Well,
I just washed the cow poo off my face, but I get ahead of myself...
The train journey from Ooty to Pondicherry was grueling (much as the journey from Cochin to Ooty). Both were basically 24 hour journeys (which was fine) on three different trains. The switching trains part was rough. But most of the world's greatest places are difficult to get to (like Provincetown?) perhaps that is what makes them so great.
In Chennai (Madras) I had to switch train stations for the train to Pondy. On the map, it looked like a short walk, so that was my plan, since we arrived at 5am and my next train was not until 7:40. I was chatting with a cancer researcher and an engineering student on the overnight train to Chennai and told them I was going to walk to Egmore station. They both laughed! The cancer researcher said "It's not Ooty, you know."
Still not clear what he meant, I was determined to waste time with a walk. Also I needed to wake up and a walk would be just the thing. Well... The walk was like walking along the Massachusetts Turnpike, but without the shoulder or even a curb to walk on. Again there were occasional sidewalks but they were full of sleeping horses. Yeah, that was unexpected to me, also. I managed to make it in one piece somehow, had a vegetarian breakfast with two boys standing at my table staring at me, then went across the street to the station. (Remember this I like crossing the Mass Pike)!
The Lonely Planet says about Pondicherry, "If you are expecting a sleepy little 'ville Provençal' then you are in for a rude surprise, 'mon ami!'"
The traffic is insane here. But in the French quarter, where my hotel is, it is relatively quiet. Pondicherry has a canal running north and south through the down, dividing the city: Indian Pondy to the west, French Pondy to the east. Apparently 'canal' is a Tamil word, meaning 'open sewer.'
Along the sea front is a wide boulevard, with a lovely promenade along the waterfront. Finally a place to walk. They even close the boulevard to traffic from 7pm to 7:30am. Everyone comes out to stroll here. It's really sweet. I've been running there in the mornings also. This is not a beach though, the promenade is built up above the sea front with loads of black jagged boulders and apparently the current is quite deadly here. Can't have everything.
Pondicherry has proven to be a nice respite in the middle of my trip from south Indian vegetarian food. I've had steak frites for dinner twice! Yum.
My first night, after dinner, I walked along the sea front promenade and made my way to one of the big Hindu temples to check out the action. There was a fire ceremony going on, so I went in. When it was over, I was commanded to sit down. Uh... A soon as I was handed a large leaf, I knew what was coming... I didn't know the Tamil words for "No thank you, I just had steak au poivre and a beer." So the began dishing out all sorts of prasad onto my leaf. The first priest dishes out a veg biryani, the second dished out cooked chick peas (actually he threw them at me, with most going down my shirt) and the third dishes out some sort of cooked grain with spices. It was all very good.
The next day, up at dawn for a run and a proper French petite dejeuner and then off with a car and driver to Chidambaram. Chidambaram, besides being fun to say, is home to the Nataraja Temple Complex. This is purportedly where Shiva and Kali got into a dance competition. Shiva won with an awesome high kick (as seen in all the statues of him) and was thus crowned Nataraja, King of the Dance (not to be confused with that Irish group). The temple is over a thousand years old and it was awesome. There were over a thousand pilgrims inside praying and being blessed. The place was chock full of Hindu priests, young and old, with some radical haircuts!
I went with the flow, doing what the other pilgrims were doing, pushing my way into small sanctuaries, making my way clockwise around the inner sanctum, pushing and being pushed by way too many people in a very enclosed space. Various priests blessed me, smearing things onto my forehead, such as the ashes of cow poo, vermillion, turmeric, and some other thing I'm frightened to know what it was.
It was such a spiritual place. And huge too. I walked around for a couple of hours inside and out. Since it was a sacred place, I was only asked a few times to pose for photos with young men.
Before coming to India, I was browsing through a book in Roger's apartment, called the Rough Guide's 100 things to do before you die. One of the things on the list was eat a banana-leaf lunch in Chidambaram at Sri Ganesa Bhawan (in shadow of Nataranja Temple). I managed to find the place and for 40 rupis (80 cents or 50 pence) you get an all-you-can-eat vegetarian meal served to you on a dirty banana leaf, with a glass of water direct from the Ganges, complete with two older men standing at your table staring at you while you eat.
p.s.
Sometimes you are never quite sure what they are selling
p.p.s
नमस्ते
The train journey from Ooty to Pondicherry was grueling (much as the journey from Cochin to Ooty). Both were basically 24 hour journeys (which was fine) on three different trains. The switching trains part was rough. But most of the world's greatest places are difficult to get to (like Provincetown?) perhaps that is what makes them so great.
In Chennai (Madras) I had to switch train stations for the train to Pondy. On the map, it looked like a short walk, so that was my plan, since we arrived at 5am and my next train was not until 7:40. I was chatting with a cancer researcher and an engineering student on the overnight train to Chennai and told them I was going to walk to Egmore station. They both laughed! The cancer researcher said "It's not Ooty, you know."
Still not clear what he meant, I was determined to waste time with a walk. Also I needed to wake up and a walk would be just the thing. Well... The walk was like walking along the Massachusetts Turnpike, but without the shoulder or even a curb to walk on. Again there were occasional sidewalks but they were full of sleeping horses. Yeah, that was unexpected to me, also. I managed to make it in one piece somehow, had a vegetarian breakfast with two boys standing at my table staring at me, then went across the street to the station. (Remember this I like crossing the Mass Pike)!
The Lonely Planet says about Pondicherry, "If you are expecting a sleepy little 'ville Provençal' then you are in for a rude surprise, 'mon ami!'"
The traffic is insane here. But in the French quarter, where my hotel is, it is relatively quiet. Pondicherry has a canal running north and south through the down, dividing the city: Indian Pondy to the west, French Pondy to the east. Apparently 'canal' is a Tamil word, meaning 'open sewer.'
Along the sea front is a wide boulevard, with a lovely promenade along the waterfront. Finally a place to walk. They even close the boulevard to traffic from 7pm to 7:30am. Everyone comes out to stroll here. It's really sweet. I've been running there in the mornings also. This is not a beach though, the promenade is built up above the sea front with loads of black jagged boulders and apparently the current is quite deadly here. Can't have everything.
Pondicherry has proven to be a nice respite in the middle of my trip from south Indian vegetarian food. I've had steak frites for dinner twice! Yum.
My first night, after dinner, I walked along the sea front promenade and made my way to one of the big Hindu temples to check out the action. There was a fire ceremony going on, so I went in. When it was over, I was commanded to sit down. Uh... A soon as I was handed a large leaf, I knew what was coming... I didn't know the Tamil words for "No thank you, I just had steak au poivre and a beer." So the began dishing out all sorts of prasad onto my leaf. The first priest dishes out a veg biryani, the second dished out cooked chick peas (actually he threw them at me, with most going down my shirt) and the third dishes out some sort of cooked grain with spices. It was all very good.
The next day, up at dawn for a run and a proper French petite dejeuner and then off with a car and driver to Chidambaram. Chidambaram, besides being fun to say, is home to the Nataraja Temple Complex. This is purportedly where Shiva and Kali got into a dance competition. Shiva won with an awesome high kick (as seen in all the statues of him) and was thus crowned Nataraja, King of the Dance (not to be confused with that Irish group). The temple is over a thousand years old and it was awesome. There were over a thousand pilgrims inside praying and being blessed. The place was chock full of Hindu priests, young and old, with some radical haircuts!
I went with the flow, doing what the other pilgrims were doing, pushing my way into small sanctuaries, making my way clockwise around the inner sanctum, pushing and being pushed by way too many people in a very enclosed space. Various priests blessed me, smearing things onto my forehead, such as the ashes of cow poo, vermillion, turmeric, and some other thing I'm frightened to know what it was.
It was such a spiritual place. And huge too. I walked around for a couple of hours inside and out. Since it was a sacred place, I was only asked a few times to pose for photos with young men.
Before coming to India, I was browsing through a book in Roger's apartment, called the Rough Guide's 100 things to do before you die. One of the things on the list was eat a banana-leaf lunch in Chidambaram at Sri Ganesa Bhawan (in shadow of Nataranja Temple). I managed to find the place and for 40 rupis (80 cents or 50 pence) you get an all-you-can-eat vegetarian meal served to you on a dirty banana leaf, with a glass of water direct from the Ganges, complete with two older men standing at your table staring at you while you eat.
p.s.
Sometimes you are never quite sure what they are sellingp.p.s
Matrimandir at Auroville : I can't even begin to explain this one, sorry. You'll have to google it.
I was there today.
I was there today.
नमस्ते
Matrimandir at Auroville looks like the Basket Ball Hall of Fame in Springfield but it leaves me a question about this trip. WTF would you know about the Mass Pike when you never drive past Truro. Hmmmm!
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