‘Tiger Camp’ at the Sunderbans

http://picasaweb.google.com/mproud3/Sunderbans# (for pictures)

Teg- As our time in Kolkata became more and more prolonged, our anticipation to get to the worlds largest mangrove grew considerably. Luckily, we were able to squeeze a 2night/3day tour in before our booked (waitlisted) train to take us to Darjeeling. We booked the tour from this little hole in the wall right next to the West Bengal Tourism Centre. We went budget, opted for the tent instead of cottage, and thus were prepared to be roughing it in the Sunderbans.

With all this in mind, we really did assume that we would be roughing it; perfect for what we were there to catch a glimpse of – the man-eating tiger! We assumed wrong. The package we bought into was actually way more posh than we could have imagined! A luxury bus picked us up, along with a young family of 5, and I think 4 couples over fifty, and they drove us over to the water’s edge where we all got onto a huge ferry-like boat that would take us to our ‘camp’.

The ‘Tiger Camp’ was this huge walled enclosure filled with buildings of all sorts. Our so called ‘tent’ had windows, a bathroom, and tiled floors. It was all really nice I must admit, but at this point we knew what the next couple of days would consist of: a nice, relaxing, extremely safe time in the Sunderbans.

Our days spent on the huge boat were relaxing, that’s a given, but our chances at seeing even birds were limited because the huge engine scared everything away. We were lucky when we got to see anything. For most of the time on the boat, I was staring off into the thick bush hoping to spot le tigre.

A huge plus about the ‘camp site’ was that in the evenings they threw dances or plays for us to watch before dinner was served. These performances, I found, were the highlight of the trip!

Mike – It definitely wasn’t what I was expecting. I understood going in that the likelihood of spotting a famous man-eating tiger was slim, but the rich, eco-system of the mangroves, supposedly plentiful with birds, lizards, crocodiles, etc., was said to make up for it. Even this consolation seemed to fade as soon as we stepped onto the boat.The crowd was not the “roughing it” crowd, and the boat was not the backwater jetty we had been expecting.

A common theme amongst all animals is that they are threatened by human contact; they flee at the sound of people talking, loud noises, or motors. Well, here we are, in this monster of a river boat driving down the QE2 highway of the Sunderbans backwaters - kids laughing, old people chatting, Indian tourists being Indian tourists… We weren’t going to be seeing much.

It wasn’t all bad, but I definitely left wanting more. I’d say we paid for a nice, long boat ride around the vicinity of the Sunderbans national park (to go into the wildlife reserve, apparently, you need a special permit and a boat small enough to navigate the narrow canals with their changing tides and all). This is very hard to arrange, and I gather you must have a special reason for going – nature documentary, scientific research, etc.

We did see some fresh tiger tracks though…

The guides were very knowledgeable (and local celebrities as we soon found out). Our main guide had interviews in various National Geographic documentaries, and the current version of Lonely Planet. At night, they’d show these documentaries in the conference room (yes, our “camp” had a conference room), and in the morning he’d ask all of us one-by-one if we’d seen him in the movie. Quite the character.

Our camp was near the small villages, so it was a great opportunity to explore the local community. Their industry revolved around agriculture, fishing, and gathering honey. The last part is very dangerous, as it requires that they circumnavigate the fence surrounding the reserve, and enter at their own peril to gather honey. This is where the majority of the tiger attacks occurred.

The village children were a hit. They’d follow you asking to have you take their picture. It was madness, very cute though.

Sunderbans tigers are the only tigers in the whole classified as “Man Eaters”; they crave and hunt humans. The villagers had many stories to attest to this. They are known to swim across the canals, during the night, and prey upon the children of the village. The fact is that you’re dealing with an animal whose hearing is six times better than humans, hunts from behind, and is perfectly camouflaged amongst the dense mangrove forest. Humans don’t really stand a chance; hence, I guess, is why it’s so difficult to get into the reserve. (I just realized that I went from talking about the cute children to how they are in danger of being tiger food – sorry for that…)

Overall, I’d say it was worth doing, as long as your expectations are realistic (mine weren’t). You get an idea of how complex an ecosystem the Sunderbans is, as well as, the sheer danger of life in the Sunderbans (our camp, although it was surrounded by a ten foot barb wire fence, and a central watch tower and armed guards patrolling the perimeter during the night). There were definitely opportunities to spot a tiger from some of the many watchtowers surrounding the park, but you’d need complete silence, a good pair of binoculars, and a shit-ton of patience. The odd group does get lucky, I’ve heard.

It’s a very beautiful region, and I guess, it’s good to have the restrictions in place so as to protect it. It would’ve been nice to see a tiger, but now we can say we’ve been to the Sunderbans. That’s pretty good too, I’d say.

Kolkata (Calcutta)

pictures... http://picasaweb.google.com/mproud3/Kolkata##

Teg- We arrived in Kolkata on a Saturday, the night of the McDonalds episode. Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and a bit of Wednesday were, almost entirely, dedicated to the infected foot. During those days, Mike wasn’t able to do much walking, so I had to venture out alone to grab food, or painkillers for him. A definite positive during this time was that I began to find my way around the city, something I would otherwise be soon forced to do.

Wednesday comes and Mike finally gets himself admitted into a private hospital, Fortis Hospitals, quite the glamour compared to our first hospital experience here. The only real problem (I found) was that the visiting hours were minimal, 10:30-11:30am and 4:30-6:30pm, so I had to cram everything I wanted to see in the city in between those times.

So that same day, after he was admitted, I quickly made my way over to the BEAUTIFUL Victoria Memorial before making a pit-stop back at the hotel (to grab Mike a few things he’d be needing) before heading back again to the hospital to catch the evening visiting hours. Victoria Memorial was impressive. The place was swarming with Indian tourists, yet because its grounds were so huge, it didn’t feel cramped at all. Many people were having picnics, playing some badminton/cricket or what looked to be, on romantic dates. The building is surrounded by gigantic gardens on all sides, each having at least one tank. As much as I wish to have walked around it all, there was just too much to see and my time was limited.

The building itself was unbelievable so this is where I spent most of my time. I’m not really sure how else I could describe it. One of the best parts of this outing came at the end however, when I took a ‘royal chariot ride’ around the surrounding area haha!

The next morning I packed our bags, checked out, and found a hotel that was not only closer to the hospital, but closer to shopping, internet cafes, and a bunch of sites I still wanted to see, such as the Indian Museum and the Mother Teresa house. Plus, it was a third of the cost from the previous place.

That day, after the morning visit with Mike, my taxi driver took me to the Botanical Gardens which again, like V.M., covered a huge area, had many ponds and was flocking with couples..damn the foot!!hahaha

Shortly after this garden walk I made my way to the Indian Museum, and this was, easily the best thing I went and saw in Kolkata. It was a huge, and oh so clean inside. I was actually really just impressed with how well they organized every section, all of which encircled a large open garden in the middle. It was beautiful. Obviously there is a bias here, but I thought the Anthropology section was easily one of the best…

Maybe it was Mike’s absence who knows, but on that same afternoon alone I could no longer resist the urge to seek out a little travel guitar. I walked up and down the main shopping districts in Chowringhee and could not find anything remotely close to a music store. Luckily, as I ventured off into Elliot Park (right next to the Indira Gandhi statue) for a sight seeing break, I ran into this extremely nice couple who knew where an ‘instrument store’ was. They gave me directions, walked me to the Metro (subway station), BOUGHT my ticket (a first in India for me), and soon after I was entering a little guitar shop where a band was in the middle of rehearsal! The singer of the band and I ended up talking for quite a while about Canadian musicians! Oh does he have a thing for Shania! Hahaha! Somewhere within this convo, I was sold on the idea that his brother (and store owner) would make me a guitar and I would come back for it the next day…It turned out to be an incredible deal!

Friday comes and I’m entering the hospital to visit Mike Swollenfoot, and the first thing I do is go to the front desk to inquire about the medical bill thus far (just following orders). Funny thing, as soon as I get to the desk and ask about Mike’s bill, the man is quickly able to find his name on the long paper list of patients because Mike’s is one of the three highlighted names. Pretty funny. The bill ended up being more than what Mike was willing to pay, so right after discovering the due amount he was making arrangements to be out the door. Seven or so hours later, he was finally able to leave…

Though the hospital took forever to discharge Mike, it was awesome to see that there work had done him some good. His foot was beginning to return to its original size and colour.

The following day Mike is walking close to normal and without pain, so we decide to make a small trek over to college street, a locale extremely well know for books-galore up and down a few blocks of the street. Though our destination point was what we were looking forward to, the walk along to get there actually ended up being the best part. Every few blocks on our way felt like a fresh tidal wave of one specific commodity. First glasses, then shoes, then jeans. I couldn’t understand it. It was a really interesting walk. Why would you put your little store selling sandals on the same block where 40 other stores are offering the same thing?!? It was madness.

Mike – Kolkata gets a bad rep: Internationally, it’s seen as a city rife with gut-wrenching poverty, bad traffic, convoluted roads, twisted and crumbling infrastructure, and a posh British influence that almost seems stuffy. After spending a good two weeks there, and getting to experience more than we’d planned on, I feel that these claims are entirely baseless. Kolkata was by far the most interesting and liveable city we’ve been to thus far in India.

In my opinion, it is everything that Mumbai claims to be, and everything it’s not. While Mumbai chokes on it’s own effluence (and affluence), Kolkata’s streets are pothole-free and the gutters gleam with freshly swept sparkle. It seemed as if each neighbourhood of Kolkata brought different smells, without the rancid undertone of garbage and rotting effigy so prevalent in Mumbai. The city had genuine character.

It wasn’t all roses, but it’s imperfections are what make it so unique. There was a lot of poverty, for sure, but it came with a sense of hope and optimism. Quite often we’d pass through churches providing free meals for street people, and the city is loaded with charities, for which we met many volunteers.

The roads were at times chaotic, it’s true, but we never encountered any problems because the metro system, which we used whenever possible, was far-reaching and very convenient. The city is not so much a grid as it’s a capillary system of back-roads, alleys, and corridors; connected by a few arterial highways. That leaves a lot to explore.

The architecture has been well-maintained and protected, while still maintaining it’s intrigue and mystique. For example, the local news reported recently finding “doorless pits”, presumably used for torture, in one of the famous former Raj palaces. It’s these local legends that build the mystique of a city, and create a city that can really be discovered. One can live there for years, and still be able to be a tourist within their own city. At least, that’s how I feel it would be.

Teg also mentioned the odd lay-out of the city in terms of it’s “specialized shopping districts”. It really was quite odd. It was as if people just knew that College Street, for example, is the best place to shop for books to the extent that it would be difficult to sell books anywhere else, as people will first (and only) go to College Street to buy books. Thus, if you wanted to own a bookstore in Kolkata, you had to be on College Street. According to this system, all the stores on College Streets eventually became bookstores in order to fill the large demand of people going to College Street to buy books, and the stores which weren’t bookstores would be driven out by market entrants. This phenomenon occurred on a block-by-block basis in downtown Kolkata: From saris, to big band instruments, to radios, to clocks; each block brought a different cluster of specialty stores. It was really quite unique.

It’s regrettable, personally, to have been indisposed for most of the Kolkata leg of our trip, but that’s the way it goes. Feelin’ good, feelin’ great – bring on the Mangroves!

Mr. Mike’s Foot Update

Mike – I thought I should wrap up the whole “foot issue” before moving onto the great times had in Kolkata. I didn’t leave the hotel room, kept it elevated, and took the pills as dictated by the sixteen year-old so-called doctor.Two days after the public hospital escapade, my foot was significantly worse.  The supposed “Tetanus Infection” blew up, big time, and so I popped some painkillers and went to hit up an Internet cafe to consult WebMD on the subject.

It turns out that Tetanus is hella serious, and the symptoms are pretty out there. It was thus clear that my foot infection was not Tetanus, and the drugs I’d been taking to treat for Tetanus provided zero relief. It was time to move on to the private health sector.

The doctor suggested I get admitted because I’d had the infection long enough that a blood infection could be possible.

Luckily, that wasn’t the case. I was booked for three nights, but spent two. So, that is that, feeling great, and there will no more “foot talk” on this blog, thankfully, I’m sure.

Tetanus

Mike-

Kolkata Medical College Hospital:

This entire trip I’ve been complaining of Athlete’s Foot; itchy-ass toes. Usually, I will not scratch. Instead, I lubricate. About ten days ago, my resolve failed me, and I scratched, and oh, it felt so good. I scratched, and scratched some more. It was glorious, that is, until I woke up the next morning to find my left ring toe peeling in an oval-shaped region a little longer than a quarter. Oops.

Why am I bringing this up? Well, I’m getting to that.

For the next week or so, it was a minor irritant. My sandals rubbed up against it, and it stung a little in the salt water. It did not impede anything, nor did I ever feel the need to get it checked out; a little scab, nothing more.

One day I noticed it getting somewhat bruised around the ridges, and slightly leaking. I’ll spare the Polaroid’s, but I decided to clean it up and dress it.

I thought it was getting better. Drainage is usually the first step of the healing process; n’est pas?

As we stepped onto our flight to Kolkata yesterday afternoon, I noticed that it was getting sore, and the region below my baby toe was slightly swollen. Okay, I thought, maybe I should be a little more diligent with my dressing and cleaning of the little bugger.

By nightfall, it was getting tough to walk, so I figured I’d call it in early and sleep it off.
The next morning, I woke up to find that my foot was noticeably more swollen and discoloured. It was very difficult to walk, and it felt like somebody had taken a hammer to my metatarsals. According to the Gavin Formula, which usually always works, I decided to suck it up and walk it off. Time heals all wounds.

It wasn’t simply some masochistic urge to test my pain threshold. I have no international medical insurance, and I didn’t think that my “Athletes Foot Gone Awry” predicament was worthy of breaking the bank.

So I thought: “What could I get to fight infections?” Hmmm, when I was young and had ear infections, it was Penicillin that was always prescribed to me... yeah, that’ll work...

So Teg and I wandered around BBD Bagh in Kolkata, searching for a pharmacy that would sell me penicillin over the counter (without prescription). Today was also Sunday, so nothing was open. Figures.

Finally, we paid a street person to bring us to a chemist that was open on Sundays. I bought twelve 800mg. of Penicillin tablets without a hitch. No questions asked. It even had “ONLY SOLD IF PERSCRIBED BY A LICENSED MEDICAL PRACTIONER” written on the side, in big bold letters. Bada Bing Bada Boom. I pop my first pill shortly after.

Three hours and one pill later, I am bed-ridden, writhing in excruciating pain. My foot didn’t look like a foot anymore; it was swollen beyond recognition.


Teg was very persistent. She hounded me to go to the hospital. I fought the urge to go. It would be a huge hassle, and I usually can solve most medical problems on my own, usually with the combination of alcohol, a razorblade, and the World Wide Web.

But, it kept getting worse. After a few hours of contemplating my options, and waiting for the penicillin to kick in, I submitted. The Indian hospital adventure was about to begin.
The hotel front desk suggested we go to the Kolkata Medical College Hospital, as it was only a five minute drive from the hotel. We arrived at the hospital to find crowds and crowds of people waiting on the steps outside of the emergency ward. It was clear that most of the people were not sick or injured; probably there with friends of relatives, but still, you don’t expect to show up to the emergency entrance to find a torrential wave of humanity trying to peek into the ward to see what the action is. It felt like a president had just been shot, or a rock star, or something.

The hospital itself was in an old colonial building, which I gotta say, wasn’t in the best shape. When blood is split, if you don’t clean it up right away, it stains. Impossible to wash off completely, the remnants of blood on the floors, benches, sinks, and walls only added to the perceived carnage of one of the most hectic scenes I have ever witnessed.

We were hustled right away into an administrative office, away from most of the emergency patients, to wait for the doctor. Let me add that there was no check-in, no forms to fill-out, and no inquiry into my medical history, only a crass “sit!”

The doctor, who was probably younger than I, came in, looked at my foot for about five seconds and declared that I had a tetanus infection. He scribbled “5 cc syringe” onto a piece of paper and told me to walk across the street to the chemist to buy myself a needle.

Five rupees for my own personal needle, and I am back in the room, waiting for the doctor to come back and administer my injections. Tetanus shot in my right arm. Painkiller in my left. Then I am whisked off to wait in the general emergency ward for him to come and dress my foot.

It’s difficult to describe the scene without it sounding like an exaggeration. It’s hard to tell what most of the patients were in for. There were people praying, screaming, crying, and generally writhing in pain, all around, with no privacy whatsoever. Being present, you had to share in the collective agony of those around you. There were people lying on the floor, people lying on the benches, people being carried by others, and people trying to escape.

One guy, who most likely had overdosed, was being held down by a few kids, and when they weren’t succeeding, other random strangers filled in to help. I don’t think that would ever happen in Vancouver; random bystanders helping restrain the two-bit junky. But, at this hospital, there were no nurses, no administrative help, and no orderlies; the doctors took care of everything, so I guess there is a sense of public responsibility of the Indian people inducing them to help.

Anyway, I regress. It makes you really appreciate the conditions back home, even if our neighbours down-south consider the public system “broken”.

Oh yeah. Another interesting point: I told my doctor that I had been taking Penicillin, and he laughed at me. Apparently, infections in India have progressed so much that Penicillin no longer works. My batch was the so-called “First Generation”, and had no hope of ever working.

As I conclude this account of our adventure in the Indian public system, the painkillers are working their magic. I’ve got high hopes that the swelling will go down, and the tetanus will be eradicated. For how shocking of a visual the hospital provided, in hind-sight, I was in-and-out, feeling a hell of a lot better than I did going in. Beforehand, I was quite concerned about the cost of the trip, because I opted out of buying medical insurance before we left. But, funny enough, the entire thing cost absolutely nothing. Can’t argue with that.


Teg- Mike sums it up real good. All I can really add is that while in the hospital, all I kept thinking and repeating in my head was the wise words off Aladdin to Abu: DON’T. TOUCH. ANYTHING!!!

Mike’s foot starting feeling sore late at night the day we arrived in Kolkata. The irony is incredible. We had been walking around Park’s Street, this huge area, blocks upon blocks of shops and restaurants everywhere. When we initially got to this chaotic area, we had one thing on our minds – McDonalds!!! We asked about twenty different people to direct us to our dreamland lol, none of whom could understand or direct us. Still, at this time Mike was walking fine. We finally came to a street where a little boy asked us if we wanted to buy some gum, we declined, but took the chance and asked him if he knew where the McDonalds was. Funny thing, he knew instantly what we were talking about, and immediately became our guide. Food was great! Finally a meal we recognized. We bought the boy and his brother some Happy Meals and at this point everyone was extremely satisfied! It is not long after this meal, on the walk back to the hotel that Mike’s foot becomes eminent, and the limping begins. Such a high followed promptly by what is now quite a low.

Beachside in Mamallapuram

Mike – We arrived in Chennai in the morning after an all-night bus ride from Trichy. The private bus company decided that rather fighting the traffic and dropping us off at the Central Bus Station in Chennai, he’d beat the traffic and drop us off at the outskirts of the city, near the airport. We proceeded to ask a rickshaw driver what it would cost and how long it would take to get into the central core: five hundred rupees and two hours drive-time, minimum. It was at this point that we realized that Chennai was not for us, and we decided on an alternate course of action: Pay the rickshaw driver to take us 80 kilometres south of Chennai to a small beach-town called Mammallapuram, population of 12,000 people, and the best surf spot in Southern India.
This turned out to be the best choice we’ve made thus far this trip.

I felt kind of guilty. Here we are, supposedly roughing it in India, braving the chaos through the fog of uncertainty, deciphering new cultures amongst the myriad of unfamiliar languages and customs, and we end up in a backpackers enclave drinking cheap beer and listening to the Beatles while eating five dollar freshly-caught lobster at beach-side. Not bad, not bad.

It was special in the fact that there were no major chains, no resorts, and the co-existence of local culture. It was definitely a vacation-spot, but the accommodations were rather simple, and the local vibe remained quite genuine. The beach-front was loaded with small restaurants, stone-carving workshops, and used bookstores. It was quite geared towards tourists, but I never felt as if people were desperate for my business. Most of the time, the proprietors were just happy to chat.

As with many of the coastal communities we’ve come across, fishing is still a huge part of their economy. Many of the younger adults would fish from 4am until 10am, and then surf in the afternoons. That was their day-to-day.

Teg- It was rather easy for us to make Mammallapuram a 4-night stay – our longest yet! The town, small and quiet, the people, extremely friendly, food, great, and weather, SUPERB! We stayed at this beachside (extremely cheap) lodge which really, was all we needed. You know, I could complain about the mosquitoes, lack of hot water, electricity out from 7am to 9am – which meant no fans taming the sweat lol - but it all got easily brushed aside because all the surroundings made up for it. A minute walk and we’d be at a beach that seemed to be all our own! Well, minus all the fisherman boats beached.

Amongst the beach lazing hours (yes, we both got sunburnt) and the seafood chewing times, there were two events in Mammallapuram in which I think are worth mentioning.
Our second day in, and all we’re thinking about is getting to the little shop with the motorbikes and mopeds! We figured we could cruise in and around the town, check out all the cool sites without the hassle of finding rickshaw after rickshaw. BEST CHOICE EVER!! This was soo much fun!! It was actually much safer than you would expect because for one, we couldn’t go faster than 50 km/h, and two, on the highways that we did drive on, its just common knowledge that bikers drive on the shoulder of the highway, allowing all big things to fly past by. The bike owner’s best advice: ‘Drive on the left’. hahaha

That day we rode out about 8km North of town to this place called the Crocodile Bank. This place definitely surpassed my expectations! Right on the edge of the two-lane highway is this little sign for the place, making the place seem like it would be quite small and rather uneventful. Wrong. We get through the gate only to stumble upon gated pond after gated pond full of different types of crocs from all around the world. One pond (these aren’t big ponds by the way) had 430 cros lying around. It was madness!

Next we headed back through town, South towards the UNESCO World Heritage Site, the Five Rathas and the Shore Temple. This ended up being a rather disappointing part of our day because the entry fee for foreigners was 250 Rps (same price as the Taj Mahal) so we decided to look at it all through the gates instead. Ya so we’ve become cheap-asses what can I say haha!
Great view of the Shore Temple, free of charge.

It wasn’t hard for us to turn away from these entrances because we had our bikes waiting for us anyways. We instead spent the rest of the afternoon cruisin’ further south till we found an extremely remote beach where we hung out for a bit before making our way back to town, and then the bike shop.

So the next memorable event was on our last full day in the town. After constantly walking back and forth everyday past this massage and yoga spot, we could no longer resist it. We booked afternoon massages! Ohhh what a treat we were in for! So we both go in, anticipating great massages based on the title – an 1 hour rejuvenating massage. Sometimes life throws you curve balls lol. I’m just going to sum it up: No clothes is mandatory (this includes undies). No towels onsite. Female to female, male to male. To sum it up: Mike got his bag touched by a short shirtless brown guy that resembled Randy off the Trailer Park Boys lol. We were both asked to come again tomorrow.

Trichy

Mike – Trichy is virtually the geographic center of Tamil Nadu, and home to some of the region’s most famous Hindu temples, notably, the Rock Fort Temple and the Sri Ramesthwaramy. At this point, I’ve got to be honest, I think we were getting a little “templed-out”. Tamil Nadu, being one of the stalwarts of Dravidian heritage, offered many opportunities to visit ancient, and revered temples of the Hindu faith. Some of these complexes were grand and extremely colourful, but remarkably similar to one another. It’s true that each one was dedicated to a different deity of the Hindu pantheon, or dealt with a different element of the sacred five elements of life, but the supposed variation was beyond my recognition.

A recurring theme with temples in Tamil Nadu was their exclusivity to non-members of the Hindu faith. Usually, as is the case in most cultural sites we’ve visited thus far, foreigners are charged a higher rate than Indian nationals, but typically, are given equal access to all the sites within the grounds. For the temples in Tamil Nadu, this was not the case. Most of the shrines and inner sanctuaries within the temple grounds were restricted to Non-Hindus. How they prove that you’re not Hindu, besides looking at the colour of your skin, is beyond me. It’s just one of those things that although it may not be kosher in the society we’ve been raised, it’s fruitless to object, and best to simply go with the flow.

The further south in Tamil Nadu we went, the spicier the food got, and the more vegetarian. Trichy, being further North, had a few Western-themed restaurants. One of which advertised having burgers and pizza. To dangerously incite my senses, the pictures chosen to advertise the burgers were a precise copy of the Big Mac, golden arches and all. I was salivating the moment I sat down (we haven’t had beef once since arriving in Mumbai). I ordered a cheeseburger and fries. What arrived was a vegetarian burger with mayonnaise… no other toppings; thwarted by false advertising. I felt like I was the unknowing participant of a sick joke. It took almost all of my will power not to fall to my knees and scream to all-heaven: “Why ME?!”

Teg - Trichy was nothing special, yet there were definitely a few memorable moments in the city. We arrived by train at almost 12am and headed straight to a semi-decent hotel where we then crashed for the night. Our main attractions here were the Rock Fort Temple and the Sir Jambukeshwara Temple. These two were our next morning plans.

We thought both places would take up most of the day, however, the fort was way smaller than what we had anticipated – disappointing – so the visit was quick. Next we ventured further north of the city to the temple. It didn’t seem much different than the ones we had just recently visited in Madurai, the only difference in the experience was that we were able to – for a foreigners price – go on to the roof of part of the temple; hot tiles but some amazing views! That was easily the temple's highlight. What we thought would be a long day ended at noon. Mike's burger story soon followed!

Fort from below
On the rooftop!

We were in Trichy for Obama’s speech. We watched the entire thing in the hotel room, yet outside, there was no trace of people watching it anywhere! Definitely surprising because as we watched it, his speech seemed to have captured the country. I just assumed all of India would be watching, so it was quite the shock when we didn’t see a single TV anywhere or whisper of the event anywhere.

Trichy is the place where we discovered that we must book train tickets well in advance. We had booked some tickets to get us up right around Chennai but we had only made the waitlist. We were 3 and 4 on the waitlist so we just assumed we would get on since we've been further down the waitlist before on other trains and still gotten on. Thirty minutes before train time (11:00pm) and we haven't moved on the list, what are we suppose to do?

We end up waiting it out, hoping that we could get on somewhere and move up class if possible. No luck. So now, at almost midnight, we trek back to the bus station where we jump on the first bus we see that says Chennai. This bus experience would soon enough be the ride that confirms our need to book in advance lol.

Mike trying to negotiate to get us on the train.

Adam’s Bridge

Mike – We are at the South Eastern tip of India in a town called Rameswaram. We had heard of this place nearby called Adam’s Bridge, which on paper, looked really awesome. Basically, it was described to us as a narrow strip of sand dunes stretching out ten kilometres from the Indian shore towards Sri Lanka. It’s where the Indian Ocean meets the Bay of Bengal. Theoretically, you could take a swim in the Indian Ocean, and walk twenty metres to the other side of the dune and swim in the Bay of Bengal. This was very appealing to us.

The bonus was at the end of the sand dune where, on a clear day, you could see the coastline of Sri Lanka, a mere twelve kilometres away.

Maybe we had unrealistic expectations, because in my mind, the place was a real let-down. The beach on both sides was flanked by families of Indian tourists, which is a boon if you’re looking for a quiet, clean stroll along a beach. The tide line was littered with plastic bottles and lone sandals.

We’d encounter a family of ten people where each one of them knew only one sentence of English – usually something along the lines of “Hi. What’s your name?” – and each member of the family would be compelled to talk to you one-by-one. And, then they’d want a picture with each of them. And, then they’d want you to take a picture of them. And, when you started walking away they’d take pictures of you walking away. It was all a very hilarious experience for them, but grew quite tiresome for us.

The minute you sit down or stop walking this will happen, almost instantaneously.

It’s as if they’ve never seen white people before. Maybe they haven’t. Sometimes it feels like we’re part of some private joke. This is something I’ll definitely remember about India. Meh. Could be worse, I guess.

Teg - The walk was way longer than we had anticipated it to be, which wouldn’t have been to much of a problem except that we had told our driver to wait only a couple hours. So an hour into the walk, once we realized there were still many, many kilometres to go, we decided to turn back and have a little swim (Mike). This was a funny moment because as soon as Mike took to the water, another man eagerly followed him in, and three of his friends planted there bums a couple of meters away from mine, where friendly Q&A waved in.

We had planned to walk along the shores of the Indian Ocean on our way out and walk the shores of the Bay of Bengal on our return in. However, surprisingly, the shores of the Bay to Bengal weren’t even shores really. There were sand dunes that separated the two shores the whole way along, and that whole other side was used for jeeps and trucks that were carrying loads of people.

Besides the bridge. We were very thankful of the rain-free time we spent in Rameswaram. Apparently there had been some speculations on a possible cyclone (hurricane) in the making.

For how loud this town was in the mornings (all the car/bus honkings), you’d think it was a much larger and busier place. Yet it wasn’t. There wasn’t much else for us to do here but circle the towns beautiful temple, and wander the streets searching for a place to eat.

Some time ago, we had discovered that hotel restaurants are the most legit and least likely to leave their mark on our stomach and thus, on our trip lol. Luckily enough, this town was filled with newly finished hotel fronts, all with quite the modern style, providing us with an array of options come meal time. Orrr so we thought…Hahaha! Our hopes were initially quite high at these sites, but soon enough we discovered (after entering oh so many hotels) that none of the hotels in the town had restaurants…To sum it up, we had very few meals here.

One of the many, newly finished hotel fronts.

http://picasaweb.google.com/mproud3/RameswaramAndAdamSBridge#

Hurricane Diwali

Teg- After spending most of our trip (thus far) right along the Western coast, it was exciting to venture through to the middle of Tamil Nadu, taking a stop in Madurai before continuing along towards the Eastern coast.

Of all the places we could have gone, we chose Madurai because of it’s UNESCO World heritage site – the Sri Meenkashi Temples. We got in to the city early in the morning, roughly 5am, and the first thing we do is find a hotel and get some much needed sleep. Luckily enough, when we wake and take a look out our hotel window, the first thing we see is the many towering Temples right in front of us, no more than a couple kilometres away!

Soon after, as we make our way towards the Temples, we are quickly reminded of the date, the eve of Diwali. The streets were jam-packed with people and vendors and motorbikes.

Once 4pm rolled around, the gates to the 6-hectare complex finally opened and we were inside, able to browse the huge space. The exterior of each of the 12 towering gopurams was gorgeous, each covered with carved gods/goddesses, heroes and demons; there was just so much colour and craftsmanship. We were not able to go into any of the temples themselves, but there was a huge interior that connected each temple to the next. Inside was again beautiful, with long corridors, small shrines and a quiet pond. As beautiful as it all was, we were quite surprised to see the amount of tourist attractions and shops set up in such a sacred place. Also, considering it was a UNESCO world heritage site, the place was poorly managed. Some places were extremely well preserved while others festered with litter and mud. Let’s just say that I left the complex with mixed impressions.

The next day, DIWALI, was quite an interesting day for us! Well actually, it starts more or less in the late hours of the night before. Fireworks and fire-crackers of all kinds acted as our night-time lullabies haha. It was crazy loud! Neither one of us getting much sleep, the next morning we ventured out into the streets filled with gun-shot like sounds to run some errands, grab some food and experience the festivities.

I couldn’t believe how many fire-crackers, etc. were continuously being lit up as we walked down the streets. Plus, the remnants of these activities from all the previous hours were scattered all along the streets, it was absurd! Just when you think you’re getting used to the sound of constant ‘BANGS!!’, one small moment of silence makes it all quite the surprise for your ears again when one gets set off.lol

Okay, so in an attempt to not over-write, there is just one more thing I must quickly share about our experience in Madurai. It rained on and off throughout the day of Diwali. And considering how well the drainage systems are in this city :S… after a day of downpour it was unbelievable trying to take a stroll from our final meal in the city to the train station. We were lucky to have been walking when the rain had stopped, but still. I’ve never witnessed so much water on the roads and sidewalks…especially considering it was the result of one days’ work.

Happy Diwali!!

Mike – We were pretty excited for Diwali (the festival of lights), to the extent that we made sure to be in a city for the festivities. There were three main things that I’ll take away from the experience:

1) The Shopping:
I didn’t know this prior, but Diwali is a huge shopping extravaganza; every type of shop from pipe fitters to electronics ensure they’re well stocked for the holiday shoppers, and apparently, Diwali is when they have their largest sales. This meant big business for the bicycle porters and rickshaws, many of which were over-loaded with washer and dryers, LCD televisions, and air conditioners to the point of tipping over. It was madness. This is definitely India’s boxing day equivalent.

…now, amongst the euphoria, picture a monsoon-esque rainstorm…

2) The Male Camaraderie:
Night-time was a large-scaled version of “guys-night-out”. On the eve of Diwali, I went out for a stroll to grab some snacks and beer (Teg stayed in the hotel). I saw around 10,000 people in the span of minutes, and maybe two ladies… The amount of drunk middle-aged dudes holding hands was astounding; true bro-mance, I must say.

3) The Firecrackers:
This was utterly terrifying. There were firecracker stands on every corner. Kids of all ages launching rockets, cherry bombs… you name it. It was as if every kid was let loose on the city with bombs and rockets, and told to “go hard”. I felt like I was in Khartoum.

I saw a boy, he must’ve been around eight years old, lighting a rocket bigger than his arm. As we anticipated the thunder, plugging our ears, his friends start throwing rocks at it, until one of them knock it over. The boy runs out to pick it up to put it right-side up (the fuse is still going). We’re screaming at them, but everyone around us is just laughing. He runs away having successfully re-mounted the rocket, and the thing fails to go off. The whole thing just made us cringe.

http://picasaweb.google.com/mproud3/MaduraiAndDiwali#