Adventures with Julia

December 5, 2011

Aayu-bowan!   (Sri Lankan greeting for Hello, Good bye and Long life)

We are at the Colombo airport waiting for our flight which has been delayed.  It is now 1am and our flight is reset for 3:30am.  The only good news is I have a wonderful wifi connection, have just sent the post on Dambulla and Kandy and will see how far I get on the next post before we board the plane.

Our view from the Ceylon Tea Trails Plantation

The Ceylon Tea Trails staff were up to see us off at 4am on the 30th.  We were given box breakfasts and lunches and a tall glass of juice to start us off.  In total darkness and with no traffic, Tunga traveled the narrow, crooked road to Nuwara Eliya in under two hours.  We all considered that fast even though the distance was only 43 kilometers.  We transferred to a van, which, unlike our car, was insured to go to Horton Plains, with a different driver.  He took the three of us up more narrow crooked roads to the Horton Plains Park at 6,000 feet elevation.

Standing on the edge of World's End

We arrived at the park entrance at 7:30am and began our walk to the World’s End in swirling fog.  The total loop hike was 9.5 kilometers.  The main goal was 4 kilometers into the hike.  The trail was very muddy and slick in places so we had to pick our way carefully.  Finally, we reached the highlight–World’s End–at 8:30 am and it was still clear enough to see 4000 feet straight down to the village at the bottom and the mountains across the deep valley.  We ate our breakfast there and watched the fog move in and out.  One minute we could see great distances and the next we would be shrouded in soup.  Unlike in the USA where there would be barriers to keep you from falling, there was nothing to protect anyone from going over the edge to certain death.  It was pretty scary at the the edge, so you know who hung back.  I couldn’t even watch when Mark went up to the edge to take photos.  It was, scary or not, a spectacular sight.

Hiking through Horton Plains

After an hour we continued on the hike through rolling grass land, across streams and bogs and through a woodland forest to a waterfall called Baker’s Falls.  They were maybe 150 feet high and equally wide as they splashed and bumped over a convex rock formation.  The high volume made the falls special.  Another 3 kilometers and we were back at the start just in time to beat the rain.  A small cafe provided service so we had a cup of high country tea and then drove back to Nuwara Eliya, where we retrieved Tunga’s car, drove around the charming and very British heart of the tea plantation world of the late 1800’s and early 1900’s.  Many stately, and not so stately, Victorian style buildings still exist and add a flavor of the colonial and raj era.

A typical tea factory in the hill country

Just out of town was a tea factory that still operates with the same antiquated equipment that was used in the 1800’s.  It is a large, white-washed, three story, rectangular wooden building, just like several we have seen all through the tea plantation hills.  Tunga took us inside just as the light sprinkle turned to heavy rain.  We were given a tour of the factory by a well versed sales lady.  Some of the things we learned include:  tea plants are picked every 6 day regardless of the weather to insure that the tea leaves do not get tough;  every six years the plants are cut back to one foot from the ground and allowed to regrow; when leaves are picked they are put into 20 kilo bags and hauled to the factory where they are spread on 50 x 6 x 1 foot flat racks to “wither”–air is blown through the racks to take out moisture–for 12 hours; after withering, the leaves are put through a dryer and minced, then sent through a separator where the are sorted into 4 different grades, from fines (which go into tea bags) to twigs, which make a strong, bitter, inexpensive tea.  In between are the grades that Sri Lanka makes into its high quality teas that are famous throughout the world.  Elevation is also a factor.  It turns out that tea grown at the higher and dryer elevations makes for a lighter and milder tea, while tea grown at the lowest elevations, where there is more rain, rivers and waterfalls, produces a dark, strong and richer flavored tea.  At the end of the tour, we went to the tasting room and sipped on three different grades.   I bought a packet of the light, mild, higher elevation tea.

While we were enjoying our tea tasting, pickers were outside working in the rain.  We learned that most of them are Tamil people who live in the region and get paid by the hour and by quantity.  Fast pickers earn more, while slower pickers still get a minimum.  The Tamil pickers are of the tribe of people who fought against the established government for 30 years until all opposition was crushed by the government in 2009.  The Tamils in the hill country kept a low profile, stayed away from the fighting and continued to work.  Tamils are generally smaller and darker than the Sinhalese population.

The Warwick Meadows House and Garden

From the factory, we drove through the rain storm to our unscheduled stopover at a guest house called Warwick Meadows less than an hour away.    A Raleis Chateaux it was not–even close.  However, it provided an interesting experience.  The drive to it was almost as scary as the World’s End.  There were many washouts along the one lane canyon road down to Warwick Meadows due to the recent heavy rains and the car could barely fit on what was left of parts of it.  I wondered if we would get marooned and not be able to drive out the next day.  The house itself was pleasant enough and Mark and I had the “white” room at the top of the house.  We could hear the rain pounding on the roof and, without wifi, we cuddled up and read the afternoon away.  Rather nice actually.  The food at the place was, sadly, downright awful–both dinner and breakfast–and the service was equally bad, or should I say, non-existent.

The leech field--tea plants in background

However, the next morning we woke up to sunshine.  I took a walk around the water logged gardens and joined Mark for breakfast at the dining room table, which we shared with a German couple who, luckily for us, could not speak much English.  The language barrier was a perfect way to avoid what Mark likes to call “forced conviviality”.   As we got ready to depart I noticed that my pants were wet on the inside and bent down to find blood running down my leg for no apparent reason.  I went back to the room to check it out and found that I was bleeding profusely in two places.  I wiped it off as best I could and went down stairs to ask Mark what he thought.  I happened to see the manager and mentioned the problem.  He immediately diagnosed it as leach bites, which I must have picked up in the garden.  They would have dropped off my legs when they had their fill, but left behind thinned blood which is why there was so much.  Yuck!!  He gave me a couple of band-aids and told me not to worry.  There would be a bit of a sting along with the excess blood for a short time and the all would be well.  It did and I survived my first leech attack.  In the car on a sunny morning, the road did not look nearly so scary and we made it up the canyon and back to the main road in short order.

January 6, 2012

Aayu-bowan!

We arrived home mid day on December 5 exhausted and determined to stay up as long as possible.  So we emptied our bags, put stuff away, did laundry, made a first pass through the email and phone messages, responding to as many as we could, folded laundry and ate a bit before diving into bed at 7:30pm.  From then until January 1 we were busy fools tending to real estate business, piled up mail and Christmas activities, while trying to get our beings back in the California time zone.  Finally, our sleep patterns are normal, work and other activities have slowed down and we are at the ranch for the first time since September.  With little to interrupt me, I will try, at last, to conclude our adventures in India and Sri Lanka.  I left off with us departing the Ceylon Tea Trails Estate near the village of Hatton at 4am on November 30 ………

the scenic route and good road out of the hill country

The drive through and down from the high country provided beautiful scenery. The lighter, cooler and less humid air gradually became heavier, warmer and more humid as we descended to the broad and fertile valley floor and on southward to the Indian Ocean.   The roads were markedly better–wide two lane surfaces without pot holes.  We would have made good time but for the fact that the speed limit is 70km on highways and 50km in towns.  Tunga was not about to drive over the speed limit, no matter how we cajoled him, so we sat back and enjoyed the ride.

As we began what proved to be a 7-hour journey, Tunga told us more about his country and Sri Lankan people.  Sinhalese, he told us, make up 74% of the population, Tamils 18% and Muslims 9%.  The annual growth rate has slowed to less than 1% after doubling since independence in 1948.  At the same time the literacy rate has increased to 90+%.  Sinhala and Tamil are now both national languages and English is a “link” language.  Many people are bi and some are trilingual.   Health care has improved as well.  Sinhalese are generally Buddhist with some being Christian, Tamils are generally Hindu with some being Christian while Muslims are all Islamic.

Tunga talked very little about politics and the government, but he did share that Mahindra Kajapaksa is the 10^th president of Sri Lanka since independence.  He is currently in his second 6-year term and can run indefinitely as long as he gets the votes.  The constitution says that the president must be Sinhalese and Buddhist.  The government operates similarly to the British parliamentary system.  Tunga admitted that he liked the current government as they had refused to bend to intentional pressure to stop the fighting and continued the war with the Tamils until all opposition was crushed in May, 2009.    He is grateful that the country was now enjoying peace after 30 years of fighting, bloodshed and fear.  Had to imagine that fearful time ended less than 3 years ago.

Economically the country is driven by tourism, tea exports, garment and textile manufacturing, overseas aid and remittances from overseas workers.  Unemployment is officially around 5%, but 22% of Sri Lankans live below the poverty line.   The government has asked people to restrict their families to no more than three children per couple and the Sinhalese and Tamils, who are allowed only 1 wife at a time, are mostly complying.  Meanwhile, Muslims, who are allowed up to 7 wives, are having lots of children.  The divorce rate is very low.

Tunga, who is a Buddhist, recited the 5 principles of Buddha for us: 1) Abstain from killing living beings, 2) Abstain from stealing, 3) Abstain from telling untruths, including gossip, 4) Abstain from immoral sexual activity, and 5) Abstain from consuming alcohol.  He said he tries to be a good Buddhist, but finds it hard to do.  He likes to drink with his friends and gossip.  Most of his friends have a hard time with the principles too.  So he does not think of himself as a good Buddhist.

Tunga eats lunch while we watch

At one town we stopped for something to eat.  Mark and I bought snacks and were fine, but Tunga needed a meal, as it was nearly 2pm.  So we followed him into a local eatery, rather like a cheap café in a small town, nowhere USA.  His first comment was: “Do not eat anything in here.”  We had already figured that out.  However, the place was interesting for us tourists.  At the front of the restaurant was a small dry goods market.  Passing that we entered the dimly lit dining room with several square, oilcloth covered tables and chairs.  The “kitchen” in the back was so black it was hard to make out what was there besides black burners, a pile of charcoal and black pots and pans.  Outside, behind the kitchen were the BBQ and the toilet.  Next to the kitchen was a washbasin and soap where everyone cleaned their hands before and after eating.  Between the kitchen and the dining room was a buffet area, containing nearly empty, messy, and very unappealing, bowls of rice and various curries and spices.  There were only a couple of other people eating quietly in the corner and staring at us.  Tunga filled his plate and ate with gusto using his fingers to mix the curries with the rich and scoop it into his mouth.  I asked him how it tasted and he said it was ok, without further comment.

Back in the car he told us that Sri Lankans eat with three fingers and generally do not talk or make any noise while they eat.  He was taught that eating should be done quietly and efficiently.  It normally takes only a few minutes.  “What”, we asked, “do you do at a party or when company comes for dinner?”   Mostly, he replied, company does not come for dinner.  Men and some women will gather for drink and talk.  Eventually they go home to eat or eat fast and then go home.  Eating is never the important part of shared time.

I asked him why the romantic name “Ceylon” was changed to Sri Lanka in 1972.  For the Sinhalese the island has always been called Lanka.  For the Tamils the name was Ilankai.  Even in the ancient mythical story of the Ramayana, the heroine, Sita, is abducted by the king of Lanka.   When the Portuguese arrived they twisted Sinhaladvipa, island of the Sinhalese, into Ceilao.  The Dutch, in turn, altered the name to Ceylan and the British to Ceylon.  In 1971 the anti-Tamil People’s Liberation Party attempted armed insurrection against the government.  The uprising was crushed, but a year later two pieces of legislation were passed that found favor with the the opposing parties, which were equally nationalistic and anti colonial.  One promoted Buddhism as the national religion and the other restored the name “Lanka”.  The Sri was added as a mark of respect.  Calm was restored for awhile.

Dead to the world--all day long

For my dog loving friends, I asked Tunga to speak about Sri Lankan dogs.  Why do the many dogs we see have short hair, look trim, but not hungry, sleep like they are dead all day long, rarely bark in the daytime, never chase cars and mostly ignore people.  So he told us about dog life in Sri Lanka.  Most dogs are street dogs that stay in a given neighborhood.   They tend to sleep all day on the streets and roam all night.  They are not allowed in anyone’s home or given names, are not petted or played with, have no tags, rarely get to a vet and survive off the table scraps that local folks give them.  If one of them becomes ill, a neighbor may give them herbs or a chili pack to relieve pain.  Otherwise, they are on their own.  I asked Tunga why he fed them and he said they do him a service in return, which is that they bark when strangers come into the neighborhood at night.

Finally, late in the afternoon, we saw the Indian Ocean and soon entered the low-key beach resort town of Mirissa.  On the western edge of town we checked into the Mandara Resort with a room looking directly over the hotel pool and beach to the ocean.  After much discussion with the resort staff for a room with functioning A/C we finally settled into a cool room one floor below our original, not cool, room.  We had been spoiled by the cool, crisp air in the high country and were now back in the sticky heat.  On our own for the evening, we walked on the beach and had a good seafood dinner on the sand next to the pool.  I was excited about our adventure for the next day and glad that the sea was calm and looked like it might stay that way.

A sense of the size of the Blue Whale compared to the boat behind it.

The weather on December 2 was perfect.  Warm, but not too hot or sticky and calm.  We arrived at the boat dock on time for our 7am whale-watching excursion.   The waters off the southern coast of Sri Lanka are considered the best in the world for seeing Blue and Sperm Whales.  There were about 40 people on our 2-story vassal designed just for whale watching.  I was sorry there were so many people, but glad we were on a reasonably large boat that would ride the waves smoothly.  Even though the sea was flat, I took a Dramamine and we sat on the top level.  I hate being seasick.  The captain motored south about an hour before anyone sighted a whale and suddenly there were three at one time in different directions.  The captain decided to follow the Blue Whale rather than the Sperm Whales, which was fine with us.  The Blue Whale is the largest animal in the world, weighing between 150 and 170 metric tons and growing to 75-100 feet long.   Amazingly, its heart is the size of a small car and a person could fit inside its blood vessels.   The female typically gives birth to one calf every 2-3 years after a 10-12 month gestation period.  Today Blue whales are still on the endangered species list, but are slowly recovering since they are, hopefully, no longer hunted.  The population is estimated at between 5,000 and 12,000.  (It must not be easy to count whales.)  We had about a half dozen sightings before we headed back to the dock after 4 hours.  We did not have any really close sightings, but we were happy to see what we did.  Using the motor drive and the long lens, we got several fluke images and a few of their huge bodies.  Hopefully one or two will be in focus and printable.

Back at the dock by 11am, Tunga picked us up and whisked us off to our next port of call, the Amangalle in the walled Dutch Fort of Galle.  Only 1-½ hours west of Mirissa, the historic hotel was the New Oriental Hotel during the 19^th century.  The whole fortified town is another UNESCO site and is well deserving of the designation.

The ancient seaport of Galle was once called Tarshish, from which King Solomon is said to have brought ivory, peacocks and other valuables.  Cinnamon was exported from Sri Lanka as early as 1400BC.  The root of the word cinnamon is Hebrew, so Galle may have been a main port for spice early on.

Galle fortifications enclosing the town at sunset

The “modern” history of Galle starts in 1505, when Lourenco de Almeida of Portugal was driven to shore by a storm.  When the inhabitants refused to let the Portuguese enter the town, they took it by force.  They built a number of buildings and fortifications, but in1640 the Dutch laid siege with 12 ships.  Over 3000 men died fighting over the Fort, but after 3 weeks the Dutch prevailed and the Dutch East India Company took over.  By the1660’s, the Dutch had completed the Fort ramparts.  In 1796, however, the British took possession of the Fort, without any shots being fired, and the town gradually evolved into the charming mix of Portuguese, Dutch and British buildings and street names to be seen today.  Many buildings have been modernized behind their facades, the streets are in the process of being hand cobbled, the shops and houses are mostly occupied, everything is clean and crisp and the town is full of life and tourists.

The Dutch Reform Church across the street from the Amangalle.

Next door to our hotel is the Dutch Reform Church, a lovely gabled building in the shape of a cross, completed in 1755 and restored in 2004 by the Dutch Government.  The grounds around it are filled with interesting tombs and vaults for mostly Dutch folk.  As I passed by on a walk around town in the late afternoon, I heard a group of young people rehearsing acapella songs and went inside.  They sounded great and I struck up a conversation with one of them.  Turned out they are a university music choir from the town of Manado on the Indonesian Island of Sulawesi, a town from which Mark and I spent a week scuba diving years ago.

The choir singing a rousing tune in the Dutch Reform Church

Even though the evening was hot and sticky, I determined to attend and talked Mark into joining me.   In spite of the heat, the group sang beautifully—unusual music, interesting to hear and fun to watch.  Unfortunately, Mark could not take the heat and left early.  I stayed to the end and took photos.  Pretty amazing—a couple of Americans travel to Sri Lanka to hear a choir from a small town in Indonesia, which they have visited previously.   Sadly, there were only about 50 people, mostly locals, at the concert.   I told some of the singers about our connection to Music in the Mountains and they asked me to help them get a gig in Northern California.  I’d like to help, but not sure how to go about it.

Back at the hotel, I joined Mark on the veranda for a typical rice and curry dinner, with non-traditional forks and knives.  We wondered if the standard Sri Lankan meal would taste different being served in an upscale hotel, but it didn’t.   The food is OK, but just not very appealing or memorable.   Ready for some cool air, we climbed up the four fights to our very British rooms, as there is no elevator.  There were none when the New Oriental was built and restoration rules did not allow for the installation of one.

The Lobby of the Amangalle Hotel, previously the New Oriental Hotel built in 17

The hotel was originally built in 1684 as two houses and became the Dutch Military Officers headquarters.  It was converted into a British Garrison in 1848, into the Oriental Hotel in 1863 and gradually through various remodels became known as the New Oriental Hotel.  In 2003 Amanresorts began restoration of the facility and it reopened in 2004 under the name Amangalle.   We have had delightful visits in several Amanresorts and wanted to experience this one too.  It is more rustic than most, but full of character, old artifacts and photographs, revitalized 18^th and 19^th century fixtures and décor and, best of all, has the impeccable staff and service we have found in every Aman.

After a good nights sleep, a delicious breakfast and a walk about the town with Tunga, we drove out through the Galle Fort gate, on December 3^rd, and continued northwesterly along the southern end of the island.  The road follows the coastline and we began to see more and more of the effects of the December 26, 2004 Tsunami that killed 30,000 people.  Tunga was a wealth of information, as he worked for the Red Cross for six years during and after the disaster and knew many details about different buildings and displaced families.  We could see much that has been done to clean up the area and rebuild, but there is still much that has not been touched.

A lady shows images of relatives lost in the 2004 Tsunami

We stopped at a very artistic memorial to the victims and took some photos.  While there, an elderly lady working at a drink kiosk nearby called us over and asked us to buy something.  Tonga said we should, as she was one of the struggling survivors.  She got started telling her story and showed us the sculpted images on the memorial of her son and mother, who had both been lost in the tsunami.  She was, understandably, still living the tragedy.  It was a sobering experience.  Of course, we bought some drinks.

A stilt fisherman in the Indian Ocean

Further down the road we saw the well-photographed stilt fishing sites along a long stretch of beach.  The stilts were all in place, but no one was fishing.  Tunga explained that the fishermen only fished early in the morning, but he knew I wanted to capture the scene with live fishermen, so he stopped at a beach shack where he knew the fishermen hung out and asked them to pretend for my camera.  With the agreement to pay them, two guys walked out into the water, climbed their stilts and smiled for me.  I smiled back and took lots of images.  They showed us their bait less and barbless hooks and told us they catch whatever bites.  We were pleased and paid them more than expected.  Everyone was happy, including Tunga.

Arriving at our last hotel of the trip

After a couple of hours we arrived at our next and final accommodations, the Heritance Ahungalla Hotel, designed by the famous architect, Jeoffrey Bawa, whom I have mentioned earlier.  This was a sprawling facility fronting a broad expanse of beach and perfect for the last day of our trip.  Our room looked over one of the large pools and the beach to the surf.  We spent our time swimming in the surf, reading, eating, swimming in the pool, writing, talking about our adventures and napping.  It was a delicious time.

Inching through mangroves in the wetlands

I had booked one last adventure on December 4, which was one too many for Mark, but I convinced him to go along because it was a backwater boat ride and he likes being on the water.  We drove in the early morning to a place near our hotel called Balapatiya, got into a small boat and motored into the Maduganga Wetlands.  The shorelines of the river and islands were overgrown with mangrove trees so dense that a person would have a very hard time getting through them.   In a couple of places the mangroves were just open enough for the boatman to maneuver our craft between the trees so we could get a feel for their darkness and density.   We saw several monitor lizards, a few busy bee eaters, hundreds of very large winged bats flying around in the trees and a few giant squirrels.  Out in the middle of the river turned lake, we came to a tiny island with a small temple on it and went ashore to see the temple and meet the monks living there.  We saw 2 of them, a middle aged man who had been there since he was a small boy and an 11 year old boy studying under the older man.  They spoke excellent English and were not bashful about asking for donations.   The temple and the living accommodations were simple but tidy and clean.  We had a nice conversation with them, gave them some money and left the island.  This was one too many temples for both of us.

Mark feeding the fish on the rickety floating fish farm

From there we motored to a nearby fish farm and walked along the wobbly boards tied together and supporting several wire fish pens.   Different pens contained large gold fish, tilapia and various other fish.  One pen had contained baby crocodiles.  I declined the offer to hold one.  The whole affair was so rickety that I could not wait to get back in our boat.  That being our last port of call, we motored slowly back to our departure point looking for different birds.  Mark wanted to see one last kingfisher, but no luck.

Back at the hotel, we went directly to our lounge chairs under the shade of some palms and spent the rest of the day repeating our activities of the afternoon before.

Our flight was scheduled for a 2am departure and we expected a 3-hour drive to the airport in Colombo, many kilometers north, so we had a departure time set with Tunga for 8pm.  We made reservations at the hotel’s seafood restaurant and ate a delicious lobster dinner.  By 8pm we were ready to head for home.

It was a wonderful trip, which we both enjoyed immensely…even more than we expected or hoped.

Tonga got us to the airport in 2 ½ hours.  He had been an excellent driver and guide and we thanked him heartily and gave him a handsome tip.   At 10:30pm we settled into the Cathay Pacific Lounge for a long wait, as the flight ended up being delayed until 3:30am.  Fortunately, the lounge had excellent wi-fi service, better than any we had used in Sri Lanka.  I hooked up to a computer station at a comfortable desk and went to work.  Just after 3am, I sent off the last post you received until this one.  Our flight stopped in Bangkok, where we stayed on the plane.  At the next stop, Hong Kong, we deplaned and ran to meet our next flight, since we had been so delayed out of Colombo.  We just made it.  Not even a minute to sit.  We did our best to sleep on the flight, but …..we arrived home exhausted anyway.  From the time we got out of bed at the Ahungalla Hotel on the morning of the 4^th to the time we crawled into bed at home 48 hours had elapsed.

Aayu-bowan!

Julia and Mark

11-27-11

A doorman at the Gale Face Hotel in Colombo

Sri Lanka has a population of 20 million with 25% of them living in Colombo, the capital, located on the SW side of the island, which is about the size of Ireland.  The old part of the city is very colonial in appearance, although many of the buildings have been completely rebuilt with only the original facade remaining.  The differences between Colombo and the Indian cities we visited were immediately visible even during our night drive on November 23rd from the airport to town.  There was almost no trash to be seen, the roads were in much better condition, vehicles stayed inside their designated lanes, there was much less honking and there were very few street vendors.  On the down side, the heat and humidity were also immediately apparent even at 9pm.

Driving away evil spirits at the start of the work day

The next day, Thanksgiving, we walked through the bazaar of Pehhah in the old district just as shops were opening for the day and saw small pots of coconut burning in front of several of the stores.  Kanchana told us their purpose was to drive evil spirits away.  Mark bought 200 Sri Lankan rupees at an ATM and wondered how much that amounted to so we asked another ATM user and he told Mark he had just under two dollars as there are 110 Sri Lankan rupees to one dollar.   Needless to say, he went back to the ATM and bought more.  During our walk through the already busy narrow streets we found a photo store and bought a monopod and a UV filter.  Then we took a TukTuk ride to a couple of bookstores looking for a guide book on Sri Lanka and finally back to the hotel.  By then we were really hot and sticky and ready to get inside the air conditioned car to cool off.

We drove through the newer part of the city where there are multiple modern high rises including a pair built with Japanese money that are called the World Trade Center and look a bit like ours used to look.  We drove through what Kanchana said was a high end residential area.  The exterior walls around most of them looked in need of maintenance and anything but upscale, however the two story masonry houses behind the walls looked like the owners were more affluent than most.

Then we headed out of town to the North toward the Kandalama Hotel and what is known as the ancient cities.  What was expected to take 3 hours took 5.   The roads deteriorated once we were away from the Colombo, sprinkles gave way to serious rain and our driver/guide, who owns the vehicle we were using, drove like an old lady.  When he tried to tell us things, he drove even slower.  Finally we quit asking questions and encouraged him to stick to driving rather than guiding.  About half way, we stopped at a grocery store for snacks as we did not want to take more time eating in a restaurant.   A sign indicated we were at 100 feet in elevation.  The scenery along the road included houses and stores nearly all way to our destination.  As we got further from the city  fields gave way to bamboo and palm forests.  Within a couple hundred feet on either side of the road the developed areas gave way to the encroaching jungle.  By the time we reached our hotel at an elevation of 300 feet and near the middle of the island, we were surrounded by dense, hilly jungle and many man made lakes or “tanks” as the locals call reservoirs.  About half way into the drive we began to get some sprinkles and intermittent heavy rain, which lasted the rest of the drive.

A view through the dining hall to pool at the Kandalama

Finally, shortly before dusk, we arrived at the highly acclaimed Kandalama Hotel.  Our agent had given it a high rating and so had Karan Grover, who knew the property’s architect, Jeoffrey Bawa.   Bawa, the most famous Sri Lankan architect, is reputed to have fused ancient and modern influences, connected interior and exterior spaces and even allowed the environment to claim his structures, which is the case with Kandalama.  The building is long and angular with all rooms facing the distant jungle view, while the back of the building nestles into a rock outcropping.  The concrete and boulder reception was wide open to the elements.  The walkway to the rooms wound through boulder and concrete walls to more open spaces.  The foundations are visible  as you walk outdoors along the concrete halls.  Our room was a pleasant interior space, while our balcony was almost completely enclosed in vines, which allowed monkeys to show up at any moment and forced us to keep the sliding door locked.  Our view of the distant jungle hills including the Lion Rock, which we climbed the next day, was only visible because the staff kept an opening cut in the vines.  We lived on the fourth level.  The reception, exercise room and large outdoor pool were on the fifth level, two restaurants were on the sixth and another restaurant and stone pool were on the seventh.   The place was full and hopping with activity.  Most of the guests seemed to be Sri Lankan.

Our first night we went to the al a carte restaurant on the 7th floor and had lovely green salads followed by overcooked fish entrees.       We thought about Thanksgiving and turkey and pumpkin pie and let the moment pass.  Back in the room, we had 24 hour wifi, which was nice for me to work whenever I had a chance.   The bed was great.  We have been blessed with good king size beds and plenty of pillows everywhere we have stayed.   By the time we went to bed the rain was pretty continuous.  What would the next day bring?

Audience Hall at the Royal Palace, Polonnaruwa

As we were scheduled to have three nights and two days in the area, we decided to do all the sightseeing in one packed day and have the next day free.  So on the 25th we were out at 7:30 to get an early start on visiting Polonnaruwa, the second great and ancient capital city of Sri Lanka built during the 11th and 12th centuries and another UNESCO World Heritage site.  There are 6 in Sri Lanka and we will visit 5 of them.)   Unfortunately, the rain was coming down pretty solidly and much of the road was tediously potholed gravel.   Kanshana’s extra slow driving drove us both crazy.  It took almost two hours to get to the site.  Fortunately, we had our new guide book with us and I read about the history and ruins of the city to Mark.  When we arrive, the rain is coming down in buckets.  With cameras in one hand and umbrellas in the other we slogged through the standing water in our leather sandals to visit the ancient sights.

The vatadage or circular relic house with fine guardstones

Polonnaruwa was the capital city of Sri Lanka for three centuries under two dynasties, due to its central location and the limited number of mosquitoes in the area.   First, the South Indian Chola dynasty settled there after conquering the island in the late 10th century.   Then the Sinhalese who drove the Cholas off the island in 1070.  It reached its zenith under King Parakramabahu I (1153-1186).  He erected huge buildings, planned beautiful parks and created a 2500 hectare “tank” to provide water for irrigation and beautification.  Today the tank is a huge lake that still provides the same services.  Succeeding kings bankrupt the kingdom and eventually the city was abandoned in the 13th century.

A fresco in the Tivanka Image House at Polonnaruwa

We visited the remains of the 7 story royal palace, which had 50 rooms on the main floor supported by 30 columns; an Audience Hall, which has a frieze of elephants, each in a different position around its base; several image houses with many Buddha statues in varying sizes, positions and conditions; large and small Buddhist temples; and two tooth relic chambers built by different kings. One of the temples still has lovely paintings on its walls as well as a large standing Buddha.  This building is covered with a galvanized roof attached to scaffolding to protect the artifacts.

A lovely Lotus Pond

We walked a distance to the 25-foot diameter Lotus Pond that had 5 concentric, descending rings of 8 petals each, which I especially liked.  With all the rain it was half full of water and very inviting.  I can imagine having one as a hot tub with jets in each petal.

The remains of the city are divided into groups and we saw four of the groups before we gave up.  The last group we tramped to is called Gal Vihara.  It is a group of four separate Buddha images that were all cut beautifully from one slab of granite.  Originally enshrined in separate enclosures, they are now in the open except for an ugly metal roof.  Two of the figures are seated in meditation pose and one is of a 45-foot reclining Buddha about to enter parinirvana.

An unusual standing Buddha in the Gal Vihara Group

The 25-foot standing figure is the most interesting.  It is considered to be a Buddha image, but does not look like it as the arms are crossed in front of the chest and the face has a sorrowful expression.  By the time we finished looking at ruins, which were interesting enough to keep our attention for two hours, our sandals and the bottoms of our pants were totally soaked.  We eventually gave up trying to keep dry and just walked through the puddles.  Our only real concern was for the cameras.  It was difficult to keep them dry under the umbrella while also taking photos.  Somehow, we managed.  A couple of days later we learned that the rain we had experienced caused major flooding in the southern part of the island and 17 people had died.  No complaints from us.  The shoes and cameras dried out overnight.

Back in the car we headed to our next ancient and also UNESCO site with a lunch stop enroute.  By the time we reached Sigiriya or Lion Rock, it was 4pm and the rain had, thankfully, stopped.  We were told it would take us two hours round trip to climb the rock and take in the sights.  If we went fast, we should be back in the car before sunset.  The next two hours provided us with an experience unlike any we have had before.

Geologically, Sigiriya is the hardened magma plug of an extinct volcano that eroded away long ago.  Peppered with natural cave shelters and rock overhangs and supplemented by numerous hand-hewn additions and modifications, the rock may have been inhabited in prehistoric times.  Current archeological theory, supported by evidence rather than local legend, suggests that it began as a mountain hermitage for monks as far back as the 3rd century BC and became an important monastery by the 10th century AD.  The ancient site’s treasured frescos of buxom women with tiny waists were intended, according to the new theory, to represent Tara, an important Mahayana Buddhist goddess.  After the 14th century, the complex was abandoned and the ruins not rediscovered until 1898 by the British.

The water garden entrance to Sigiriya, the Lion Rock

Physically, Sigiriya is enchanting.  We entered the sight by crossing a moat and encountering ancient and still functioning symmetrical Water Gardens which extend out from the western foot of the rock and include bubbling fountains, meandering water courses, bathing pools, trees and brick works.

The bolder garden with niches for buildings very visible

Then we encountered the Boulder Gardens that feature rocks that once formed the bases of buildings.  Steplike depressions in the sides of boulders were the foundations of brick walls and timber columns.  Impressive are rocks that form a cistern and an audience hall.  The base of Sigiriya has been landscaped to produce what are called terraced gardens.   A series of steps lead up through the boulders at the base of the rock to the sheer face and then ascend steeply….and that is putting it mildly.  This climb, although reasonable safe, is not for the feint of heart.

Buxom, wasp-waisted ladies in the rock gallery

Halfway up the rock is a spiral stairway leading up from the main route to a long, sheltered gallery in the sheer rock face.  This is where we saw the “buxom, wasp-waisted” women.  Whether the beautifully painted figures are religious or secular makes no difference to us tourists.  The colors are still very vibrant and incredible considering their frighteningly inaccessible location.  But, no time to linger.  More people are behind me on the staircase waiting their turn in the gallery.  Down we go on a matching spiral stairway–thank goodness they have screens as well as rusted out hand rails–and continue along a path that clings to the sheer side of the rock and is protected by a solid 10 foot wall, which is covered by ancient and modern graffiti.  With no way to see down, we could relax a bit before the rest of the climb.

Halfway up Sigiriya, we encounter the Lion Paws

At the northern end of the rock the narrow pathway emerges onto a large platform. We would have had good views from here but for the overcast and fog.  The base of the next stairway up the rock is flanked by two huge lion paws from which the rock gets its name.  Originally there had been a large brick lion and the monks had to step between the paws and climb into its mouth to continue ascending.  This reminded devotees that Buddha was Sakya-Simba–Lion of the Sakya Clan–and that the truths he spoke were as powerful as a lion’s roar.

Up the stairs we went to discover that the nice stone steps between the paws soon gave way to a series of grooves cut in the rock.  Here is where I almost quit.  There were hand railings that I clung to and slowly  I worked my way up telling myself I could make it if I looked only at the step ahead of me.  Mark, meanwhile, sprinted up the rock and waited until I came close enough that he could take a photo of the terrified me.  Once at the top, I wondered how I would ever make it down.  The top was very anti-climatic.  There were only modest foundations of buildings to see and the swirling fog prevented much of a view.  Soon, I was faced with the descent.   I begged Mark to go down slowly so I could stare at his back rather than the sheer drop below me.  He obliged and I made it all the way to the bottom and the waiting car.  As luck would have it, we made the round trip with no rain and were well on the road before dark.

Back at the hotel, we showered, enjoyed Mongolian BBQ in the 6th floor buffet dining room and collapsed into bed, hoping our shoes would be dry by morning.

Even though the 26th was our free day, we got up at 6am to go bird watching with a local guide.  We did not spot many birds, but we had a pleasant walk in the cool, rain-free morning air.  After breakfast we went to the pool and spent the day reading, swimming and relaxing.  It was great not to go anywhere–especially by car.  While sitting beside the pool, we were kept entertained by three snakes that slithered by, two extremely large Sri Lankan squirrels, a chameleon,  a wedding party having their photos taken beside the pool and several Sri Lankan families splashing in the water and chattering away.  Since we could not understand a word, we were able to ignore the noise.

Before leaving the hotel the next morning, I called our local tour agency, Aitken Spence, and requested a different driver/guide.  The manager had told us to call him anytime we needed anything, so I did.  I told him I was having difficulty understanding Kanchana and was hoping there might be someone who’s English I might understand better.  He said he thought he could have someone else meet us in Kandy by the end of the day.  Then we went meet Kanchana for our 8am departure.  Nothing was said between us until we got to Kandy around 3pm.

Meanwhile, we drove half an hour to our third ancient UNESCO site, Dambulla.

11/22/11    This post sent from The Hermitage in Neeleshwar.  In the last post I made the images smaller hoping they would be easier for you to deal with or enlarge if you wished.  Am not sure it worked, so have gone back to the regular size I was using before.  If any of you have an opinion about the image sizes, please let me know.  Thanks, Julia

On November 16, we left Teju and Aurangabad and flew to Bangalore in south central India.  Here we were met by our next driver, Mani, who spoke just manageable English.  We had modified our program so we could visit the Grover Winery about 35km north of the city in a well to do area called Nandi Hills.  Unfortunately Mani got lost, having never been there, and it took much longer than we planned.  Finally, we did find the place, had an interesting tour of the winery, visited one of the vineyards, tasted 4 of the six wines Grover makes and purchased a bottle of Le Reserve for the next evening.   We also met Karishma, Karan Grover’s niece, who manages the winery for the Grover family and had a pleasant visit with her.  The trip back to town took almost 2 hours due to commute traffic.  Mani dropped us off at the Oberoi for the night.  We were so happy to be in a very nice, spacious and quiet suite that we ordered room service, and did not leave the room until breakfast the next morning.

Having spent our city tour visiting the winery, we had a very abbreviated tour of Bangalore as Mani drove by the highlights on our way out of the city.  Our guide for the day was Joseph, a christian.  (We have now had just about every religion represented by our guides except a Buddhism and Islam.  Maybe that will happen yet.)  Joseph talked very fast as we passed the points of interest and we swiveled our heads to keep up with his “on the left” and now “on the right” banter.  We learned that Bangalore has 8 million residents and is growing very fast as people crowd in looking for jobs in the IT field.  This is the city where the majority of Call Centers are based.  When you hear an Indian voice answering your tech questions, they are probably located in Bangalore.  We undoubtedly missed a few nice sights, but we were glad to get away from the overcrowded city.

St Philomena's Catholic Church in Mysore

The road to Mysore was not too bad and we were able to nap for part of the 140km, three hour ride.  The scenery was mostly level to gently rolling with fields of rice, cotton, tumeric and vegetables.  Our first stop in town was St Philomena’s Catholic Church built in 1930 and one of the largest churches in India.  It was interesting for its lovely stained glass windows, and its centrally accessed crypt, on which walls were listed hundreds of donors, most with Portuguese names–although I did not find mine.  Said a few prayers and then headed for Mysore’s huge, fairy-tale palace, which is very elegant with its strong European influences.

Mysore's fairy-tale palace

It is the third palace to be built on the site as the first two, both made of wood, burnt down.  The current palace was commissioned by a Maharani Queen of the Wodeyar Dynasty in 1897.  The architect was Henry Irwin, an Englishman, who designed it in the Indo-Saracenic style and had it constructed so it would be fireproof with steel rather than wood.  Completed in 1912, it is more interesting than many palaces we have seen due to the Indian Marahaja’s use of space and the grandness of the rooms.  The public meeting hall, which is open sided and colonnaded and where the maharaja hosted audiences while seated on a solid gold throne, is uniquely decorated with inlaid marble.   Most spectacular, was the peacock wedding room with peacock stained glass covering the ceiling, a mosaic floor laid out in peacock designs and peacock colors and designs painted on the walls and columns.  Each floor had different marble or granite, each ceiling was painted in different colors and styles and some rooms had ornately carved teak ceilings.  There were three solid silver, ornately carved doors and everywhere there were paintings of Wodeyar royalty.  Part of the palace is still occupied by the former Wodeyar Maharaja.  The grounds were large but basic, except that they added a sense of depth and grandeur.    We were pleased to spot a beautiful pair of White-backed Vultures flying around one of the domes.  Even got a decent photo of one in flight.  Unfortunately we were not allowed to take photos inside the palace.  All I have to show you is the outside.

Political rally we saw in Mysore

Then Mani dropped us off at our downtown hotel, the Metropole and Joseph took the bus back to Bangalore.  From now on we have only Mani to guide as well as drive us.   The hotel was listed in our itinerary as “charming”.  We have come to understand that “charming” is used when the place is less than great.  However, it was fine for a night.  After dinner in the courtyard, we went for a walk around the neighborhood and came upon a political rally in the making.  We did not understand totally, but did get that the marchers were against some law the government was trying to get passed.  They were all wearing orange neck scarves and carrying torches.  We watched them chant, wave their torches and walk around the corner and down the street.

Incense, perfume and oil vendor in Mysore

Having not yet ridden in a tuktuk, we decided it was time.   We hired one of the yellow and black three wheeled taxi’s and road around the market area, which was crowded with people even at 9pm.  Mysore is known for its incense, perfume, oils, soaps, woven silks.  Our driver insisted on stopping at one of the stalls and took us around back and into a small shop full of many smells.  The proprietor tried to interest us in incense, but switched to perfume when we said we were allergic to incense and switched again to mosquito repellant oil when he learned we did not like perfume either.  He wanted 4400 rupees (about $22) for a small bottle of repellant.  When I told him I could buy more than that at home for a few bucks, he lowered his price and tried to convince me his product was better since it did not have any chemicals.   We managed to get out of the place with a couple of photos and none of his products.  Our tuktuk driver was not too happy about that, but drove us back to the hotel, thankfully.  Had he left us on the street, we would have been totally lost.  It occurs to me that I have not mentioned the exchange rate for rupees.  It has fluxuated between 45 and 50 rupees to the dollar during the month we have been in India.

Rode side scene outside Mysore

Mani picked us up in the morning, November 18, and drove us west for 2  1/2 bumpy hours to Nagarhole National Park and our next home, the Orange County Resort.  The terrain gradually became more hilly and vegetation increased in size until we were in dense hardwood forests of teak, sandalwood, rose wood, bamboo and other species.  We passed a dam, built in 1974, that created a lake of the river that flows through three contiguous parks and provides a water source for animals and a viewing place for people.  Originally the hunting retreat of the Mysore Maharajas, Nagarhole is now part of the 640 square kilometer Nilgiri Biosphere Reserve.   The moist climate in the area supports a dense tropical forest with a 100 foot high canopy.

View of lake from Orange County Resort, Nagarhole

Orange County Resort was on the bank of the lake on the far side from the Reserve.  Quite a pleasant resort, it had extensive grassy grounds and stone paths to each guest hut.  Ours had a very small, enclosed pool with jacuzzi jets and cold water.  Somehow it was not very inviting and we never used it or the large vanishing edge public pool.  The temperature was most comfortable, but not warm enough to make us want to get wet.  When we were not on safari we were content to read and nap.

Being greeted at the Orange County Resort

Although at the resort only two nights, we went on four safaris–two by boat and two by truck.  The first afternoon we did a boat safari directly from the hotel dock.

Elephant drinking from lake at Nagarhole NP

The boat ride was so nice because there was no dust or bumps, but the soothing experience of being on water. Plus we saw a number of interesting birds as well as herds of white-spoted deer, several Sambar, large mohagony colored deer, wild boar, wild chickens, monkeys and several elephants.

White-spotted deer in Nagarhole Nat. Park

The next day we had two game drives in a large truck with 17 tourists, a driver and a naturalist.  Way too many people for our taste, but the game resorts have been told by the park management to reduce the number of vehicles in the park, so….more people in fewer trucks.

Kingfisher, Nagarhole National Park

Up at 5 and out at 5:30am, we motored across the lake to the waiting truck and then drove a few very bumpy klicks to the park.  We started off seeing some interesting birds like the Crested Hawk Eagle, a Brahminy Kite, a White-breasted Kingfisher.  We saw  a few Stripped-necked Mongoose, many deer, some Sambar, a Crested Serpant Eagle, a Red-wattled Lapwing, a Plum-headed Parakeet and creatures I can’t remember.  Late in the drive we came upon a wounded deer hiding in the river by a dense bank of bamboo.  The top of its head was bleeding and it looked very frightened.  We stopped and watched.  Soon a wild dog showed up pacing up and down the river bank, but unable to get through the bamboo or into the river to capture the deer.  The dog was a large healthy male.  Alone, he would have a hard time killing the deer, but no other dogs appeared.  It was a very special sight to witness and I could have sat there all day waiting to see what would happen.  However, the naturalist said our time in the park was over and we had to drive off, leaving the deer in the water and the dog trying to figure how to get it.

Our afternoon drive was, on the other hand, a complete bust.  Saw very few birds or animals and wished we had stayed in camp instead.  It has not been long since the monsoon season and the grass and shrubs are still to green and lush to allow for good visibility.  We should come during January and February if we want to see more animals, especially tigers and other predators.

Our last outing was by boat the following morning.  Out at 6:30am, the boat driver made a bee line for the far shore.  Apparently there had been a sighting of a leopard near the lake and we went to check it out.  Lucky us.  There was a large, young male laying down and licking himself about 100 feet from the edge of the lake.  We watched him until he got bored and walked into the brush.  The naturalist figured he must have had a large kill a couple of days ago and was still hanging around feeding on it.  He certainly looked sated.  After that we saw our first Indian bison, known as Guar, one large tusked elephant we had seen on the first boat drive and a crocadile sunning itself on a sand bar.  It did not matter.  We were all pleased to have seen the spotted cat and were satisfied.

Typical road traffic near the national parks

At 10am on November 20, Mani picked us up for our long ride to the Hermitage in Neeleshwar.  Although the distance was only 200 kilometers, the roads were so bad that it took 8 hours to make the trip.  The first two  and a half hours were spent getting around the lake and through the Biosphere.  Only then did we head northwest toward the Arabian Sea.  We crossed a mountain range called the Western Ghats.  If it wasn’t so hard on our bodies, the road conditions might have been laughable.  Where they were roughest, there were also animals and pedestrians complicating forward mobility.  When the roads were smooth with little traffic and we might have made good time, there were hellacious speed bumps–6 in a row, about 5 feet apart every 1-2 kilometers.  Although the roads went back and forth between being horrible and almost good, the scenery was spectacular.

Field of tumeric, rural south-central India

The fields of sugar cane, rice, tumuric, other spices and vegetables gave way to banana and coconut plantations and then to dense tropical forests as we climbed into the mountains.  At elevations near the top of the mountain passes we saw tea plantations.  Once we dropped down the western slopes we saw many rubber plantations, each tree prepped to give its elixor.  We could not go more than a few kilometers without encountering another village.  People were living everywhere.

Typical traffic scene in rural India

Somewhere in the middle of the mountains we crossed out of the state of Karnataka and into Kerala.  Almost immediately we could see changes–the houses became bigger and better, properties were well kept and tidy, and there were more Muslims.  Kerala is wealthier than other states and is 40% muslim according to Mani.  Then we began to notice orange flags with the hammer and cycle on them.  Russian communist flags.  Mani said there is a large contingent of communists in Kerala…..we found them.  Truck loads were all headed for a meeting somewhere.  We did not follow.  As it was Sunday, many stores were shuttered, there were no markets and few big trucks.  There were, however, many local busses once we reached the bottom slopes of the mountains.  We played leap frog with a few–passing them when they stopped for passengers and then being passed when they got rolling.  They, unlike Mani, had no concern for the many pot holes.

Among the things Mark noticed all through India have been the vehicles.  Mostly there are Toyotas, Suzukis, TATAs, Mahindra Jeeps,Hondas and old Ambassadors.  Now and then a few Chevys and Fords.  Only in the major cities like Mumbai and Bangalore did we see a few BMW’s, MB’s and one Rolls Royce.

Buying snacks in Mananthavady enroute to Neeleshwar

Unfortunately, we did not have time to take photos along the trip.  We stopped only 3 times to pee and buy snacks.  In one village Mark bought a mango drink and several small bags of chips for only 70 cents.  Of course, there were no tourist in that town.

Mark looking at me on our veranda; pool and Arabian Sea behind him

Finally, just as the sun set, we saw the Arabian Sea, but it was after dark before we pulled into The Hermitage.  We were all glad to have the drive safely finished.  The welcome was subdued as the hour was so late, but we could see immediately that we would be happy with the surrounding for this, our three night beach and backwater holiday…a pause from all the going and doing.

We did not even change for dinner.  Had fish at the Hermitage’s beach restaurant with sand under our feet and the sea crashing just out of sight.  We found our hut near the swimming pool, picked up the flower petals that had been sprinkled on our bed and crashed with no wake up call.  The next day was ours to spend as we wished.  We did just that—-walked on the beach, read, swam, blogged, had spa treatments, ate salads for lunch, read, swam, had another spa treatment and blogged some more.  Great day.  Rather weak sunset, but had another good dinner at the beach restaurant–delicious scampi Indian style.

11/16/11     Written in Bangalore with a fast wifi connection.

The Mumbai "laundromat"

In the pre dawn hour of the 13th, the bellman walked us under the umbrella to the waiting motor boat and bid us good travels.  This was the first time on this trip that I was sorry to leave a place.  Slowly we glided across the calm lake and docked as the sun came up.  Shortly our driver arrived and we headed for the airport and our flight to Mumbai, or, as we learned from several Indian old timers who refuse to change, Bombay.  We landed there and were in another car with another driver and guide before 8:30am.  The good news was that we still had a full day to see the city.  Our first stop, of all places, was at the city’s laundromat—an outdoor facility which we could look down upon from an elevated roadway.  There dozens of workers  slaving away in at least an acre of washing vats and overhanging lines for drying the clothing.  If the clothes we have laundered at the hotel come to this place, it is no wonder things look brownish and roughed up.  Everything looks to be washed in dirty water and beaten to a pulp before being hung out to dry.  What a way to start the day.

Ghandi's residence 1917- 1934

From there we drove to the home and museum of Muhatma Gandhi.  We saw the room he worked in just as it was when he was alive, his large library with books in several languages and tired photo galleries depicting scenes from his life.  The place was packed with locals and foreigners alike, all being respectfully quiet.  Many of his sayings were posted on the walls as we walked from room to room.  It was a spiritual experience being in the house and learning about him.  I feel like I want to read a biography of his life.  It is a wonder to contemplate that he and Mother Teresa, two of the world’s greatest 20th century saints,  both spent their lives tending to the poor and oppressed people of India.

Then we drove to the heart of the city to visit the Taj Hotel (the one where terrorists killed many people and then torched in 2008).  Got a salad in the room overlooking the boat harbor and the Gateway of India Arch, built in honor of King George V’s 1911 visit.  Looks a lot like the Arch of Triumph in Paris and an even larger copy cat arch in Pyongyang, North Korea.   Although very grandly British, the hotel did not impress us as an inviting place to stay.  We were happy to walk around it and move on to the even more grand and very old Victoria Railroad Station.

The CST or old Victoria Station, Bombay

It is a living World Heritage Site with 6 million people moving through the station every day.  We were there on a relatively quiet Sunday and were glad it was not any more crowded.  Our Mumbai guide, Nayana, said the crowds during the week are crushing.  No thank you.   Outside the station were other buildings from the same period including Bombay University, the Court House and a “Big Ben” clock tower.   The whole area was ultra victorian.

By this time we were pretty hot and sticky.  Mumbai is the hottest, stickiest place we have been in India so far and we were ready to be in the air conditioned car for awhile.   As we drove along, Nayana described the sights we were seeing until we came upon a huge field full of people playing cricket.

Cricket on a Sunday afternoon in Mumbai

Mark wanted to get a grasp of the game, so we all got out of the car and watched a few amateur teams play.  Gradually we began to get a sense of it, but half an hour in the sticky heat was enough for me.  Another 10 minutes and Mark gave up too.  We drove along the curving Marine Drive, which fronts on Back Bay and links the down town with Malabar Hill where we visited another Jain Temple and learned that Nayana is also a Jain like our guide in Khajeraho.

Dome ceiling in Jain Temple, Mumbai

So far, our limited experience of Jain believers suggests that they take their religion very seriously, unlike the Hindu’s who have a much more relaxed approach to their faith.   This Jain temple was not as splendid as the others we have seen, but it is a working temple with the strong smell of old flowers, spices and incense and has many richly painted statues and carvings.  She was keen to tell us much more than we could or wanted to absorb in the sweltering heat and odors.  Out of the temple we walked into a pleasant garden, which was crowded with Sunday strollers.   Finally I asked her how many people lived in Mumbai and she told us 20 million–the most populated city in India.

By this time, between the heat and the crowds and the early hour we got up, we were ready for a quiet air conditioned room to ourselves–something most Mumbai dwellers probably rarely experience.  The Taj Lands End–a fairly new hotel not far from the airport–was our home for the night.  We had pizza and pasta and went to bed early as we have another early flight to Aurangabad.  Apparently, the domestic flights in India are scheduled for early morning so the international flights can have the slots in the afternoons and evenings.  One wrinkle affecting us is Kingfisher, one of the carriers on which we have been booked, which has run out of money and cancelled a number of flights, including two we were to take.  Fortunately for us, ATJ has been on the ball and rescheduled connections so we have not missed a beat.

11/12/11

We have just moved from the Oberoi Hotel to the Lake Palace in Udaipur.  I am working hard to catch up, but am still a few days behind.

To find Deogarh, look on a map of India and find Udaipur first and then look a bit northerly until you find Pushkar.  Deogarh is about half way between the two towns on a lesser used road.

Narrow street in Deogarh village

The drive there, on November 8, was far too interesting to sleep through.  We started off traveling through small fields of cotton and vegetables and gradually climbed into increasingly hilly, semi-arid country.  Then that gave way to dense green forest designated as wildlife preserve.  Where were we headed?  Finally we arrive at a small village beside a lake.  We got off the bus at the lake edge and climbed into two WWI I troop haulers.   Slowly the trucks drove up the narrow winding streets of the village to the top where there was a 400 year old palace.  At the entrance, we de-trucked and checked in.

The palace in Deogarh at the top of the village

What a charming place we “discovered”.  The 17th century fortress-palace was converted into a hotel a couple of decades ago and provides the village with employment and tourists to keep the townspeople busy.  We felt perfectly comfortable walking around at all hours.  Not only was the place charming, it was cleaner than any place we have been in India so far.  Except for the trucks that delivered guests, there were no cars allowed.  The only motorized traffic was scooters.

Deogarh Palace courtyard

The medieval, castle-like palace was a maze of uneven, steep, multi-sized steps leading in all directions.  For the next two days we all had trouble finding our way around.  Apparently, the castle was built that way to protect the occupants from unwanted intruders.  There are about 60 guest rooms and a large number of small to large public rooms, many of which we stumbled upon in our search for our own room.  At one point we found ourselves on the parapets and were treated to great views of the Aravalli range of mountains we had just traveled through, as well as the lake and the village below.  The last maharaja to live here still owns the property and his family still visit the hotel regularly, although they no longer live there.  We met the maharini on evening during cocktails.  Our room was a collection of spaces and latice-screened cubicles.  The small openings looked down onto the garden and courtyard.  The stone walls were very thick in places and we could use our computer in only a couple of spots by a window.  Clean, good bed, big bathroom, bad shower.

WWII troop carriers in new Deogarh

After a long, too long, lunch on our arrival day, we climbed back onto the stadium seating trucks for a ride over dirt roads to view birds–we did spot a kingfisher, a lap wing, a cormorant and some egrets–and visit a hamlet of the Rabari, meaning “outsider”, tribe.  These people are traditional herders of camels, cattle and goats and thus need large grazing areas which causes them to be nomadic and live on the edges of towns.  Many of the goats had brown on brown markings that made Daisy suggest they were dalmation goats.  We also stopped at a very unusual Shiva temple built into the side of a large cave.  An image of the god was set into a nitch amid old incense and much dust.  At the back of the cave we found several bats hanging upside down like—well, bats.  None of us were crazy about the odor in that place and we were glad to get out.   We continued on to a pretty lake for sunset and were treated to tables full of appetizers, all deep fried, and a full bar—a real sundowner—provided by the castle staff.

After dinner, Mark and I walked down into the village and checked out a few shops.  The speciality here is textiles.  I spotted one store I liked and ended up buying place mats, napkins and table runners.  He promised to make larger napkins over night and told me I could get them the next afternoon.  Back in our room I tried to work on the blog, but the wifi was not working and I had to give up.  Had another restless night as the room was warm and there was a lot of commotion in the courtyard until very late.

Deogarh train to nowhere

November 9 was the day we took our first Indian train ride.  The old and very tired, but still functional, British train station was just outside the village.  The train was just as old and tired–narrow gauged and diesel operated.   There were a handful of cars with wooden bench seats.  Most of them were partially full of Indians.  We had no idea where the train was destined, but we got into the very last car which had only a few locals.  Unfortunately, there was no passage from one car to the next so we were  obliged to chat only with those few folks.  We all took lots of photos of them and tried to communicate.  Pretty difficult as they knew only a few words of English.  The train took us up into the Aravalli mountains, across several trestles and through a couple of tunnels.  The scenery was dry, mediterranean-like with grass land, scrub and some trees–somewhat like Southern California.  It stopped a couple of times in the middle of nowhere and let a few people off including the locals riding in our car.  We waved good bye as we pulled out of sight.  After about an hour and a half it arrived at a station where we debarked.  Our bus was there to meet us and brought us back to Deogarh.  It was a fun experience and just long enough.  Unless our program changes dramatically, it will have been the only train ride of our trip.

New clothes in a Deogarh shop

Back at the palace in time for lunch, we ate lightly and walked into town to shop.  As much as I hate shopping, I felt compelled to find an Indian outfit that I could wear while we are in India and also when we get home.   So when I picked up the completed napkins, I mentioned the sort of outfit I had in mind and the shopkeeper pulled out just about everything he had to try to find something that I would like.  I refused to have anything made as I am not too thrilled with the one outfit that was made for me in Jaipur.  Did I forget to tell you about that?  Never mind.  While I was trying on many things, Mark went for a motorcycle ride with the helper to pick up clothes from other shops to see if they would work.  None of them worked.  Finally I was ready to give up, when the shop owner insisted on going himself.  He and Mark rode off while I cooled my heels.  The outfit they brought back was, happily for all of us, a winner.

Then Mark decided we needed to get some money from an ATM.  This time, I wanted to go for a ride, so the helper and I rode off to the ATM while the shop owner tried to sell Mark a shirt.  It was a super ride.  We had to go out of the old village to the newer part of town.  In no time I had the money and the assistant, a young 23 year old, insisted on driving me to his house where he lives with his parents.  It was a charming middle-class home.  His mother and brother were sitting outdoors along with a neighbor.  I refused to get off the bike, so we chatted a few minutes across the yard.  Everyone in his family is well educated.  His ambition is to become a shop owner in his own right.  My impression was that he has a lot to learn.  Anyway, it was a treat to see his home and I would have liked to visit properly, but I knew Mark was waiting, so we roared off back to the shop.  Mark had refused all suggestions and was more than ready to move on.  I wore the new outfit to dinner that night and received a few compliments.

Jain Temple at Ranakpur

We bid the palace staff good bye at 9am the morning of November 10 and drove for three hours through more mountainous terrain and denser forest to a spectacular Jain temple completed in 1449, after 65 years of construction, in a place called Ranakpur.  The most important Jain temple in India, the all white marble complex is noted for its 29 halls supported by 1,444 pillars, each adorned with hundreds of carved figures.  No two columns are alike.

Head priest and Daisy in Jain temple

It is an active Jain shrine and the head priest, sporting a tidy gray beard and dressed in yellow-orange robes, came to our group and gave us a lovely and longish blessing that sounded nice, even if it was unintelligible.  We wandered around the temple for about 45 minutes and finally left.  Mark thought it was the best temple we have seen in India to date.

Jainism is an offshoot of Hinduism, just as Buddhism is.  Buddha and Mahavida, the 24th Founder of Jainism, were contemporaries and it is believed that they met each other once.  Both belief systems came into being during the 6th century BC after much reaction to the increasingly liberal Hindu system.  Jainism is ultra conservative:  No killing of anything; totally vegetarian; emphasis on equality, rather than the caste system; practiced non-violence and compassion.  Today Jains represent a very small percentage of society.  However, this was our second Jain temple.  The first was at Khajeraho, where we had a very orthodox and dogmatic guide telling us about the wonderfulness of Jainism.   Anyway, this temple in Ranakpur is considered one of the 7 wonders of India and we were very impressed.

As we were all anxious to get to Udaipur and the highly rated Oberoi Hotel, we agreed to pass on the planned lunch stop and eat snacks on the bus.   Having eaten three meals a day for so many days, it felt good to pass up a meal.  It took another two hours before we arrived at the Oberoi around 3pm.  No more long bus rides for us.

November 9, 2011

Am having difficulties finding time and web connections to write and send posts.  Hopefully that situation will improve soon.

Our room at the Devi Ratn Hotel

On the night of November 3, we arrived in Jaipur at a new, only open for six weeks, hotel called Devi Ratn for a three night stay in one place.   We were expecting an exciting new experience and were rewarded with a very upscale, cold, prison-like, sprawling brick complex of odd shaped buildings.  Our room was cavernous with 14 foot ceilings, dark red paint on the walls, dim lighting, sparse furnishings, a window with lattice covering it so not much light entered from outdoors and a very tall door to an outdoor patio that was long and narrow.  The floor was alternating 1 inch stripes of black granite and white marble in a zig zag pattern.  It was interesting to look at for a few minutes, but no place we wanted to hang out.  We learned that every room was painted in strong colors and no one else wanted to be in their room either.  The public rooms were equally unwelcoming.  The worst of it was that the place was in semi desert country at least 20 minutes from town, so we could not even walk anywhere.   Daisy, our outspoken guide, said it was her first time to the hotel too  and she did not like it either.  We all agreed that ATJ should not send guests there again.  I give it good marks for cleanliness and a good bed.

The next morning we drove 11km from Jaipur to Amber, a major city during Akbar’s time.  It is well situated on a hillside with high walls surrounding it at some distance and overlooks a lake that provides nice reflections.  Once inside the large, open grounds of the palace, we were entertained by elephants taking tourists for rides.  Daisy thought the animals were not well care for and said we would get elephant rides in better places.  So we took photos of them.  On one side of the court was an open building called Shish Mahal, the Hall of Mirrors.  The inlaid mirrored motifs were visually delightful in the daytime and  must have been brilliant at night with candlelight bouncing off the thousands of little pieces of glass and mirror.  Apparently the hall was used by the women of the court.

From there we walked up into Amber Fort.  All I remember is a maze of steps, rooms, more steps and long corridors where vendors were up close and personal peddling their wares to us.   I spotted a lady selling heena work and asked how long it would take.  When she said 2 minutes, I quickly selected a design and she wasted no time applying the heena to the back of my lower arm, wrist and middle finger.  She was very good and fast.  Then she told me I had to let the heena dry for at least 30 minutes before touching anything.   I don’t know what I was thinking, but I was committed to have it look good so I held my arm aloft to keep it from getting bumped.  By the time we walked back to the bus it was fairly dry, but I left the residue on to insure a good result.  A few hours later the loose heena began to flake off and I finished rubbing the rest off.  It is a nice design and is supposed to last 3 weeks.  Hope so.

Our elephant "safari" at a reserve near Amber

From the fort we drove a short distance to an elephant reserve, where we were greeted by elephants and mahoots waiting to give us leisurely rides in the countryside with no other tourists around.  It was a very pleasant experience as each couple had an elephant to themselves.  Our elephant was named “Elle” and our mahoot was Anthony.  We have ridden several camels over the years, but this was our first elephant ride and we both enjoyed the 30 minutes on Elle.  We dismounted next to an outdoor pavilion where lunch was served in a green landscaped garden.  Altogether a very happy memory.

Before going back to the hotel we stopped at a textile factory and several of us ordered clothing to be made.  I know better, but got caught up in the action and soon found myself being measured for an Indian outfit after selecting fabric.  The clothes were made in 24 hours and delivered to the hotel the next evening.

Dinner at our hotel was a long and tedious affair as the staff was still very new and inept at their jobs.  We were really glad to go to bed when it was over.

A street scene in old Jaipur

On Saturday, November 6, we drove into the old city of Jaipur for a visit to the Astronomical Observatory and CIty Palace and a heritage walk through the old city, which was laid out in 1728 in a grid pattern with 7 blocks of buildings divided by tree lined avenues.  Emperor Jai, who had lived at Amber Palace, decided to move this large valley so his astrological equipment would have unobstructed view of the night sky.  In the process he created a modern city.  Build for 350,000 people there are now 4 million inhabitants in Jaipur.  We were told that when Prince Albert was planning to visit the city in 1883, the city was ordered to be painted the traditional color of welcome–reddish-orange or pink.  SInce then the colors have stuck and the street facades of the entire old city are still pink.  Jaipur is the only living city that designated a World Heritage site.

The Observatory was really interesting for its advancements so early in the 17th century.  The equipment still tells perfect time and gives celestial information known during those days.  Then we walked to the City Palace and visited the palace museum.  Most interesting to me were the costumes and the armory, which held many interesting weapons of the day.  There were some pretty lethal looking knives that you stab into someone and then squeeze open like scissors to further damage the organs.  I grabbed my belly just looking at them.  Pretty memorable stuff.

We skipped lunch after that, picked up a local guide and went for the heritage walk around several blocks taking in the assault on all our senses.  I enjoyed the experience, but some in the group were bothered by the smells, the incessant honking of horns and the pushy behavior of vendors.   At one point we climbed up to a second story rooftop for an unobstructed view of the frenetic street scene below.

We had all agreed that we wanted to have dinner at the famous Ramberg Hotel, so we drove back to our country prison palace, cleaned up and relaxed a bit and then drove back into town to the Romberg.  What a difference it was compared to our digs.  Classical, classy, in mint condition, warm and inviting with beautiful grounds, very upscale shops on sight and walking distance to town.   We all told Daisy that this is where ATJ should bring their groups from now on, even if it is more expensive.  Dinner was a served Indian affair that was not remarkable except for the dining room and the impeccable wait staff.  Afterward, we walked  around the grounds and into the Polo Club, apparently a famous watering hole, where Mark bought a couple of Cuban cigars.  The weather was balmy and most pleasant.  So far we continue to have perfect weather, even if a bit warm during the afternoon.

Finally, we depart the Devi Ratn and head for Pushkar on the morning of November 6.  Our group tour is named for the Pushkar Fair and we are finally getting to it after a lot of memorable experiences along the way.  The drive took 3 1/2 hours over more bumpy roads.  We arrived at our tented camp around noon, were greeted with the traditional welcome drink and cold wash cloth, which, by the way, we have received upon arrival at every hotel, and then walked to our tents via mat covered sand.  Our tent was comfortable large with a good bed, a full bathroom and, thankfully, air conditioning.  We did not end up using it much as we were not in the tent  much during the daytime and the temperature cooled down to the low sixties at night.

November 1, 2011

We woke up on Halloween in Varanasi fully rested after 10 hours of sound sleep.  We were to join our group at noon in the lobby and decided to spend the morning working with our electronic gadgets—downloading and editing photos, receiving and replying to email, googling information and working on posts for my blog.  After days of being unable to get on the web, it felt good to do some catching up.

Over lunch we got briefly acquainted with the group.  There are 13 of us including our guide, who likes to be called Daisy.  About half of the group are from California, one is from Minnesota and the rest are from the east coast.   There are 3 men and 10 women.   All appear to be in their 50’s and 60’s, reasonably healthy and able.  It is too soon to make any opinions.

After lunch, we took the group bus to Sarnath, the place where Buddha preached his first sermon after achieving enlightenment.  There was a large collection of temples, stupas, shrines and monasteries commemorating the event, considered one of 4 major sights in Buddha’s life–including where he was born, where he achieved enlightenment and where he died.    Several groups of pilgrims were praying at the sight and gave the place an aura of sacredness.   For us the shrine included the largest stupa we have ever seen.  It is made of solid brick going back to the fifth century and is at least 150 feet tall and 100 feet in diameter.   We walked around the stupa clockwise and encountered more groups of chanting pilgrims along the way.  We also visited the attached museum, where we saw the emblem of independent India—four highly polished, sand stone lions seated in a circle facing out ward. Copies of this emblem are printed on the rupee.   I learned the five hand positions of Buddha while at the shrine.  They are: 1) the meditation pose with one hand laying in the other; 2) the granting protection pose with Buddha standing with palm facing out; 3) the blessing pose with standing Buddha’s palm flat down; 4) the enlightenment pose with Buddha seated and his finger tips touching the ground; and 5) the preaching pose where two fingers of each hand are working together to untie the knot of darkness.

From Sarnath we drove back to the hotel to make a quick bathroom stop and transfer to cars for the drive to the Ganges River in the heart of the city.  We were able to get close, but had to walk the last half mile or so through the throngs of tourists and pilgrims.  Although Varanasi is considered the oldest living city in the world, 7000 years, the infrastructure has not kept up with population growth which is now well over 3 million.  There is not enough of anything including roads, water, sewer, trash removal and housing.  People are so packed together near the center of the city, that it was almost claustrophobic to walk around.   “Teaming masses” is a phrase that really fits.

About half a mile from the river we had to get out of the cars and walk as they could no longer move forward.  Although the street was intensely crowded and noisy with motorbikes honking and people walking toward the river, there was no pushing, or angry behavior.  We felt perfectly safe in the crowd.  There were a number of beggars, but they did not hassle us.  Even the vendors were not very pushy.  Colorful neon lights and street lamps lit the way.   It was har to get good photos as everyone was on the move and there was no break in the crowd.  I tried anyway.   The biggest on slot  was to our olfactory systems.  I was aware of incense, smoke, dust, urine, dung, body odor and cooking food.  Some of the ladies in our group were bothered by the smells and wore masks.  We just sniffed away.  All part of the scene.  Finally we arrived at a point where the road begins to slopes, steps appear and the street gives way to the  broad river bank, composed of irregular, concrete steps, wide open landings followed by more steps down to the river.  People covered every bit of the space.  The scene was colorful chaos.  We carefully picked our way through the crowd, while taking in all the sight and sounds.  There were thousands of people and more coming arriving every minute.  Most folks were finding places to sit on the steps, while others , including us, threaded their way to the boats lining the bank of the river several deep.  We walked across several boats to get to ours then paddled out into the river to reposition ourselves for a good view of the coming ceremony.  We were barely in place when the sun set and the ceremony of putting the Ganges to sleep began.  Each of several ghats, or platforms that protrude out from the steps, were decorated with colorful fabric and garlands.  On each one was a young priest, dressed in golden robes from the waist down.  They first blew conch shells to announce the beginning and then proceeded to go through a very scripted set of rituals using incense, brass candles, tiered candelabra, gas torches, more incense and finally peacock feathers.  All the while, there was singing and chanting amid the clash of cymbals, gongs and horns.  Much of the time they faced the river which was good for us boat people.  Part of the time they faced the throng on the steps.  From our position there was a lot of haze from smoke and incense, which gave our photos a surreal glow.  I sure hope I got a few that tell the story.  The glowing light made it difficult.  This ceremony, which lasted a hour, is performed every evening after dark 365 days a year to masses of people, both tourists and pilgrims, who often wait much of their life to come here for this event, which is a spiritual highlight for Hindus, who believe the Ganges is a sacred river.  Once the ceremony is over, people hang around or retreat the same way they arrived.  We walked back to where our cars were parked and then proceeded back to our hotel for dinner.

This event was a major highlight of our trip, but the next morning, before sunrise, we repeated our steps to the banks of the river to watch pilgrims and locals come the river to bathe and make salutations to the rising sun for another major highlight.  We were back in the boat again and floated up and down the river for the entire length of the 70 ghats, two crematoriums and multitudes of bathers, who were oblivious to us tourists passing by in front of them.  In the daylight it was easier to get a sense of the steps, platforms, piles of wood needed for cremations on the burning ghats, not to be confused with the performance ghats, which were separated by a good distance.   This scene was slower paced, less crowded, much quieter and, in my opinion, more spiritual than the evening ceremony, which was more spectacle.  During both events we each received a small paper bowl filled with marigolds and a candle and were instructed to light the candle, make a prayer and float the candle on the river.  Both times I watched my candle float out of sight in the relatively fast moving river.

Finally we had our fill or the Ganges, went back to the hotel for breakfast and then flew back to Delhi in the afternoon of November 1, 2011.  We did not go the the Trident Hotel as planned, but instead were upgraded, by surprise, to the 6 month old business Oberoi in the Gurgaon district of town.  Gurgaon is a completely renovated area that was tenements 10 years ago and is now all high rise office and apartment buildings.  It is also near the airport.  The hotel was beyond our highest expectations.  The eye-catching exterior is made of polished aluminum, glass and shallow blue water pools.  Inside the spaces were wide open with lots of vertical glass and minimalist furniture.   Our suite was quite large, light and airy and yet inviting and comfortable.    All I can say is that everyone in the group loved being there.  We were sorry it was only for one night.

Out at 7:30am the morning of November 2, we began our bus journey for the next 2 weeks.  The bus was just big enough for all of us, but without much room to spare.  So far, it is the first thing about this trip that I do not like.  We spent 5 hours on the road to Agra and arrived at the Agra Oberoi in time for lunch.  The hotel is very nice, although not a splendid as the Gargaon Oberoi.  Each room has a view of the Taj, albeit a partial view in our case.    It was very nice to be able to visit Agra again after over 40 years.

“Once upon a time Julia and Mark went to India.  It was a dark and smoggy night” ….at the Indira Gandhi Airport.  Our noses detected smoke, dust and a faintly sweet something…was it incense?  We knew without seeing that we had arrived in a different world.                   Mark Strate

October 25, 2011

Namaste!

Street scene in Old Delhi

The trip lasted 24 hours from the time we stepped onto the Cathay Pacific 747 in SFO and the time we walked off an A330 in Delhi.  It was 3:30 am local time when we dove into bed at the Imperial Hotel.  Up at 8, we met our sari clad guide for the day, Seema.  Her card said she was a Graphic Designer and an Art Historian.  She was clearly very knowledgeable about her history, art and architecture and was on a fast pace to teach us what she knew.  We were hard pressed to keep up with her as we wandered through the old Muslim city, Shahjahanabad, founded in 1639 by Akbar, the greatest Mughal ruler of India.  We visited the Jama Masjid, the largest mosque in India, took a noisy, dusty rickshaw ride in the shopping area and drove around the Red Fort.  The streets were narrow and totally congested with people, vehicles, rickshaws, motor scooters, protruding shops and an unbelievable amount of exposed wiring hanging from every building and draping in all directions.   Ancient, interesting and extremely noisy, it was not a place to hang out for long.

After we got away from that maddening scene we drove over the Yamuna River into eastern Delhi to visit the brand new Akshardham Temple Monument to World Peace.  The contrast was palpable.  A huge parking lot provided ample room for the multitude of visitors, the buildings were spacious, the landscaping lovely and expansive, the people respectful and quiet.   Stepping into the main temple was awesome, not unlike stepping into St Peter’s Basilica in Rome.  Every inch was covered in sculpted figures and design elements.  Seema told us everything was hand carved and individually attached to the walls, ceilings and columns by hundreds of artisans and completed in 8 years.  Mark is certain the carvings were machine-made because he could find no chisel marks.  and then individually attached to the columns, walls and ceiling.  Either way it was an impressive sight.

Humayun’s Tomb

From there we drove back across the river to Humayun’s Tomb and Mausoleum.  It was built during the mid-16th century by the Mughal Emperor Akbar in honor of his father.  It is a truly beautiful.  The main building and the surrounding landscaping are perfectly symetrical.  The materials are the red sandstone and marble common to Delhi, the lines and form are very pleasing and the whole scene made me feel peaceful.  It was not surprising that the builder of the Taj Mahal took his inspiration from this Mausoleum.

We arrived back at the hotel in time for the beginning of Diwalli, the Festival of Light which is held to honor Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth and prosperity.  It is a national holiday  that lasts for several days that combines elements of our holidays–Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s and 4th of July.  Family’s get together to visit; buildings are decorated with millions of marigold flowers, lit with streamers of lights in green, white and red; millions of candles are lit and placed everywhere; everyone dresses up; sweets are given to friends, workers and family and everyone has a good time “bursting crackers” they have purchased by the hundreds.  Indians think of the holiday as their new year’s celebration.  Anyway, we watched the hotel’s small fireworks display, had a salad in the hotel’s Italian restaurant and went to bed.

The next morning, October 26th, we were up in time to catch a 6:30am 2-hour flight to Jabalpur in central India.  From the airport we drove 3 1/2 hours south on surprisingly good, if narrow, roads to Bandhavgarh National Park and our home for the next 4 nights, Samode Safari Lodge.  Our accommodations were spacious and luxurious even though they were in the middle of a grassy meadow with a few broad leaf trees, stands of bamboo and bushes–rather un-appealing as scenery goes, but next to the park.  Our reason to come her was to see elusive and scarce tigers, if possible.  We arrived in time for lunch, which was most delicious–soup, salad and small fish entre.  We had the afternoon free to catch up on sleep, swim and have a massage.

Diwalli, festival of light

Dinner, we learned, is served late in India–8 or 9pm.  Cocktails begin about 7:30pm.  Since our clocks were off kilter anyway, we went along with the program.  As this night was the official beginning of Diwalli, the staff were bustling around to make preparations—placing candles everywhere, setting out the firecrackers, getting dressed up.  Because it is a family festival, the staff’s families were in attendance as well as the guests and the lodge owner and his family.   We were escorted through a sea of lighted candles to the pool side where the ceremony was to take place.   We were asked to stretch out one arm (right are for men and left for women).  A string was wrapped and tied around our wrist and our palm was filled with cooked rice, which we held until everyone else was prepared.  Then we flung the rice, representing evil spirits, over our back and embraced the string, representing prosperity and good fortune.  Immediately fire crackers began to go off, fountains were lit and the children squealed with laughter.  We felt like we had been included in a very private family event.   The few guests and staff mingled together and we met our game driver and guide, Bacchi.  He was quite pleasant, but unwilling to promise us a tiger.  Dinner was an all Indian affair with many little round dishes of different ingredients and sauces arranged around each person’s plate.  I cannot tell you what it all was, but it tasted good and was not too hot.  Bedtime was also delicious.

Map of India