2010 India 3

A Return to India 3

Journal kept by Susan Hanes during a six-week trip to India by way of London, Qatar, and Dublin, from January 7 to February 17, 2010. Photos by Susan Hanes and George Leonard, copyright 2010.

A Return to India 3 January 7 - February 17, 2010 If there is one place on the face of the earth where all the dreams of living men have found a home, from the very earliest days when man began the dream of existence, it is India.

-- Romain Rolland

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Monday, February 1

Fort Cochin

Chose air conditioning over the sound of the breeze in the banana trees and slept well last night. Underway at 8:30 for the return to the resort. Watched fishermen diving for mussels, disappearing below the surface for several minutes.

Another resourceful fellow used a square box at the end of a pole as a scoop. Sateeth courteously cut the engine as we slipped past them, as cormorants skimmed the water, cutting “V”s in the mirrored surface. By 10:00 we had checked out and were back with Shiju, driving along Kerala’s backwater roads towards Kottayam. Saw a ferry, consisting of a small wooden canoe that a man pulled across the water on a string, carrying his one passenger to the other side. Five kilometers northwest of Kottayam, visited two Syrian Christian churches. St. Mary’s Knanaya Church is known as Valiyapally (“The big Church”) and nearby, St. Mary’s Orthodox Church is known as Cheriapally (“The Little Church”) because the Valiyapally was built in 1550 and the Cheriapally, 29 years later. James and Joseph, caretakers of their respective churches, proudly showed them off to us. Both men were charming and knowledgeable guides. Short distance to Ettumanur to see 16th century murals featuring a wrathful Shiva located at the Mahadeva Temple, a heavily carved wooden structure with the pyramidal roof typical of the area. Paid a he.y camera fee, and although could not enter the temple, it was worth it to photograph the remarkable paintings. Jake wanted to walk around the building but the hot stones were too much for my bare feet and I waited in the front; glad I did, for was able to watch as a woman was weighed on a large scale while two priests played a drum and flute to honor her; she was making a donation of some kind that was equal to her weight.

Reached Kochi about 2:00. The city is made up of a collection of narrow islands and peninsulas, and we crossed several bridges to Mattancherry and the Jew Town district. Walked around until the Pardesi Synagogue (founded in 1568) opened at 3:00, poking into several branches of Cra.ers’Antiques and the other shops that surround them. All were geared to the 2

mainstream tourist trade and carried lots of bric-a-brac and the ubiquitous Pashmina shawls. Most had touts outside to lure potential buyers. Bought Rs. 5 tickets to see the synagogue but decided to just peer in at the door to avoid removing our shoes again. Bought tickets to the Dutch Palace Museum, as we hoped to see more of the remarkable Kerala temple murals. Once inside, found it oppressively hot and crowded with two large groups of school children and a Japanese tour. Quickly decided we’d had enough. Shiju drove us to Malabar House in Fort Cochin, where we have reservations for two nights. As he lives in Kochi nearby, we gave him the next day off. We had high expectations because the hotel is part of Relais et Chateau, but quickly saw that it did not meet the high standards one expects of this group.

Even so, it is pleasant enough and our room is large and attractively furnished. Shortly a.er checking in, set out to explore the area. Walked to the beach to see the Chinese fishing nets and were delighted that they are still actively being used. Stopped to watch some fishermen casting large round nets; a huge flock of crows was watching too. Stalls were selling fish and offering to cook them for the buyer.

However, the beach was unfortunately spoiled, with broken pavement, garbage littered about, and pushy vendors selling inexpensive handicra.s. The area was crowded with locals and European tourists; everyone was gathering along the rocky seawall to watch the sunset. Walked back by way of the 1724 Dutch Cemetery. Jumped in the shower before dinner.

Thought we’d have a drink at the bar, but learned that today is yet another holiday—the first day of the month—when alcohol is banned. Our tasting menu in the courtyard was painfully drawn out, with long breaks between courses. I gave up trying to get anything out of my whole, uncracked scampi when I realized that my efforts were providing more entertainment for the other tables than the musicians performing classical Carnatic music.

St. Mary’s Knanaya Church Kottayam

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St. Mary’s Orthodox Church Kottyam 6

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Mahadeva Temple, Ettumanur

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Mattancherry 11

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Fort Cochin 13

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Tuesday, February 2

Fort Cochin

Set out a.er breakfast to complete our walking tour of Fort Cochin. Began with St. Francis, India’s oldest European church and the original burial site of Vasco da Gama in 1524 (his remains were returned to Portugal 14 years later). Returned to the Chinese nets and saw them being raised and lowered with a system of rope and rock pulleys. Seemed a lot of action for a very few fish. Passed by the old Cochin Club, Thakur House, and the Brunton Boatyard; entered Santa Cruz Basilica where we ran in to Steve and Chrissy Mayers for a third time. Joined them for a fresh lime soda at Kochi Café and Art Gallery on Princess Street. Such fun to see them again: this time, we exchanged email addresses. Returned to the Malabar House to cool off before the evening’s activities. Took a tuc-tuc (driven by Baba, who would very much like to show us the sights tomorrow) to the Kerala Kathakali Centre for the evening performance of this traditional art form. The word kathakali means “story-play” in Malayalam, as a story taken from Hindu mythology is acted out using mime, gestures, and music. The dance first originated in the 17th century. The theater was located down a narrow, winding walkway between buildings; got there early to see the characters apply their makeup for the performance. Learned that the makeup process (it takes a minimum of an hour) is extremely important.

Most of the audience was also there with us to witness

the preparations, as each of the three performers painstakingly applied several colors of paint to their faces and then laid down to have an associate add the final touches of accent color and paper embellishments. It was a frenzy of photography, with people stepping all over each other to get close to the stage with their cameras.

Several people crowded the front of the stage, encouraging others to become more and more aggressive.

One woman even went up the steps onstage in order to get her pictures. It actually got to be amusing. When the woman on stage finally came down, she was met with spontaneous applause. Before the actual performance, there was a demonstration of the extensive array of eye and facial movements and mudras, or hand movements, used by the performers to convey the characters’ range of emotions. Thus when the story of brave Prince Bhima’s slaying of the demon Baka was performed, we were better able to follow along. It was a wonderful performance, start to finish: the venue, the music, the actors, and the explanations. A.erward, we walked to the Brunton Boatyard, a 300-year-old Dutch building on the water near the ferry terminal, for dinner at the History Restaurant. Clever menu based on Fort Cochin’s history, with good food and excellent service. Tuc-tuc back to our hotel and preparations for our early departure tomorrow.

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Kathakali Theater

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Wednesday, February 3

Ooty

Shiju was caught in traffic on his way to us this morning and we le. a little later than we’d planned for our drive to Ooty, or Udhagamandalam, meaning “House in the Mountains” in the language of the Nilgiri Todas. Located 7,347 feet above sea level, Ooty was founded by the British in the 19th century as a hill station elevated above the 100-plus-degree summer temperatures of the plains below.

Although Shiju assured us that the trip would be less than five hours, it actually took us more than seven to get as far as Coonoor, 17 kilometers from Ooty. As we crossed into Karnataka from Kerala, he commented about how much dirtier that state is. We had a long wait to get the proper documentation to move between states; hundreds of trucks lined both sides of the highway waiting to be checked and weighed. The drive took us through lush forests of young palm trees, which changed to deciduous trees as we started to ascend with a series of switchbacks.

Traffic was heavy on the narrow road: slow trucks and fast busses made the trip unpleasant in spite of dramatic views.

Sinister looking monkeys hung around on the roadsides, waiting for handouts; I shuddered to remember our last trip when we passed a band of monkeys swarming the open trunk of a parked car on our way to Mt. Abu. Arrived in Coonoor around 3:30; made a short stop at Sim’s Park, a pleasant botanical garden that is well maintained by women who were busy trimming hedges and weeding.

Arriving at Ooty, we visited the 1848 botanical gardens there, filled with people enjoying the brilliant a.ernoon.

Called Veenu Chopra to tell her we were visiting her childhood home; she fondly remembered the garden from her own school days in Ooty. Saw two Toda women opportunistically embroidering puthikuzhi shawls in front

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of a barrel-shaped bamboo hut. The original inhabitants of Ooty, there are only about 1500 members of this tribe le..

I bought a shawl from one of them for about $20: made of homespun cotton, it is embroidered with black and red traditional Toda motifs. On the way through town, spotted King Star Bakery, another of Veenu’s remembered places, and bought her a box of the fudge she nostalgically told me about. Drove along the lake and out of town about 4 kilometers to Fernhills Palace, the 1842 holiday retreat of the maharaja of Mysore and now a heritage hotel. When we arrived, discovered we were the only guests in this incredible place. A mammoth structure set in 45 acres, its style could be described as Neo-Gothic meets Swiss Chalet.

The huge ballroom was surrounded by an upper gallery, rich wood carvings and painted plaster detailing decorated the walls throughout, and there were so many wings and hallways and courtyards that it would be easy to get lost.

Old photographs of the maharaja, his family members, and his automobiles lined the halls. Our quarters, the Princess Jayalakshmi Suite, had a large carved bed, fireplace, separate office and sitting areas, a tea room, and a bathroom with shower, Jacuzzi and two marble sinks.

However, it took three men to get the electricity on in our room. Because there were too few guests to turn on the central heat, we were supplied with a miniscule heater that did a good job of warming toes, but little for our spacious room. We were told the hot water would be available a.er 6:00 PM but later the time was changed to 7:30. By 9:30, it was only lukewarm. Still, it is quite an experience to be here, although I would not want to wander the halls a.er dark.

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Thursday, February 4

Mysore

During the night, the temperature dropped below 40 degrees. Took lukewarm showers this morning as the hot water never materialized. Shiju picked us up at 8:00; he said he could hardly sleep last night, he was so cold. We all enjoyed the car heater as we descended through a dense pine forest that Shiju said was a backdrop for numerous Bollywood movies. Passed emerald hills of tea plants shaded by silver oaks; a morning mist hung over the lake. Exited the Nilgiri Hills through the Mudumalai Tiger Reserve; no tigers in sight but we saw a large elephant no more than 30 yards from the road. It was a treat to see an elephant free in the wild as he should be; his tusks were so white and he looked regal and proud. The three of us pooled our resources to find the road to Somnathpur: Jake read the map, Shiju asked directions, and I looked for signs (most of which I could not read). Impressed at the way people were uniformly helpful in giving directions. It took all morning to make our way along back roads that were in varying states of disrepair, but at around 1:00, we arrived at Keshava Temple, built by the Hoysalas in 1268. Dedicated to Vishnu, this compact starshaped temple exemplifies Hoysala cra.smanship: highlypolished, lathe-turned columns and delicate sculptures in schist, a material that hardens a.er carving and allows tiny details to survive the centuries without signs of wear. There were few visitors there with us, making it particularly magical. Enjoyed taking pictures of the figures and friezes that depicted various stories in Hindu mythology. Before leaving, mailed a postcard to ourselves in the red box provided, hoping that it will reach us at home with a special temple postmark. At 2:00, started for Mysore. On the way, noticed that there were piles of wheat spread out in the road. Learned that the villagers do this so that the passing traffic will thresh it for them. As we arrived in the city, were impressed at how attractive Mysore is, with wide boulevards and well-maintained buildings. In the center is the 32

Maharaja’s Palace, a treasure house of exquisite carvings and works of art. The main block of this Indo-Saracenic building, replete with domes, turrets, arches, and colonnades, was designed by Englishman Henry Irving in 1897. Had to leave our shoes and keep cameras packed away as we joined the crowds for a walk through its magnificent halls before escaping to our own palace. The Lalitha Mahal was a former royal guesthouse that is now a government run hotel. We were expecting something quirky, remembering our night at the Sheesh Mahal in Gwalior last year. First saw the hotel gleaming white in the late a.ernoon sun from its position on a hill above the city; it looked just as lovely as we drove up to the front. A doorman, dressed like the maharaja himself, welcomed us and showed us to reception. Although good-sized, our room is rather stark; the ceiling is at least 20 feet high, like other heritage hotels where we have stayed.

Had problems with the hot water again too, and a.er turning the tap all the way on, could not shut it off again.

Called the front desk; a couple of men from housekeeping arrived promptly and proceeded to bang on the pipes and drop tools on the tile floor. A.er a lot of clatter, the water was turned off by a knob below the sink. Walked the grounds while the sun was still out and explored the interior a.erward. Sat out on the terrace and enjoyed a Kingfisher: the weather could not have been better. Mysore Magic rum and pineapple cocktails in the Cue Bar before an Indian buffet in the extravagant dining room. Everything was set up so beautifully that at first we thought we were invading a formal event. Classical music with tabla and flute accompanied dinner. Visited a little family-owned art shop hidden under the grand staircase, where we bought a Bundi miniature from Rajasthan and a Buddhist chart, called a mandala. Such fun to talk about them with owner Dheeraj Bojaiah while his wife and sons pulled things out to show us.

Mudumalai Tiger Reserve

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Kesava Temple, Somanathpur

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Maharaja’s Palace, Mysore

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Friday, February 5

Chikmagalur

An early start, as Jake had a full day planned. Started with Srirangapatnam, an island 12 kilometers north of Mysore on the Kaveri River. The fort there was the site of a bloody battle in 1799 when the British stormed it and killed Tipu Sultan, the “Tiger of Mysore.” All this was of particular interest to me, as the battle forms the background of Wilkie Collins’s best-known novel, The Moonstone. Walking along what remained of the old walls, it was easy to imagine the scene as Wilkie described it: …My cousin and I were separated at the outset. I never saw him when we forded the river; when we planted the English flag in the first breach; when we crossed the ditch beyond; and, fighting every inch of our way, entered the town. It was only at dusk, when the place was ours, and after General Baird himself had found the dead body of Tipoo under a heap of the slain, that [we] met. …

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Saw the place where Tipu was slain, the vaulted prison where many British prisoners died, and the evocative ruins of the Lal Mahal where the Moonstone was plundered from the treasury.

Although all the guidebooks said that the summer palace, the Daria Daulat Bagh, and Gumbaz Mausoleum were closed on Fridays, were delighted to find them both open. Unfortunately, could not take pictures in the palace, where every inch of the teak walls was painted with colorful decorations. Sneaked photos of the murals depicting the 1780 victory of Tipu’s father, Haider Ali, over the British by photographing them over the railing when we were standing outside. At the impressive mausoleum, saw Tipu’s tomb under a tiger striped shroud.

Srirangapatnam

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As it was nearing 11:00, had to continue our itinerary in order to see all that we’d planned. Difficult to find our way to Sravana Belgola, the most important Jain sight in South India. Had no idea what road we were on until we discovered the yellow Karnatika signs to all the major archeological sites in the state. The road was a single lane at best and unpaved in parts, but it took us through areas where we could really see the people up close. Passed a line of sugar cane factories in a village and saw bullocks plowing the rich fields shaded by low palms. Saw more roadway threshing operations and stopped to take pictures. Arrived in Sravana Belgola around 12:30 and discussed whether we should embark on the climb to see the 58-foot monolithic statue of Gommateshvara, a naked male figure created in the 10th century, that stands atop a 470-foot monolithic hill. As the statue cannot be seen from below, we decided to tackle the 650 rock cut steps. It took us under 30 minutes to make the climb, in bare feet no less (although I cheated a little and kept my socks on).

The steps carried us through a series of temple enclosures where tips were solicited. Once we’d made it to the top, walked through the last door together so that we could see the statue at the same time, still standing, still meditating, as the centuries continue to pass. So still has the Gommateshvara stood that, according to legend, ants built their nests at his feet, snakes coiled around his ankles, and vines began to grow up his legs. A remarkable sight.

The trip down was much faster, of course, but we felt a little “jelly-legged” by the time we reached the bottom and retrieved our shoes. By 2:30, were on the road again, following the yellow signs to Halebid, the Hoysala capital in the 12th and 13th centuries. If we did not have those signs, would have thought we were surely lost, as the road continued to deteriorate and we bounced along impossible ruts, hoping to avoid a flat. Nearing the site, we passed a 44

series of natural lakes dotting the lush agricultural landscape. Feeling that we were in the middle of nowhere, thought that we would have the Hoysalashvara Temple, completed in 1121, to ourselves; were surprised to find masses of school children, Indian tour groups, and the attendant touts and vendors. It really did not matter however, for the temple is rich with the most delicate of carving with negligible wear or deterioration, made possible by the use of schist. Comparing these statues with the sandstone carvings in the Romanesque churches of France, we were blown away. Details such as strands of hair, pearl necklaces, and even subtle facial expressions survive because of the durability of the schist. Fi.een kilometers away was the third Hoysala masterpiece, the Chennakeshava Temple at Belur, built just a few years earlier, in 1117. Found the temple when we saw its 16th century gopura silhouetted against the late a.ernoon sky.

It was also crowded this Friday a.ernoon, but we made our way around the building, marveling at the relief carvings that cover the entire exterior. Of particular beauty are the roof brackets that depict female dancers, musicians, and hunters, standing within delicate foliage.

The sun was almost setting when we drove into Chikmagalur and started looking for the Taj Gateway Hotel, set in the midst of a coffee plantation. Shiju took us down dirt lanes and across the fields, using no perceptible logic. Jake intervened with common sense and we found the hotel just as dark was setting in. We have a cottage room with a balcony looking into the treetops. I was given a card with the list of Ayurvedic treatments available; wish we were here long enough to enjoy it all. Kingfishers and Indian buffet, sharing the dining room with a group of noisy German tourists. Then a shower and bed; Jake promises tomorrow will be a lighter schedule.

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Sravana Belgola

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Hoysalashvara Temple, Halebid

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Chennakeshava Temple, Belur 52

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Saturday, February 6

Hampi

Underway at 8:00 for the drive to Hampi, thinking we would arrive early and have that promised easier day.

Drove from Chikmagalur to Kadur, a distance of 38 kilometers, in under 40 minutes. However, Shiju took the wrong road out of Kadur and we progressed only 30 kilometers in the next hour and 45 minutes. Rather than a map, Shiju, relied instead on the directions of shopkeepers and passers-by. At one point, when he was asking for directions to Hospet, he was prepared to accept directions to a local hospital. This became increasingly frustrating, further exacerbated by his reluctance to admit uncertainty or to share any information with us. Another problem is Shiju’s inability to understand Kannada, the language of Karnataka, and the resulting necessity of seeking directions in a pidgin mish-mash of Indian languages and English. At one point, Jake got out of the car and was trying to show a man on the street where we wanted to go on our map.

Soon there was quite a crowd gathered around him, and at least eight willing helpers offered all manner of directions, with fingers pointing every which way. For hours, we jostled and bumped our way along a series of ill-maintained back roads. Although the ride was

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difficult, we saw interesting snapshots of untouched rural life in South India. At 3:30, arrived at Hampi, a UNESCO site, with its evocative ruins of Vijayanagar set within rocky ridges and granite boulders. The site, encompassing 26 square kilometers, was the capital of Hindu rulers for more than 200 years, reaching its zenith in the mid-16th century. Following a decisive defeat by Muslim forces in 1562, the city was sacked and destroyed and its sculpture defaced. As a result of its World Heritage Site designation, Hampi is seeing significant archeological restoration. Visited Virupaksha Temple, a principal pilgrimage site, finding it alive with small children dressed up in bright clothing. They were intrigued, as we were, by Lakshmi, the temple elephant, who will let you drop a coin in her trunk and then touch your head in acknowledgement and blessing. I did it three times so that Jake could take a picture of me; found the elephant’s gentle touch somehow comforting.

Returned to Shiju at 4:30; had asked him to find the location of our hotel while we were gone. We drove off, thinking he would be taking us only a kilometer or two, but he headed out, down the highway, providing no explanation.

Upon questioning, he informed us that the hotel was a 50-kilometer drive from the site. Were skeptical, but a.er a cell phone conversation with Raj at the hotel, learned that the Hampi Boulders Resort was across the river and required a two-hour journey to reach it, although it was only a couple of kilometers away as the crow flies. Traffic was unbelievable on the main road: a solid line of trucks in both directions; I wondered how the crumbling bridges manage to hold up under the constant stress. Turned off on what looked more like a towpath than a road that ran along the canal. Just when I was wondering how our car could possibly get by on it, we approached a huge truck with a tractor next to it, loading sugar cane. One fellow motioned for us to pass on the canal side. No way! I guess it would have been quite the day’s entertainment had we slipped off the bank. Eventually, the tractor backed up and we inched past. A.er four 180-degree reversals and at least eight stops to ask directions from people who had never heard of the hotel, made contact with a staff member who sent someone to meet us in a little hamlet four kilometers off the main road. He hopped in a jeep and we followed him

and another man on a motorcycle along a dusty road, turning down ever more narrow tracks. At last we passed through unmarked stone gates, just at dusk. This was the Hampi Boulders Resort, although no one would know it from any identifying sign. As soon as we arrived, my apprehensions (and sour mood) evaporated. The place merges into its surroundings; the buildings are stone and the restaurant is open air. Ours is the original cottage, a circular building of many levels, built right into the boulders at the end of the property, across a small canal.

It looks like a sort of stone age castle. At 7:00, joined other guests at the top of a granite mound for a bonfire and drinks served with grilled snacks made in front of us.

A buffet dinner followed at 8:00. Jake and I walked back through the darkness, glad to have our powerful LED flashlights with us. Went up to the roof of our cottage; the stars were like nothing we’d seen in a long time. As we easily identified Orion, I remembered my night in the Sahara Desert in Sudan and Jake reminisced about the skies in northern Michigan.

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Sunday, February 7

Hampi

Breakfasted with the monkeys on the veranda; heard a multiplicity of bird calls. At 8:00, the hotel driver, Ramu, drove us through glistening rice paddies to the riverbank, a journey of 7 kilometers that took 20 minutes. When he heard we were from the US, he started singing the praises of Barack Obama and Venus Williams. A.er slipping down a soggy embankment to the water’s edge, we embarked on a 20-foot wooden boat with a small outboard motor for a 5-minute passage across the Tungabhadra River to the main sites of Hampi. Contrary to the overcrowded launches I had read about, there were only four of us on board, plus a dog. Bhanu, a guide arranged through the hotel, met us on our arrival and directed our attention to the morning bathing of Lakshmi, the temple elephant.

Three mahouts were vigorously soaping and scrubbing one of her sides as she lay in the river; she got up and shi.ed positions so that they could scrub the other. Reentered the Virupaksha Temple, where Bhanu gave us some dynastic history and answered lots of questions about Hindu beliefs and practices. As we were examining the paintings on the temple ceiling, Lakshmi was led in to perform her daily ritual of rising on her rear legs and then getting on her knees before the temple sanctuary. A.er her bath, she was adorned with three horizontal white

Shiva stripes on her forehead and a red bindi. Great luck that we happened to be there at precisely that moment to watch her. Bhanu took us through the inner sanctum of the temple and explained the rituals performed by the devotees. The priest anointed us both with our own bindis for a small fee. We passed our hands over the fire in an oil lamp and then brushed them over our heads; the priest then poured holy water into our cupped hands. Normally one would take a sip and brush the rest over the head, but Bhanu cautioned us against this, remarking that the water is clean for Hindus but could cause “stomach disturbance” for foreigners. He explained the union of lingum and yoni as the symbol of man and woman and thus of power and creation. Leaving the temple, being careful to step over the threshold and not on it, we entered the Sacred Precinct through its gate and ascended the smooth granite face of the rock containing many temple structures. Later, in the Royal Precinct, saw the enchanting Indo-Islamic Lotus Mahal, where the king’s two wives cooled off before returning to their adjoining palaces. Nearby, the 15th century domed Elephant Stables lie appropriately adjacent to where the mahouts resided.

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Virupaksha Temple

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Krishna Temple 71

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Elephant Stables

At the Hazararama Temple, Bhanu presented an abridged story of the Ramayana, pointing out various scenes from the epic of Ravena and Rama on the walls. If one walks around the temple three times, one can relive the exciting story. Bhanu explained that the Ramayana is a moral tale of the ideal man, while the Mahabharata is more of a lesson in how to live in a competitive world and features Krishna, the “crazy boy and ladies man.” At the Vitthala Temple, he showed us sculptures depicting the shenanigans of Krishna, who allegedly had 16,000 lovers; stories of his escapades are told in the temple’s stone columns. Bhanu told us (and later showed us) how the slender pillars in the ornately decorated congregation hall or sabha mantapa were constructed to produce different kinds of musical sounds when struck. At the entrance of the Vitthala Temple rests a stone chariot that has become the symbol of Hampi, just as the wheel has come to represent Konark. A.er the formal tour, Bhanu took us down to the river again and arranged for us to have a ride in a coracle, a circular rush basket boat. The three of us climbed in and enjoyed a peaceful half hour, spinning and floating down the river while discussing our favorite Bollywood movies, with the enthusiastic interjections of

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the boatman. Shiju met us on the shore and drove us back to the boat launch area where we waited our turn for the return trip. The boat from the other side arrived and we watched as a motorcycle was unloaded, as well as a large bag of watermelons, a dog, and at least 25 passengers including a woman in a chador, another with two baskets on her head, a handful of young people with large backpacks, and six people with suitcases. When it was our turn to load up, it was more of the same. People were sitting on strangers’ laps and others had to stand; the boatman had all he could handle to maneuver his rocking load among the partially submerged boulders; glad that the trip was only five minutes and in fairly shallow water.

A hot and sticky 20-minute ride back to the hotel; could not wait to jump in the shower but when we opened the door to our room, saw that the electricity was off, so no air conditioning and no hot water. Since there was no phone in the room and it was 320 paces (Jake counted them) to the main building, decided to just stay there and have a beer and dinner, sending a member of the staff back to set things right in our room. We had not been told that the master electrical switch to our cottage was located outside on the covered porch.

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Vitthala Temple

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Monday, February 8

Badami

This morning, shared breakfast in the company of peahens. Today was our day to visit the capital cities of the Chalukyas, who ruled much of the Deccan area of India from the 5th to the 8th centuries. Aihole, Pattadakal, and Badami are located in the Malprabha River valley, a short distance from each other. The Chalukyas built a surprising number of temples, both structural and cave, throughout the area surrounding these cities. Le. the Boulders at 8:00 and bumped our way down the dirt road back to National Highway 13, the major road to Mumbai, with its accompanying truck traffic. Turned off on a state road for the last 18 kilometers to Aihole. Stopped to take a picture of the road sign for Mike, figuring he would be amused (it is actually pronounced Ay-o-lee).

Durga Temple, the principal structure in the site, stands out due to its curved, apse-like sanctuary. An open colonnade surrounds it, along which niches that house elaborate carvings of Hindu gods and sensuous couples. It was only 12 kilometers to Pattadakal, a UNESCO site situated on the banks of the Malprabha River with a series of 8th century temples that were used for religious celebrations and royal ceremonies. The site is particularly interesting because both North Indian curved towers and South Indian stepped pyramidal towers are featured in its architecture. While trying to photograph the ornately carved pillars depicting mythological and religious stories in the Virupaksha Temple, friendly children kept approaching us, asking our names, shaking our hands, and wanting to pose for pictures. Indian children are so open and curious, one cannot help but warm to them.

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Watched a priest performing rituals in the Nandi Pavilion; a specially-fitted red robe was draped over the bulls’ back. A stream of worshippers prayed before Nandi, taking the bindi and leaving coins. Below, a man and a woman prostrated themselves and crawled on their stomachs following a path created by a stream of holy river water sprinkled before them; something I had not seen before. Wish we’d had Bhanu with us to explain. At 1:00, were on our way to Badami, dramatically situated within red sandstone cliffs that overlook the green water of a large lake, where we visited four Chalukya rock-cut temples. Ascending a series of steep stone steps, entered a Shiva temple, followed by two temples dedicated to Vishnu, and finally, a Jain temple at the top. Found some beautiful carvings, especially a 12-armed dancing Shiva, or Nataraja. However, it was hard to be impressed a.er the wondrous caves at Ellora and Ajanta, which we visited the last time we were in India. Were accosted by bands of unruly school kids who liked nothing better than to scream in the caves. The monkeys were a problem too; heeded a sign at the entrance that read, “Beware of Monkey Menace” and kept clear, but out of nowhere, one came over and gave me a good swat on the leg. Although it was still early, decided to call it a day and check in at the Hotel Badami Court at 3:00. I know that for one, Shiju was delighted; he has been working very hard for us on this trip. The hotel is nothing fancy, but it is comfortable and appears to have working air conditioning and hot water, although the electricity has briefly gone out twice since I sat down to write.

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Durga Gudi, Aihole 87

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Pattadakal A Unesco Site

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Badami

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Journal kept by Susan Hanes during a six-week trip to India by way of London, Qatar, and Dublin, from January 7 to February 17, 2010.

Photos by Susan Hanes and George Leonard, copyright 2010. v.3

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