Edinburgh, Scotland

Saturday, June 28, 08
With some extra time, I have decided to take the 3 3/4 hour train ride, north, to Edinburgh for a day and a half of Scotland. Boarding the train in Peterborough, 8:51, and this train is on time, I work my way through Doncester, York, Durham, Newcastle, along the North Sea to Alnmouth and on into Edinburgh's Waverley Station.
The countryside is mostly flat with trees along roadways, homes and fields of grain.
This is a proper train, quiet, plush, real porta potties. Broken down castles appear here and again with light houses wading into the sea on a spit of land. The clouds are heavy, showers, but no steady rain. The further north we travel, the more the hills roll. Certainly, a civilized look with fence lines and blocks of land. The Sea shimmers in the sunlight. Small towns, churches, long metal and brick bridges and schools, clump along the way.
Across the aisle are 2 very fat Americans overflowing the seats. Also, behind and across are 2 other Americans, a father and daughter from Pennsylvania, here for a fortnight HS graduation present.
Off the train, I walk the several kilometers and eventually, following 4 askings, arrive at the Ascot GH, a three story, 7 bed B&B.
The afternoon and evening are spent at Edinburgh Castle, lunch at The Witchery ( I order a glass of champagne, with my food, to toast the journey), walking the Royal Mile from the Castle to The Palace of Holyroodhouse, flag up indicating a royal present. Hiking up Salisbury Crag to Arthur's Seat, the highest point overlooking Edinburgh, a drizzle starts and then leaves. On the edge of the downpour, which passes to the west, I find my way down the northeast side and back into the city.
One difficulty in walking Edinburgh is that the streets change names - North Bridge becomes South Bridge, Nicolson St, Clerk St... Another example, going east from downtown; Princes St, Waterloo Place, Regent Rd., Montrose Terrace and on.
Dinner is late, and sleep later. The sun sinks, with darkness only fully in place after 11:00.

St. Ives, UK

Thursday, June 26, 08
Suddenly, the mosquitoes are gone, a smoke detector appears in the room, clean walls, carpeting, order in traffic, manicured lawns, no filthy smells, clean, graffiti, curbs, plenty of power points, and feeling fat from being overfed. Welcome to the 1st world. No longer a gecko in the room to click at me. Streets which are deserted, not a car, pedestrian or dog. I have a knife and fork to feed myself. A spoon certainly allowed for volume bites.
All goes well at the Chennai airport, and throughout the flight - 10 1/2 hours. On the underground to Kings Cross Station, I ask, and find the train for Huntingdon. There, I have purchased the wrong ticket, which is pointed out to me by the Station Master checking tickets at the exit. Saying he needs to charge me for the balance, I agree. Then, walking to the turnstile, he places and turns a key. As the gate opens he says, "In favor of International Cooperation!" and lets me pass with a smile. Two pay phones, one on each side of the station door, are used to call John. Two phones because neither one of them will work properly. A woman, sitting on a bench, asks me which number I'm trying. As I repeat it, she dials and hands me her mobile phone. John's wife, Kay, answers saying John is on his way. St. Ives is only a few miles up the road. My room is upstairs in a three bedroom house on the edge of town.
Sleep comes easy. Yet, I'm up long before anyone else. After breakfast, John and I walk into town for some shopping. He has some insurance issues with a local company. I want to look for several long sleeved shirts. One, found in a thrift store, costs me £3, and I'm feeling in style, again. Riding the train, I felt conspicuously out of place with my travel worn clothes. Dressed in my dark red shirt and Bangkok long shorts, I was woefully 3rd world dressed.
Walking along the Great Ouse, the river which cuts through the town, we cross the bridge and enjoy talk and companionship. How was Vietnam? What about Laos? Pictures follow when we return home. A schedule is being planned for the days ahead, York, Cambridge, London. And lots of relaxing. Rain is beginning to fall, it is 7:30 pm, and the evening is settling in. I'm feeling the effects of jet lag and will need an early bedtime.

Travel Plans?

Sunday, June 22, 08
Here's a short explanation of my travel plans. It will be difficult to find time for an entry so here's where I'll be. Today, I spent the day in Chidambaram, around 1 1/2 hours south of Pondy.
Monday - Leave at 8:00 for Tiruvannamalai.
Tuesday - Leave at 8:00 for Mamallapuram and on to Chennai (Madras).
Wednesday - British Airways flight at 8:05, arriving London, Heathrow Airport, at 14:20. There, I will board the Piccadilly Line into Kings Cross Station, switch to the above ground line and on to Huntingdon Station, 1+ hour north. John and I will meet and spend the next 8 days looking around the area.

Detente

Saturday, June 21, 08
Two stories:
-Filing through the food line at the Dining Hall, I carry my tray to the 4 person tables which occupy the area closest to the outer courtyard. There, I find a table with 2 people sitting opposite each other, and a tray in the middle of the section which is to their right. Where is this man sitting? As I stand, confused, the tray owner, a short, stocky man in his 60s arrives with water. I ask him where he is seated. He continues through and sits facing the inside of the building. Ok, the only seat left is facing outward. More than 5, but less than 10, minutes later, he suddenly looks at me and begins, "Why did you want my seat?" My reply, "I didn't want your seat! The tray was in the middle and I didn't know where you were sitting." He points to the ceiling fan and seems to be indicating that my seat is the better one. I continue, "I didn't want to sit where you were sitting." He replies, "Thank You," with a blank look.
-Following breakfast, as is my habit, I take 2 small cups of black coffee in the Park GH canteen and read the local paper. The lady seated behind the register is in her 40s with orange highlights in her hair. Since I forgot to purchase a meal ticket for the Dining Hall, this morning's breakfast will be here. I order yogurt with papaya and my usual 2 cups of black coffee. The total is Rs 46. Flipping through my money clip I hand her a Rs 50 note. She holds it up and says it has a small tear on the top middle, and that she won't accept it. My reply is, "It's your money." "Did you get it here?" "It's your country's money!" "It passes through many hands" she finishes and hands it back. Well, then she will need to find change for a Rs 100 note.
There are times when East does not meet West. And ships do pass in the night!

Pondy and North

Friday, June 20, 08
I forgot to purchase a meal ticket for the Dining Hall, so I am walking out past where I usually turn and continue on to where the Esplande (ocean front walkway) ends - on into the squalor of thatched lean-tos and broken down brick homes. Trash, and filthy water, drains into the sea as women drop white chalk from their fingers creating the designs which front many homes and businesses. Children are making a push for school, their uniforms pressed, the girls in braids. A teenager hikes her younger brother on a bicycle and turns down a narrow connecting street. Washing behind a short wall, a man scrubs as a temple blares sacred music. Fishermen are out, some in. Kneeling over their nets, they sort through their catch pulling off the ones stuck in the netting, mostly sardine size. Women sit on their haunches anticipating the catch - limited when considering how many mouths it must feed. Reaching the end of the pavement, I turn through a dirt path to the ocean front and look north where rocks have been dumped in against erosion. Back along the Esplanade, the exercising crowd is out. Near the GH is a public toilet and shower facility where a gathering of city folk are preparing for the day - brushing of teeth, showers and talk. It's 8:00 AM.

Auroville, India

Thursday, June 19, 08
Today, I have planned a visit to Auroville.
At the Autocare Department, north 2 streets from Jain Street, then 2 doors west, I find a small room. Pressed against the back wall are 2 desks with the sides of the room lined with benches. Inside, I buy my ticket to Auroville and back, Rs 60. Departure is 2:00. Return around 5:45. One Western woman sits opposite me, I'm seated on the right near the opening, and 15 locals occupy the remaining space, standing and sitting. Outside 4 more, plus the driver, stand under two trees looking looking for shade. Maps of Pondy and Auroville, along with photos of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother cover the walls. A small AC unit attempts to cool the room - not much help. Outside is a 24 passenger blue and white bus with "Contract Carriage" across the front. We wait, sweating!
Auroville is not a tourist attraction. Built, a project in "human unity" it is spread over 20 km. with 2000 residents from 39 countries. At the physical and spiritual center of this community is the Matri Mandir, a golden dome of meditation. Inside is the largest crystal (70cm) in the world surrounded by white marble. Casual visitors, such as I, are not allowed inside except with special permission which I don't have.
Arriving at the information center, the group is shown a video of the origins of Auroville and the creation of the Matri Mandir. Then, walking the 1 km, we stand on a small knoll and glance from a distance. Even from here, the size and stature of such an undertaking is felt.
Someone near me asks what I'm feeling. Feeling? There is a sense in me that the dome should be open so that the light can shine - more like a lotus.
The return trip is to visit a Kali temple - no photos allowed. All men are told to remove their shirts, down to bare chests, and shoes, naturally, and walk down steps into an interior chamber. Cost Rs 1. Here, standing along a railing we gaze at the image of Kali the Destroyer. An attendant walks among us placing red kumkum powder on our foreheads or in our palms. This is my first forehead powder since arriving in India, a very common sight. Retrieving my banian and kurta, flip flops later, we are led to a symbol of Lord Shiva and then to look at the standing image of Kali, 73 m tall.
Back in Pondy, I have a cup of coffee and walk the waterfront home.

Simanta Chatterjee

It's 4:00, I'm standing at the watchman's small desk just inside the large gate which is the entrance to the Ashram Nursing Home. Waiting, as he pulls on his socks and shoes, a boredness fills the air. Shoes on, he points up the short stairs to the ground floor where I find nothing. No reception desk. No nurse. Where is Simanta? Walking through the hall I find a door open, Library/TV Room, reads the sign. Two women, dressed similarly, my guess is they are orderly, are flopped on a divan. I ask. They point upstairs and say, "1st floor." Through the sanitary halls, white walls and tile floors, I find the stairs and climb the short distance to the empty floor. I wait as a man is being wheeled into an elevator, another buzzes around giving instructions to a man on the stairs. As the instructions are completed, I try to sneak in a word. No good! He's off, not concerned with me. Waiting, looking around, I see a young girl with her arm bandaged, sitting in a large room with partitions. Stepping in, several staff look to be filling trays, offering water, and such things, I ask for help. The little girl brightens when I give the name. Leading me, she steps around the partition and points to a bed against the wall where a man is lying on his side. I approach, he sits up, and I know instantly, from photos, that I have found Simanta. He first, then I, bring our hands together in Namaste, and shake each other's hands with both pressed tightly. Saying that I am a friend of Robert's, and my name, he motions for me to sit next to him. He is frail, dark rings around his eyes, and tells of his bout with some fever. Graciously, as I see is his custom, he makes me feel welcome. We talk of friends, wishes, hopes, and am sent off to find a man named Bob who works in the Ashram Archives. But, not before I promise to return tomorrow. All I know of Bob is that he is tall. Tall Bob is located in Archives. Following a 30 minute search through the library and other such places he is located. A native of Wisconsin, Tall Bob and I sit at a table, drinking water, and become friends. Tomorrow, we will meet for a joint Simanta visit. 4:00!

Where, oh where...

Tuesday, June 17, 08
Since my arrival, I have searched for Simanta Chatterje. He is of the Brahman caste and a dear friend of a friend. Today, I have been directed to an apartment 30 minutes walk from my Guest House. Arriving at the white 4 story building, I enter the gate and find the watchman. Yes, Simanta lives here. But, he has been in the Ashram Nursing Home (hospital) for the past 13 days. The Nursing Home is back along the waterfront, across the street from Park GH. So, I am told! This should be easy. 30 minutes later I arrive across from Park and find a building being renovated. With no English, a young man, carry a large plate of cement through the open gate, tells me it's 3 something that way. Three what? Streets, buildings... I walk a few buildings, till I find an open gate, and ask this watchman where? He points on down the street. Two blocks further and I ask 2 autorickshaw drivers. Continue on. One more block and I ask a policeman. No, back across from the GH. This time I'm taking no chances. Walking up to the reception desk at Park GH, I ask. Where? 3 buildings from here. Back I walk, slowly, counting, looking for something I had earlier missed. There, at the open gate, where I had earlier asked the watchman, is the sign of the Ashram on the inside wall. How could the watchman misunderstand me. This is how so many inquiries flow. If I spoke Tamil, all of this could be avoided.
Visiting hours are 4:00-7:00. Come back later! It's now past noon, too tired and too late for the Dining Hall, not wanting to walk the 15 minutes both ways, I sit at La Terrassee waiting for some lunch. That's my morning.

Park Guest House, Pondy

Sunday, June 15, 08
A three and four story complex set 100 ft from the crashing waves of the Bay of Bengal, Park GH is part of the Sri Aurobindo Ashram, as was International GH. It is not set up to make or lose money. It's existence rests in being available to the Ashramites, and travellers like me. Cost? Bottom floor is Rs 200 ($5)/night. The other floors are double this. My room, 42, is on the bottom toward the middle. Out my room, between me and the crashing waves of the ocean, is a small porch, a walkway, a slender garden, a 5 ft fence and another walkway. One special addition, over that of International GH, is a canteen where I can sit with the paper and a cup of coffee. Snacks can also be purchased, as well as a simple breakfast. Out the left side is a large gate, a children's park, a community bathroom and I'm a short walk to the ocean. I would say beach, but there isn't any. 30-40 years ago there was a large beach and one could wade out on a sloping bottom for 1 km. For the past 10 years this has disappeared. All of it! No one quite knows why. The city has brought in large rocks to stop the erosion. That now is the Pondy waterfront.
Laundry is picked up and turned in between 8:30-9:30, and must be paid for upon retrieval. No cleaning of the room is done without the guest's presence. There must have been an incident for such a policy to be enacted.
The room has 2 twin beds, bathroom, cold water, a small closet where I can secure my valuables and sundry shelves, tables and chairs. Tile floors throughout. With no screens, bugs and mosquitoes fly freely. A net, for night, is imperative. As soon as I can stop the Doxycycline, mosquito prophylaxis, I certainly will. The main side effect is light sensitivity. Although I smear 50 SPF sun block every morning, I still am experiencing a redness every now and again.
Guests are only allowed in the meeting room between 3:30-6:00, and the gate closes tightly at 10:30 PM.
The ocean breezes help to lessen the effects of the still warm summer, especially during the evening. Although the temperature isn't what it was 2 weeks ago, it's still warm. A very pleasant GH.
Today is Father's Day. I wouldn't have known it except that I called my son Matt and he wished it on me. And an email from son Andrew. Where, oh where is third son Steven?

New Plans and Health

Saturday, June 14, 08
New Plans - Being scheduled to fly through London early July, I have emailed John and asked if he would be agreeable for a visit. Yes! Cutting my India time by one week, I am now scheduled to fly into London on June 25, with a flight out on July 2, into LAX. The UK is planning a petrol strike as I arrive. So it goes!
Health - I have been in excellent health. The only illness, during this complete period of travel, came during a 24 hour period in Ukarumpa, PNG. This past trip into the hills of India left me with two finger pokes. One became infected, but was quickly dealt with. No sinus problems. No scrapes, bruises, cuts, or sores. I now will quickly find a piece of wood to knock on!
During the hill trip, I left my backpack in Milan's office. Retrieving it today, I walked the 15 minutes to Park GH. It felt familiar!

Prakash, the Driver

The nine day trip, Pondy, through the hill stations and return, is done, for convenience, in a taxi. I will be depended on for diesel money (advances), and so come prepared. This taxi driver does not own the car. He drives for someone. However, to make sure that the advances do not outstrip the actual costs is very important. That money would be irretrievable. The costs are negotiated and we are off. There is a car charge, a hill charge (extra money for driving in the hills), a set amount for the driver per day, and a kilometer charge. All this comes to $25/day.
From the outset, the driver is conniving, manipulative and difficult. I make the mistake of inviting him in to join us for breakfast, lunch and chai. Big mistake! In his mind I am an easy mark. The first morning in Kodaikanal, he says he has nowhere to bathe. We allow him to use our bathroom. The lodge objects. It turns out they had offered a facility for him but he had refused. He begins free-lancing, taking cash for rides during the times we aren't using him and not knowing that I've written down the odometer reading. This behavior continues. His story changes when it suits him. At one point, he asks Milan to have me advance him Rs 2000 ($50) so he can buy things for the family. That will not happen. On and on, it goes. Thursday, he claims he has no money for food when I have given him Rs 100 just the previous evening. Filling in diesel, with 4 hours to go on our return to Pondy, he wants the change from the fill-up. I refuse, which sends him into a rage. His response is to refuse to start the vehicle. Milan and I talk of collecting our things and taking another taxi, leaving him to drive back passenger empty. He climbs back into the driver's seat and now drives angry. He stops when he wants for chai, 30 minutes, and acts childishly. Glaring at us in the mirror, he drives on. Just get me to Pondy! As he drops us off, he goes into a rage wanting his tip. We have called his boss and will settle all this on Sat. This time Milan doesn't say, "This is India." Instead, he uses a barrage of words which one keeps in reserve for such occasions.

Bandipur to Pondicherry

Thursday, June 12, 08
Breakfast and then off on the pot-holed road. Driving on the dirt shoulder is faster than staying on the road. After 20 km, we finally hit a respectable road. Well, somewhat respectable. The climb through the Ghats is gentle with a hair-pin descent on the east side. India has little respect for nature and less for the environment. This may be slowly changing. But, the cutting of large old trees, which line the roads, is a painful sight. Trash is thrown out with little regard for the consequences. Piles of everything are everywhere.
We pass old forgotten temples eroding from ages of neglect and fields of sugar cane, bananas, corn and sunflowers. Our driver enters towns at 60 km/hr and may slow to 30 weaving and dodging cows, carts, pedestrians, motorbikes, and grumbles when he is stopped.
Ten hours of this, my fingernail marks are in the seat in front of me, and we arrive back in Pondicherry. I'm in the Park Guest House, bottom floor, room 42. Rate per night is Rs 200 ($5). On the ocean front, this GH is within 100 ft of the crashing waves. The smell of saltwater is obvious. The crash of the surf sounds even over the whirl of the ceiling fan.

Otty to Mudumalai, India

Wednesday, June 11, 08
We are off for Mudumalai Tiger Reserve. First, we look out over the vallies from
Doddabetta Peak, 2633 m, the highest peak in all of South India, and visit the Govy Botanical Gardens in Otty. Both of these are spectacular. From the peak the view is clouded, poor picture weather through the haze and mist. But the Gardens are 22 acres of manicured lawns and flowers along a hillside in Otty. The monkeys are creating a problem by sorting through the trash bins and leaving a mess. They wouldn't last past dinner in Congo!
I haven't written much about the weather in these hill resorts. Kodaikanal was in the lower 50s at night. Otty seems colder. I did not bring clothes along for such weather. Luckily, I have a wind breaker. In Otty, I use two blankets to stay warm at night. Returning to Pondy will be a system shocker. Asking for a tea, I find I've been drinking Orange Pekoe tea.
At the entrance to the Gardens is a sign, "Hebron School - Lushington Hall." Then below, "Co-educational, boarding school for children aged 5 to 18 years." This is the present home of Hebron School. I don't take the time to walk the hill to the campus.
Mudumalai Tiger Park is not in the hills, so the weather is mild, not cool. The 321 sq. km park is grasslands to semi-evergreen forests. The park actually is split over two Indian States. Mudumalai is in Tamil Nadu and Bandipur National Park is in Karnakata. Odd that they would name the park differently simply because it spreads over two states. But, they have. There are all sorts of promises as to what we will see. Driving slowly we see two large herds of Chitals (spotted deer), together around 80 deer. What a sight!
There is not a room to be had in the simple lodging in Mudumalai, so we continue on into Bandipur. Also, nothing! Exiting the park, we find lodging at MC Resort, a group of 20 rooms in a U with a large yard between the buildings with trees. Their main emphasis is taking groups into the parks on safaris. Tomorrow, rather, we will be returning to Pondy.
As we enter the room, no number on the door, a small gecko moves behind the beds. Oh, I have missed my little friends.
As night sets in electricity is supplied. Here, it is sporadic, on off, as the night progresses. Hot water? Not possible. Back to the cold shower.
Dinner is offered 7:00-9:30. Milan has asked for as table and 2 chairs to be set outside. Here we sit, enjoying the mild evening.
Mosquitoes! I have plenty of lotion. During the night, we will have a mosquito coil lit in the room. It smells like incense but is deadly on the flying creatures. A gecko chirps during dinner but is silent in the room. Dogs bark at passing wild pigs. Hope that doesn't keep up all night!

Hebron

If there is one part of this trip which stands out for me, it is the visiting of the schools where friends have spent time. These have the unique distinction of being missionary boarding schools. Hebron is one of these, located, so many years ago, in Coonoor, India. Now, it is a boarding spot for orphaned children. Driving through the large, circular, moon gate, we stop at the office. Yes, they will be very happy to let me wander, with a guide. Pictures all around, till my batteries run out. Why don't I remember to bring extras? I can hear the patter of small feet, the games on the courts, the swimmers in the pool and bathers on the cool deck and so much more. Stepping into the dorms brings back especially poignant visions and memories. The bunk bed, thin mattress, little privacy, games, some in fun, others not, house parents, some parent-like, others with a grudge. My own memories inter-mingle with those present. How did so many fit into such small spaces? On a partition are clothes in their appropriate boxes. These could have been placed there for Joan or Pat. This is part of their story, and mine. Time has stopped!
Hebron pics:http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/musungi/Hebron

Coonoor and the Miniature Train

Tuesday, June 10, 08
The day begins cloudy with a wind. The flowers at the front of the two story line of rooms sway in the breeze - chrysanthemum, dahlias, zinnias, snaps, hibiscus, creepers, berries and many more. The lodging is up the slope from the main house where the family resides.
These hill towns are much more Christian. A Christian church is a frequent sight. The houselady has Christian mottos on the wall in the entryway and dining room.
We walk the town, we change hotels and hustle to the train station for the queue at 11:30. Rs 4 buys a ticket Otty to Coonoor - 3rd class. This is the World Heritage Miniature Train. The crowds are too much for Milan and he asks to be excused. The taxi driver will meet me in Coonoor, the best way to get things seen quickly. I find my way, after the unloading frenzy, and find a fine seat at the window across from a family of 4. The young boy and I make friends. This is a meter train and we crawl down the short distance, 1 hour to Coonoor passing stations like Lovedale, Ketti, Aravankadu and Wellington. Over bridges, under bridges, through tunnels, into gum tree groves, sights overlooking valleys and hillsides of tea, past tile, tin, eternite, and thatched roofs, temples, houses of the rich and poor, with soot and whistles all the way. Through trees fallen and trees standing, decidulous, and evergreen, we stop at a station where the family offers me a small portion of Bonda, a spicy hunk of deep fat fried dough. Finally Coonoor, where Milan and the driver greet me. Where next? To find Hebron!
Otty and Miniature Train pics: http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/musungi/UdagamandalamOttyIndia

Kodaikanal to Udagamandalam (Otty)

Monday, June 9, 08
Leaving Kodai at 9:00, we head down the winding, hair pin curves. To go to Otty, we must first re-enter the plains. But, these plains are on the western side of the continent, west side of the Ghats. Palani, where we stop for gas, I see, for the first time, "Elephant Crossing." On a bridge the right lane is closed because a woman is drying some seeds on the cement. All simply move around her as she sweeps the strays which have been blown away by the passing cars. Again a first, just outside of Palani, large windmills generating electrical power.
On to Tirupur, hosiery capital of India. Oh, the pollution being generated. The streams are smelly, discolored from the dyes and strong chemicals. Sweat shops are being used, but not visibly.
We begin the climb back into the Ghats, this part known as the Nilgiris, re known for its teas. These hair-pins make the descent out of Kodai look tame. Driving through Coonoor, I take notice, knowing I will return here tomorrow on the train. The distance now is only around 19 km and that part goes quickly. But, just before entering Otty, we stop for some tea. This tea is orange, rather than milky, and has a unique taste. The chai maker can't speak much English and is just pleased to see us there at his road side shop.
Otty is more of a hill town than Kodai which felt like a hill resort. Otty is in a bowl so the town opens up whereas Kodai is steeper hills which hides the town from itself. An amusement park is at the edge of the lake. The bus station and train station are near each other which is handy. A racecourse is at the bottom of the bowl, near the lake, across from the bus station. Horses, donkeys and cows share the road with the rest of us. The lake is further across than in Kodai, but there aren't the fingers. This is Otty, the Queen of the Hill Resorts, as the sign reads.

New Relationships

Saturday, June 7, 08
With a Poori, puffy donut without the hole, and dips, Milan and I head out for more sight seeing. These include Suicide Point, where again we have a long view of the valley with its towns, agricultural plots, peaks, sholas (forests), lake, clouds and mist, and red dirt clearings. On to Pillar Rocks with a garden of the largest hydrangeas I've ever seen, poppys, chrysanthemums, and others. On to another view of the valley and we are ready for lunch.
Again at the Punjabi restaurant, we have fish and black pepper curry with rice and nan. Milan returns to the room for a nap, it is 3:00. I need to get more exercise. Eat, chai, eat, chai, eat, chai, that has been the theme of the past days.
Walking past the Tibetan stalls which are stretched along the end of one of the four fingers of the lake, I raise my umbrella against the rain. Anticipating the rain, I sport my blue wind breaker, hat (always my hat, which a monkey was seriously eyeing 2 days ago) and my umbrella, which was purchased in Bangkok (it hasn't seen much service since arriving in India). As I round the finger's end and pass the boat house where a variety of paddle boats have been rented, it begins to pour. Five young men from Trichy run whooping over to join me under my small umbrella. It's beyond a tight fit. Our heads are dry. The rest of us is not. We share the usual questions - Where are you from? And you? Do you like India?... They peel off one by one till only 2 remain, then one. I point to the standing room only at the boat house tin roof's edge. He pulls himself close with one hand around my waist and one on my left shoulder. Again, with him whooping, we run for the shelter. Having deposited him, we laugh and say our good-byes. Scrambling, as if they aren't already as wet as they ever will be, the boat renters hurry. Women drape edges of sarees over their heads and the men gallantly paddle.
On I walk, finally stopping under a large tree along the hillside edge of the road. Two men have taken shelter under a cement culvert along the roadside. Two others are leaving the tree, where they have sought shelter, and come to stand with me, again, under my small umbrella. When the two culvert men see this, they come to join us - 5 of us. We laugh, and again share our stories, and they leave. They are from Chennai. Now alone, I cross to the lake side walkway just in time to receive a splash up to my knees from a passing car. Well, I was that wet already.
Continuing on, past two cows, lotus, groups of young men and women bicycling with the usual laughs, heads into the wind and rain and fun written all over their wet outfits. Excitement is contagious.
I press on past the 2nd, 3rd and finally round the 4th, the bridge, and take the bottom road back to the Kodaikanal Boat Club canteen where I have two small cups of coffee - no milk, no sugar - surrounded by talkative youths. Someone says the lake walk is 5 km, not to be believed. It can't be over 3.
It's still raining. It's only the degree which varies. Rain brings out an energy and vitality which is softened in the sunny, calmness of the usual. It's that which catches us unawares which brings with it an opportunity. I now have a new relationship with 9 young men and 2 cows.
Kodaikanal pics: http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/musungi/KodaikanalIndia

Lake Kodai

Friday, June 6, 08
Breakfast is at a vegetarian restaurant - vadai, idli, and coffee. One thing my system is not used to, all the sugar. There is sugar is everything, and lots in the chai and coffee. I love a lemon soda. But, again, sugar.
Milan and I decide that today is a do nothing day. We walk to the lake and bargain with a man in a row boat. How much? He quotes us rs 100 for 30 minutes. Milan gets him to agree to the same amount for one hour. The agreement made, Milan and I step into the row boat. Then begins the moaning. The boatman is angry with us for having bargained him down and says he should be charging over twice the amount. Then, he exits the boat, says he has other things to do, and leaves us in the charge of a 15 year old boy who struggles with the oars. So it goes! Lotus, the mist on the lake, families together in paddle boats fills our hour. At the bank, the boatman holds the boat as we step ashore. Milan hands him the agreed on amount as the boatman asks where the money is for the boy. Milan responds that the rs 100 belongs to him. The boat leaves with an angry, still angry, boatman. Later, as we walk to the Kodai Boat Club canteen, I hand the boy rs 10 without the old man seeing.
Staying at the canteen till 12:30, we lake and people watch - lemon tea. Flies are everywhere.
Lunch is again at the Punjabi restaurant - black pepper chicken and garlic chicken curry, rice, and nan.
The afternoon, I walk to the Kodai International School and ask for a tour. Hurried to the Admissions Office, I find it occupied by one woman who says there isn't anyone to help me. Then, she calls the watchman and asks him to fill in. He does. It turns out that he knew my cousin Paul who worked at the school during the early 70s. What a stroke of luck. Instead of a hurry through, he takes me around, as the rain chases us between buildings and walkways, and shows all I want to see. Unfortunately, my camera batteries run out toward the end. But, it is grand to have found such a knowledgeable guide. The rain has stopped and the sky has cleared. Coolness is in the air. Pictures tomorrow

Kodaikanal, India

Thursday, June 5, 08
Sleeping in till 7:15, it feels so good to pull covers up and scrunch to the bottom of the bed, what decadence, we decide to see some of the waterfalls around Kodai. Finding our way to Bear Shola Falls, we are enjoying the eucalyptus forests and water cascading off the large rock and through fissures. Hydrangeas and butterflies cover large areas as we return and are off to the next, Fairy Falls, which is on the grounds of a Horticultural Research Center. Lastly, Vattakanal Falls, which splash into a pool where lovers are having their pictures taken. Some one says, Dolphin's Nose is near and a fine sight. This is apparently a rock formation. How far? 2 km one way from Vattakanal Falls. What isn't said is that the path is mostly very steep over roots of gigantic eucalyptus trees and stones. After 1 1/2 km, we arrive at a lookout which shows the valley extending out to Pondy, too far to see, and the Bay. A spectacular view, sitting in a small spot where chai and coffee can be had. We indulge and spend more time than needed, could either be our hesitation of climbing the steep return, or is it the vista holding us? We decide not to go the additional 1/2 km to the rock formation. Returning up the steep climb we return to Kodai for lunch at a Punjabi restaurant on the second floor (Indian 1st floor) looking over a small valley. Later, a walk at the lake and some soup for dinner. This spot of beauty may take several days to absorb. We have the time. The only drawback, again said, is the noise which seems to accompany India.

Pondicherry to Kodaikanal

Wednesday, May 4, 08
A choir of birds sends me out the door. What a harmony. I have found that the birds which have been singing the loudest are mynah birds.
Milan and driver, we have hired a taxi, pick me up at 7:00, and we are off. Well, first comes gas and a few other details. Off is really 7:20.
Stopping for breakfast in Villappurum, we have a dosai and itly. The first is a pancake with onion and curry. The second is a circular pressed rice patty. These are accompanied by coconut, corriander, sambar, and something else. I would tell you what sambar is, but I don't know!
The going is slow. There is continual road work for 250 km. Trichy, who's real name is Tiruchchirappalli, see why it's called Tricky, on to Dindigul, and a start into the Western Ghats (hills). Driving through hill market towns, we arrive, 5:00, in Kodaikanal.
This hill town is a bustling, noisy vacation spot, cool, having rained earlier, and gives me the feeling of Tanah Rata in the Malaysian Cameron Highlands - On the way we have passed tea plantations.
Our reservation, we booked since rooms are at a premium, is at the Snooze Inn. Glimpses of British architecture is everywhere in the lake area. Kodaikanal International School, which my cousins attended in the early 50s, so long ago, faces the lake and is a grand series of stone and rock buildings. I'll make a visit into that site in the next few days. Kodaikanal, or Kodai, Lake is a finger lake which shimmers in the drizzling rain as Milan and I drink chai at the Kodai Boat Club. Two elderly locals are rowed across the lake, it's too long a walk, as the oars dip into the mist. Walking around the lake edge and up to have dinner, soup and vegetable curry/rice, the air has cooled to such a degree that we need jackets. What a contrast to Pondy!

Rs 10

Tuesday, June 3, 08
Walking toward the waterfront, it's that time of day again, 6:30 PM, the light is thinning. At the park a conveniently wide two lane street, the sidewalks are not for pedestrians, guides me along the west side. As I approach the SW corner, the street splits, one running ahead to make a square intersection and the other cutting along the park since it is rounded here, I see a woman in her twenties, 2 young children looking on, attempting to keep a camp stove lit. As I slowly pass, the 4 year old girl, with little clothing, stoops watching eagerly her mother's effort. Behind her mother stands little brother, dressed in nature's finest. The mother pumps air into the gas bottle intently working to push the last vapors out the stove. A man from around the corner, these are street, or more correctly, sidewalk dwellers, says something and disappears back to his mat and family. On the cement sits a pot filled with a few vegetables and lots of water - dinner. As I cross the street in front of her, she works the empty bottle as the flame lessens, flickers and dies. Even now, she continues. The little boy stands unconcerned, too young to know. The little girl continues her stooped gaze. Across the street, I stand in the sinking light as the mother's efforts remain known. Reaching into my pocket, I search out Rs 10 and returning across the street, leaning, with my holy hand, extend my offering. As she recognizes what is happening, she takes it, holy to holy, and smiles a "Thank You, Mista" as I point to the empty bottle. Walking the angled street, cut for the rounded park, I want to look back, but don't. Why this time? What touched me, poked me, to respond? Many, everyday, ask for a hand out, and I don't. But this time... Was it the children with dinner waiting uncooked? A mother doing her best, which isn't enough.
We are programmed to return a greeting. Here, it often is to look into palms extended. My usual response to myself is, "Get over it!" Not this time! There is no getting over it. This will not balance the score. But, it balanced something within me!
I searched for my soul
But, my soul I could not see.
I searched for my God
But, my God eluded me.
I searched for my brother
And found all three (Anonymous)

Floor Lady

Tuesday, June 3, 08
There are 80 rooms on 4 floors of International Guest House. Each floor has several women who divide up the rooms and cover for each other during their scheduled days off. Besides cleaning my room daily, which also includes disinfecting the tile floors of the room, hallway and stairs, she brings me chai, takes my laundry for washing and ironing and watches out so that my stay is comfortable.
Although chai is available throughout the day, I have two cups each morning as I journal and read the paper at the open courtyard.

-Her day off is Saturday.

-In addition to being disinfected, the hallway is swept several times daily with a grass broom.

-Only she has access to my room, I lock all valuables in a closet, or carry them on me.

-No visitors are allowed so she keeps a sharp lookout for strangers.
-This is an Ashram GH so there is no smoking or drinking allowed on the premises. It is also her duty to monitor for such activities.

-I'm not sure of her hours, since she's here when I rise and disappears sometime late afternoon. But,her day is long.
When I first arrived, there was a failure to place a light weight blanket on my bed (I did not think anything was amiss, since not having a blanket has happened before). The next morning she found that I had simply spread and used my sarong. I returned from lunch to find 2 blankets on the second bed. There they remained, the sarong continuing to see service for 5 days. Each morning I would fold up the sarong and place it at the end of the bed. This is common in SE Asia. She corrected me by spreading it across the full bed. One morning, I returned to find the blanket opened with a folded lump underneath it, my sarong. The sarong went into the closet. A gentle nudge from the floor lady.
The same happened with an incense burner I had placed on the small table separating the two twin beds. One afternoon, I found it moved to a proper spot, a small triangular slate piece which is near the door and where bottles of water and the key are dropped.
She takes her job seriously, shaping up the guests who need shaping.

Same ole, Same ole

Monday, June 2, 08
How lazy can I get? That appears to be the predominant question for the past several days, possibly longer. Take this morning, for instance. I slept in to 6:45, quickly showered and threw on some clothes, and walked the 2 blocks to the Dining Hall. That done, I stop at the chai maker for a tea and paper, walk up the 3 flights of stairs to my room #71, and pull a chair out to the courtyard, this is an open space in the interior of the building all the way through, top to bottom, a palm tree grows out the top. The floor lady brings me my second dose of chai. I journal and scan the paper. On to my room to listen to music and read till 9:30, I take a cooling shower and walk out along Nehru Street for an hour. Milan and I meet at his desk, where one of his employees brings me a coffee, and we talk. The conversation turns to our upcoming trip into the hills. Tomorrow, we will book a room and Wednesday begin what possibly could be a 10 day vacation into Kodaikanal and beyond. Lunch follows, with me again spending the afternoon resting, reading, and listening to music. At 4:00, I return to see Milan, for 10 minutes at his work, and walk on to Coffee.com, an internet cafe several blocks south.
Every late afternoon and into the evening, I take a several hour walk along the waterfront people watching.
With such limited activity, I have been opting to take dinner in my room, several mangoes and several oranges, valencias from California.
So, that's the day. It's a good change.