Long... long days here.

Hola Amigos y Amigas,

No I'm not in Mexico or Spain or any other latin hotspot... though maybe that will be in my future plans. I kind of wish it were Mexico at times, no where to get a shot of tequila here. It feels a lot like Mexico. The villages and towns are dusty and hot with kids running around the streets, feral dogs and people trying to sell you stuff or get some change from you.... yup, the dogs too. The buildings are mostly crumbling and very dingy, but the people seem friendly enough. I haven't yet made it to any temples or sights here yet as I'm kind of just stopping here so I can have a shorter series of bus rides before heading back south to Rameswaram and Kanyakumari.

It's hot here, I'm in the center of Tamil Nadu in a town called Trichy. I arrived by bus at 4 this morning and then had to wander around and find a hotel... they're mostly booked. So an old guy with a pedal rickshaw helped find me a room. I was just ready to sleep... whatever sort of room it was. So I booked this room for a 24 hour stay. The manager showed down a dark hallway to a small room resembling a prison cell (as most places do here with bars on the windows and all) with it's own bathroom attached (something of a luxury here). I thought it might do for a few hours sleep until I could find a more comfortable, cleaner place. I threw down my stuff, tossed a sheet on the likely bug filled, seen better days about 50 years ago bed and switched off the light in hopes of a reasonably peaceful sleep (hardly possible here). About five minutes went by and I heard something squeaky. Hmmm... I thought, as the squeaking continued in the ceiling above me... Can I sleep through that? Sure I can, but let me check out what it is and if it's actually in my room or just in the ceiling. On with the light again as the squeaking got louder... eyes adjusting to the dim fluorescent light I saw where the sound came from and realized that my suspicions were entirely correct. In the corner of the room was a rat's nest with likely a half dozen fat, squealing rodents. I made a decision... to vacate that room and ask for one without the rats. When I asked the man for another room, he didn't understand my English and so I resorted to sign and sound language. Imagine it... 4 something in the morning in hotel BFI (that's Butt F*** India for all you old timers and clean thinkers) and I'm standing at the reception desk making rat noises and buck toothed rodent faces complete with ears at this nice hotel manager. Just think about the look he might have given me. Needless to say, he found me another room and since it was a room with two beds he tried to charge me more... at this I refused to pay more and told him I would find another place. He let me stay for the original price and I got at least a couple hours of hot as hell sleep.

It's now a couple days later. I think it's the 24th, I'm not sure. I really don't know what day of the week it is either. I think it's Tuesday but I can't be certain. With the sluggishness of the computer facilities here, even with word processing, it sometimes takes days to finish these journals. Perfectly fine by me though, as I have more time to think about things and have new experiences to share.

After the whole rat-room fiasco I found a nicer place just down the road. It's one of the places recommended by the Lonely Planet book, which may as well be the bible. It's definitely more useful in a Hindu and Muslim setting, that's for sure. So this place was a little more expensive than the rat joint, but only by about a hundred rupees. It has a restaurant and a bar and big clean rooms. Ok well, that's what they claim. The restaurant was nothing special, and the bar was non existent but let's face it- clean rooms without rats- priceless.

The first day in Trichy was dedicated to rest. I had been on the road for several days with Vijay, my friend Vikram's dad. We had taken a bus to Pondicherry from Bangalore, about a 7 hour ride on some seriously bumpy roads. Riding in a bus here is like riding the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland- for 7 hours. Needless to say, sleeper class in an Indian bus just means you bounce lying down instead of sitting up in a chair. It's like one of those vibrating beds in a cheap hotel room in Vegas but has a full time Nitrous booster and goes all night long without having to add more quarters. We spent two days wandering around Pondi, sweating, wondering why we decided to go there as there wasn't really very much to see, but enjoying the relaxing atmosphere that the once French colony had to offer. It's still pretty French as all the streets are named "Rue (Fill in the Blanco)", the city is layed out in a reasonably organized grid pattern which is pretty unusual in India as far as I can tell, and they even have a scheduled siesta. Good luck finding anyone stirring or willing to serve you anything between 1 and 4 in the afternoon. We went to Sree Aurobindo Ashram- what a party. The kind where there is only silence and somber looks. We saw a couple of nice Catholic churches. We went to a beach near the international settlement of Auroville and got our feet wet in the waters of the Bay of Bengal. We had a couple of beers and boarded busses headed for different destinations. Vijay went back to Bangalore and I went on to Trichy.

So as I was saying, the first day in Trichy was dedicated to recovery from yet another 7 hours on the bus. At first glance, like many of the places I have been here, Trichy seemed like a hot, dirty, crowded and unfriendly place. Fortunately, from my recent experiences I know that the only way to know about a place beyond the safety and relative comfort of your hotel room is to go for a walk. This is sometimes difficult here because of the incredibly high number of underworked rickshaw drivers in comparison to the very few number of pedestrians and especially tourists. I have become pretty good about turning down offers for cheap rides, cheap jewelry, cheap tour guides, cheap drugs and a whole mess of other things people like to try to sell you here. I'll write more on that at another juncture. (hehe, i said more on)

About 10 in the morning I left the hotel room, as it was only going to get hotter in there as well, for the Hill Fort Temple about 3 km away. I would guess by this time it was about 90+ degrees and quite humid with no apparent breeze. Armed with my camera, sunscreen and 2 litres of water I set out for the hilltop. I think it took me maybe 2 hours to go about 3 km. I had to stop and take pictures and find my way. I had no map, just a temple in the distance and a vague idea of how to get there. Once I finally reached the foot of the temple, it must have been well over 100 degrees under the full sun in a clear sky. In the entrance there was a man with a beautifully adorned elephant who would touch the head of anybody that placed a couple rupees in it's trunk... I thought that was great but I didn't know if it was ok to take a picture. Sometimes that kind of stuff is too personal and religiously significant to have some tourist snapping a picture. But that elephant looked like the friendliest beast a man could know. Anyway, the first 200 something of the 376 steps to the temple on top of the hill are conveniently shaded by the thick stone walls and ceilings of the surrounding fort. I want to say that this place was built in the 15th century or so but had been occupied by many groups since the 2nd century BC. I'll have to check my facts, but whatever the year- this place is waaaay older than any momument in the great U.S. of A. and potentially that of most of the western hemisphere. And since it is a palace of God, you must climb the steps barefoot. Some 200+ shaded steps and a hundred something sole scorching, hand chiseled steps later I reached the top. From here was a panoramic view of Trichy and the flood plain in which it lies. I have some killer pictures of the landscape views and a couple other monuments around but those will have to wait until I am on a computer capable of uploading photos.

Like I said before, it's only 3km to the temple. This means it's only 3km back. One day back in early August I walked from Kalambalum back to Varkala. 11km in about 3 and a half hours. It took me the next 3 and a half hours just to walk the 3km back to the hotel. What happens in places like this is a combination of things really, a calamity of interests pointed in your direction from the world you are invading or in this case attempting to retreat from. Village life goes on with or without you in it, but when you find yourself in it, it's sometimes difficult to escape, which ends up being something very special and rewarding for you and for the villagers.

As I was walking from the temple through the roughly cobbled streets bordered by flowing, open sewers and tightly constructed buildings connected by narrow alleys, around every corner was another friendly, smiling person; another group of children playing cricket or football in the streets, another toothless old man or woman nodding in my direction and cracking that gaping smile. Everyone here seems eager and excited to meet a foriegner. You have to be ready to answer a gauntlet of questions typically in this order and spoken this way:

1. "Which country?"
2. a. "Your good name, sir?" As spoken by a typical adult male.
b. "Name?!" As asked by a very excited child.
3. "You are married?"
4. "Purpose?"
5. "You are here?"
6. "Your job?"

What I gather from most of my interactions in this setting are that there are two types of people here that want to talk to you. First, the most eager of all (kind of like the curbside evangelists back home) are the people that want to talk to you for the sole purpose of pitching you something. There are almost a billion people in India alone and I'm beginning to feel like if there were a tourist market for grandmothers, at least one out of ten men walking the streets would be trying to sell his to me for a "very good price". This goes for everything from rickshaw rides, tours, drugs, custom clothing, artifacts and paintings and carvings and maps of India... the list goes on. It's good to know that I don't have to go far to get anything I need, "very good price". The second is the open commoner with a few words of spoken english or the excited child who is learning english in school. For some children the only words they know are "Schoolpen, Pen!!?" or "Moneycandymoneypen?!!" or "Halllooo!" or sometimes "Weccom to Innia!". This is the best part of traveling here. There are always happy, curious, grinning children excited to meet someone from a strange, far away place. And most of the time they are completely content just to exchange "Halloooos" and hand shakes. I hate to think that in a few years, those innocent little kids will probably be peddaling their grandmother to people like me.

Once I made it down the hill and through the streets of the village below the temple, I wound up walking through the local city market. Here, I was promptly accosted by some more interested locals. It wasn't long before I was surrounded by smiling people and giggling children as I took their pictures and showed them the image on the lcd screen. I would venture a guess that most people here have rarely, if ever seen a photo of themselves, and I'm happy to have provided that experience for a few of them. I was made to sit and exchange information with a man and his daughter so that I can send him a copy of the picture. In the mean time I was fed a lemon soda, a samosa, an orange and some really tasty fresh fruit drink... and three beedi cigarettes. They don't take no for an answer, and who am I to refuse the hospitality of strangers who are only trying to make me feel at home in their home. What lovely, humble people! It was hard to say goodbye and make my way back to the hotel, but I was ready for a shower and a good sleep. Much like now.

My time is almost up here at the internet cafe. I have been sick for two days and have been laying low in Madurai. I'll write more soon. I haven't seen the incredible temples here yet but they look great from the rooftop restaurant at night. Until next time... Even though I'm having fun, I can't wait to get home again.