TravelStream™ news feed for member mxharris on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/mxharris en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Thu, 28 May 2009 18:07:08 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mxharris/1/1218559740/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mxharris/1/1218559740/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mxharris/1/1218559740/tpod.html Thu, 28 May 2009 18:07:08 -0400 Adventures in South India!

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Pondicherry, India

My Magnum Opus/ An Opening Farewell



Hey All! So it's
August 12, 2008, and I've been living in the Foreign Students Hostel for about
a month, which has been overall a pleasant experience, but not without its
bumps. What shall transpire in the next
few pages is simply some of my reflections and experiences. For those of you who are more "cut to the
chase" feel free to skip to the last two paragraphs, I shan't be offended.



The hostel arrival was a mixed bag. We traded in our vagabond lifestyle for that
of routine and the security that comes with routine. The rooms are actually fairly big, with two
beds, a private bathroom, and some other accoutrements. I'll post some pictures
to illustrate this for you all. The
rooms, while nice, were not clean. I
don't mean a bit of dust, I mean there was rat droppings scattered around the
room. This lead me to embark on a
maniacal Martha Stewart-esque kick the next day, investing heavily in new
sheets and cleaning products. But hey, I
have a private bathroom (roaches and all) and a huge room all to myself, so I
can't complain. They are mercifully
equipped with A/C units also, a luxury only known to my hostel. The hostels occupied by the Indian students
have no AC and aren't quite as plush. We
have food delivered (by motorcycle) 3 times a day. It's usually just a huge pot of rice and a
sauce or two, accompanied by chapatti, the south Indian tortilla. It gets a little monotonous but we also have
some hotplates and a microwave, so cooking for ourselves isn't a big deal.

My hostel
mates are an awesome cast of characters.
There's Leo, a French student who's working on a
degree in computer science. He's an
awesome guy to chat with, but he has had a tougher time here than many of the
rest of us. South Indians are used to
white people, but in many cases, Leo is the first black guy any of them have
ever seen, and don't understand that a black person can also be French. It's interesting to talk to people who have
such a limited scope of understanding.
The irony of course is that Leo is just as dark as some of the darker
Tamils. Then there are Berenice, Julie,
and Morganne, all three of whom are here for a year, but all are a lot of fun
and have a great sense of humor, so I know they'll have no problem. Across the
hall is Lorena, our most polyglotic member (Spanish, English, French, German)
who is Columbian but goes to University in Germany. We also have a new member, Cecille, who is
joining the faculty of the French department for the next year or so as a
student teaching project.

Living here
defies any expectation I had. While
roadside mud huts and ubiquitous poverty abound, the people of this land (for
the most part) still carry themselves with pride and dignity not seen
elsewhere. Even the maids of our hostel and
university workers, many of whom support families on around $1/day, are
unbelievably friendly and gracious.

I've become
so numb to bad driving, I fear for myself when I get back to the US. Indian drivers use the horn more than the
brake, and a typical streetscape has more near-misses and goat-dodging than the
latest Hollywood action blockbuster. It's truly a sight to behold.

I am
thankful however, to be where I am.
Though Tamil Nadu is quite conservative and extremely poor, the City of
Pondicherrry is part of the Union territory of Pondicherry, meaning it is
directly controlled by the central government in Delhi, thus reaping tax
benefits and kickbacks unbeknowest to the surrounding region. The French only relinquished control over the
place in the latter half of the 20th Century, thus many aspects of
French life hang around, especially in street signs, restaurants, bakeries,
etc. This only applies to the tiny
"French Quarter" or "White Town" (as the locals call it) section of the city. Thanks to the lovely exchange rate, a
three-course dinner for 3 at one of the best French places in town is only
$25-30, including drinks. There is also
a great DVD store, where you can buy movies, including ones that aren't out on
video yet or still in theatres (wink wink).
The quality is usually pretty fair, but the other night during a viewing
of The Hulk a black figure obscured the picture for a few seconds
towards the end of the film. We laughed
and realized it was someone getting up to go to the bathroom in the theatre
where the pirate filming was taking place.
But hey, they only cost about 60 cents a pop! Despite these
conveniences, the most fun way to shop is at roadside vendors and the mammoth
Sunday Market, a several-street extravaganza, where you can haggle to your
heart's content. A creative use of some
Tamil and Hindi can usually bring the price down 30%. For the truly cutthroat there is the ultimate
trump card: the feigned walk-away. This usually creates a panic in the vendor
who has spent the last few minutes enticing you relentlessly, and will cause
him to cut as much as 60%. Use caution:
this is a dangerous weapon, only to be used for items you actually want, otherwise you shall garner a "boy who cried wolf"
sort of reputation.

I have, at
times, been hit with some serious pangs of homesickness. The distance and the
culture shock were a tough combination to deal with, and at times, the notion
of pulling the plug and coming home did drift into my mind like a fog, clouding
my rationality. Granted, coming home
would have been the easiest and most comfortable route, but in the end, I'm so
happy that I decided to stick it out. I
figure that there are very few times in my life where I'll have an opportunity
to live here with such flexibility, thus I needed to capitalize on this. Besides this, I'm really starting to fall in
love with this place. For all its
faults, it has an authenticity and a sort of "divine chaos" that I find weirdly
alluring.

This entry
is my effective retirement; but not from ALL entries, just the more daily
sort. Now that I'm attending class full
time I think it would be considered cruel and unusual punishment if I were to
post thoughts of y daily life (Got up, ate, went to class...) for everyone to
read. NOT good reading material. This is
not to say that you shouldn't check up occasionally. I'm heading to the cities of Bangalore and
Mysore in the state of Karnataka soon, so I shall have some pictures and
stories for y'all very soon. I will
probably be fairly centrally located between September and mid-November, but
after finals are finished my Dad is coming over to visit and joining us on a
lightning-fast blitz through north India that shall include Darjeeling,
Bodghaya, Varanasi, Delhi, Jaipur, and Agra in around 12 days. It'll be fast but wonderful to see my Dad and
share the experience with him, I'm really looking forward to it.

I've really enjoyed the work to
maintain this blog, and I hope all of you have enjoyed reading it. Thanks so much for keeping tabs on my
journeys and be sure to stay tuned for more!
I appreciate all the comments and emails as well! Take care and be well!
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Pondicherry, Union Territory of Pondicherry, India

Of Moustaches and Men: A reflection on facial accoutrements. And some other stuff...

So life here in ol' Pondi has been good: There are fewer "surprise" government holidays when everything shuts down, the terrorist bombings of Delhi are thankfully unknown to this small town, and everyone in the hostel is doing fabulously. Léo is continuing to teach me Capoeira("Brazilian Dance Fighting"), and classes are going well.

This last weekend I decided to shed some scruffiness and get a haircut, which Lorena graciously provided. It was just as I was about to clear-cut my unkempt beard that I was hit with an interesting idea...

(Disclaimer: I don't hate moustaches. In fact, some men (like my grandfather) pull them off marvelously. However, when sported by the under-30 crowd in a ubiquitous fashion, it gets a bit tiresome .)

For my readers who haven't set foot in India (more specifically the south of India) you must realize that you have never seen a place with a per-capita moustache population like this. Conservative estimates from the non-stached crowd place the number at 85-95% of all males over the age of 18. It is truly absurd. The roots of this phenomenon lie in two places: the machismo ethic and the worship of movie stars. A huge bushy 'stache is seen as a badge of manliness, to be cultivated and nurtured. This is aided by the fact that almost ALL of the Tamil movie stars are seen sporting this upper-lip decoration. Needless to say those who can't grow a respectable 'stache (such as yours truly) still attempt to, in order to tap into some sort of unspoken testosterone energy force.

Which brings me to my decision. With razor in hand, I decided to take the plunge and make a foray into the Tamilian "boys club" and cut myself a moustache. Having no fear of self-deprecating humor, I knew I could do this without flinching. I just merely wanted it to be a social experiment: Would I be treated differently with one?

Admittedly, my moustache was ugly. I looked like a member of a 70's disco team. It was met with mixed reaction (mostly laughter) from my friends, as they knew the purpose of my endeavor. Over the next few days, I got mixed reviews: more waves and smiles from adult moustachers, more giggles from gaggles of Tamilian girls and more chuckles and pointing from younger moustaches. I don't mind however, tongue-in-cheek, the joke's on them anyway, as they take this furry upper lip business all too seriously.

Alas, I have shorn my newfound badge of manliness, but my excursion as a legitimate Tamil male was a fun and hilarious venture indeed.

In other news, some friends and myself are planning to go to Goa in the next week or so. Stay tuned!
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Mysore, Karnataka, India

Mysore

Happy Indian Independence Day!

After a harrowing journey to Mysore in which we saw 3 separate auto accidents, we were all a bit shell shocked, and took some time to recoup before seeing the city. We headed to the Mysore palace, a HUGE building that housed the Maharaja of Karnataka. While a little weak on historical muscle (The building is only 100 yrs old) it was still gorgeous. For my California readers, envision an Indian Hearst Castle. I wasn't able to take my camera inside, but some of the outside pictures do it reasonable justice.

From there we proceeded to Chumundi hill, one of the most sacred sites in South India. At the top a temple is perched, and about halfway down sits a monstrous stone bull carved out of one solid piece of granite.

We then proceeded to check out some of the other historical buildings in the area, including a building that was once a guesthouse for friends of the Maharaja. It is now a swanky hotel, notably only because it bears an uncanny resemblance to our White House.

That night the palace was lit up beautifully, and then, being masochists, we woke up to see the sunrise, which was glorious.

In an effort to experience the famed Mysore markets, we dived headfirst into the bazaar. It was authentic India at it's finest: multi-colored tikka powder, burlap sacks full of chilies and potatoes, and hordes of men selling trinkets. It was awesome. Afterwards we spent some time silk shopping and enjoying the local zoo before heading "home."


Side note: After getting back to Pondi, I found out I'm going to be able to intern with the M.S. Swaminathan Research Foundation, I'm really stoked!
http://www.mssrf.org/
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Bangalore, Karnataka, India

So as a little break, the three of us decided to take a
5-day trip to Bangalore and Mysore, two major cities in the neighboring state
of Karnataka. We gathered our things and
readied ourselves to live out of backpacks and resume the vagabond lifestyle
that we've come to love so much. We
rickshawed to our travel agency, which upon first glance actually resembled a
warehouse of some kind. Oh India. But sketchy travel agencies aside, we finally
got on our bus to head to B'lore. The bus
was a "sleeper" style, which in the context of an 8-hour bus ride sounds like a
grand idea. The reality is that you
can't do anything except recline;
there wasn't any headroom to speak of.
The irony is that while reclining was mandatory, sleeping was evasive;
my seat was directly over a wheel well, thus every small imperfection in the
road (there were many) was over-amplified.
It was as though I was lying on a subwoofer at a concert where the
bassist was on performance enhancers.



After a
sleepless ride, we arrived in Bangalore around 5 a.m. Kalasipalayam, the neighborhood around our
bus stop, was later most astutely described by one of our drivers. Ashok asked where we arrived, and upon
hearing the place, paused, then said, "Ah yes sir, that is not the most
majestic place" a euphemistic description that we all thought was hilarious.
Anyway we hopped off the bus and were mobbed by people asking if we needed help
with our bags. They seem nice, but we
have heard some bad stories. If you do
happen to let them handle your bags, the best case is they assist you to your
destination and hold your bag hostage until a sufficient tip is offered. The
worst case is that they simply run off with them. After extracting ourselves from the fray, we
found a rickshaw and started heading to the hotel. We then encountered our second attempted scam
in as many minutes: the driver asked for the hotel and the address, which we
provided. He then began to innocuously
slip comments such as "that's not a good hotel" and "that's a very expensive
place to stay." He then tried to play
the part of "our buddy" suggesting a "much better hotel." Thankfully we've been warned against this
kind of thing: the driver will escort you to a specific hotel where he will
receive commission from the owner. The
driver became a bit pushy and I got so frustrated that I actually yelled at him
a little bit, but it got the message across.
Upon arrival we collapsed into the hotel beds.



We roused
ourselves around 9, had a bit of breakfast in the veg restaurant in the hotel,
and were on our way. Our driver was an incredibly polite and articulate young
guy named Ashok. Compared to other
drivers we've had, he was a godsend. He
picked us up from the hotel and we began sightseeing around B'lore.



Prior to
its boom as the technological capital of India, Bangalore was actually referred
to as "the garden city." Nowadays there
is significantly less green space and many more skyscrapers, and the phrase,
"I've been Bangalored"(describing losing your job to outsourcing) takes on a
new meaning. But still some natural beauty remains; and the Bangalore gardens
are just such a place. Like many of the
more grandiose things in India, it was a British installation, but the
government of B'lore has done a great job of maintaining it.



Afterwards
we had a very unique experience: we went to an Indian mall. Some things to keep in mind: most stores
we've been going to don't even have cash registers, some with only dirt floors. Also remember that none of the three of us
are really "mall people" but this place was a revelation. 4 stories high, with theatres, AC, American
fast food, it was a crazy place to behold.
We also noticed that Bangalore is much more diverse than most of Tamil
Nadu in terms of people and language, almost everyone we met spoke English or
at least some Hindi in addition to their native Kannada, whereas in TN there is
a strong opposition against speaking anything that isn't Tamil, they even had
massive protests several decades ago against Hindi being the National Language.



After some
Indian McDonalds and a book-buying binge I headed back to the hotel for some
rest. I know, I know: Morgan ate at a McDonalds? Let me just defend myself by
saying this place was d-freaking-licious, way better than the US. So please, cut me some slack.


]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mxharris/1/1216395540/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mxharris/1/1216395540/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mxharris/1/1216395540/tpod.html Tue, 29 Jul 2008 11:41:48 -0400 Adventures in South India!

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Madurai, Tamil Nadu, India

Friday July 18th,


Today was one of those days with too much driving, but we had to go from Kumily to Maduria, no small feat. On the way we stopped at mango, peanut and grape farms that was interesting, but I have mixed feelings about being led out onto these farms to talk to people who live on so little. We walk out there as affluent Americans, and it feels sometimes like the tour guides are putting these people on display for our viewing. It really makes me uncomfortable to have human beings paraded in such a fashion.
But eventually we made it to Madurai! A medium sized city (3 million!) the smog and pollution alone were astounding, as was the human mass of the place. Though smaller in population than a place like Chennai (7 million) the density was something to see. After a brief respite in the hotel, we headed out to see some of the main attractions, the first of which caught me off guard.
It was an older structure, an amalgamation of courtyards and columns, but distinctly non-Indian. It came to light that it was actually designed by an Italian in the 16th century who was commissioned by the Raj of the time. Confusion solved.
We then went on to Meenakshi Temple, which according to our guide is the 2nd biggest temple in all of India. Thousands of pilgrims everywhere. You know you're in India when a few hundred yards before the temple entrance you have booth set up much like a western coat check, but it's for your shoes. What follows is the continuing saga of my love-hate relationship with the Dhoti. At the entrance to the temple they had a security checkpoint, essentially a PVC square that you walk through with no scanners of any sort, it was comical. Everyone passed smoothly, but upon my approach the guards began arguing loudly in Tamil and told me to slowly back away and sit on some steps a few yards away. As the rest of the group looked on, I checked my pockets. I hadn't brought my pocketknife or anything remotely scandalous. What the hell was going on? None of the guards addressed me, but one (who had a gun, holstered (but still), which I thought was a bit overkill) just sat there and stared at me beady-eyed. They communicated to me that it was because I was wearing what's known as a lungi, or a colored dhoti, and only white ones were acceptable. Not having a white one to my name I had expressed concern about this earlier, but our guide assured me I'd be fine. Luckily Lalu, being the resourceful gent that he is, slipped outside in all the confusion and came back 90 seconds later with a white one in a wrapper, even though none of us had seen any clothing shops for blocks. I promptly put it on and we were on our way. The temple was incredible and alive with people, thousands of them swarming like ants through the outer and inner sanctums, it was crazy. We passed by a small commotion around a man receiving a blessing, and on instinct I snapped a few blurry shots. I found out later it was a member of Parliament, so that was our celeb fix for the day :) The rest was very interesting, and I also found out why people ask me to repeat my name so often. Murugan is a deity, the second son of Shiva, so people often ask me how I spell my name when I introduce myself. Non-Hindus always think it's Mohan, a very common name, and often I don't feel going through the hassle of correcting them. Afterwards we retired to the hotel and had a nice dinner, chatting with some British youths who were doing a house-building tour through some local villages.
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Thekkady, Kerala, India

Thursday July 17th , 2008

For all intents and purposes, I didn't sleep at all last night. The legacy of that ice cream bar was still with me, and thus the hours between 2-5 a.m. consisted of me unloading the contents of my stomach.
Even though I was feeling like the health equivalent of a zombie, I roused myself in the morning with the knowledge that today was a day of rare opportunities: a visit to a wildlife preserve, a tea plantation, a spice plantation, and the coup de gras, an elephant ride!
So we drove out to the wildlife preserve where we boarded a boat with a bunch of very excited Indian families and set sail. The terrain in the Periyar Wildlife preserve was gorgeous; I had a moment of nostalgia and homesickness, as it actually reminded me a little of California. It was a beautiful day and a great cruise, although we went out expecting tigers and elephants and saw only water buffalo, but se la vie.
Afterwards we stopped by the hotel to freshen up, but after a moment to gather myself I decided to forgo the tea plantation to sleep of my sickness. Upon waking I felt much better and the group had returned, so we headed off to a spice-growing neighborhood. I say neighborhood because it wasn't a plantation but rather a small community of subsistence farmers who grow spices. The pictures will do most of the talking but it was gorgeous. For many of us it was our favorite section of the tour, just being in the semi-jungle and very authentic India. Bring on the elephants! Initially I had some reservations because they were old and had these huge harnesses on their backs; it was a bit touristy. But for all our estimations they weren't mistreated, the handlers never struck them and just used gentle commands in Malayalam to direct them, so we didn't feel too disingenuous riding them. And it was really cool besides :).
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Thekkady, Kerala, India

Tuesday July 15th, 2008

Today was a slow one in preparation for other traveling: mostly laundry and reading and such. The one event was a visit to Dr. Luke's childhood home, where we met his mother and sister-in-law and her children, who were visiting from Illinois. It was neat to see an authentic Keralan home (they had a well and a wood stove) and it was a relaxing time overall.

Wednesday July 16th, 2008

Today we took the plunge and hopped in the car for what seemed like the umpteenth time and hit the road for the highlands of Kerala. I say the umpteenth time because it seems as through we have daily schedule that runs on clockwork: get up, eat, get in the car, sightsee, etc. Not that I'm complaining; it's just that Doxycycline (malaria med) has a tendency to induce nausea, and I've been taking it with breakfast and following with long car rides. Not a prime combination.

As we head out of the lowland town of Kottayam for the highlands, the land begins to turn much lusher and greener. Within two hours we are climbing small, windy mountain roads, but the scenery in mind-blowing: huge mountainsides covered in lush jungle with rivers flowing down the sides like so many veins feeding the valleys below. This place (and much of the western Ghats, or mountain ranges) is what I see Kipling musing over as he began writing The Jungle Book. We even pulled over to see a picturesque waterfall that was next to the road. A few minutes later we paused for a bathroom and refreshment break at a local tourism office (Lalu, our guide, is a district official in the tourism dept.) and we all enjoyed ice creams, though in retrospect, mine tasted a bit off...(foreshadowing anyone? :)

We then stopped at a gorgeous little guesthouse for lunch, compliments of Lalu. The house had originally been a British fixture and summer house for the Brit who ruled over Kerala. It has since been refurbished, but still had much of its colonial charm. Lunch was delicious but unfortunately the most memorable part for me was the losing of it. Those who are squeamish please gloss over the following.
I had felt awful since eating the ice cream bar at the tourism office, so much so that I felt feverish and queasy the whole next leg of the car ride to the guesthouse. After resting a few minutes I was able to put down some of the lunch, but the nausea returned. I consulted my compatriots, and had to go purge myself, which gave me a good deal of relief, but not total relief. To be continued.
We continued on, and the country soon began to morph before our eyes from scattered development and thick jungle to tea and spice plantations as far as the eye could see. After stopping at a church and seeing a local shrine or two, we hit the road. It was quite an experience seeing one of them; the shrine to the Virgin Mary is pelted by Rupee coins as passerby chuck them out the window.
We finally pulled into Kumily and go to relax a little bit for the night. Rosalie had her 21st Birthday today, and while it was cool being in India, it did remove a bit of the luster from the occasion, much like being a vegetarian at Thanksgiving J. But we still had a cake and some fun, so it was grand. I also grabbed a new book at local store: The Algebra of Infinite Justice by Arundhati Roy. If you have any interest in how India (and Afghanistan and Pakistan) really functions, especially in relation to the US, this is required reading.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mxharris/1/1216073280/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mxharris/1/1216073280/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mxharris/1/1216073280/tpod.html Sat, 26 Jul 2008 13:11:43 -0400 Adventures in South India!

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Kottayam, Kerala, India

Monday July 14th, 2008

A day of trepidation indeed. We were scheduled to appear in front of a local group of undergraduate students and chat with them for a bit, an activity that we were all very nervous for. The class we visited was a class in Communicative English at CMS College, a University in Kottayam associated with Mahatma Ghandi University. The college itself is a British installation, and is nearly 200 years old. The major was something new to us also, apparently designed to give Indian students the tools necessary to compete in global market dominated by English. We started off by introducing ourselves, and them we broke off into small groups just to chat. My first group was a group of all males, ranging from 19 to 24, with varying degrees of shyness and bluntness. The initial few minutes were a bit forced; it was the conversational equivalent of a grimace as both sides tested the waters. Being politically minded (and they asked what my major was) we delved into the pending US-India nuclear deal, but the conversation soon shifted into my choice of dress; thus begins my love-hate relationship with the dhoti.
The Dhoti is a garment worn in everyday life by millions of Indian males, essentially being a 5-foot length of cloth wrapped around the waist. Think of a sarong and/or images of Ghandi wearing the cloth wrap. That's the one. Anyway, I had considered wearing one that I have to this university date, but I had the day mixed up and the laundry cycles of the universe weren't in my favor, thus I wore shorts. Tasteful shorts, but still the Indian students inquired why I would wear such a thing. I explained my situation, and added that I would feel a little disingenuous wearing the local dress when I'm clearly a tourist. Apparently even this didn't matter, they said it would show respect and honor.

The other topic that generated quite a bit of buzz was feminism. Michelle, our resident gregarious Texan, is minoring in Women's Empowerment, and saw the chance to talk to the youth as an opportunity to get firsthand feedback on the sexism in India. As you can imagine, introducing such a topic was met with mixed emotions; as anticipated, many of the men reacted less than favorably. Comments such as, "You've only been in India a week, how can she comment on our culture?!" and "Our women have plenty of opportunity to advance" abounded. After some time the groups rotated and I had a group of mostly girls. I decided to forgo the usual pleasantries and cut to the chase: I wanted to know their opinion of this feminist fervor that was causing such a ruckus. This was the slightly surprising part. One particularly vocal girl agreed with the Indian men, claiming it was the woman's place in society to be second to men. Others were inspired by Michelle, it was a mixed bag. Overall it was an awesome experience being able to see college life of Indian students and the challenges of their daily lives.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mxharris/1/1215993420/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mxharris/1/1215993420/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mxharris/1/1215993420/tpod.html Wed, 23 Jul 2008 02:40:26 -0400 Adventures in South India!

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Alleppey, India

Sunday July 13th
Today I woke up late- some of the other students elected to go to a Catholic mass at the old church across the river, but being neither ecumenically minded nor an early riser (it started at 7:30) I elected to sleep past it. Afterwards we sat around and had a bit of breakfast and I had my first real passion fruit, which was a neat experience. We then took a stroll around some of the village neighborhoods around the resort house, which showed us some interesting aspects of local life. For instance, the peninsula that we were staying on was huge, raised from the surrounding rice paddies and canals. The amazing thing is that it was entirely man-made. Even more amazing is the fact that this is an area where backhoes and power tools are as foreign as Anglo folks. Therefore, the peninsula was constructed by filling canoes with mud from the bottom of the canal and stacking it in a particular fashion and area. Multiply this over several decades and you have a body of land that is out of the water. It's truly astounding to consider. The other local innovation is to collect huge piles of shells (the lowlands of Kerala used to be submerged underwater) dry them, grind them, and use them as a strengthener in concrete construction.

After checking out we drove to the next local town, Allepy, where we got a little lunch and decided to go on a beach excursion. Surprisingly, the water wasn't quite as warm as I anticipated, perhaps in the low 70's, but it was still nice to walk around. Our group had a connection with one of the local lifeguards, and he showed us around and took us to a local fishing village a little north of the beach where most tourists don't venture. The people were exceptionally friendly, especially the children, who ran around us, shrieking and laughing and smiling, pure joy. The hilarious thing is that instead of asking for money as anticipated, some ask for pens. I suppose this is because other tourists come through and that is all they have to offer them.
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Mahabalipuram, Tamil Nadu, India

Wednesday July 9th,

Today was an interesting one indeed. It started with me at an ancient Hindu temple and concluded with me essentially stranded at Tamil Nadu's biggest alligator and crocodile farm. Intrigued?

We set out for Mahabalipuram, and the drive was as arduous as enunciating the name of the place in conversation. 3 hours of American driving is manageable; 3 hours of Indian driving is enough to drive most to curl up in the fetal position in the back seat and dream sweet thoughts of AAA roadside assistance or Ambulances or other things that we take for granted. I must reiterate that it is rare that I feel unsafe however; the traffic has a synergy to it. But the swerving and lurching braking and acceleration coupled with the rough food and our malaria medication was enough to make me feel really queasy, Jessie went so far as to hurl. But no drive is eternal and we made it safely, albeit still a bit queasy and dreading the ride back.

Mahabalipuram (recite ten times fast, no mistakes :) ) is an ancient city on the coast, and is Tamil Nadu's oldest port city. We walked around the fences of these ruins (some 1500 years old) but didn't go in, as the price for Indians was Rs.5, the price for whiteys was Rs. 250. Keep in mind it's around 40 Rupees to the buck, so it wasn't exorbitant, but we could see just as much from the fence. However, the fact that we were tourists wasn't just obvious to the ticket taker. Mahabalipuram's current staple of industry lies in it's stone sculptures, and the streets around the ruins are filled with the sound of saws and the heaviness of dust in the air as local craftsman fashion statues of Hindu deities. It was these same craftsmen that noticed that we were tourists, and began hounding us. Absolutely HOUNDING us. Polite refusals and gesticulation, ignoring them, even semi-rude to rude Hindi commands couldn't dissuade them. They almost climbed into the car with us to get a sale. It was outrageous.

But overall the temple ruins were very striking, huge epic stories carved into 50 foot rock faces, the Bhagvad Gita played out in a sandstone medium.

Then there were the crocs.

A member of our party had had her baggage "lost" by Air India en route on a connector from Paris to Mumbai. It turned up the day before the trip to Mahabalipuram, and so Dr. Luke, our fearless leader, and Joanna continued on to Chennai airport, about 1.5 hours from the croc park, leaving Michelle, Rosalie, Jessie and I to get acquainted with the croc park, with the assurance it would be entertaining enough for 3 hours.

Don't get me wrong, I've never had much experience with the cuddly reptilians-or seen them in that kind of volume (see pics) but it did get a tad old the 18th time around J. We did use the opportunity to counsel a member our group who was/is having issues with culture shock, but we felt odd discussing such things after a short conversation with a Mormon family that passed by. The son who was leading them around was on his mission in India and had been living in different locales for the last two years, working from 8am until 10pm almost every day, with no phone calls to the outside and one email to family per week. Personally I couldn't do it; we all agreed it made our adjustment issues a bit wimpy.

The day was not without peril however; on the way back we came upon a recent motorcycle accident. Some people had stopped to lend assistance, and so we passed on. But it was in the aghast conversation afterwards that we learned that due to infrastructure issues in many parts of India there exists no 911 numbers; good Samaritans must transport people to the hospital. (Disclaimer and reminder, especially for my parents: my program is very safe, please don't worry :) )

Upon returning to Pondi we did some shopping on Nehru Street at one of the few American-style markets, Niligris. Due to the increased abundance of American goods, the prices are a little steeper, and my tab for some toiletries and other essentials (i.e. Nutella) my bill was around 400 rupees. I opened my mouth to protest and possible try a feeble haggle attempt, but then I remembered that it was only $9.50. Gotta love it!
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