Out of Kerala, our original plan was to spend some time in the temple city of Madurai...but we changed our minds and so as soon as we arrived in the city, we got on a bus playing loud, all-singing, all-dancing Hindi films and music videos, which took us straight up to the hill station of Kodaikanal. This meant a hair-raising drive up the side of a mountain - 2100m to be precise. After watching the side of the bus come within inches of the road edge several times, we found it easier just to shut our eyes and try and nap, especially as the Hindi films on board offered no continuity. One minute we'd be watching a film about kick-ass, no nonsense policemen and the next it would cut to a few music videos, some of which were hilarious. One had two middle-aged overweight men singing in high-pitched voices and prancing around, pulling out flamboyant and questionable dance moves in various locations - beaches, parks, etc. Suddenly, just as you were starting to get into the moves and considering learning a few yourself and taking them home with you, we'd cut to half way through a Hindi Western.
We were thankful to put our feet back on solid ground and, as we did so, we noticed the difference in temperature in Kodaikanal compared to sea level. No more sweating for a few days!
A bit of a history lesson: Kodaikanal's hill station was set up by the Americans (as opposed to the English) in the 1900's and whilst there, their missionaries established an international school to teach European children. Today, the same school teaches children from a range of nationalities and is apparently one of the main reasons the town continues to exist, although we're sure that the wealthy Indian families fleeing the ground level heat each summer also helps. Its international-ness also explains the variety of different foods on offer; as well as the usual Indian fare, there were also Italian and Tibetan restaurants. We cant comment on the Italian, but the the Tibetan food we had in Royal Tibet was incredible. Chicken momo's are superb mountain food.
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| Richard with Mayan hot chocolate |
We stayed in an amazingly located hostel called Greenlands Youth Hostel, located on the edge of a grass cliff which dropped off suddenly and sheerly, offering incredible views of the valley below and the hills around. We could see for miles. Unfortunately, Ashley wasn't feeling good during our time here, but we still managed to scoff a pretty vast quantity of the homemade (and cheap - 35Rs, or 50p per 100g) chocolate they made up in the hills - 100g of fruit and nut one night, 100g of cashew chocolate another, not to mention the white chocolate and almond, cashew milk chocolate. It got to the point where the owner recognised us and, upon leaving, was sure to shake Richard's hand and tell us to come back next year. We probably single handedly kept him going for another year.
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| A room with a view |
Outside of the incessant chocolate munching, and despite Ashley's feeling less than chipper, we also had time to venture down to Kodaikanal lake for a lengthy walk around it's perimeter, watching excited Indian families enjoy the pedal boats and their hired bicycles. We also had plenty more conversations with passing groups as well as the odd photo request. We said no to the latter as nicely as we could. We didn't feel like having our photos taken and most of the groups that were asking were about 20 in size and so one yes would have led to half an hour of incessant smiling an handshaking. This sounds a little mean and/or lazy, but we've been posing for photos for the last month and a half and that doesn't include all of the 'subtle' photos passersby have been taking. With subtlety not an art yet practiced by the majority of the Indian population, many will happily stick a camera phone in your face, as their looking in the opposite direction aims to disguise the act. The "chk" of a Nokia phone camera has become a very familiar, and often irritating, sound.
Without doubt the biggest anticlimax for us whilst in Kodaikanal (if not our whole time in Southern India) was our visit to Bear Shola Falls. No rain in months meant it was bone dry. Not a drop of water trickled down that tall, vertical rock face. That said, it was still a lovely little walk through a few kilometres of tall, green forest and one of a few that we did during our time here - undoubtedly a good thing given the levels of our chocolate consumption.
Speaking of climaxes, anti- and otherwise, the cricket world cup reached its end when we were in the hills, with the two countries we've spent the last 2 months in (that's India and Sri Lanka in case you've not been paying attention) and the two hosts going head to head. For the first time in twenty-eight years, India took home the cup and so there was a celebratory atmosphere the following day. High-pitched squeals of victory (or at least we think they were cricket-induced squeals of victory) from the Indian men in the room next door to us summed up the general feeling pretty well.
We were wait-listed for a train from Madurai to Chennai, from where we planned on getting a bus to our next and final destination: Pondicherry. However, after the wait-listing failure on our way out of Hampi, we were sceptical as to whether we'd make it onto the train and had partially lost faith in this difficult to understand system. We toyed instead with the idea of getting there by night bus right up until the last minute. In fact, Richard was stood in the coach company's office trying to book a ticket when a bus back down the hill to Madurai turned up. Ashley beckoned to Richard across the station, who quickly picked up his backpack and legged it across the bus park to join her and we were soon on our way back down the winding hills that had brought us here, passing the same small villages and make-shift huts that looked as though they were lived in, despite their roofs being made from thatched palm leaves and their walls being a mix of cardboard and wood. We cannot imagine how cold it gets in those during the winter months.
As our bus pulled in to Madurai bus station, a group of auto drivers literally started jumping down at the windows at the prospect of a Western fare. We discovered the reason for their excitement when we arrived at the train station later: sat in the car park were tens of unused autos. Apparently, the supply of the little yellow vehicles vastly outstrips the cities demand for them, so it's little wonder they were excited to see us.
Thankfully we were booked onto our train, having come off the waiting list, therefore restoring our faith in the Indian train system. With a few hours to use before we departed, we had time to grab a very nice dinner at a great rooftop restaurant which overlooked Madurai's temple complex. Not wanting to wander round aimlessly in the dark, and despite the fact that we knew the restaurant wasn't far, we approached a group of 3 auto drivers to take us there for 20Rs (around 25p). One of them, obviously an honest guy, told us how close it was and that we could walk. Another auto driver, keen to actually have a fare for the day, interjected quickly and scolded the honest chap before taking us off to his auto.
After a great dinner of chicken sheikh kebab, a vegetable byriani and roti, we were on our final Indian train for 2 and a half months, but not before Richard was abused by some small girls. The two of them, who can't have been older than eight or nine years old, shyly and slowly approached us before eventually working up the courage to ask us our names. They seemed rather sweet and so we had a little chat before they ran away giggling. But they came back. With a vengeance. Not satisfied with a conversation, they took to hitting Richard on the head. He had no choice but to...walk away.
Arriving back into Chennai, we were straight in an auto to take us to CMBT bus station where we caught yet another bus which was, once again, playing loud Hindi movies. The one we had on for most of the way had English subtitles (yes!) and was called The Robot. It was essentially an Indian version of iRobot in which a scientist creates a robot he calls Chitty and who looks exactly like his creator. The initial plan is for him to be used by the Indian military, but the scientists arch nemesis (and former mentor) finds a flaw - Chitty will do whatever he's told, right or wrong, because of his inability to interpret and understand emotions. This point is demonstrated by the fact that whilst saving lots of people from a burning building, Chitty rescues a naked girl trapped in her bath, carrying her out to crowds of bystanders and news reporters. Her parents look on ashamed (rather than happy to see her alive) and the girl, so mortified by being seen naked, commits suicide by running in front of a speeding bus. Only in India. The story line goes on (for another two hours), but we won't bore you with it here. If you're desperate to know how it turns out, get in touch.
We were pretty knackered when we finally arrived in Pondicherry. We'd decided in advance on the hostel we were gong to stay in and so were going to catch an auto to it for minimal walking. The auto driver we chose immediately started lying. First, he claimed that the minimum fare for any auto in Pondi is 50Rs. It wasn't and we told him that for 50Rs, we'd walk. He changed his mind and went down to 20Rs, but Richard didn't trust him after trying to treat us like idiots. Secondly, he (and his friend that sat in turnstone with him) took us to our requested guesthouse and it turned out it was abandoned and practically derelict (this i one of the downsides of having the 2007 edition of the Lonely Planet). Richard didn't believe this was the right place, especially after the initial lie - he lives in Pondi town and his job took him throughout its streets ever day. Surely he knew, and therefore could have told us, the state this place was in and that it had closed down. Regardless, Ashley saw a sign that read 'Ganga Guesthouse' on this redundant building, so we moved on. The driver insisted on taking us to one place before we went on to our second choice and with we few options, we thought we'd check it out. Unsurprisingly it was expensive and not much cop. We insisted we'd find our own way from there, despite his offers of taking us to other guesthouses for free (meaning he'd take us on a tour to every place that pays him commission). He promised he would take us to a guesthouse nearby which would give us a good price! Despite paying him and walking away, he still drove slowly along side us for a while, trying to get us back inside his auto.
So we found our home for the next few days Park Guesthouse using our own two feet and with the help from a passing traveller called Mike. We asked him if he knew of anywhere to stay that was cheap and nearby (we'd been walking with or bags for half an hour and so were sweating buckets by this points). Thankfully, he did. He'd conveniently just dropped his bags off there and told us where to go. We ended up bumping back into Mike at dinner that evening and went to dinner with him the following two nights as well. He had been travelling with his girlfriend around South East Asia and Australia and had decided to come to India while his girlfriend carried on working in Oz and was a good laugh.
The Park Guesthouse actually deserves its own honorary mention as it certainly had its eccentricities. It was actually an ashram, or yoga retreat, and so before signing in you had to agree to its various rules. These weren't extensive, but included no alcohol on the premises, no guests outside the hours of 2:30 and 6:00pm and they had to be met in the designated visitors room and a 10:30pm curfew. It was a well looked after complex that even had a garden full of flowers, trees and other plants, although it had an outrageous name: 'The Garden of Positive Vibrations'. Yeah man. The garden also had its rules:
Leave outside...
• Footwear
• Cellphone
• Speech
• Ego
Come inside with...
• Bare feet
• Quiet mind
• Silent heart
• True self
We were going to go in, but we forgot our silent hearts. Also, all of the rooms had names as well as numbers, similar to the resort we stayed in in Nasik. However, instead of different wine names, each room had a spiritual name - Happiness, Forgiveness, Thankfulness, Wholeness...We stayed in Stillness...man.
In all seriousness though, it was one of or best stays in India, with big, airy rooms that were cleaned daily and a big balcony overlooking the Bay of Bengal for 600Rs per night.
Pondi was another one of those places where you just didn't feel like you're in India. Its a former French colony and was under French rule until 1947 and so maintains much of its Gallic-ness. Croissants are as common as curry, steaks and red wine readily available, the town hall still referred to as the Hotel de Ville and many of the shops still indulging in the oh-so European long lunch. We wandered the towns heritage walk, which showed off Pondicherry's beautiful buildings and the streets of its French quarter, as well as an tall and imposing Ghandi statue. The beach front also provided a perfect spot for some evening people watching as the strip came to life around 6pm when the heat had died down.
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| An example of the french style buldings found in Pondi |
However, given Pondi's cafe culture, we spent a good chunk of our three days here dipping in and out of these air conditioned palaces, owned by locals and expats alike and serving up cold coffees, iced teas, European thalis and the aforementioned croissants, as well the odd pizza(!). The muesli, iced tea and graffiti at Cafe des Art were a particular favourite. That's not to say we went without curry though. Seafront restaurant Le Cafe did an excellent all you can eat buffet of various vegetarian curries, dhal, rice, chappathi and sambol, with a warm, sweetened rice noodle dessert flavoured with coconut and cinnamon. Naturally, Richard went to town on this to the point where the lady serving us laughed at how much he was taking.
On our last morning in India, we went to Manakula Vinayagar Temple as Mike had mentioned that there was an elephant there that would give you a blessing. Ashley was still suffering from Kodaikanal, but we decided to get up early and see the elephant before we left. The elephant was beautiful wearing anklets and painted from head to toe. It wasn't a disappointment. We watched the locals feed to elephant bananas which it ate and money which it handed to the guy standing next to it. How did it know the difference? When it was our turn we were a little nervous. Ashley went first, handing the elephant a 10Rs note. The elephant took it in it's trunk, handed it to the guy and then placed it's trunk gently on Ashley's head. It did the same for Richard! So we got a blessing from Lakshmi the elephant - amazing!
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| The elephant blessing Richard |
And then, just like that, Southern India was finished. We were sat on a bus, backpacks in tow, on our way back to where we started: Chennai. We got in a little early and, as rules state that nobody can enter departures over three hours before their flight, we loitered around outside until 1am, before boarding our flight to Dubai, on to Melbourne and then eventually to our campervan in New Zealand - our home for the next four weeks.
We wont miss the incessant beeping from the traffic, but, once again, we will miss the food and the people, as well as the random photographs with strangers, the beaches, the vast changes in landscape and architecture as we move through its various regions and the wandering cows and goats (which we've become strangely and quickly accustomed to). But we'll be back in June!
