Trip to India - Day 2 (April 21, 2006)
Starting the Day
We set our alarm for 5:15; we had to make it to the nearby Tamil Nadu Tourism Development Corporation office to catch our bus for 6:00 a.m. We arrived before the bus, and Fay went off to pick up a few bottles of water and some snacks, as we didn’t know when we would be served breakfast. Three veggie samosas make an entirely satisfactory snack and can be easily eaten on a bus.
The first stop was the main TNDC depot, where we were kicked off to wait for another bus. There was one other Caucasian on the tour, an Italian lad name Emanuel. We tried to speak a little, but did not have much luck.
Preponements, Anyone?
While waiting for the second bus, I got bored and read the fine print on our tour ticket. I learnt a new word that day. The conditions on the ticket state:
Kanchipuram
Kanchipuram lies some sixty kilometres to the south-west of Chennai. The longest part of the trip seems to be getting out of Chennai itself. Somewhere along the way, we stopped for breakfast (idli, vada, and the like). The first stop in Kanchi was a sari factory and store – I rather suspect Fay was their best customer that day. What struck me was that there were two young ladies whose job seemed to be folding saris that had been shown to potential customers. They would sit on either side of a pile of unfolded saris, grab one, and fold it in a matter of about twenty seconds.
Next, we went to the Ekambareshvara Temple. Once again, foreigners are not permitted in the sanctum, but the site is huge, and there was enough to see outside of the restricted areas to keep us interested. Highlights include the Hallway of a Thousand Pillars, the carcass of a 3000 year mango tree, and various statues.
After that, we went to the Kailasanatha temple. Our Hindu co-tourists visited the sanctum, which had a rather long line up. I waited around, tried (but failed) to make conversation with Emanuel, and watched the elephant at the entrance bless pilgrims with his trunk. He had been painted with a design of some sort in white; it was rather impressive.
Our last stop in Kanchi was the Varadarajaperumal Temple. As we were wondering around waiting for the visitors to the sanctum to return, a lackey came over and invited us to view a pillared hallway nearby. At the very least, it was a chance to come out of the sun, and admission was only one rupee each. As we entered, a distinguished-looking older gentleman approached us. I saw immediately what was going to happen – we were going to be given a guided tour, and then asked for a donation to the temple when we finished. Unfortunately for our guide, I had only Sri Lankan rupees in my wallet.
He introduced himself as a Brahmin, and a temple priest. He took us around, and pointed out many of the better bas reliefs on the pillars. There were both tantric and religious themes in evidence. He must have eventually decided that Fay was Hindu, even if she was a foreigner, and called one of his assistants over to escort her into the sanctum. He and I continued the tour, him making small talk when he wasn’t pointing out notable sculptures. I was carrying our saris (having been advised that leaving them on the tour bus might result in their disappearance), and he asked me how much we had paid. I honestly didn’t know, not having much patience for shopping, but I also suspect that he was trying to gauge how rich we were, so he could tell how much money he could extract from us. Fay returned shortly, as it transpired that the sanctum had been closed, but she continued the tour separately.
Eventually, I started feeling the hot Tamil Nadu sun. With the onset of the early stages of dehydration came a desire to escape back to the tour bus, so I made my excuses and left. Before I could escape cleanly, he told me again that he was a Brahmin, a temple priest who drew no salary, and that any donation to the temple would be most welcome. I explained that Fay had the real money; all I had was Sri Lankan currency on me. He seemed to accept that explanation, and as I left the hall, he rejoined Fay and her new guide. Before long, I heard him asking her about her job and how many people she managed – no doubt once again trying to guess how rich we are.
On leaving the temple grounds, I could not find a tour bus. A child who was on the same tour asked me if I knew where our bus went; I, unfortunately, didn’t recognize him, but as there were only Caucasians around, and I was noticeably taller and more bearded than Emanuel, he had no trouble recognizing me. Cynic that I am, I thought some new scam or other bamboozlement was being perpetrated, but it turned out that he and his family really were in the same predicament as me. One of the locals finally realized our problem, and pointed in the direction the bus had gone. It was now parked on the far side of the temple, requiring we take a longish walk barefoot over the dirt road. As we got to the bus, parked on a nearby paved road, I thought I would take a short cut over the tarmac. That was one of the most painful walks imaginable – much worse than any beach I have ever walked on. Once we were all back on the bus, we set off for Mamallapuram.
Mamallapuram
Mamallapuram is an ancient seaport. It is best known for stone sculptures. There are two sites of historic interest, both designated as UNESCO World Heritage Sites. The first we visited is called the Five Chariots (Pancha Ratha), a set of giant seventh-century structures each sculpted out of a large rock. There is some debate as to whether they are incomplete temples, or merely ancient demonstrations of the sculptor’s art, as each is in a distinct style. They are incomplete; legend telling that the king ran out of money from waging wars and could not pay for the lowest portion to be finished.
The second site, dating from the same period, is called the Shore Temple. It has stood on the Bay of Bengal for almost 1400 years, with the salty sea spray softening its edges. It is small, but very striking. The tsunami of December 26, 2004, revealed parts of some sunken temples and various sculptures nearby, although none of these can be seen by tourists.
The Backwaters of Tamil Nadu
One of the initiatives sponsored by the Tamil Nadu Tourism Development Corporation is a series of boathouses along the Bay of Bengal. They give tours of the backwaters of the bay, and rent row, paddle, and motor boats. As the TNDC also ran the tour, it was no doubt inevitable that we would end up at one of their boathouses. We were loaded into a trio of boats, but not without some complications – there was a Tamil film being made on the dock, and we could only embark and debark during breaks in the filming. Fortunately, these are frequent, but we had to make our way along the dock past what looked to be the film production staff of Tamil Nadu. The backwaters were peaceful, uncrowded. Very different from Chennai. After we left the boat, we were offered tea. By coincidence, it appeared than neither Emanuel nor I like tea with milk. Our driver ordered black tea for me, and one with sugar for Emanuel. We drank, and were soon on our way.
As we drove back north to Chennai, the driver pointed out some shantytowns of refugees from the tsunami living under blue plastic tarpaulins.
VGP Golden Beach
We arrived here at about 4:45. This turned out to be what we would call a theme park in North America. It is apparently quite popular; our driver told us that anyone who wanted to stay and catch a public bus back to Chennai was welcome to do so, as long as they let him know not to wait.
The park is geared primarily towards children; we were befriended by one of the young ladies on the tour, about ten years old, and we saw her enjoying some of the rides. The main attraction for us was that it had access to the beach! Although I had no bathing suit and was stuck in my shorts, I wandered out into the Bay of Bengal to gather some shells as the waves went in and out. I was soon completely soaked, but had dried off for the most part by the time we got back on the bus at 6:00 p.m.
We were back at Egmore, where our hotel was, by about 8:00. We decided to try the vegetarian place across from our hotel; we had a decent meal, returned to our room, and retired. For the second night in a row, we were so tired we did not even open the bottle of scotch we had bought in Abu Dhabi and carried from Colombo. Saturday was going to be another long day.
We set our alarm for 5:15; we had to make it to the nearby Tamil Nadu Tourism Development Corporation office to catch our bus for 6:00 a.m. We arrived before the bus, and Fay went off to pick up a few bottles of water and some snacks, as we didn’t know when we would be served breakfast. Three veggie samosas make an entirely satisfactory snack and can be easily eaten on a bus.
The first stop was the main TNDC depot, where we were kicked off to wait for another bus. There was one other Caucasian on the tour, an Italian lad name Emanuel. We tried to speak a little, but did not have much luck.
Preponements, Anyone?
While waiting for the second bus, I got bored and read the fine print on our tour ticket. I learnt a new word that day. The conditions on the ticket state:
If one pre-or-postponement is permitted before 72 hrs subject to availability of seats, no further preponement/postponement/cancellation will be permitted.
Kanchipuram
Kanchipuram lies some sixty kilometres to the south-west of Chennai. The longest part of the trip seems to be getting out of Chennai itself. Somewhere along the way, we stopped for breakfast (idli, vada, and the like). The first stop in Kanchi was a sari factory and store – I rather suspect Fay was their best customer that day. What struck me was that there were two young ladies whose job seemed to be folding saris that had been shown to potential customers. They would sit on either side of a pile of unfolded saris, grab one, and fold it in a matter of about twenty seconds.
Next, we went to the Ekambareshvara Temple. Once again, foreigners are not permitted in the sanctum, but the site is huge, and there was enough to see outside of the restricted areas to keep us interested. Highlights include the Hallway of a Thousand Pillars, the carcass of a 3000 year mango tree, and various statues.
After that, we went to the Kailasanatha temple. Our Hindu co-tourists visited the sanctum, which had a rather long line up. I waited around, tried (but failed) to make conversation with Emanuel, and watched the elephant at the entrance bless pilgrims with his trunk. He had been painted with a design of some sort in white; it was rather impressive.
Our last stop in Kanchi was the Varadarajaperumal Temple. As we were wondering around waiting for the visitors to the sanctum to return, a lackey came over and invited us to view a pillared hallway nearby. At the very least, it was a chance to come out of the sun, and admission was only one rupee each. As we entered, a distinguished-looking older gentleman approached us. I saw immediately what was going to happen – we were going to be given a guided tour, and then asked for a donation to the temple when we finished. Unfortunately for our guide, I had only Sri Lankan rupees in my wallet.
He introduced himself as a Brahmin, and a temple priest. He took us around, and pointed out many of the better bas reliefs on the pillars. There were both tantric and religious themes in evidence. He must have eventually decided that Fay was Hindu, even if she was a foreigner, and called one of his assistants over to escort her into the sanctum. He and I continued the tour, him making small talk when he wasn’t pointing out notable sculptures. I was carrying our saris (having been advised that leaving them on the tour bus might result in their disappearance), and he asked me how much we had paid. I honestly didn’t know, not having much patience for shopping, but I also suspect that he was trying to gauge how rich we were, so he could tell how much money he could extract from us. Fay returned shortly, as it transpired that the sanctum had been closed, but she continued the tour separately.
Eventually, I started feeling the hot Tamil Nadu sun. With the onset of the early stages of dehydration came a desire to escape back to the tour bus, so I made my excuses and left. Before I could escape cleanly, he told me again that he was a Brahmin, a temple priest who drew no salary, and that any donation to the temple would be most welcome. I explained that Fay had the real money; all I had was Sri Lankan currency on me. He seemed to accept that explanation, and as I left the hall, he rejoined Fay and her new guide. Before long, I heard him asking her about her job and how many people she managed – no doubt once again trying to guess how rich we are.
On leaving the temple grounds, I could not find a tour bus. A child who was on the same tour asked me if I knew where our bus went; I, unfortunately, didn’t recognize him, but as there were only Caucasians around, and I was noticeably taller and more bearded than Emanuel, he had no trouble recognizing me. Cynic that I am, I thought some new scam or other bamboozlement was being perpetrated, but it turned out that he and his family really were in the same predicament as me. One of the locals finally realized our problem, and pointed in the direction the bus had gone. It was now parked on the far side of the temple, requiring we take a longish walk barefoot over the dirt road. As we got to the bus, parked on a nearby paved road, I thought I would take a short cut over the tarmac. That was one of the most painful walks imaginable – much worse than any beach I have ever walked on. Once we were all back on the bus, we set off for Mamallapuram.
Mamallapuram
Mamallapuram is an ancient seaport. It is best known for stone sculptures. There are two sites of historic interest, both designated as UNESCO World Heritage Sites. The first we visited is called the Five Chariots (Pancha Ratha), a set of giant seventh-century structures each sculpted out of a large rock. There is some debate as to whether they are incomplete temples, or merely ancient demonstrations of the sculptor’s art, as each is in a distinct style. They are incomplete; legend telling that the king ran out of money from waging wars and could not pay for the lowest portion to be finished.
The second site, dating from the same period, is called the Shore Temple. It has stood on the Bay of Bengal for almost 1400 years, with the salty sea spray softening its edges. It is small, but very striking. The tsunami of December 26, 2004, revealed parts of some sunken temples and various sculptures nearby, although none of these can be seen by tourists.
The Backwaters of Tamil Nadu
One of the initiatives sponsored by the Tamil Nadu Tourism Development Corporation is a series of boathouses along the Bay of Bengal. They give tours of the backwaters of the bay, and rent row, paddle, and motor boats. As the TNDC also ran the tour, it was no doubt inevitable that we would end up at one of their boathouses. We were loaded into a trio of boats, but not without some complications – there was a Tamil film being made on the dock, and we could only embark and debark during breaks in the filming. Fortunately, these are frequent, but we had to make our way along the dock past what looked to be the film production staff of Tamil Nadu. The backwaters were peaceful, uncrowded. Very different from Chennai. After we left the boat, we were offered tea. By coincidence, it appeared than neither Emanuel nor I like tea with milk. Our driver ordered black tea for me, and one with sugar for Emanuel. We drank, and were soon on our way.
As we drove back north to Chennai, the driver pointed out some shantytowns of refugees from the tsunami living under blue plastic tarpaulins.
VGP Golden Beach
We arrived here at about 4:45. This turned out to be what we would call a theme park in North America. It is apparently quite popular; our driver told us that anyone who wanted to stay and catch a public bus back to Chennai was welcome to do so, as long as they let him know not to wait.
The park is geared primarily towards children; we were befriended by one of the young ladies on the tour, about ten years old, and we saw her enjoying some of the rides. The main attraction for us was that it had access to the beach! Although I had no bathing suit and was stuck in my shorts, I wandered out into the Bay of Bengal to gather some shells as the waves went in and out. I was soon completely soaked, but had dried off for the most part by the time we got back on the bus at 6:00 p.m.
We were back at Egmore, where our hotel was, by about 8:00. We decided to try the vegetarian place across from our hotel; we had a decent meal, returned to our room, and retired. For the second night in a row, we were so tired we did not even open the bottle of scotch we had bought in Abu Dhabi and carried from Colombo. Saturday was going to be another long day.
posted by James McLeod at
5:24 PM
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