the good, the bad and the ugly

having seen, and been in, all types of rooms, there is not much that surprises me these days, as far as accommodation goes. sometimes i take a room wondering about what kind of bite marks i'm going to end up with... in trivandrum, the sort of dusty, boring town where even the hotels are gloomy, i found this gem - not! - of a place that was so, so shabby that it became amusing. and for 140 rupees (less than 2 pounds) i couldn't resist but stay there.

there was a gap on the bathroom wall where the sink must have once stood and, through the corridors and balconies overlooking the inner courtyard, one could stumble on parts of furniture - couches, divans, boudoirs - that had presumably, at some point, decorated the rooms. looking down to the courtyard from outside my third floor room, a few empty plastic bottles laying on a green puddle were all that was left of a pond, and the few potted plants scattered around could only emphasize the total air of neglect that the whole compound exhaled.

nevertheless, induced by 16 hours of stiff train seats, sleep came to me that night like a blessing and i slept like a baby until the next morning.

mamallapuram

the big blue

i don't know if i can talk about my time in the andaman islands without using a load of cliches. but here it goes... in havelock, the island, i found a safe haven in what has been my closest experience to staying in a tourist beach resort. bamboo huts on stilts, by the beach, with enclosed bathrooms with the sky for a roof. the complex' restaurant serving delicious meals was the setting for new friendships that were established soon after my arrival. and with these new companions, i went on first time adventures like snorckeling in coral reefs - it was the first time i saw the bottom of the ocean, a new world opening up to me! - and bicycle rides across the island, through narrow roads sided my rice fields from which children waved shouting their hellos as we went past.

i felt happy and truly on holiday. ah, finally, the good life...

port blair

if i hadn't seen the crystal clear waters, that blur into deep blue, lining palm fringed beaches from the plane, i would've been very upset when i laid foot in port blair, the entrance point and capital of the andaman islands. to put it simply, port blair is a dump.

as there was not much to see, i decided to run a few arrons. i finished the book a was reading on the plane and foolishly failed to get myself a backup volume before leaving the mainland. unsure of what kind of books i would find, i went off on a quest for good literature. it wasn't easy - it never is - as the first challenge was to find an actual bookshop but, all things measured, it was easier then i thought. i settled for the only two english languages books that i hadn't already read. they were both by indian authors unknown to me - that know hardly anything of indian literature - and came out to be a pleasant discovery.

after that, i went to the post office to set my letters in motion. in india, anything and everything that involves beaurocracy has a lot to be said about, the post office being no exception. i've visited a few different branches, perhaps one in every town i've been so far, and so i should have got used to the way things work inside the institutional grounds. i suppose the procedure is similar to that of any other place. you go to the counter and ask for stamps or require to send a parcel. they weigh it, you pay and leave. it's that simple although never quite so simple. there is always something that gets in the way - finding the right counter, a person who understands what you say or your place in the queue - making what would otherwise be a simple affair, into an event for the day. however, after a few visits, it's not so much what happens but the settings that catch the eye. there are piles of notebooks lying about, with their strong bindings struggling to keep all the pages together. some are lucky enough to live confortably in shelves, while others are piled around or over and under desks, bits of pages sticking out, flapping to the fan generated breeze.

seeing this, i feel like a spy on a mission to report back to the west with tales of the unimaginable. i've often felt tempted to snatch up my camera but have always repressed this instinct on the grounds that i might be offending the postal workers with my judgemental gaze. however, i came to find out, surprised, the innumerous doors that open up to the sound of a digital click. it's been like this at markets, side of the road tea stalls and the odd place. it's like a magic trick that triggers smiles on the stranger's face. people seem delighted to be on the spot light and these encounters often lead to exchanges of addresses, enquiries about the traveller's life and sometimes even parting gifts: a couple of carrots, a small painted flower on the back of my hand, a jasmin garland.

this time, i filled myself with courage and asked if i could take a picture. the man on the desk said yes without giving it much thought so i took out my camera and snapped a few shots until i was interrupted by a man who walked firmly towards me. when he asked me, 'is this service very different from your country?', i thought i was going to be told off.

i replied, 'the settings are different.'

'here, we register all by hand.'

i said 'in my country it's done by computer and the parcels are usually wrapped in paper. they don't stich them.', trying to explain my curiosity. and then added, 'but the service is the same.'.

he seemed pleased, i took more pictures.

auroville

controversial as the statement could be, i dare to say that auroville is a utopia. a utopia, i found out, is a community whose modus operandi is firmly based on a certain ideology. set on the fringes of a society, it mirrors its contradictions just to find the contradictions of its own. and so, my inquisitive curiosity led me there to find out more of the rules and regulations of aurovillians; the experience of looking at others, the path to a better picture of ourselves.


established 40 years ago on what was then a desert and is now the closest thing to an oasis, auroville, in the words of the 'mother' who set the project in motion, 'wants to be a universal town where men and women of all countries are able to live in peace and progressive harmony above all creeds, all politics and all nationalities. its purpose is to realise human unity.'. to this statement i would ad 'through the pursuit of knowledge'. that's all very well but, in reality, what does it mean?

well, i dared going there expecting to find a community of disillusioned hippies experimenting on sustainable living and was overwhelmed to find a level of sophistication i didn't expect to find at all in india. at first, auroville presents itself through a maze of dirt roads sided by trees, through which people circulate mainly by motorbike and scooter, but also cycling and walking. it's very low key until you come across some of the buildings. the city plan, in the shape of a galaxy, revolves around the matrimandir - a round shaped golden building that houses a silent chamber for meditation and is surrounded by peaceful gardens (pictured). everything has a strong aesthetic component which isn't a concidence. by the course of my stay i started to believe - or was remainded - that beauty plays a strong role in the elevation of the soul. i honestly felt this when i visited the matrimandir. the inside of the building is totally surreal, science fiction-like, and filled me with such extasis that i could only compare it with what i imagine the humble catholic pilgrim felt when entering the barroque cathedrals of its time.

the matrimandir, though, is only the tip of the iceberg and, although there are several other architectural gems, its in some of the projects developed here that the magic of auroville lies. entrerprises range from organic farming to language laboratories, with an emphasis on sustainable living, renewable energies and state of the art research. lots of communities have links with universities in india and elsewhere and with people who use aurovillian grounds to set in motion experiments they couldn't find resources or motivation for elsewhere. but it also aims to research and preserve traditional methods that have proven themselves against time and are used in the tamil (indian) villages around.

one particular community i visited was the sadhana forest. this project aims to reforest the area where it is set with the same indigenous trees that once abounded there. they rely on voluntary work and, after an initial personal investment, on donations. for the past 4 years, they have started to replant the 70 acres of land they acquired, doing water conservation work and practicing an eco-friendly way of life using solar energy, water resource management and composting toilets. i met aviram - who established this community with his wife and daughters - and his family on an open day, when he showed me and the other visitors around explaining what it was all about. a film night and dinner followed and there was a chance to chat with the people living there. i was really surprised to learn that osher, the eight year old daughter doesn't go to school. i asked if she was home schooled and they said 'no'. this startled me a little as i wondered what sort of doors will open to a person when they grow up if they haven't had the same opportunities as everybody else. i mean, it might be fine when you are eight, but then what? aviram must have read the aprehension in my face beacuse he went on to explain. he told me about 'learning all the time' and 'deschooling' and however strange this sounded at first, it was all very clear when i met osher and saw the whole family together. these might have been the happiest people i have met. i also find it extraordinary that this man, who had a vision of the world that was different from what he knew around him, managed to set in motion a project that fulfills the ideals he believes in. and in auroville he found the grounds where he didn't have to compromise these ideals.

so far, the aurovillian experience was already very rich but i was still to engage in my own personal development project. to the ones who've known me for a short time, this will probably come has a surprise but to the ones who've known me for longer this will come as an even bigger surprise: i came to auroville determined to master the art of bicycle riding. for me, the game of pedaling has always been daunting but, in the city where everyone moves around on two wheels, i decided it was time to face the challenge. in the guest house where i stayed, besides lodging, laundry and 3 meals a day, they also give you a bicycle and, with this i set off in my task to learn how to ride. i'm not going to dwell on the fascinating details of how i got my legs full of bruises, suffice to say that wobbly as i am, i managed. and i am proud.

tonight, new age music

the typewritten sign read CONCERT. 8:30 PM. ALL MUSIC LOVERS WELCOME. i went.
the gate was open into the courtyard. there was a pond and then some steps raising up to the entrance sheltered by a portico with great columns. 3 plastic chairs were outside facing the steps and, on the landing above, a young man sitting at a desk and a couple more chairs scattered around.
an old man arrived on a bycicle wearing a conspicuosly short pair of white shorts. he walked and he was all brown legs. he climbed the steps, went through a ritual of turning lights on, off and on again, opened the panned glass door and went into the building. he went about busily and i wondered if he would be performing tonight. when he emerged from the inside building, by pressing another switch, he lit up the fish tank that had been discretely on the corner behing the desk. in the milky waters, a trout-like fish waves its shiny body gently.
at this point, the audience consisted of a very old man wrapped in shawls who sat in one of the plastic stairs. every other minute he tucked his scarf as if at any moment of the torrid evening he could be afflicted by a cold breeze. two more men arrived and found their places in the remaining chairs on the landing. i cannot anticipate what is going to happen.
the lights are turned off. the music starts but no one is playing. this is no magical trick - or perhaps, it is? - instead, the music is being delivered by the two speakers that were yet unnoticed hanging on the wall opposite the desk.
i guess in india, this could as well be a concert.

in paradise

i left the cool mountains of kodaikanal after having been ill for 2 days heading to madurai where i would get the train to cochin on the west coast. the bus ride was only 3 hours but in this short period of time the temperature increased by about 15 degrees. when i arrived in madurai it was torrid, noisy and busy. i easily found a hotel in the center which was surprinsingly nice. the only catch was that everytime there was a power cut, and there were many, all the town's generators would start their roar in unison reverberating through all surfaces to reach my ears.

i was set to travelling south to cochin, in the state of kerala, in the vague hope i could finally go to the beach. but then i got a message from elodie saying that she and her friends would be in pondicherry at the weekend. after spending all this time on the road with very little company, the thought of meeting a familiar face was very appealing so i went to the train station and got myself a ticket to leave to pondycherry the next morning.

this turned out to be a really good decision. the train journey an absolute joy - the people sitting next to me were very friendly and shared their newspapers. we discussed politics and indian customs and they asked many questions about the differences between my country and theirs. after, the man sitting next to me insisted i'd share his home-cooked breakfast and didn't let me leave the train without a handful of chikoos (a fruit) from his garden.

and then i arrived in pondicherry. how to start? pondicherry is a former french colony which is immediately noticeable in the architecture and in the city's planning. it's very clean, the streets are wide and sided by trees which provides a great relief from the blazing sun. and then, lots of people speak french.

i went to the guest house where my friends were staying - the most charming and homely place i've stayed in so far! - left my stuff and went to meet them. the manager of the guest house offered me a lift on his scooter - wind in my hair! - and dropped me at the meeting point. i met my friends, and their friends - so many nice people! - and we got the boat to go to the beach. sun, sand, water, heat, summer in all its splendour! and the best company, too. i swam - pure bliss! - and chatted and slowly got to know these people with whom i'd spend some of the best days of my stay in india so far...

at the end of the day, when i was leaving on the boat, i looked back and noticed the signpost written in big letters: welcome to paradise beach.

widldlife sanctuary

i'm on a rooftop, squating under an umbrella, half sheltered from the downpour. sharing the umbrella with me is baby (pronouced bebi), a rather petite man who appointed himself as my guide through the wilderness of indira ghandi wildlife sanctuary, in topslip, on the anaimalai hills. when i arrived, i agreed to go trecking with him the next morning. of course by then, i didn't know there was an acute shortage of food in the park which meant that, after having foolishly skipped my lunch, i had a chapatti with gravy and went to bed starving. i began to think that going out on a four hour walk on no breakfast wasn't the best idea, but baby was coming to meet me at six in the morning and i had no way of cancelling. i managed to bribe one of the staff into getting me some food for the morning and i got off with a small pack of out of date biscuits. not bad when you're starving. half a pack of biscuits later, i was fast asleep to the deafening sound of crickets in the night.
i wake up at 5.30. the day is slowly rising but it's raining. i sit out on the porch of the humble cottage where i spent the night, having a couple more biscuits and thinking it might be sensible to postpone my venture into the wild. when baby arrives carrying a machete, i sensibly explain my reservations to go on with the plan but to no effect. from my eloquent efforts, the only thing that comes across to him is that i have no raincoat - yes, i shipped it when i realised it was of no use under the monsoon and thought that if i ever needed one, i'd be able to buy it. diligently, he fetches me an umbrella. warned about leeches, i tuck my trousers into my socks and off we go.
i seem to find traces of the absurd everywhere i look and now is no exception. as we climb up the hill i picture the comical duet we make: baby carrying a machete , i, a brollie.
it turns ot that baby's little understanding of english is a blessing in disguise. not only i don't have to make or engage in trivial conversation but also, we can walk around all morning wholy enjoying the sounds of the forest. the scenary doesn't disappoint: it's luscious and green and intensified by the ascending mist. however, as the morning progressed, i came to realise that maybe i wasn't so keen on wildlife spotting after all. we walked swiftly and sometimes baby would come to a halt and point into the distance which usually made me regret i hadn't brought my glasses. 'bison!', he said, or 'deer!'. after a few moments i would be able to discern the animal shapes among the green and then, we proceeded. so far, everything was fine with me as i was really enjoying being in the forest. i mean, of course i'd love to spot an elephant, or a herd of them, but i wasn't really counting on that. and as for bisons, what are they really, if not darker cows that live in the wild? i'd say they have it easy compared to some of the cows i've spotted in rush hour mumbai. now that's wild!
anyway, baby took it upon himself to give me a closer view of the wildlife experience. i belive that fuelling this was the customary increase in tip if you actually see any animals. and that is how we came to be on a rooftop under the pouring rain.
baby decided to check an old abandoned forest shelter. he thought that, because of the rain, some animals might be going there for shelter, and he was right. there were two bears inside. my instinct told me 'oh great! bears. let them sleep!' but baby demanded pictures. so we climbed to a good spot on the roof and waited. one of the bears sensed us and came to the door, looked around and went back in. and then, to my horror, baby started making some noises which really upset the bears and scared them off, running. in a childish need for comfirmation baby asked, 'very good?'. out of compassion more than honesty i said, 'yes', and we left. i realise now that there is little need for a machete in the forest except for opening up the path. animals are chased away by the simple presence of people. i can understand why. we carried on into the woods up to where there was an opening into the surrounding mountains. the mist had cleared up a little and the landscape was more defined. all around me, the deafening sounds of water, wind, birds and other animals speak up, drowning my narrating voice

sleep well, good night and don't let the...

bedbugs!?... so it seems i have been having some nightly visits but not the good kind. it actually took me a while to figure out which kind of crawling bug had left its trace on me. it was only after explaining the symptoms - patterns of very itchy bites that start off tiny and expand every day - to other fellow travellers that i actually found out what had bit me. however, i'm still not sure i know what bedbugs are. i thought they were mythical creatures that existed only to frighten small children and make them tuck in snuggly in their beds. like the bogeyman. i hope i don't get bitten by the bogeyman, though...

colective sigh

i had visited the palace during the day. the gardens are strikingly well maintained and the building is very impressive but it's only inside that the palace in mysore presents itself in its full glory. or so i thought.

during the dussera festival, they light up the outside during the festival's 10 consecutive days and every sunday throughout the year, between 7 and 8, they present us with the same stunt. came sunday, i awaited outside the palace's gates as the crowd gathered. at 7, the doors to the gardens were opened, the huge space soon filled. finally, i joined in the collective sigh of marvel as the lights were turned on.

the crowd was further impressed by a militar fanfarre playing waltzs, which i thought was quite amusing even if not particularly well performed, and remembered being gracefully led through the dance floors of sao pedro do sul.

calangute beach

calangute beach wasn't to me the most inviting place to bathe but indian tourist seemed to disagree. the seaside was packed and whoever wasn't bathing was watching others doing it. needless to say, the dresscode was rather different to that of western beaches, particularly for women but not only. i'll let the images speak for themselves.

elodie, thierry and bertrand

last night i hooked up with elodie, thierry and bertrand - three french students doing internships and exchange programs in bangalore - who came to panjim for the weekend. i met them at the restaurant were i had dinner by asking if they knew about a good place to watch the football. eventually, the football was on but i was too busy talking to my new friends to watch it.

i ended up joining them in their explorations today and we spent the day together visiting fort aguada and calangute beach. it was really good to get out of my solitary mode for a change and, at the end of the day, i felt really refreshed by having spent time in their company. they went back to bangalore in the afternoon but we exchanged contacts and, who knows, we might still meet along the way!

panjim, goa

it's still raining. i woke up in anjuna, decided it was more than time to leave and headed to panjim, the state's capital and former portuguese administrative centre.

totally depressed by my stay at the beach, i decided it was time to upgrade and chose to stay on a beautiful restored heritage house, in the fontainhas neighbourhood, which i don't regret.

panjim is strangely quiet and orderly. there are more tourist here than in other places i've visited, but still not that many. everything is also strangely familiar with words and names in portuguese scattered through labels and stret signposts. it's as if i'm in a portuguese interior town that has been colonized by indian people.

i'm happier here and certainly happy to have left anjuna. although, i must say that the good thing about anjuna was to meet sauhard, tenzin and aadittya - is this spelled right? - with whom i watched the beautiful portugal-czech match.

hit by the monsoon

i'm disheartened by the rain... my fantasies of clear water beaches fringed by palm trees go down the drain as i contemplate anjuna's littered stretch of sand that has been partially claimed by the rough sea. there is nothing pretty about this place and i'm starting to question my choices and consider my options...
before i got here, i had no idea what the monsoon really meant except for the knowledge that there was rain involved, sometimes heavy rain. i never considered that the sea would be affected making bathing impossible. every now and again i am assaulted by images of the alentejo, where the beaches and the weather will be at their best this time of the year. again, i consider my options...
on the first chance, i hop on a bus to try and explore the surroundings. i had read that there are other beaches near by that are more peaceful and, hopefully, better kept.
after a couple of entertaining bus rides, i arrive at arambol (pictured) which has a beautiful long clean beach. there are a couple of kids splashing in the waves while they are watched by their mothers who are close by. i fold up my trousers and the sight of my bleach-white legs makes them laugh. i stroll along the beach, feet in the water, trying to conform to the idea that this will be as close as it gets to going to the beach.


ps_i've found another place to stay. not as grotty.

pitch black

after a 24 hour train journey that started in aurangabad after a busy day visitinhg the ellora temples, i arrived in the state of goa and got in a taxi that took me to anjuna beach.
on our way through the bumpy pitch dark road it started pouring down with rain so strong that i couldn't see anything ahead. however this didn't deter the driver from heading off in full speed.
the heavy rain had caused a power cut and when we got to the guest house of my choice, they didn't want to let me stay. as i was soon to find out, since in the rain season there are hardly any tourists, most places close down and so did this one. however, as the power was luckily restored, i managed to persuade the owner to let me stay this one night. i wondered how wise that was when i finally saw the room but, at that moment, i just wanted a place to stay rather than wandering through the night in search for one.
the room was very simple - two single beds and a sink - and the communal toilet and showers were outside. everything was damp and it looked like they didn't bother to clean up after the last occupants, as if the possibility of having more guests was utterly out of the question and the effort involved in cleaning would be pointless until the start of the next season. also, the meaning of the expression 'grotty showers' mentioned at some point in my guidebook to advise travellers to bring flip flops, was perfectly illustrated here, although at this point, i couldn't care less.
i went to bed straight away. outside, teeming with rain, its roaring sound against the roof lulling me to sleep, all the lights out.

lectures in indian culture l

today i was shown around the beautiful ellora caves by an excelent guide whose name was amod. he started by ellucidating me on the fact that despite being known as caves, this ellaborate set of monuments should be known as rock architecture. in ellora there were no caves to begin with and unlike other examples of rock architecture the rock was carved vertically from top to bottom.



we visited several temples and monasteries. the earlier ones are budhist but there are also jain and hindu temples. as we went along, amod talked me through the fundaments of each religion and showed me how they were represented in the different buildings. we sat in the cool inside of the monuments, strolled from one to the other, had lunch and talked, taked, talked. it was a very insightfull contact with indian culture and a great introduction to my journey.

pictured, is a detail of the kailash temple, a hindu temple honouring shiva. it is probably the most impressive of the lot due to its scale but also because it is carved out of one single rock. it took over 100 years to be built which means that several people must have been in charge of the plan at different times even though you can't tell by looking at it.

all the buildings at this site are considered national monuments - they are listed by unesco - and, thus, cannot be used for its original purposes, ie. religious cult. nevertheless, jain monks have occasonally visited the site as a worship place. these are men who have renounced all earthly possesions in search of full liberation. eventhough there is a law abolishing nudity, they walk naked except for, in some occasions, a surgical mask to prevent them swallowing or breathing in any mosquitoes inadvertedly - they absolutely don't kill any animal. i was told they cause quite a commotion whem they visit the caves, especially if japanese tourist are in sight.

haji ali

yesterday i visited the haji ali temple in mumbai. it's a muslim temple that holds the body of the muslim saint haji ali himself who also had it built before renouncing all wordly possessions and starting a pilgrimage to mecca. unfortunately, he died before getting there and his body was returned to mumbai and depositted in this temple until today.


i was fairly excited when i read in my guidebook that you had to cross a narrow causeway over the water to get to it, and was even more so when i laid my eyes on it and saw all the pilgrims walking over to reach the entrance.


now, the monsoon has just hit mumbai and the sea is pretty rough, but when you see the dozens of people walking back and forth across the narrow path, it seems like nothing wrong could ever happen. obviously, wrong is the key word here. well, it was only after a few hundred meters that i noticed some people coming back from the temple completely drenched. that should have given it away, shouldn't it? but there i go, full of confidence and trusting that everybody else's better judgement was as good as mine... nevertheless, the tide was rising!

i managed to get halfway through with only my feet wet when a wave swept over the path and left me with one shoe less! i was just about settling for going home barefoot as i watched it floating away into the brown sea when, out of the blue, a guy jumps into the water to rescue my humble flipflop and brings it back to me... i'm still completely stunned with all this and he is already out of the water bargaining with me for the rubber sandal. i give him whatever few rupees i have in my hand purse and carry on to the temple. after all, i have other concerns now.

i can see the entrance clearly but there aren't that many people about any more. i just want to rush to the safe haven that i magine awaits beyond the temple's door. by now, my long trousers have soaked up and i'm wet to my knickers so it only takes one more wave splashing against the causeway to finish the job and leave me drenched from head to toe! i can hardly see with the salt burning my eyes and i do not dare open my mouth. i reach the temple's door just in time: they are about to close.

they do indeed close the door behind me. some kid is repeating 'four.. four' to which i assume he wants four ruppes for entrance fee. wrong. i later find that all visitors have to wait until four o'clock to leave the temple as that is when the tide will lower enough to allow for a safe return. gladly, the temple's inside is a well deserved reward. lined in white marble it's in stark contrast with the grey landscape. i accept the fact that i am completely soaked and walk around under the gaze of the other visitors. inside the mausoleum, one of the tomb's guardians blesses me by striking my head a few times with something resembling a long, feathered, dust brush. i can only hopes this will help me on the way back. but that is only in four hours!

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haji_Ali

gateway to india

I safely arrived in Mumbai last night. It's very hot and I'd forfotten how it feels. At the airport yesterday, I was welcomed by an array of familiar smells and scents that remainded me of my last visit, 8 years ago.
The city is strangely relaxing despite all the buzzing of cars, passers by and shoppers on the sidewalk stalls that laden the streets. It seems to be as easy to chat to people as it is to be on my own.
Meanwhile, last night's feeling of having arrived to another galaxy started to disappear this morning as I explored the hotel surroundings. Likewise, the anxiety I experienced in finding myself in an empty, sterile, air conditioned hotel room seems now like a natural reaction that won't be bothering me again. The future strikes me as very promising. The journey has begun...