes with four rows of stitching which you can take out if your size changes – for the bigger, which, unfortunately, is usually the case. If you have a favorite skirt, shirt, dress, etc. that fits “just right”, you can bring in the item with fabric and they will make an exact copy – perfectly, and quickly and cheaply. We are planning to explore the tailoring world in more detail in Varanasi. The tailors all work on the old, non-electric sewing machines where you have a pedal to pump at the bottom. I’ve watched them stitch. Nothing fancy, just forward and back, but FAST! One of the things I’ve loved here is seeing what is done without electricity, the way it was done a century ago here. Often, it takes no longer, works as well or better, and is very cost efficient.
Finally, I must mention the cost of traveling in India. With some experience, one can find a clean room for $10-$15 a night with a shower, TV, and sometimes phone. (You can find a not so clean room for $5.00 a night.) You can stay in a more upscale hotel for $40 (marble floors, several restaurants, grand entry, travel agent on hand, handsome sitting rooms) or an ashram for free(3 nights only). As far as food, one can eat in an upscale restaurant for $5 a meal or a very delicious Indian restaurant for $1.00. A four hour bus ride costs about $1.00, but you can hire a car and driver to do the same trip for $30-$40. Air fare in India is very expensive, but one can travel by train 3 days for about $75. Now, these are reasonable bottom to middle level prices . One can also stay in palaces and hotels with service and charm to rival any place in the world – more in the north than here. That part is coming in April, and even that is much less expensive than anywhere else in the world.
Labor is very, very cheap here – which helps with the pricing, but is very hard for the families. We went to a place for a massage, paying 600 rupees ($12) for 90 minutes. Later, we found out that at another place, a man gave 8 massages a day (1000 rupees each) and received, for his labor, 75 rupees total. And that is considered a good wage. People here work 6 days a week and often longer than an 8 hour work day. There are no benefits. The idea of travel for most Indians is a strange one. Except for going on a pilgrimage, they see no reason to go away – everything is near at hand, all they love and want. This is changing because the family structure is changing. I was speaking with a Sikh from the Himalayans yesterday and he confirmed what our sari dealer in Kanchipuram said. The people of some means of my generation (age 50-60) would have grown up in a compound, run by the patriarch with all brothers, wives, children, aunts, and uncles living together in a compound of rooms, usually with a courtyard. This is almost completely gone, and most of India is now nuclear families, becoming more far flung, much like America. With that change, travel will become more common –again, a new horizon here in India.
We have left the state of Tamil Nadu and have entered into the southwestern state of Kerela. It is interesting to see how different it is from one state to the next, not only topographically, but also with regard to housing, begging, litter, quality of buildings, English, and level of education. In Kerala, even the little villages in the hills have solid houses – built of concrete and without charm, but solid. In Tamil Nadu, most of the village houses were of thatch with clay floors; only the wealthier had more solid homes, and many were not very well maintained. Kerela is a much wealthier state than Tamil Nadu, with a smaller population and smaller cities. It be interesting to research the historical background of these areas to see why this is so. I suspect a large part of it is due to the spice trade – a big trade item for thousands of years. I also wonder how much of it may be due to the significant influence of the Christian and Jewish communities here, who would have helped the Indian population adjust to the era of Western trade. The Christian influence is much more evident with regard to churches and schools, but the Jewish influence and expertise was felt throughout this area by some accounts as early as the 11th century BC. It is saied that the first Jews arrived as part of King Solomon’s trading fleet in the 11th century BC. Others say in 587BC, when the Jewish people fled the occupation of Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar. Either way, they settled just north of Kochi (next stop) in Cranganone and traded in spices. They remained respected members of Keralan society and even had their own reuler until the arrival of the Portugeese inquisition in the early 16th century. At that time, when Jews were being bruned at the stake in Goa and evicted elsewhere along the coast, the raja of Kochi gave them a parcel of land adjoing the royal palace, which we will visit in a few days. The new Jewish community was much in demand as they spoke Malayalam, and they thrived during the great trading period under the Dutch and, later, British rule. There are 3 distinct groups of Jews in Kerala. The Black Jews were emplyed as laborers in the spice business and their community of thousands resulted from the eearliest Jewish settlers marrying and converting Indians. Brown Jews are thougt to have been slave converts. White Jews considered themselves superior to both groups, were orthodox and married only amongst themselves. By the 1950’s, most of Kochi’s Jews (White Jews?) emigrated when they were given free passage to Israel. The White Jews’ traditional ways of life are on the verge of desappearing as only seven families survive and their ideals and values have inevitably moved with the times.
One saw a few churches in all the cities in Tamil Nadu, and every town and city seemed to have one or more Christian based school. The school here in Kerala have been, in general, much better than the government schools with regard to education – if one was looking for a western education – specializing in the teaching of English which opened many doors to families with regard to occupation. These schools were not more rigorous than the traditional Indian schools of Vedic background, but they did prepare them for a world of opportunity with the west. I think that for many years, families had to choose between the two kinds of education. Now, some families are trying to do both – steep their children in the rich literature and doctrine of ancient India as well as having them learn English. It is a very significant moment in India, as the country is really on the edge of moving out of its third world status and become a developed nation – a mixed blessing, to say the least. So much to be lost of languages, lore, song, traditions, medicine, stories. Yet, we are in the present world at the present time. One can not go back, but hopefully, one can go forward while preserving a dignity and integrity that is uniquely India.
The Christian population is a definite minority here, but its presence is felt throughout the countryside. In the mountains and villages of interior Kerela, it is the Syrian based church brought by St. Thomas that is seen, though the white churches of Portugeese influence are also prevelant.. I haven’t found out yet how the Syrian church differs from the Orthodox or Catholic or Syrian Catholic traditions, outside of its obvious independence. From the little I understand, the differences are there, but mostly the churches are very similar. Again, I’d love to trace the history of this, and wonder how much of the present church is, in fact, the old church of St. Thomas and how much has been modified by Portugeese Catholic and English Anglican influences. One thing for sure, they have adapted to their new Indian world! The churches look like European churches, but the little shrines dotted throughout the countryside have a definite Indian flair, and boast some architectural features that I’ve seen in the big temples. Also, the schools and churches here are in excellent repair, as are the other colleges. The streets are reasonably clean, we’ve seen only one beggar (maybe it’s illegal here). This state enjoys the highest level of literacy – something like 90%, versus 65% in the rest of India. It is also immensely beautiful and a major area for tourism, appealing to loves of nature rather than cities. Consequently, there is much more English on signs. As a side, having been in areas where one mostly saw the Tamil script, I’ve noticed that it starts to become more familiar and less like a series of curly, round shapes. As a teacher, I find it interesting to see how much one “learns” just by immersion. I think it would be easier to learn the script now, after having been here for nearly 4 weeks, than it would have in isolation at home. Another interesting fact is that the elected governmental officials are Communist. This is the only freely elected Communist state in the world. Again, I’d love to know how that works, exactly.
Just a few side notes about travel. For me, there is a 3 week period of adjustment when traveling to a country whose culture and lifestyle is so different than one’s own. The first three weeks are tiring and one is always on edge. Everything is new and one is a little defensive. And yet, after three weeks, it all gets much, much easier – and the pangs of homesickness lessen a bit. One can embrace the people more, will try different things, and it is even more enjoyable on many fronts. You also learn what you like and what you need and how to get those things, which also helps. So, my recommendation, if you really want to “see” a country is 1) to NOT go with a tour, 2) stay in lots of different kinds of hotels/homestays/city/country and modes of travel – lots of variety, and 3) definitely stay 5 weeks or more, because the first three, though interesting, has a lot of adjustment and it’s not easy. AND, Eleanor and I are doing much better at “fitting in”. Our saris are “just right” now, and if walk down the street “just so” all the shopkeepers think we’re either Indian or have been here many times and don’t even bother to try to strike up a conversation with the hopes of luring us in. It’s WONDERFUL!! And the beggars don’t try very hard with us either. As our Sikh friend said, I thought you were from North India … until you opened your mouth! Silence is golden.
Also, enjoy the differences!! Yesterday, I needed to get my saris ironed, so I went to the local lady on the street who was ironing on a little flat cart. She was there every day, doing lots of ironing for the local people on a flat cart covered with several layers of fabric and … a coal iron. It was not like the irons I’ve seen in museums that the pioneers used where they would put it near the fire to heat, let it cool, then use it – often having 2 irons at a time, one to use and one to heat. This one was quite heavy and large, but hollow! Hot coals were put inside, so it had a continuous supply of even heat. The combination of heat and weight did a fabulous job – much better than my little iron at home. Besides the iron, she had an excellent way of folding and refolding the clothes while she ironed so that she got every bit ironed, but none of it fell to the dirty ground. Quite a little art. Once ironed, it was folded into newspaper and handed back – imminently more packable than its previous disarray.
And tailoring!! It is a tailoring paradise here. For $2.00, I had a sari blouse, fully lined, made to my exact measurements. The sari blouse is much cooler than our long blouses, rather tight fitting, beautiful, and … comes with four rows of stitching which you can take out if your size changes – for the bigger, which, unfortunately, is usually the case. If you have a favorite skirt, shirt, dress, etc. that fits “just right”, you can bring in the item with fabric and they will make an exact copy – perfectly, and quickly and cheaply. We are planning to explore the tailoring world in more detail in Varanasi. The tailors all work on the old, non-electric sewing machines where you have a pedal to pump at the bottom. I’ve watched them stitch. Nothing fancy, just forward and back, but FAST! One of the things I’ve loved here is seeing what is done without electricity, the way it was done a century ago here. Often, it takes no longer, works as well or better, and is very cost efficient.
Finally, I must mention the cost of traveling in India. With some experience, one can find a clean room for $10-$15 a night with a shower, TV, and sometimes phone. (You can find a not so clean room for $5.00 a night.) You can stay in a more upscale hotel for $40 (marble floors, several restaurants, grand entry, travel agent on hand, handsome sitting rooms) or an ashram for free(3 nights only). As far as food, one can eat in an upscale restaurant for $5 a meal or a very delicious Indian restaurant for $1.00. A four hour bus ride costs about $1.00, but you can hire a car and driver to do the same trip for $30-$40. Air fare in India is very expensive, but one can travel by train 3 days for about $75. Now, these are reasonable bottom to middle level prices . One can also stay in palaces and hotels with service and charm to rival any place in the world – more in the north than here. That part is coming in April, and even that is much less expensive than anywhere else in the world.
Labor is very, very cheap here – which helps with the pricing, but is very hard for the families. We went to a place for a massage, paying 600 rupees ($12) for 90 minutes. Later, we found out that at another place, a man gave 8 massages a day (1000 rupees each) and received, for his labor, 75 rupees total. And that is considered a good wage. People here work 6 days a week and often longer than an 8 hour work day. There are no benefits. The idea of travel for most Indians is a strange one. Except for going on a pilgrimage, they see no reason to go away – everything is near at hand, all they love and want. This is changing because the family structure is changing. I was speaking with a Sikh from the Himalayans yesterday and he confirmed what our sari dealer in Kanchipuram said. The people of some means of my generation (age 50-60) would have grown up in a compound, run by the patriarch with all brothers, wives, children, aunts, and uncles living together in a compound of rooms, usually with a courtyard. This is almost completely gone, and most of India is now nuclear families, becoming more far flung, much like America. With that change, travel will become more common –again, a new horizon here in India.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Some more photos from Matthew.
We just arrived in Allepey from Kumily by car - I could not face carreening down those mountains in a bus. We are staying in a 200 year old heritage home which has huge sprawlinfg rooms and an outdoor restaurant full of birds including a tame eagle!!!. Patrick and I just walked to get money and then to the beach. We booked a backwater trip for tomorrow. The birds singinging in the mountains were particularly beautiful at dawn this morning. Anyway as promised more pictures.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Linda: Temple Cities – Jan 12-15
Linda: Temple Cities – Jan 12-15
Chidambaram, Tanjore, Madurai
The past 5 days have been an intense bit of travel as we meandered our way down Tami Nadu to the magnificient temple sites situated in south India. In retrospect, this was an excellent agenda to see these sites, as each one was built at a later period of time so one could see the progression of style, size, architectural, and sculptural detail. The sites at Chidambaraum and Madurai are very ancient sites where worship has been held before most written history. In fact, Madurai enjoyed frequent trade with ancient Greece, though the Hellenistic influence is seen more in the north through the influence of Alexander the Great and the cities established after his brief visit to India. In looking at the various sculptures, I wonder who influenced whom. I frequently saw lions as guardians of the temples, both at the base of the temples and in the capitals of the columns. These lions (at least to my memory) seem remarkably like the lions of the Alhambra, and thus of Europe, in style and detail. And some of the dragons looked remarkably Chinese. In coming to an old, old country like India, I can well imagine the fascination of studying precisely the movement of art, dance, medicine, and dress (etc.) as it passed along the caravan trails. That is a study that could last a lifetime, if one likes history, art, and culture.
And in traveling to these cities we had to travel on … Indian bus!! We were hoping to go by train, but they were working on the tracks between the cities we wished to visit, so we girded on our adventurous spirits and braved the bus. I had heard numerous stories of travel on Indian busses – most of them of the grueling, endurance type of story with hair pin turns, careening busses, people and babies piled on top of one another, people and packages on top, and people clambering in windows to get aboard. Admittedly, my stomach was feeling rather nervous as we wheeled our now 5 pieces of luggage (quite a spectacle –and many Indians seemed amazed to see such wealth dragging along the street. I suspect most people who have our kind of suitcases to not use the bus – at least we didn’t see anyone else)!! But, fortune was very much on our side, and I remain extremely grateful. At each place, we were the first stop of the bus. Every time, we happened to arrive just 15 minutes before the bus left – just enough to lug the luggage on board and choose our seats. The family tended to ride in the back with the luggage. I, however, chose to ride just in front of the axle – less bumpy – and next to a window where I could control the amount of air. In fact, the bus ride was fine. They have bars across the windows (just two, so you could still see out) which prevented any possibility of climbing through windows - so those days are over – AND – here is where there is a distinct advantage of being a woman in India. Because of the Indians respect for the privacy of women, men do not sit next to a woman that is not family,which I actually find this to be a rather agreeable custom. Also, more men travel than women. The net result was that on several occasions, I didn’t have to share a seat at all, while several men stood up. It didn’t last, but I rather enjoyed it for awhile. The bus rides varied, and there was certainly some careening, some jolting, some impressive bumps, and hairpin turns. The bus could also be completely full with people up the aisle – babies and children in hand, with food, containers of rice, baskets of produce, and the occasional small bag (nothing like ours) which fit neatly under the tiny seats. Having said all that, in having a window seat, I had as much room and comfort as I had in a taxi with all of our luggage and the four of us. All in all, the bus rides were just fine, although I would be singing a different song if we had to sling our bags on top and stand for 4 hours between stops.
The first temple we visited was the Sabhanayaka Nataraja Temple in Chidambaram. This is considered to be the most sacred temple in India for Shiva and reputedly it is on this location that Shiva divinely revealed the art form of dance as worship which is strictly adhered to and practiced to this day. The oldest part of the temple dates to the Chola dynasty in the 900’s AD. The temple is surrounded by a high wall and is three concentric circles. One makes one’s way in clockwise fashion to the centermost circle, passing many smaller shrines all along the way. The gopuras are covered with magnificent carvings and two of them show, in sculpture form, the 108 poses revealed in sacred scripture for dance as worship. The site dates from antiquity, and the tank (pool of water) comes from the joining of seven streams. The most sacred parts of the temple trifold. Interestingly, the center shrine is to Vishun, not Shiva, and is tended by a different branch of priestly devotees, as seen by the style of hair and clothing. In the central shrine are statues to Vishnus, the preserver, and the god one prays to for help in this world. But behind the first statue is an immense, reclining Vishnu with his consort, in silver – beautifully attired and sparkling. Just outside this shrine are two shrines to Shiva, one under a copper dome and one under a silver dome. The copper dome houses Shiva as a dancer, and it has a crystal relic said to come from the moon on the brow of Shiva and also a ruby Shiva as dancer. The gold roofed shrine contains Shiva with his consort, Shivakamasundari – but the special part of this shrine is hidden to the left of these statues. Here is where Shiva manifests as one of the 5 elements. Aranachula was Shiva as fire, and here, Shiva is as ether. Ether is invisible and in all things and is said to be God in the heart. The Shiva “statue” here is behind the leaves of this door and invisible. These shrines, as I said, have been here since the dawn of history. A king, in the 900’s, had leprosy and came to the tank of this temple whose sacred waters cured him of his disease. In gratitude, he began building the great temple and brought 3000 monks of the Dikshitar order to officiate – which they have ever since. Many Chola kings were crowned here and additions were made to the temple, including a magnificient 1000 pillared hall way (999 pillars, one being the leg of Shiva) built in the 1400’s. This hall was closed while we were there, but its vastness makes the Greek and Roman halls pale in comparison. We went to this temple twice, and I found it to be a very moving and intense place, helped in part by the chanting of prayers, the rituals observed at many shrines, and the piety of the devotees. Of all the temples we visited to date, this one had the most charge atmosphere, the most intense feeling of inwardness and an intense sort of peacefulness as well. The world seemed far away and God seemed near.
The second temple we visited on this little tour was in Tanjore. This was the seat of royal power of the Cholas for several centuries and the temple, the Brihadishwara Temple, was really built as a testament to the piety and magnificience of the kings. The sanctuaries in this temple date from the time of the Cholas and are not from antiquity, but has been a place of worship for 1000 years. The architecture is somewhat simpler in style, with a beautiful 13 story gopula in the center. The stone at the top of the gopula weighs over 80 tons and was once thought to be a single stone, but others say it is several stones fitted together. The temple is of beautiful sandstone, with the main shrine in a lovely building in the center (gopura on top) with an enormous Nanda bull facing the door. We were able to see the priests getting ready to anoint the bull with huge vats of ghee, perched high on platforms and siphoning the ghee on the bull. Many were gathered to see this particular blessing which was part of Pongal, the Harvest Festival, in Tamil Nadu. (The festival in Tiruvanamalai was a full moon festival, not a harvest festival as previously stated.) The temple grounds were large and open, surrounded by a large wall of colonnades and several buildings, all beautiful in detail and sculpture, surrounding the main shrine. The play of light on the sandstone was breathtaking, and the tone of the temple changed with the light of the day – golden in the afternoon and rosy, purple as the sun set. Its softness and open spaces were calming, and one could also see, in the 1000 pillared hall, the entrance to the royal dias which must have been very magnificient and imposing in its day.
As a sideline to this temple, we went to the palace of the princes and kings of Tamil Nadu, whose descendents still live in part of the palace. Most of the palace is in disrepair, but one could see the area of the royal audience chamber – also a hall of about 50 columns on one side of a courtyard and a royal walkway going up to the royal pavilion. Just walking up the steps, seeing the royal pavilion with its paint and mirrors, still glittering, was imposing. But it changed when one was inside the royal pavilion, looking out like the king would have done. Here, instead of the focus being on one impressive center, one’s gaze went out in widening arcs, taking in the area under roof and then the area of the courtyard. It was the center looking out on the whole, and again, I was impressed by how much one took in, how much one saw, and the responsibility and beneficence necessary to be sitting, truly sitting, in that place. The world in the hands of a king where much good could be done very quickly.
The last temple in the series, and the latest, is the famous Meenashki Temple in Madurai. Most of the temple was constructed in the 16th-17th century, but again, the site is a very ancient site. The story is that a king in legendary times wanted a son and had prayed fervently. One day a 3 year old child appeared in a sacrificial fire - the answer to the king’s prayer. But much to his dismay, the child was a girl and … had three breasts! Otherwise, she was immensely beautiful, the “fish-eyed goddess” and a manifestation of Parvati. The king was reassured that the child would grow and flourish and that the third breast would fall off when she met her husband. Meenaskshi succeeded her father, leading battles with an aim to world domination, culminating in the defeat of Shiva’s armies! Shiva then appeared on the battlefield and, Meenakshi lost the third breast. Thus, the prophecy was fulfilled and Meeankshi marries Shiva and both have a dual role, first as the king and queen of a worldly realm, and then as the presiding deities of the Meenakshi Temple – into which they subsequently disappeared. The temple has 5 stunning gopuras, covered with statues painted in many, many colors. Unfortunately, the gopuras were covered due to renovations, so we were unable to see any of them. The inside of the temple is like a mandala, and one makes one’s way around and around like a maze. There is a magnificent 1000 pillared hallway – again with a throne room – that also housed many brightly lit stalls of vendors. There was a small museum with a wonderful collection of old bronze statues – ones of immense beauty of form and detail, and with faces that were delicately crafted with a strong personality. It was wonderful to see these old statues, especially after seeing more modern ones, and noting the difference in detail and artistry. Many of the columns of the 1000 pillared hall were also large statues, very detailed, of the many deities. Most were traditional, and it also included kings and even one European on a horse (at least one).
Now is the time of the Aryayyapa pilgrimage. The Aryayyapa is a very large religious sect in India, ancient in origins but taking on a huge following in recent times. Their main pilgrimage site is in Kerala, just 4 km from where I now sit. The story is that an ancient king again wished for a son, and was granted this wish in the form of a boy Aryayyapa. After being given this son, the queen conceived of a son (then another) and wanted the kingdom to go to her children rather than the god. She then feigned illness and told her doctors to tell the king (who was a very good king) that she needed tiger’s milk or she would die. Well, no one in the kingdom was able to get tiger’s milk ( of course) so the first born son from heaven undertakes the mission. He goes in the jungle and comes back … with a battalion of tigers! Both king and queen are humbled and give him the kingdom, which he refuses. He then shoots his arrow into the heart of the jungle and tells the king and queen to build a temple where the arrow falls and to worship there at least once a year. The present sect arises from this legend, dress in black dohti and shawl, and go on a pilgrammage to this site – to the tune of (we’re told) 25 million a year in the months of December-January! One million come on January 14th – and their numbers were very evident at the Meenakshi Temple. The area was swarming, absolutely swarming with devotees – combined with some political rally that was going on in the city, blasting speeches and loud music on many street blocks- a common practice we are told. “Politics, India style” – combined with the fact that the temple was covered and the grounds difficult to understand. It was an impressive place, but I didn’t find it particularly uplifting. We were, however, in a very nice hotel after several, shall we say, less hospitable experiences. If the city had been more hospitable, we may have rested here for a few days, but none of us wanted to stay, despite the nice accommodation.
Back on the bus!! And, up, up, up, winding through the Western Ghat mountains. The city gives way to well tended fruit and vegetable plantation. The dirtiness and clamor of the city gives way to the quiet and relative cleanliness of the country, and the air gets fresher and crisper as we ascend into the mountains. Several hair pin turns and grinding gears later, and we come to a nice little town. A man on a motorcycle takes us under wing, as the accommodation we hoped for was booked, and showed us a place he was associated with. We’re always a bit nervous about “help”, but this man was a real gem and the place he showed us was a home stay and absololutely lovely. We were served tea and have a beautiful room at the edge of the jungle. This is the edge of the Periyar Tiger Preserve, where the tigers and elephants roam free. Like all cats, tigers are very difficult to locate, but they are very much here. We will stay for 3 nights, going on treks and raft trips to see the animals, ride and elephant, see a Kerelan style of dance and martial arts, and enjoy the beauty and peace of a side of India we have not yet seen. So – we leave Tamil Nadu to enter the province of Kerela – and the quiet side of India.
Chidambaram, Tanjore, Madurai
The past 5 days have been an intense bit of travel as we meandered our way down Tami Nadu to the magnificient temple sites situated in south India. In retrospect, this was an excellent agenda to see these sites, as each one was built at a later period of time so one could see the progression of style, size, architectural, and sculptural detail. The sites at Chidambaraum and Madurai are very ancient sites where worship has been held before most written history. In fact, Madurai enjoyed frequent trade with ancient Greece, though the Hellenistic influence is seen more in the north through the influence of Alexander the Great and the cities established after his brief visit to India. In looking at the various sculptures, I wonder who influenced whom. I frequently saw lions as guardians of the temples, both at the base of the temples and in the capitals of the columns. These lions (at least to my memory) seem remarkably like the lions of the Alhambra, and thus of Europe, in style and detail. And some of the dragons looked remarkably Chinese. In coming to an old, old country like India, I can well imagine the fascination of studying precisely the movement of art, dance, medicine, and dress (etc.) as it passed along the caravan trails. That is a study that could last a lifetime, if one likes history, art, and culture.
And in traveling to these cities we had to travel on … Indian bus!! We were hoping to go by train, but they were working on the tracks between the cities we wished to visit, so we girded on our adventurous spirits and braved the bus. I had heard numerous stories of travel on Indian busses – most of them of the grueling, endurance type of story with hair pin turns, careening busses, people and babies piled on top of one another, people and packages on top, and people clambering in windows to get aboard. Admittedly, my stomach was feeling rather nervous as we wheeled our now 5 pieces of luggage (quite a spectacle –and many Indians seemed amazed to see such wealth dragging along the street. I suspect most people who have our kind of suitcases to not use the bus – at least we didn’t see anyone else)!! But, fortune was very much on our side, and I remain extremely grateful. At each place, we were the first stop of the bus. Every time, we happened to arrive just 15 minutes before the bus left – just enough to lug the luggage on board and choose our seats. The family tended to ride in the back with the luggage. I, however, chose to ride just in front of the axle – less bumpy – and next to a window where I could control the amount of air. In fact, the bus ride was fine. They have bars across the windows (just two, so you could still see out) which prevented any possibility of climbing through windows - so those days are over – AND – here is where there is a distinct advantage of being a woman in India. Because of the Indians respect for the privacy of women, men do not sit next to a woman that is not family,which I actually find this to be a rather agreeable custom. Also, more men travel than women. The net result was that on several occasions, I didn’t have to share a seat at all, while several men stood up. It didn’t last, but I rather enjoyed it for awhile. The bus rides varied, and there was certainly some careening, some jolting, some impressive bumps, and hairpin turns. The bus could also be completely full with people up the aisle – babies and children in hand, with food, containers of rice, baskets of produce, and the occasional small bag (nothing like ours) which fit neatly under the tiny seats. Having said all that, in having a window seat, I had as much room and comfort as I had in a taxi with all of our luggage and the four of us. All in all, the bus rides were just fine, although I would be singing a different song if we had to sling our bags on top and stand for 4 hours between stops.
The first temple we visited was the Sabhanayaka Nataraja Temple in Chidambaram. This is considered to be the most sacred temple in India for Shiva and reputedly it is on this location that Shiva divinely revealed the art form of dance as worship which is strictly adhered to and practiced to this day. The oldest part of the temple dates to the Chola dynasty in the 900’s AD. The temple is surrounded by a high wall and is three concentric circles. One makes one’s way in clockwise fashion to the centermost circle, passing many smaller shrines all along the way. The gopuras are covered with magnificent carvings and two of them show, in sculpture form, the 108 poses revealed in sacred scripture for dance as worship. The site dates from antiquity, and the tank (pool of water) comes from the joining of seven streams. The most sacred parts of the temple trifold. Interestingly, the center shrine is to Vishun, not Shiva, and is tended by a different branch of priestly devotees, as seen by the style of hair and clothing. In the central shrine are statues to Vishnus, the preserver, and the god one prays to for help in this world. But behind the first statue is an immense, reclining Vishnu with his consort, in silver – beautifully attired and sparkling. Just outside this shrine are two shrines to Shiva, one under a copper dome and one under a silver dome. The copper dome houses Shiva as a dancer, and it has a crystal relic said to come from the moon on the brow of Shiva and also a ruby Shiva as dancer. The gold roofed shrine contains Shiva with his consort, Shivakamasundari – but the special part of this shrine is hidden to the left of these statues. Here is where Shiva manifests as one of the 5 elements. Aranachula was Shiva as fire, and here, Shiva is as ether. Ether is invisible and in all things and is said to be God in the heart. The Shiva “statue” here is behind the leaves of this door and invisible. These shrines, as I said, have been here since the dawn of history. A king, in the 900’s, had leprosy and came to the tank of this temple whose sacred waters cured him of his disease. In gratitude, he began building the great temple and brought 3000 monks of the Dikshitar order to officiate – which they have ever since. Many Chola kings were crowned here and additions were made to the temple, including a magnificient 1000 pillared hall way (999 pillars, one being the leg of Shiva) built in the 1400’s. This hall was closed while we were there, but its vastness makes the Greek and Roman halls pale in comparison. We went to this temple twice, and I found it to be a very moving and intense place, helped in part by the chanting of prayers, the rituals observed at many shrines, and the piety of the devotees. Of all the temples we visited to date, this one had the most charge atmosphere, the most intense feeling of inwardness and an intense sort of peacefulness as well. The world seemed far away and God seemed near.
The second temple we visited on this little tour was in Tanjore. This was the seat of royal power of the Cholas for several centuries and the temple, the Brihadishwara Temple, was really built as a testament to the piety and magnificience of the kings. The sanctuaries in this temple date from the time of the Cholas and are not from antiquity, but has been a place of worship for 1000 years. The architecture is somewhat simpler in style, with a beautiful 13 story gopula in the center. The stone at the top of the gopula weighs over 80 tons and was once thought to be a single stone, but others say it is several stones fitted together. The temple is of beautiful sandstone, with the main shrine in a lovely building in the center (gopura on top) with an enormous Nanda bull facing the door. We were able to see the priests getting ready to anoint the bull with huge vats of ghee, perched high on platforms and siphoning the ghee on the bull. Many were gathered to see this particular blessing which was part of Pongal, the Harvest Festival, in Tamil Nadu. (The festival in Tiruvanamalai was a full moon festival, not a harvest festival as previously stated.) The temple grounds were large and open, surrounded by a large wall of colonnades and several buildings, all beautiful in detail and sculpture, surrounding the main shrine. The play of light on the sandstone was breathtaking, and the tone of the temple changed with the light of the day – golden in the afternoon and rosy, purple as the sun set. Its softness and open spaces were calming, and one could also see, in the 1000 pillared hall, the entrance to the royal dias which must have been very magnificient and imposing in its day.
As a sideline to this temple, we went to the palace of the princes and kings of Tamil Nadu, whose descendents still live in part of the palace. Most of the palace is in disrepair, but one could see the area of the royal audience chamber – also a hall of about 50 columns on one side of a courtyard and a royal walkway going up to the royal pavilion. Just walking up the steps, seeing the royal pavilion with its paint and mirrors, still glittering, was imposing. But it changed when one was inside the royal pavilion, looking out like the king would have done. Here, instead of the focus being on one impressive center, one’s gaze went out in widening arcs, taking in the area under roof and then the area of the courtyard. It was the center looking out on the whole, and again, I was impressed by how much one took in, how much one saw, and the responsibility and beneficence necessary to be sitting, truly sitting, in that place. The world in the hands of a king where much good could be done very quickly.
The last temple in the series, and the latest, is the famous Meenashki Temple in Madurai. Most of the temple was constructed in the 16th-17th century, but again, the site is a very ancient site. The story is that a king in legendary times wanted a son and had prayed fervently. One day a 3 year old child appeared in a sacrificial fire - the answer to the king’s prayer. But much to his dismay, the child was a girl and … had three breasts! Otherwise, she was immensely beautiful, the “fish-eyed goddess” and a manifestation of Parvati. The king was reassured that the child would grow and flourish and that the third breast would fall off when she met her husband. Meenaskshi succeeded her father, leading battles with an aim to world domination, culminating in the defeat of Shiva’s armies! Shiva then appeared on the battlefield and, Meenakshi lost the third breast. Thus, the prophecy was fulfilled and Meeankshi marries Shiva and both have a dual role, first as the king and queen of a worldly realm, and then as the presiding deities of the Meenakshi Temple – into which they subsequently disappeared. The temple has 5 stunning gopuras, covered with statues painted in many, many colors. Unfortunately, the gopuras were covered due to renovations, so we were unable to see any of them. The inside of the temple is like a mandala, and one makes one’s way around and around like a maze. There is a magnificent 1000 pillared hallway – again with a throne room – that also housed many brightly lit stalls of vendors. There was a small museum with a wonderful collection of old bronze statues – ones of immense beauty of form and detail, and with faces that were delicately crafted with a strong personality. It was wonderful to see these old statues, especially after seeing more modern ones, and noting the difference in detail and artistry. Many of the columns of the 1000 pillared hall were also large statues, very detailed, of the many deities. Most were traditional, and it also included kings and even one European on a horse (at least one).
Now is the time of the Aryayyapa pilgrimage. The Aryayyapa is a very large religious sect in India, ancient in origins but taking on a huge following in recent times. Their main pilgrimage site is in Kerala, just 4 km from where I now sit. The story is that an ancient king again wished for a son, and was granted this wish in the form of a boy Aryayyapa. After being given this son, the queen conceived of a son (then another) and wanted the kingdom to go to her children rather than the god. She then feigned illness and told her doctors to tell the king (who was a very good king) that she needed tiger’s milk or she would die. Well, no one in the kingdom was able to get tiger’s milk ( of course) so the first born son from heaven undertakes the mission. He goes in the jungle and comes back … with a battalion of tigers! Both king and queen are humbled and give him the kingdom, which he refuses. He then shoots his arrow into the heart of the jungle and tells the king and queen to build a temple where the arrow falls and to worship there at least once a year. The present sect arises from this legend, dress in black dohti and shawl, and go on a pilgrammage to this site – to the tune of (we’re told) 25 million a year in the months of December-January! One million come on January 14th – and their numbers were very evident at the Meenakshi Temple. The area was swarming, absolutely swarming with devotees – combined with some political rally that was going on in the city, blasting speeches and loud music on many street blocks- a common practice we are told. “Politics, India style” – combined with the fact that the temple was covered and the grounds difficult to understand. It was an impressive place, but I didn’t find it particularly uplifting. We were, however, in a very nice hotel after several, shall we say, less hospitable experiences. If the city had been more hospitable, we may have rested here for a few days, but none of us wanted to stay, despite the nice accommodation.
Back on the bus!! And, up, up, up, winding through the Western Ghat mountains. The city gives way to well tended fruit and vegetable plantation. The dirtiness and clamor of the city gives way to the quiet and relative cleanliness of the country, and the air gets fresher and crisper as we ascend into the mountains. Several hair pin turns and grinding gears later, and we come to a nice little town. A man on a motorcycle takes us under wing, as the accommodation we hoped for was booked, and showed us a place he was associated with. We’re always a bit nervous about “help”, but this man was a real gem and the place he showed us was a home stay and absololutely lovely. We were served tea and have a beautiful room at the edge of the jungle. This is the edge of the Periyar Tiger Preserve, where the tigers and elephants roam free. Like all cats, tigers are very difficult to locate, but they are very much here. We will stay for 3 nights, going on treks and raft trips to see the animals, ride and elephant, see a Kerelan style of dance and martial arts, and enjoy the beauty and peace of a side of India we have not yet seen. So – we leave Tamil Nadu to enter the province of Kerela – and the quiet side of India.
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