Spices, Tea, Too Much Oil, and "Mixing, Mixing"

The days remaining on this excursion are dwindling rapidly, but it seems that each one brings something more wonderful than the last. Our second to last real day of the trip, brings us to Thekkady and a return to the state of Kerala.

Thekkady is on the border of Tamilnaku and Kerala (literally as the border was at one end of the little town and our hotel was at the other end) and is known for its spices and tea production. 

We arrived early enough in the day that we had a few hours to wander around and explore the place. The main part of the town is on street that runs through the center and doubles as the main highway. Along the street are the usual tourist souvenir shops with small hotels and a few restaurants. The additions, that aren't seen in a lot of the other places we've been to, are the spice shops (selling every kind of spice you can think of, oils, creams, and extracts) and the Ayurvedic massage and healing centers.

Since we had some free time and I wasn't interested in having someone try to sell me yet another scarf, I decided to go visit one of the healing centers for a massage. I have to admit that part of my wanting to try this particular massage style was that Kate was telling us such hilariously horrible stories about her experience with Ayurvedic the last two times she was in India, that I just had to see for myself...I'm slightly crazy that way. 

So the end result is that Kate wasn't exaggerating: I was slightly more relaxed than when I started, I had enough oil on me to be my own slip and slide, and I was grateful that I was never going to the see the masseuse again. To get an Ayuredic massage, you have to be very comfortable with your body in front of another person cause they give no quarter, care naught for modesty, or ingrained American prudishness.

So an hour later I rejoined the group, along with the other five oily travelers that tried a massage, and we headed off for a spice plantation tour and a hands-on home cooked Kerala dinner.

Our spice tour was held at the home of a local family who has been growing this forest of spices for generations. Our guide lead us on a walk of the grounds and pointed out all the different spices and plants in the area. As he pointed them out, he'd explain the name, use(s), and let us sample it if it was something you could eat as is. It was a wonderful little walk and very interesting to see the harmony of all these plants (clove, cardamom, pepper, banana, coffee, jackfruit, tumeric, coriander, chilies, and many others) living together. I'm glad that I wasn't in charge of this place as with my black thumb, I'm pretty sure everything would have been withered and death in no time.

Although the day had been wonderful so far, the best was yet to come. We went to Bar-b-que for a cooking class and dinner. Bar-b-que is the home of Shirell, his wife, and their two young children. All of us got to try our hand at tradition southern Indian cuisine as Shirell looked on with his duplicate words of praise and constant head bobbing; "Stirring, stirring", "Tasting, tasting", "Chopping, chopping". By the end of the evening, we were all talking with double words. The meal was delicious and seemed easy enough if you had all of the spices, a mortar and pestle, a coconut shaver, and years of experience. 

My favorite part was the paratha (aka porotha) making, which is a light, fluffy bread made from water, salt, sugar, and baker's flour. You use the four ingredients to make a dough, hand kneaded it, let it sit for a few minutes (so it can rise), flatten it, toss it like a pizza crust, twirl it into a ball, smash it down again, and then put it on a hot grill for a few minutes on each side. The best part though, is that as soon as it comes off the grill, you smushed it together repeatedly from all sides and then smash it down a few times for good measure. All the smushing and smashing makes the layers we added in puff up and become flaky. It's a lot of fun to make and delicious to eat. 

The food in general for dinner was one of the best meals I've had in India overall and I loved the variety: fish curry, multiple veggies curries, parathas, popadoms, Kerala rice, and amazing spice fried chicken. The entire experience was thoroughly enjoyable.

The next morning, we checked out of our hotel and headed on our way to Alleppy, our last new experience of the organized part of our trip. Along the way, we stopped at a Tea Plantation and were given an introduction to the process and a tour of the factory. The plantation we stopped at is called Connemara Tea Plantation (named after the home of the Scottish architect that designed it) and employs 400 families. The nice thing about this company is that the families aren't just there for the work and then gone again; the factory pays for their homes, their health care, and schooling for their children, as well as providing them a salary. That's a pretty sweet gig. 

It was interesting to learn that there really are only two tea plants in the world that make up most of the teas (blacks, greens, and whites) that people drink, although there are hundreds of varieties of this type of plant. Based on what part of the plant is picked, when it's picked, and how it's processed after it's picked all play a part in whether you're getting a top of the line tea or "Lipton" as our guide helpfully stated.

The factory itself is a giant warehouse with so many wonderful things to photograph, that the ban on pictures made many of us quite sad. We got to see the drying rooms, the filtering, grinding, fermenting, oxidizing, and tasting rooms. I never knew how much work went into the production of tea. I am writing this as I sit drinking a cup of Strawberry Green Tea in a small tea shop that looks like its straight from England, but in Fort Kochi, but I'm getting ahead of myself. There is one more adventure before we arrive back at the beginning.

Overwhelming Temples and Pagent Queen Rickshaw Rides

We started the back end of our trip with a six hour drive back south to near the bottom of the state of Tamilnadu. Since there wasn't a bunch of time to explore much after spending the majority of the day driving, we only saw one place of interest on our travels. We visited the Mahatma Gandhi Museum.

Mahatma Gandhi was a national hero that spent most of his life campaigning for the unity and freedom of all the peoples of India. He devised different campaigns, urged non-violence, self-suffiency, preached the value of living in harmony with your neighbors, and stood as the figurehead of a country's struggle for true independence. After a lifetime of devotion to his cause, Gandhi was able to see the fruition of his life's effort with the Independence of India in 1948. 

The museum, whose grounds also support a learning center and replica of Gandhi's modest home, was very different than I expected. While the museum contained a well put together exhibit on the history of India through the ages and its strife and turmoil while under the "oppressive rule" of the Dutch East India Trading Company and later the British, the author of the displays was clearly biased and had no love for the former sovereigns of their home country. All of the placard portrayed the "White Man" as ruthless killers willing to do everything to keep themselves in power and the locals as poor dependent slaves. I'm pretty sure that all lot of what happened was as the author stated and that there were many things wrong with India being essentially indentured to more powerful countries, but in a museum that is dedicated to a man that spent a lifetime extolling the virtues of peace and brotherly love, I thought the hatred I sensed in the worlds on the walls was a bit much.

After our brief respite, we continued on to Madurai,  our home for the next two nights. 

Our fist stop for our day of sight-seeing in town was Thirumalai Nayakkar Mahal. This Palace was built in 1636 AD by King Thirumakai Nayak. Originally there were two main sections to the palace, but only one section still remains. It is believed that the King's grandson, Chockanatha Nayak, demolished part of the palace and took it to Trichirappalli. What remains of the Palace gives a view of beautiful Indosaracenic architecture, marrying Indian and Chinese iconology. There are many lions all throughout the halls that bare striking resemblance to Chinese dragon iconography. In addition to the lion carvings, the ceilings contained beautiful floral and geometric frescos. In the back room off the main audience hall of the palace was a small museum that housed found that we're discovered when the Palace was built.

From the Nayak's Palace we took a short ride over the water way to visit the Meenakshi Amman Temple. The temple was believed to have been founded by the King of the Deva celestial deities, Indra, who was on a pilgrimage to atone for his misdeeds. The temple is dedicated to Parvati, also known as Meenakshi, and her husband, Shiva. The complex is one of the largest in the state and is constructed of a series of concentric quadrangles, one within the next. The city surrounding the temple spreads out around it in ever-widening squares, giving the appearance of a lotus flower from above; a symbol very prevalent in Hindu culture.

Meekakshi Amman Temple is in and of itself a mini city of sorts. Five generations of royal families all called this theirs and all tried to outdo their fore bearers. There are four entrances and five main temples (all in the pyramidal style and each his her and more intricate than the previous one(s). In addition to the five main temple towers, there are an additional nine that adorn the grounds. The entire place is riot of colors and a treasure trove of carvings. Each of the towers is completely covered in statues of gods and goddesses; there is even a museum called the Museum of a Thousand Pillars, which indeed contains a thousand carved pillars; there are multiple Hindu temples dedicated to different aspects and incarnations of the three main gods and their wives; and everywhere, people - tourists, locals, parishioners, touts. The place is amazing and overwhelming in equal measure. In the center of all this chaos, is serene pool, surrounded by a courtyard and five towers, but if you sit on the steps of the pool and stare out ahead, everyone else falls away.

The highlight of our stay in Madurai (and a strong contender for best moment of the trip) was a manual rickshaw tour of Madurai city. When our driver beckoned us to hop into his cart I had a moment where I looked at him and felt I should be switching places. Our driver was an older, weather worn gentalman, with spindly legs and not an ounce of fat on his bones. I felt like his having to pedal Em and me on his bike might break him, but he proved to be made of stouter stuff than I gave him credit for. 

The rickshaw tour started by taking us down the main thoroughfare past the row of government hospitals and their unfortunates outside and then turned down into thinner workings of the city. Behind the crazy traffic and smog of the main highway were the littler roads, lined with the homes of the average person, where. Western tourists don't grace these streets often and the residents were excited at the change in their daily routine. 

We happened to have our excursion just when the children were being let out of school and returning home. As a result, we were greeted with shy smiles, laughing faces, and tons of waving as the children wandered by shouting "Hi" and "Bye." even many of the parents and older folks sitting on their front stoops were enthusiastically waving and smiling as we rode by. I felt like a pageant queen in the midst of a parade as it rides through a crowd of adoring fans. It was an odd and self conscience feeling at first, but the youthful enthusiasm of the children and their infectious joy soon had me waving at everyone we passed and laughing when some people responded with hesitant waves, as if unsure why this crazy white girl was waving at them, and others ran alongside our bike eager to yell hello or shake hands. I think this ride would melt the hearts of even the toughest of men.

Along the journey, we stopped to visit a towel making factory, a copper pot maker, and a weaver. All three "factories" we're single room dwellings that either employed a dozen workers (in the cases of the weavers and the towel markers) or were staffed by a family (in the case of the pot maker). The art of hand creating is dying as large manufacture plants take over the jobs, but here, in these small town, the tradition lives on and when we later drove by the shops in town and saw the finished products, we gaped in awe at how polished and perfect they all looked; you'd have thought they were created by a machine.

A Possible Cult and Feeling Like You're Somewhere Completely Different

Before finishing our day's journey and arriving in Pondicherry, we made a pit stop at Auroville. Auroville is something so completely different than anything else in the entire country and probably most of the world. This small township of 10km was created in 1968 to be a community for everyone in the world where there is no goal but to find human unity. It's a cross between a meditation retreat, a self-sustaining utopian society, and a cult. 

When we first arrived, I thought we'd stumbled across a small westernized art town as this place was very "first world". There were manicured lawns, solid structures with informational panels and art displays explaining the essence and goals of Auroville, a restaurant and vegan cafe, and outlying buildings for different areas of study. At first it appeared that we were in a hippie commune, but then we watched the introduction video. The video explained how Auroville was created out of a vision from Mother (Frenchwoman Mirra Alfassa) after learning the teachings of Sri Aurobindo. Auroville was made to be a "universal town where men and women of all countries are able to live in peace and progressive harmony, above all creeds, all polities and all nationalities."

The center of Auroville was the Matrimandir. This was a large golden sphere in the center of twelve gardens (all representing different pillars of the beliefs of the community). The inside of the Matrimandir is stated to be pure white and free from adornments except for a clear crystal ball at the center where a perfect shaft of light is conducted down from the exterior to perfectly hit the top of the ball and shine. This is the heart of Auroville and "and a sign of the Devine's answer to man's  aspiration for perfection." Within the Matrimandir there is complete silence so that one can contemplate how to achieve higher levels of conscienceness. 

The panels tell of all the great projects that the town is working on (environmentally friendly earthen construction, education where the children chose their own paths, water purification, even some modern photography/video/sound classes, meditation, farming and self-sustaining living) all seem amazing and show this to be a cute, if not very eccentric new age community in the middle of Indo-china, but after watching the video and taking the one kilometer trek to visually see the Matrimandir, you get the feeling that there are cult like themes that run through the place. To be a true Aurovilleian one must relinquish all personal belongings, they must give up their individual faiths and beliefs and work towards a state of  "disinterestedness" (which is supposed to be a step towards true enlightenment). 

Some of the pillars of the community seem at odds with one another in that there are supposed to be no belief gods or religions, and that the place is supposed to be its own enclosed society, but it appears that the teachings of Mother and Sri Aurobindo are the blood of the community, and that there are large amounts of outside collaboration with larger entities. Overall this is a very interesting place with mixed messages. I think I was the only one that liked it even a little bit and didn't feel like I wanted to flee immediately as if they were going to start handing out the "cups of Kool-Aid" as you walked in the door.

An unexpected surprise that I found at Auroville was a Bronze Age (2500 BC) necropolis that was being excavated. The site is one of many in the area and is part of a 35 years project (now in its 16th year ). I saw the excavation as I was walking to the view point for the Matrimandir and decided to see if they'd let me wander around it for a minute. 

Turns out that the lead, and sole, archaeologist on the project, Gobi, was more than happy to show Em and I around and explain what they'd found. After I told him that I was a fellow archaeologist, Gobi was ecstatic and offered to take us to their storage and preservation rooms to see some of the finds. We got permission from Sanjay to detour and disappeared with Gobi for a bit to view the giant earthen jars that served as tombs for the Tamil people that were living in the area more than 3000 years ago. 

Gobi happily talked about his work and explained that he is the only archaeologist at Auroville and therefore does most of the work on his own. He only has two official helpers with the restoration work and some locals from the nearby village to help with the excavation. Even though the excavation is part of the Auroville project, Gobi laughs and says "these people aren't interested in this, they want to meditate." There was a minute or two where I thought it'd be awesome to join this wacky society, just so I could spend the next 20 years digging to my heart's content and essentially be the assistant director of the dig (seeing as I'd be the only other archaeologist there).

To the relief of most in our group we left the possible cult and headed to Pondicherry, also known as Puducherry (since 2006). Pondicherry is a town had normal Indian and Raja roots until it fell into French rule in 1674. The French added their own influence and style to the layout of the expansion of the town, along with their need for segregation from the masses due to ingrained biases and feelings of superiority. The result was the creation of White Town (the French side ) and Black Town (the Indian side). We were staying in Black Town, but went on a walking tour of White Town.

Have you ever gone somewhere and been convinced that you were actually somewhere else? Pondicherry was a little bit like that for me when I visited White Town. We took a rickshaw from Black Town to White Town and as we crossed the border, I was convinced that I'd arrived back in New Orleans. While the idea that New Orleans was magically transported to the middle of India seems a little far fetched, the idea that the French were just very consistent in their architectural vision is a little less fantastical. Here we found ourselves in the midst of wide tree lines avenues, with minimal cars and less trash than anywhere else in the country; large colonial style homes, cute little bistros, and good coffee. It was definitely a change, but a great one. 

We wandered the streets, snapping photos and talking about the differences between here and elsewhere. Along the edge of White Town was a promenade that bordered the ocean and one could find peace there if only the touts trying to sell their wares would leave you alone for five minutes. It truly was a different sort of place and leads me to believe that if I could stay in India long enough, I would see almost every culture and different type of town or living condition.

Pondicherry was a nice way station on our way back south.

Humongous Train Stations, Amazing Bas-Reliefs, and Quaint Seaside Towns

As we chased the ever disappearing form of Sanjay through the train station, boarded our bus (that had driven through the night to reach Chennai while we'd all comfortably enjoyed a seven hour train ride) and drove through the streets of Chennai, there were a few conclusions I made.

Firstly, that the Chennai Rail Station is like its own mini city. The place was so huge that without Sanjay to guide us, we may have wandered for ages attempting (and failing) to find our way out. The enclosed space was large enough to swallow whole trains, provide ample space for masses to sleep (on scarily filthy floors), eat, and shove their way around. As we raced for the exit, it seemed like there was a manic energy in the air that pulsated with the need to consume any traveler that got separated from their group. 

Secondly, there seems to be different types of trains in the country, or at least at this mega station. One type of train was the fully air-conditioned train with windows that didn't open and doors that shut. Then there was the commuter train, that seemed like a deadlier version of a BART train as there were no windows or doors, just openings where those should have been. The last train I saw was the one that scared me the most. It seemed like a series of rejected or left over Nazi cattle cars. These where metal contraptions with bunked unforgiving slabs marked as "sleeper cars" and hard, solid chairs in fixed positions for the seats. The windows were open, but had metal slats that could be partially closed if need be. If the visage of these horrible vehicles didn't give you the willies just looking at them, the smells emanating from then as we hurried by were sure to deter you.

We drove through the throngs of deziens out to enjoy the cooler temperatures of the evening and I realized that I don't think India ever sleeps. Like any of the other countries that I've been to where the average temperatures are in the 100s, it seems that life revolves around the cooler, dark hours. Even at 10 pm, the streets were alive with whole families out for a stroll.

While Chennai and its massive train station were an experience and site to see, it was not our real destination; that honor belonged to Mahabalipuram. Mahabalipuram, it turns out that this is the home of Sanjay and his family, so he loves it when the tour pulls into town, especially as this became our home town for the next two days.

Mahabalipuram actually has two main names; the first is Mahabalipuram, meaning "Great Sacrifice Town" and the second it Mamallapuram meaning "Mamalla's Town" (he was the beloved King during the 7th century who played a hand in most of the monuments' creation). The town is known for its numerous temples, shrines, and reliefs. The Decent of the Ganges is largest open air bas-relief in the world. This relief depicts the descent of the sacred river Ganges to earth from the heavens as led by Bhagiratha. There are attribute of various different gods and goddesses, sacred animals, and Hindu concepts. Unfortunately, the relief, like many of the other temples in the area, was never finished due to continual war in the area (tribal/cultural/religious warfare was pretty common in the region during the 6-8th centuries AD).

The relief is part of a group of 40 monuments that are now collectively considered a UNESCO World Heritage Site. On a plot of land that is only a kilometer or two squared, there are multiple temples, what was stated to be a prehistoric kindergarten (a stab of rock with a built in slide), what is believed to be an art school where students could practice their stone carving, a lighthouse, a quarry, and the "Butter Ball," an enormous granite rock that appears to be precariously balanced on a slanted slab of granite, but is noted for being quite stable and immovable. Local legend says that the old Raja of the area attempted to move the large circular stone with the aid of seven elephants and failed. 

The temples in this region remind me of Petra in Jordan and the stone work of the Nabataeans. Here was another culture that carved straight into solid rock to create magnificent rooms and columns. The different between the two cultures, is that where the Nabataeans focused on the exteriors while leaving the interiors blank, the Pallava's (name of the Kings in the area during the construction period) created both exterior and interior masterpieces. All of the temples had carvings depicting different scenes from the mythology of the Hindu people and their belief structure.

One such carving tells the story of King Bali (an Asura King) and Vamana (the fifth incarnation of Vishnu). This is the story that also gives the town its name. The story starts long ago with King Bali, was a benevolent king that won reign over Earth, Heaven, and Hell. The Devas, who had lost the realm of Heaven to Bali, entreated Vishnu to help them it it back. Vishnu agrees and goes to the Kingndisguished as a small boy, his fifth reincarnation. When the king asks what the small boy wants, he asks for a three step ladder. The king laughs and asks why he doesn't want gold or jewels or fame? The boy replies that he has no family who'd need money nor a want of riches and would just like the three step ladder. Seeing no harm in the request, the king grants it. Vishnu, now revealed in his true form, takes the first step of the ladder and covers the earth with it. He then takes the second step of the ladder and covers the sky. Vishnu looks at the king and says, "Where can I put the third step?" The king knows he has been beaten and that he can not go back on his word to the god and therefore lays his head upon the ground and tells Vishnu that he may put the third step on top of him. Thus King Bali sacrifices himself and forever cements himself as a hero in the eyes of the people. Seeing the love of his people and the king's faith as he willingly is sent to the netherworld, Lord Vishnu has a change of heart and raises King Bali to the highest pillar in heaven. The King only asked that once every year he gets to visit again with his people; and thus a holiday and legend are born in one fell swoop. I love folklore.

We learned the aforementioned story and more of similar themes as we peddled around the area on a tour with a local guide. It was nice to get in some exercise and the morning ride allowed us to see the arouse sites before the heat of the day (it was so sad how hot is seemed to us foreigners when this was the areas winter and about 40 degrees cooler than summer time) drove everyone to the beach or indoors.

In additional to the relief, the "Butter Ball," the lighthouse, and a few small temples, we cycled to the Pancha Rathas (translates as Five Chariots) and to the Shore Temple. The Pancha Rathas were a monument built to the five mythological brothers that were all married to the same woman and part of some legends that are popular in the north of India. Each brother had on temple built for them on the site and each was in a different architectural style. At some later date in time, a sixth temple to Ganesha was added. Since none of the temples were ever fully completed, no one actually worships at the site. To add awe to the already amazing site, is the knowledge that all of the temples and their corresponding granite animals outside of them, were carved from one solid piece of rock. That's right folks, these "chariots" we're not made one by one and then placed here, but all carved one by one from a gargantuan piece of granite.

The Shore Temple is only remaining temple that now sits on the coast of the Bay of Bengal. There used to be seven temples, giving the town yet another moniker, Seven Padgodas, but the other six have since fallen into the sea. During the 2004 tsunami that took out large parts of Thailand and sent a huge wave around the world, the waters receded for miles from the shoreline near the Shore Temple and locals were able to see the remnants of the other temples and buildings that had long since been swallowed up by the sea. Some day archaeologists might be able to dredge up some treasures from their watery graves.

By noon the bike-riding-sight-seeing tour was over and we were set free to explore the town on our own. The city of Mahabalipuram didn't look like much when we first arrived, but after our bike ride, I soon saw that there were many amazing areas to be explored. The beautiful thing about the town is that it is right on the coast and sports a gorgeous beach. Many of our fellow travelers took the opportunity for a little sun bathing and relaxation, while Em and I perused the kitschy gift shops and explored the various alleyways. The town (at least the touristy area that we were in) had an incredible laid back and relaxed feel to it. I could see why many hippies and long term nomads seemed to have made it a stopping point on their travels. For us, it was a restorative half of a day. 

In the evening, we all got to dress up for dinner at a five star hotel a little ways outside the hub of the city. As we drove there, I realized just how little of city we'd actually seen and wished that we'd had at least one other day there. The hotel's restaurant was amazing and the cheapest five star I'll ever get to eat at.

All too soon the next day arrived and we said goodbye to our little slice of peace and headed to Pondicherry. 

Pampering in Mysore

We left the tranquility of the forest for the hustle and bustle of Mysore city. Mysore city is the third largest city in the state of Karnataka, India and was the seat of Mysore Princely Kingdom for nearly six centuries (from 1399 until 1947).

Our first port of call was the Mysore Palace. Mysore Palace was the official residence and seat of power for the Wodeyars, the Maharajas of Mysore. This Palace that we visited was the second palace built as the first one (built in the 14th century) had been crafted from wood and subsequently burnt down. When the second (and current) palace was built (between 1897 and 1912) it was stated that no expense should be spared and the prevailing guideline for the building was that there were to be no flammable materials used for its construction. The result was a building in Indo-Saracenic style that married the different architectural and cultural styles of Hindu, Gothic, Muslim, and Rajput. In terms of elements, we were treated to ornate metal gates, beautiful frescos, pillared halls and domed ceilings, elegant wall paintings, and a seamless infusion of region and mythology. It was definitely one of the most glamorous places we've seen on this trip.

We got to leave our shoes at the front, grab a tape deck tour guide, and meander the velvet rope lined path through the old haunts of the royal family of Mysore.

After we viewed the interior of the palace we were given a little bit of time to wander the extensive grounds that surrounded it. There were a few Hindu temples that we unfortunately didn't have enough time to go into and some gardens.

In Mysore, it is popular to dye the local cows (them being sacred creatures and all) with different spices. As we were driving through the city to the palace, and then later walking the palace grounds, we came upon quite a few of these yellow cows (any white area on the cow had been turned yellow with the application of turmeric powder). The yellow cow happily wandering the palace grounds took a liking to Em and continued to follow her around for a bit, much to the latter's dismay and my amusement.

Mysore continues to provide fuel to my idea that the north and south of India are two totally different countries. Mysore is a pretty prosperous city with universities, thoroughfares, modern malls and American fast food. There was even a Gold's Gym down the block from our hotel. People were more courteous, drivers tended to follow most of the standard rules of the road, and the houses, cars, and shops set along tree lined streets made me feel like I might have been in any old suburb in the States.

For the evening we got to stay at the Mango Hotel and Em and I were about ready to move in. This was probably the most modern of all the places we've stayed so far and a sign that we're changing as we get older. We were ecstatic that the beds were comfortable, the shower had a door, hot water, and a facet you didn't need to hold up to use, and that there was wi-fi in the room. A few years ago we never would have cared about any of this, but now it felt like we were at a five star hotel and it was heavenly. As much as I enjoyed the extra pampering of the Mango Hotel, I hope this doesn't mean that I will eventually lose my love of low budget, nomadic, where-the-wind-blows, devil-may-care travel.

The next and only morning in Mysore, had us being dropped off downtown for a few hours of sightseeing at the city's version of a farmer's market and shopping district. The farmer's market was one of the cleanest and nicest ones that we've been to in India and where I would definitely buy my produce if I lived here. The vegetables looked ripe and healthy, the flower stalls were vibrant, and the spice sellers fragrant. It was fun to wander the rows and take in the sights - even if we did have to continuously tell the perfume seller and hawkers of ground up colored powders that we weren't interested in their wares no matter how many times we passed by their stalls. All in all, it was fun little outing.

We said goodbye to Mysore all too soon (the Mango Hotel part if nothing else) and boarded an eight hour train for Chenni in the east. The train ride passed between reading, blogging, riddle solving, laughter, conversations with our fellow travelers, and way too much food (as supplied by the train operator as part of our fare).

Trains, Prehistoric Caves, and Disappearing Indigenous Tribes

Trains are awesome no matter what country you're in. There's something about riding along the rails as the countryside slides past your window that is forever exciting and makes you feel like a child, so full of wonder. As part of our journey from Fort Kochi to Kalpetta, Wayanad, in the north of Kerala, we took a train and then later a bus. Our three and a half hour journey passed quickly between blog writing, sightseeing out the window, and catching the eye of the various samosa and tea sellers wandering the train cars. 

We spent two nights and a day in the northern region of Wayanad. Even though this area isn't on the main trail for most foreign travelers, it gets quite a lot of indigenous travelers. The Wayanad area is best known for the Edakkal caves and indigenous populations. The Edakkal Caves (there are three; two with carvings, but only one open to the public) are prehistoric rock shelters containing petroglyphs. These petroglyphs are carved into the local sandstone and contain evidence about cultures that might have been living in the area as far back as 6,000 BC. The caves are located on an ancient trade route that went from Mysore to the Malabar Coast. These Stone Age carving are the only such ones found to date in Southern India.

Not only are there pictures on the walls of the shelter we got to visit, but also a series of writings in two different scripts. When the caves were discovered, they excited anthropologists from all over and helped to tie together other, similar sites found around the country.

After our slightly strenuous hike (a kilometer trek straight up a road, then a series of man made rock stairs, and finally, a series of staircases) to visit the caves, we were originally scheduled to go on a nature walk through an animal sanctuary and see some elephants. Due to an unfortunate accident a while back, that area is now considered off limits. As a consolation prize, our guide took us on a nature walk through the villages of two of the many different tribes that live in the Wayanad region.

The indigenous tribes that make their homes in the Wayanad region used to be the original inhabitants of the area. They were a hunter-gather society that was mostly nomadic. When the British came to India and created roads into the area, it increased traffic and migration of outsiders who flocked to the fertile lands. As a result of the increased number of outsiders settling in the region, the aboriginals lost much of their lands and their numbers dwindled dramatically. Today there are still quite a few tribes left, but their numbers are devastatingly small and their cultures are in danger of becoming extinct as they become sedentary and influenced by modernization.

We first walked through the small village of the Paniyas people. While the tribe still clings to its roots, with its own customs and language, it has started to move into the modern world with the addition of sedentary homes and government funded schools. Many of the villagers were shy, yet curious of the foreigners wandering through their village. They would hide in their homes and just poke their heads out the doors to view the strangers; giggling when you looked at them. Others were more brave or just unaffected and went about their days business, unperturbed by the interlopers. 

We stopped at one home and were given a demonstration on pottery making using river clay and a stick powered turning wheel. Olivia, a British girl in our group, gave the pot making a shot and ended up with a lopsided and bottomless flower pot. I guess not everyone is cut out to be a potter.

We waved goodbye to the Paniyas people and headed through the forrest and across the rice, banana, and spice fields to visit the Kurumba people, all the while being lead by a quintuplet of local boys that thought we were hilarious and also a nice way to break up the monotony of everyday life. The Kurumba tribe is similar to the Paniyas in that they are an ancient indigenous group, but they also have moved into the modern day and age. We even saw one house with satellite tv. The neat thing about this group though is that the tribe is one big family. There is a central meeting/ceremonial building that is surrounded by all the homes of the tribal/family members. 

Towards the end of the tour, we went to the home of the village pharmacist. The family that lived there has been the holistic doctor of the tribe for generations. They showed us their prescription book (words scratched onto banana leafs and then joined together) and some other artifacts that they still use today.

The whole adventure was very unique and different, but kind of weird. In today's day and age where everyone is running around with their eyes glued to a camera lens and half the time never taking the time to fully appreciate a site because they're running off to gather their next Flikr or Instagram Selfie, it's odd to walk through someone else's life and start trying to capture it on film, without feeling like your dismissing the villagers as real people. 

For many of these villages, the denizens never see what they look like unless it's in a reflection from glass or a body of water. So those that don't shy away from our cameras are eager to see their portraits, but to them it's a novelty. They lead simple lives and their main interactions with outsiders are these random village visits and occasional government aid workers. I wonder what they must think of us as we come clicking through their homes and then vanish again. Do they envious us, think we're crazy, or do they just assume that we're a short lived interruption that comes and goes, but has no real baring on anything?

Feeling Warm and Content in Fort Kochi

As we fly over the lush green vegetation of Kochi and feel the radiant heat of the sun warming us through the windows of the aircraft, we realize that the South of India is very different than the North of India.

We said goodbye to our travel companions of the last week and to the hustle and bustle, smog, and throngs of people; the heavy, aromatic curries, and the cries of street vendors and said hello to laconic days, warm, breezy weather, and the coconut infused favors of the south. Kochi, more specifically, Fort Kochi, is our home for the next two days.

Fort Kochi is in the western part of Kochi and part of the Cochin (which translates to like-China cause that's what the first settlers thought it looked like). This place is reminiscent of so many different places and cultures. Everyone in the group feels as if they are somewhere else, Thailand, Costa Rica, Mexico...all agree though that there is something magical and calming about this place. Fort Kochi is the most touristy areas of Kochi (in the Kerala providence), but it is wonderful. 

Currently, there is something called the Binnale that is in full swing in the Fort Kochi area. This is a multi year event where artists from around the world are invited to come. These artists either display art or create art that will then be displayed. There are many different venues throughout the area that host these various artists, with their sculptures, interactive pieces, paintings, and more. We were lucky in that it was a free day to visit while we wandered the streets and therefore we were able to experience the wonder that Binnale is. On a side note, there is art everywhere in this city: from a giant crab made out of litter collected from the sea, to a series of Hindu gods walking a tightrope up in the trees, to beautiful graffiti art painted on builds and declaring that "This is not Binnale!".

While in the Fort Kochi area we went on a walk about and were directed to some of the gems (read as touristy must-sees) this area has to offer. We visited the Saint Francis Church, where Vasco de Gama, the first European to "discover" India, was once buried. We also saw the Chinese fishing nets, which are the largest fishing nets in the world and one of the main tourist attractions in the area. The nets are amazing to behold with their simple, yet very functional set up of tied logs and a rock pulley system. The seafood caught from the nets can be purchased on the pier almost immediately or tried in one of the plethora of local restaurants. 

From the church we hopped in a tuk tuk and headed a short distance to Mattancherry, another section of Cochin. In Mattancherry, we viewed the Dutch Palace and its wonderful archaeological museum, meandered down Jew Street with its numerous shops touting their colorful wares, and visited the Jewish Synagogue. 

The Dutch Palace was actually built by the Portuguese in1555, but was later renovated by the Dutch in 1623 (after they took over the whole region) and took on their name. The Portuguese plundered a nearby Hindu temple, so they built the Dutch Palace and gave to the Raja of Cochin as a form of compensation and repentance. Today, the Palace is home to a series of Hindu Temples (only Hindus are allowed inside of them), and the archaeological museum. 

The archaeological museum was very well layout out, with signs in the area tongue of Malayalam, the national tongue of Hindi, and in the universal tourist language of English. The displays conveyed information about the royal family and the successive generations that lived in the region, the invasions/commingling of different groups of people and their influences as more and more Europeans took an interest in the area, and then about the abdication of the throne by the Royal family and the turning over of the land and government to the people. It was all really well done and I wish I'd had a little more time to read everything. 

One of the coolest things that I learned about in the museum though was that this was a matrilineal society. The bloodlines ran through the women and as such, women head a higher status and held more sway than they are afforded nowadays (especially after the Muslim influence that has spread throughout the country over time). 

Jew Town and Jew Street are more a tacky tourist trap than I was expecting. While the shops are fun to peruse and there are many trinkets I don't need, but that nevertheless caught my eye, it's hard to see what is supposed to be "Jewish" about this area. As we learned from our guide, Sanjay, and the guide at the Synagogue, there are only four families, comprised of seven members left in the Fort Kochi area. In all of Kerala (the region of India that Kochi is in), there are only 100 Jews. I guess when the numbers are that small, it becomes hard to see the individualization in between the money making gimmick that Jew Town brings. 

The Paradesi Synagogue is an Orthodox one that takes elements of Hindu and mixes them with elements of Judaism. The inside of the synagogue contains a pulpit in the center, ringed by benches for the male parishioners (the female members are relegated to the upper balcony and safely hidden behind a screen). The chandeliers are interesting contraptions made of glassware and metal, some are geared for oil, and some have been converted to use modern electricity. The color throughout the place is loud and expressive. All in all, I don't think I've ever been in a synagogue quite like this one. 

From reading about the Kalaripayattu martial art form at the museum, Em and I had an urge to go see a demonstration. We convinced a few of our fellow travelers to come with us and Sanjay arranged it. The Kalaripayattu martial art form is considered the oldest fighting form in existence. Originally the art form was just one thing that could be learned at a meeting and education house and was studied as a part of religion. Later, the warrior class began to learn the art and used it so that they could protect the state and the King.

There are four major components to the art form, which resembles a mix between, Kung Fu, yoga, acrobatics, and Capireoa. Practitioners must learn strength and stamina first. From there they are to master wooden weapons, then metal. Only after these first three steps do they learn hand to hand techniques. Those that rise the highest in the form, turn into a sort of priest and are forbidden from marriage and give their lives over completely to the practice and perfection of the art. The demonstration that we saw showed us a little of the four stages by a couple of young men that have been practicing for years. 

At the end of demonstration we were invited onto the floor and to handle any of the weapons (don't worry they were all dull edged practice weapons) that we wanted. Em, myself, and another woman that studied Tai Chi were the only ones that opted for this extra. The Kalaripayattu students asked us to show them something from our own styles and I taught one a very basic tambo warm up drill (high-low if anyone from Valhalla ever reads this).

After the martial arts demonstration, we went to a Kathakali performance with everyone in the group. This was something provided by the trip and considered one of the most renowned events in the region. To sum up Kathakali succinctly, it was one of more horrifically odd things I have ever seen in my life. This was performance art taken to a new level. Kathakali is considered an ancient art form that expresses stories of the gods (in a way like Native American Pow Wows). The actors wear large quantities of make up and ornate clothing. There is no talking by the actors, but their art is characterized by very exaggerated facial expressions and eye movements. These are coupled with mime like actions to belay the intended meaning of the act. 

As much as I find the concept intriguing and can appreciate the effort and talent that goes into each performance, the entire production was a little overwhelming and slightly frightening. Oregonian Josh had to grip my arm in alarm when the demonstration of eye movements went on a little too long and many of us envied Em when she just up and walked out. I'm glad I saw the performance, but I'll be equally as glad if I never have to see one again.

So the start of our Southern Indian Journey is off to a good start and tomorrow we live Kochi via train (yeah train) for Kallat in the north of Kerala.

Jaipur

Jaipur is the last city on the northern leg of our adventure in India. It is part of the Golden Triangle of the North of India and my favorite city so far. The city is the capital of the state of Rajasthan and a relatively new city at only 288 years old.  The city was founded in 1727 by Maharaja Sawai Jai Singh II, the ruler of the city of Amber, for which Jaipur is named. The city is very unique in that it was the first city in India that contained a grid-system architectural plan when it was originally laid out and subsequently built.

 

Jaipur is also known as the Pink City. In 1876, when Edward, the Prince of Wales accepted an invitation to visit the city, the Emperor, Sawai Ra Singh, had the whole city painted pink to honor him.  The walls of the city remain pink to this day, giving Jaipur an eclectic and independent feel.  

 

We arrived our first night in the city too late to visit any of the traditional tourist sites, but just in time to catch a Bollywood film at the Raj Mandir movie theater. This theater only opened in 1976, but is called the Pride of Asia and is a must see attraction for all who come to Jaipur. We were told by a nice family from southern India during intermission that about 60% of the people that come to watch a film at the Raj Mandir are not from this area, this 60% includes Indians from other parts of the country that come here. Most of our tour group greatly enjoyed watching the Hindu film about an Alien that gets stuck on Earth in India and goes running around the country learning about the different religions and sects because someone told him that if he prayed he’d received what he was looking for (and he’s trying to find his ship’s communicator so he can get home again). In true Bollywood fashion, there was singing, dancing, romance, action, comedy, drama, and everything in between. Even if we didn’t understand the language they were speaking, we understood the film.

 

Our only full day in Jaipur was jam packed. We began the morning with a visit to the Amber Palace and ended it with a trip to the marketplace, but in between were many other gems.

 

On the way to the Amber Palace, we did a drive by photo stop at the Hawa Mahal or Palace of the Winds. Hawa Mahal was a palace where the women of the royal family lived. The Emporer would not allow these women to venture outside, which eventually lead to complaints of boredom with the being constantly cooped up. To remedy this problem, a front façade to the palace was added that looked like many levels of windows and floors, but was really just a large screen wall that allowed the women of the royal household to observe and watch the townsfolk as they went about their lives, while they remained unseen by the general public and safety locked inside the palace. Because of all the windows and their ability to allow the breeze through, the palace earned its name.

 

After our quick stop, we continued to our true destination for the morning, the Amber Fort (true name without modern day butchering is the Amer Palace). The Amber Fort was the home of the Rajput Maharajas families. Raja Man Singh I, the King of the City of Amber, had the palace built in 1592. 

 

The Amber fort is beautiful and located on the top of Cheel ka Teela (Hill of the Eagles). It overlooks the Aravalli valley and Moata Lake. Surrounding the valley is a wall that was built to emulate the Great Wall of China (it does a pretty good job of looking like The Great Wall of China’s little brother). Below the Palace is a garden that was built on top of the water. The garden is called the Floating Carpet due to its appearance when the water rises; it resembles a carpet gently moving with the current. When the Palace was in use, the garden grew saffron (the most expensive spice in the world), so that when the wind blew, the scent would waif over the inhabitants.

 

Above the Palace is Jaigarh Fort, the military fort where the royal troops worked and lived. Most consider the fort and the palace to be one large complex as they are connected by many different subterranean  passageways. The Emperor used to have the troops march down to the Palace from their higher vantage point and parade for him and his household. This fort is still owned by the government so it could not be visited, but we were told by our guide that it has a similar layout to the palace that we did get to see.

 

The Amer Palace is like many of the other palaces in India in that it is a mini city and not one single home. There were multiple courtyards, including one with two palace, the winter palace and the summer palace. The Winter Palace (also called the Pleasure Palace) contained a waterfall inside the living room and the Summer Palace (also called the Mirror Palace) contain thousands upon thousands of mirrors. They were both beautiful in their intricacies.

 

The Raja had 12 wives and each of them had their own identical apartments that surrounded a central courtyard. Each of the apartments were connected to one another through known and secret passageways, but the wives were forbidden from entering the quarters of each other to prevent jealousy (the exteriors and layouts of the apartments may have been the same, but the Emperor bestowed gifts on his favorites).

 

We said goodbye to the Amer Palace and headed back towards the bustling center of town. On the way we did another quick photo stop to snap a few shots of the Water Palace (Jal Mahal). This was built in the middle of the Man Sagar Lake, which was dammed after the palace's construction. It was a summer residence for the women of the court. Here they could come and enjoy a nice picnic away from the public eye. The structure is a gorgeous building sitting serenely in the calm waters. Currently, there is a legal battle between the current owners and the lay folk of whether the palace can be made into a tourist attraction.

 

Our last official tourist stop for the day was the City Palace (which contains the Chandra Mahal and the Mubarak Mahal). The Chandra Mahal contains a museum with many portraits and royal accessories, but a large portion is closed to the public as it is still used as the the current residence of the royal family of the region. 

 

The afternoon was given to everyone to do as they please. Many of us had been hoping to take an authentic cooking class in a local woman’s home, but she was unavailable. As a type of consolation prize, we went to a local shop where they make hand stamped cloth. Wooden blocks covered with vegetable dyes are stamped onto cotton and silk cloths. There are a minimum of four different colored dyes used in each design and as such that means there are a minimum of four different wooden blocks that need to be cut to make each design. We got a short demonstration of the process and then were set free in their wholesale shop to spend our dollars and rupees. I had two shirts tailor made with hand stamped cloth.

 

From the textile shop, the group split into smaller units and meanders the byways and alleyways of the Jaipur center marketplace. Em, Julia, Karen (an Ausse), and I struck out for colorful shoes, henna, and more street food. The winner of the street food for today was hard boiled eggs that were then peeled, sliced in half, pan fried, and covered in spices. They were awesome.

 

We wandered through a farmer’s market area (the Indian version of a grocery store) were an interesting fruit caught my eye. This item turned out to be an Avla (Indian gooseberry) and has a translucent green skin and is about the size of a small plum. I asked how much for one so I could try it and the stall owner and her husband offered it to me free of charge. I soon found out why – the cost of the fruit was my reaction upon taking a bite. This was probably one of the foulest things I’ve ever eaten…all bitter (instant pucker face) and a poisonous flavor as if I’d eaten something that should have been used as a chemical. The stall owners cracked up immediately, thus receiving payment in full.

 

Julia, being ever adventurous, decided to try a bite as well when I gave it the glowing endorsement of “This s probably one of the worst things I’ve ever eaten. Do you want to try it?” and had a very similar reaction to mine (although she actually spit the fruit out where I had swallowed it to avoid potentially offending anyone). The stall owners got two suckers for the price of one. While eating our boiled/fried eggs we chatted with some locals who informed us that traditionally the fruit is boiled, mashed, and eaten with lots of sugar. That makes so much more sense.

Thus ends our adventures in Jaipur and the Golden Triangle of India in general. Tomorrow we head back to Delhi for a last evening and then it’s up bright and early for our flight south; where a new group of yet-to-be-known friends and yet-to-be-had adventures await.

Bharatpur

Bharatpur

We set out from Agra to visit the abandoned city of Fatehpur Sikri and then make our way to Bharatpur to visit the Keoladeo Ghana National Park, a bird and wildlife sanctuary. 

Fatehpur Sikri was built in 1569. It took 12 years to build this massive complex of over 100 buildings (only 42 of which are still present) and it was only lived in for 17 years before being abandoned. The complex was built on orders of Muhgal Emperor Akbar, with its architecture greatly influenced by Akbar's wish to assimilate the styles of all of the surrounding cultures. Although Sikri was an amazing city and the capital of the Emperor's lands, the royal family abandoned the city and moved their home to Lahore in 1585 due to paucity of water and growing unrest in the northern regions.

The city itself had some amazing buildings, including a five story pagoda, different palaces for each of the wives (they varied in size and ornateness based on either pre-marriage agreements or favoritism; the favorite wive had the smallest, but most expensive and ostentatious of the wives' palaces), the largest bed ever (makes a Cal-king look small), a reflecting pool, and buildings for all sorts of government business.

As we exited the city, we walked a bit and came upon the Buland Darwaza. This is a 55 meter tall gate on the southern side of the city that is also the entrance to the city's mosque. Although we didn't get to actually go inside, I climbed the stair to get an up close view of just how massive this door really is and I conceded it's huge.

We said goodbye to our last Muhgal ruin and journeyed to the city go Bharatpur to visit the Keolado Ghana National Park. Due to dense fog and freezing temperatures a lot of people opted not to go on this extra excursion, but the few brave souls that went, were glad they did. With the help of a guide and a nice bike rickshaw driver, we were able to get a good distance into the park and see a variety of birds, as well as deer, antelope, and a Jackal (on the way out).

After the park, we convinced everyone, but one in our group to try the local street vendors that were just outside the door. There were two, one selling wok fried potatoes with salt and lime and the other selling a concoction of potato and cheese patties with onions, tomatoes, chickpeas, and tamarind sauce. Both were delicious and I think we entertained all the locals in the area by trying the food.

Taj Mahal, Baby Taj, the Red Fort of Agra, and the Moon Garden

After a lengthy bus ride, we all arrived safely in Agra, a city in the north of India, and home to the Taj Mahal. Julia, Em and I set out almost immediately for local cuisine. We were given the location of a local marketplace from Shivraj and set out via auto rickshaw to see what we could find. Dinner was had in the first restaurant that we stumbled upon that appeared not to house tourists. We huddled in a corner booth and chatted with the apparent owner (who stated that his family had been running the restaurant for 50 years). Our new friend brought us steaming plates of Saag Paneer, Chana Paneer, Tandoori chicken, fresh buttery naan, and delicious lassis. The food was amazing and we got a kick out of entertaining the locals and staff as we were the only foreigners in the place. 

One cool thing I learned when they brought our lassis (yogurt drink) is that they came is unfired clay mugs. Apparently that is the Indian version of one time use cups and shows that they are clean and hygienic. When you're done drinking you're supposed to smash the mug against an outside wall so that it can't be used again. 

Rising bright and early the next morning, the whole group set out for a busy day of sight seeing. The first stop, the majestic Taj Mahal...just in time for the sunrise.

Take note boys of how you're supposed to declare your love for your woman...behold the Taj Mahal! Unless you've been living under a rock somewhere your whole life, you've probably heard of this magnificent structure and you might even know that it's one of the New Seven Wonders of the World, but did you know that it is essentially a very large and very ornate tomb? Emperor Shah Jahal was grief stricken when his third wife, Persain Princess, Mumtaz Mahal died in childbirth while having the couple's 14th child. Earlier, in life, Mumtaz had asked her husband how he would honor her, the result is the Taj Mahal. 

The mausoleum's construction began in 1632 and took 21 years to complete. The central white Indian marble structure houses the main tombs of both Mumtaz and her husband (although he was not meant to be interred there). The Taj is unique in that the entire thing is symmetrical and the view of the outside of the tomb is the same from all four sides. On the eastern side of the mausoleum, there is a mosque that is still active today and they built an almost identical structure on the western side (there is no nave) just to keep the symmetry. The western structure is not a real mosque because parishioners would be praying the wrong direction if they used it.

Legend states that the Emperor was going to have a black Taj built on the other side of the river that backs the Taj Mahal and connect the two via a marble bridge. This didn't occur because when the Shah Jahan named his oldest son as the new emperor, the four sons created a feud and the third son killed the rest, imprisoned his father and took the crown. Shah Jahal was imprisoned for the last 8 years of his life. When he died, his daughter stole his body and buried him with Mumtaz in the Taj Mahal.

Fresh from having seen the burial place of the beloved emperor and empress, we headed to Arad Fort, the Red Fort of Agra. Arad Fort was the palace of Shah Jahan and later his son, Aurangzeb. This is where the emperor lived with his family and where he met his true love, Mumtaz Mahal. 

Shah Jahan had three wives and a 400 woman harem. Once there was a plaza in the fort that held a women's only market and Shah Jahan used to dress as a women to go visit it. One day he was there and spotted Mumtaz and instantly fell in love, but seeing as he was in disguise, he had to figure out another way to woo her. He arranged a marriage through her father and she agreed on the conditions that she would be his last wife and he would love and honor her above all the other wives and mistresses. The emperor kept his promise and Mumtaz bore him two healthy girls and four healthy boys (they had fourteen children altogether, but eight did not survive).

After Mumtaz passed away and the Emperor decided to give the throne to his eldest son, the third son had his three brothers killed and threw his father in prison in one of the buildings of the fort. The room that he was in only afforded a tiny glimpse of the Taj Mahal and therefore the displaced Shah Jahan couldn't even properly view his wife's tomb from his prison cell. The Emperor's favorite daughter, Jahan Ara, snuck him in a mirror and convex lens so that he could see the Taj better. The Emperor died eight years after his imprisonment.

In the afternoon, we went to visit what is known as the Baby Taj. In reality this is the tomb of Mirza Ghiyas Beg, the I'timad-ud-Daulad and Mumtaz Mahal's grandfather. It is called the Baby Taj because it was used partially as a template for the architecture of the Taj Mahal. The Baby Taj has a similar set up with a symmetrical layout and the center tomb having four identical sides and four minarets, plus intricate detail in the structures. The main building of the Baby Taj resembles a bone jewelry box with intricate stone inlays and carved designs. It's a beautiful final resting place just down the river from the Taj Mahal.

The final destination for the day was the Mehtab Bagh, the Moon Garden. The Moon Garden is just on the opposite side of the Yamuna river from the Taj Mahal it is the site where the Emperor wanted to build his black Taj, but was never able to. We made it to the garden shortly before closing time so only really had time to quickly walk through it on the way to the shoreline to take pictures of the Taj Mahal from the backside in the side lighting of the setting sun.

Driving in Delhi is Like Go-karting in Bahrain, Minus the Safety Features

After being just shy of having lived in Bahrain for seven months, I said goodbye to that small island nation and commenced my latest travel adventure. The team of The Scholarly Professor and the Raunchy Truck Driver are back together; and this time they're headed to India. That's right folks, Em and I are back together for a three week journey around one of the world's most populated countries...that's 1.8 billion people for us to potentially interact with and scar for life.

After saying goodbye to my co-workers and roommates, Em (who'd come to spend the New Years with in Bahrain) and I headed out, our first port of call, Delhi. Arriving surprisingly awake after a night of flights and little sleep, we got to put our lives into the hands of a young women driver in a country were I'm sure they have no rules on the road. 

Due to the crimes that are committed against women and  because of cultural norms where men and women who are not related don't touch, there are many options set up to help. One such option is women only taxis running and operated by women. It's a nice concept, but I'm pretty sure the ideas about "women drivers" originated here. 

There might be lines on the roads and stop signs on posts, but driving here is all about getting through whatever gaps you can find to get a little further ahead. Roadways contain cars, auto rickshaws, bike rickshaws, people, motorbikes, manual bicycles, and whatever else decides to wander into the street. People liberally apply use of their car horns in an effort to warn people they're inching over, to tell them they're too slow or in the way, to alert you to move, to show their frustrations, to tell you to stop or go; the use of horns is a very vital language to learn here. If there is more than a inch of space between one vehicles or person and another then that is an invitation for someone to move in and fill the gap. While in motion, there is no order and people whip around each other and squeeze through the smallest of spaces. This is definitely not the place for the faint of heart.

After a half hour of this craziness, we reached our hotel, dropped our bags, and headed back out. We decided not to let lack of sleep lead to a wasted opportunity to explore and set out for The Red Fort in New Delhi. We attempted to travel to the fort via the metro station, but got taken in by a friendly local that set us up with auto rickshaw driver that said he would take us to see another, closer temple and then to the Red Fort for a cheap fee. 

The auto rickshaw was fun and showed us a hundred new ways in which we could die while driving in Delhi, but the driver's knowledge of what he agreed to and ours of what we asked weren't the same. The driver did take us to what appeared to be a beautiful temple, but then said it was crowded and we should come back in the evening, he then dropped us at a shopping centre that caters to selling beautiful things at expensive prices to tourists that get lured in. We were forced to see the items before making our escape. Once back on the street, the driver pointed us in the direction of the metro station and told us how to get from where we were to the fort. $0.60 and and hour of time isn't too bad when you consider being ripped off and mislead. 

The metro was interesting and an adventure in and of itself (at least on the way back).  You have to buy a token for you journey and depending on the time of day and/or the station you're at, getting the token is the hardest part of the journey. At one stations, there was a "ladies only " line, so we stood in it, but all the males would walk towards the front of it until they could find a lady to buy their tokens for them. Other women also cut in front of each other and if their wasn't someone's elbow in your back and your knee in someone's spline, then you obviously had too much space. Getting on and off trains consisted of waiting for the doors to open and then packing on like sardines while the people trying to get off, punched their way through the throngs. The key we found was hold on to each other, stay as close to the doors as possible, and pray no one gets upset when you fall on them cause the crowd is the only thing supporting your weight since you've been squished onto the heel of a single foot.

The Red Fort is located at the end of the Chandni Chowk (aka Moonlight Square, a large marketplace built in conjunction with the Fort and designed by the Emperor Shah Jahan's favorite daughter, Jahan Ara). The Red Fort was built by the fifth Mughal Emperor, Shah Jahan in 1648 and housed his family for 200 years.  Fort is a bit of a misnomer as it's more of a village and series of palaces as opposed to a traditional fort. The Fort is considered to be one of the greatest creations of the Mughal dynasty and is a great example of the combination of Muslim, Hindu, and Timurid architecture.

When we exited the fort, we were set upon by bike rickshaw drivers. One told us he would take us back to the temple we'd driven past earlier in the day, so we climbed in. Once we were settled he re-looked at our destination and informed us it was too far for peddle power, but since we were already here, wouldn't we enjoy a nice ride through the marketplace and he would be our tour guide and show us around. He also offered to take us to a 1000 year old temple and some great photo locations. 

Being suckers we said sure for an agreed upon sum. Our guide pedaled his way down the congested thoroughfare of Chandni Chowk and pointed out all the different sections of the souk (sarees, spices, silver, books, food, etc.), he took us up to the top of a tenement where we could see  a great view and the rooftops of many other buildings, into a spice and tea shop when I told him a was looking for chai (although I meant some to drink right then and not the actual tea that needs to be prepared), through a Muslim parade that just happened to be going on, and finally to the temple. 

The temple was called Jain Sweitamna and is part of the Jain religion. If you decide to go visit, make sure you have two or more people because they'll only take one person at a time through so you'll want to have someone to watch your stuff for you. The inside of the temple contains a variety of beautiful art that was painted by the priests that maintain the grounds and there are many alters erected to the different gods and goddesses that are honored by this group.

Our guide was friendly and did show us a few things we never would have found on our own, but by the time we left him to head back on the metro, he'd increased his agreed upon price about 100x. We paid a fraction of that, but still significantly higher than we wanted and headed back to the metro to get back to the hotel to meet our fellow travelers.

The group we're with consists of 13 other travelers and a guide. The others come from England, German, Spain, Australia, Canada, and two fellow Americans. Our guide for the first 8 days is Shivraj, a local from the Rajasthan area. As this was our first night together, we had the customary information meeting and then went to a local tourist restaurant for dinner.

As our second day began, Em and I realized we had found a kindred soul in the form of Londonite Julia. Julia, like us, is interested in street food and local dives. While most were eating eggs and coffee on the roof of the hotel, we were perusing the boiling cauldrons around the corner and coming up with tasty curry and airy bread.

After consuming our hearty fare, we, as well as the rest of our group were whisked away via taxi to receive a tour of a neighborhood by one of the local street kids and to hear about the Salaam Baalak Trust. It is estimated that there are currently 400,000 street kids in Delhi alone. These children end up here for a variety of reasons including running away from home because their families beat them, being sent to the city to work or beg for money, or because their families can't afford wedding dowries or hospital bills. The Salaam Baalak Trust is an organization that helps kids between 6-18 years old. They give them shelter, food, clothes, schooling and attempt to reunite them with their families (if that is their wish). 

It's a pretty amazing project and Ejaz, our tour guide, was a great example of how they make a difference. Ejaz lead us on a short tour of the area and then took us to one of the boys homes where we got to meet and shake hands with about 50 young kids that were currently living at that shelter. The kids loved having their picture taken and constantly wanted you to take pictures of them and then show them the result. 

We said goodbye to the boys, piled back into the taxis and headed to Jama Masjid mosque. This mosque was built on the orders of Shah Jahan ( the same emperor that ordered the Red Fort to be built) in 1650 and contains an architectural mix between Muslim and Hindu designs since one of Shah Jahan's wives was a Hindi woman and he himself was Muslim.  The mosque is made from red sandstone (which seems to be very popular in the area) and contains a large open courtyard with a  fountain in the center, and the main building that is open on three sides. There are also two minurettes that you can climb to get a great view of the area. This mosque is the principal mosque of Old Delhi and can hold up to 25,000 worshippers during Friday prayer.

From the mosque we ventured through the Chandni Chowk market (the same area where we'd been given the partial tour by the bike rickshaw driver the day before) and ended up at the Gurdwara Sis Ganj Sahib temple. This temple was erected to commemorate the martyrdom of a Hindi that gave his life for the rights of Hindus to practice their faith. The temple also has a kitchen that is open to everyone, rich or poor, and feeds 40,000 people a day. We got to go into the massive kitchen and see them making bread and stirring large vats of curry.

After visiting the temple, Julia, another girl whose name I didn't catch, Em, and I set out to try a little something from every street vendor and hole in the wall place we could find for lunch. We tried pakora, a crepe like thing, something that appeared to be a grilled cheese sandwich but was filled with potatoes, chai (of course), parathas with curry, a foam type of dessert, and Indian ice cream, which I think was frozen condensed milk with coconut. If was a pretty good lunch excursion. We meet back up with the rest of our group and headed to Agra (about five hours away by bus), which will be our home for the next few days.