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Published: September 8th 2007
Excited to be moving on to our next destination, my travel companions, now consisting of Abi, Sangeev, Chitra and Mahaish (sorry for butcherous spelling!), and I boarded our sleeper car train at Chennai Station. The novelty of a train with beds on it had me in high spirits, and I was also looking forward to visiting yet another of the south Indian states.
Getting on the train is always a dramatic little adventure unto itself, especially in the larger stations (like in Chennai). One must first determine what platform the train is to arrive on and then find the most effective means of navigating to that place. Once the platform has been found, one must calculate where, approximately, the right car will arrive on said platform. This involves some intricate speculation, asking around and luck. When the train does arrive (typically late), one will necessarily have to adjust his/her positioning to find the correct car. This in the most important, and stressful, element of boarding an Indian train as you often only have a few minutes to get aborad with all of your luggage, children, travel mates etc. Despite the hubub of it all, it is an exilerating experience, and
Photoshoot with random Indian family
A display of the cult of whiteness, alive and doing well enroute to Mysore... oy veh...we managed to successfully board our sleeper car and depart for Bangalore, in the state of Karnataka. (As an interesting little aside, when people have asked me "Where from?" and I have responded "Canada" they have often mistaken it for "Karnataka," although I can assure you I don't look anything like any of the people I saw there...)
Having successfully boarded our train, asked our fellow cabin mates how to properly operate the beds and determined which stop we were to get off at, we turned in for a very peaceful (if brief) slumber. I especially appreciated the economics of this mode of transportation, as Rs. 700 got you both from Chennai to Bangalore as well as one night's accommodation. Pretty sweet!
We arrived at Bangalore East Station at 5am and paid through the nose for an auto to our hotel. (Auto drivers always charge double at night - or early morning - because they have no guarentee of return fare.) We checked in at Hotel Ajantha where I was fortunate enought to get my own room. After having bunked with others for many days, I was happy to have some privacy, especially at the incredibley reasonable rate
of Rs. 790 per night. After going through the check in ritual (giving my passport for photocopying, declaring my name, home address, date of arrival, last place I stayed, nationality, occupation, passport number and - sigh - signature) reserved specially for foreigners (which did not apply to my Indian-looking travel mates), I found my room and rested a few hours, after a very nice bucket bath.
In the later morning (9:30am) we were greeted by Mahaish's friend, Murgish, and went out for breakfast and some strolling. I was ecstatic to finally be walking around (we had taken cars and autos everywhere up to this point) and really enjoyed the less chaotic demeanor of Bangalore. It definitely had a more western (sorry Po.Co. readers - but you know what I mean, damn it!) feeling to it, with shops selling western brand clothing, restaurants with line-ups and streetlights that were occassionally obeyed. After some saree shopping (which held some interest for me as the salesperson spoke in English) and lunch (yum Paranthas!) we all split up and I was left to wander by myself for awhile. I walked down into a bazaar-type section, put my iPod on (as much as to
Maharajah's Palace, Mysore
pretty freakin' beautiful on the inside, where cameras are not allowed :( enjoy some music as to avoid being harassed) and wandered about, enjoying the peculiar mix of modern and ancient that seems to define Indian cities. On any given metropolitian street you'll see everything from designer shoes, to street hawkers selling plastic toy cars, from ice cream parlours to store owners feeding cows apples through the window. Beautiful & bizarre.
That evening we attended a delicious dinner at Murgish's home (to which all 5 of us travelled in one auto!) and shared in some warm conversation. Of all the meals I have eaten here in India, the home cooked have been by far the best. We made our way (expensively once again) back to the hotel, where I enjoyed a conversation with Yo at the STD/ISD booth across the courtyard (he leaves for Ghana very soon!!!!) and a peaceful sleep in my glorious single, non-A/C room, with 3 cockroaches. The climate in Bangalore is perferct; nice and warm during the day and sweater weather at night. Spectacular...
The next morning we woke early (again) and made our way to the bus station for a daytrip to Mysore. Despite the sign in the government bus station warning us of touters,
The Gift of Kindness
I will never forget the woman who gave me these flowers..... the human spirit is a beautiful thing... we decided to go with a package offered by a man who approached us for an all day trip of guided sightseeing. All for Rs. 350. Sounded pretty good, so we decided to be adventurous (yay!) and went for it. What we really wanted to see, the Maharaja's Palace and gardens were included in this package, so hell, why not! What resulted was an entire day (8:30am-11:30pm) on a very rickety bus, enforced shopping and eating (food was good; if I never go in another saree shop I will die a happy woman) and a few sightseeing stops I could have left India without having witnessed. One of said stops was at a large temple, which I did not enter. With iPod forcefield engaged (although it really didn't work) I became quite self-consciously aware that I was the only white person as far as the eye could see. At this point I experienced my first encounter with the cult of white celebrity. I noticed I was standing in the way of a family photo op. and went to move, and then realized that they had covertly been trying to take a picture with me! Kind of embarassed, I agreed to have my photo taken with them and then figured, what the hell, and had them take one with my camera as well. The first time was kind of interesting, by the fourth or fifth time (in which a random guy put his arm around me - ACK!) I was about finished playing free, novelty white chick to the masses and made my way swiftly back to the bus.
We finally made our way to the Maharaja's Palace, which was really quite splendid, on the outskirts of which were (of course) more hawkers. Try as I might to conceal my whiteness and all of the assumptions that go along with it, I was confronted with very forceful salespeople all calling after me; "Ma'am, like buy purse?" "Ma'am, you like sunglasses?" etc. etc. etc. As I approached the bus, my safe (if rather dilapidated) haven, a small young woman came up to me asking if I like flowers. Her demeanor was different and she came across as a true opportunist and didn't have any of the desperate pushiness to her. She asked the typical questions, to which I responded politely and said goodbye. "Maybe next time" she called after me. About to board the bus, Chitra got my attention, telling me the woman had something for me. I turned back to her and she extended a single, pink rose to me saying "for you." I was shocked. Not wanting to turn down her gift, and also not wanting to take the goods of a poor woman with nothing in return, I gave her Rs. 5. She shook her head and handed me another rose saying "for your friend." We looked at each other as I took in the sweet smell of the flowers, and I thanked her for her kindness. Touched, I got back on the bus where Chitra told me the woman had asked her if I was her friend and said that I was very pretty and had given her the flower to give to me. While I cannot possibly stop for every hawker who appraoches me, I feel troubled that I am perhaps not only turning down their wares, but also the potential for the human contact whichI am seeking here. What to do? On this point, I am at a loss... Helpful hints warmly welcomed 😊
After a less than spectacular light and sound fountain show at the gardens we returned to Bangalore (thank gods!) I must admit, I spent the whole day being very distracted by the thought of Yo leaving for Ghana (meaning no more phone - poo - and the possibility of no e-mail - poo-poo! - for 5 weeks). I have battled with this sensation of being (rather painfully) divided between the full sensory, life-time experience of being in this foreign place and thinking about my loved ones back home the whole time I have been here. I really want nothing more than to be fully present and grounded where I am, in India, but am constantly challenged by missing the people who hold small peices of my heart. I can only hope that this sensation receeds with time or the forcefullness of it is at least mitigated by the very real desire to be in the present, Indian, moment. I think this internal divide is heightened by the fact that I have not necessarily been doing things I would choose to do if I were in different company. While I am grateful to have had such attentive and thoughtful (and experienced) travel companions, I am fundamentally different from them in pretty much every way. Shit! I don't even like shopping in Toronto let alone in a place where I am even more tightly strapped for cash. Despite all of this, I am truly happy to have seen so much of this country (even if from the 3-star perspective) and for the friends who have opened their hearts and arms to me during good times and bad. As for me, my heart, mind, soul and body (especially my ears and lungs - no more honking! no more pollution, PLEASE!) are all very ready to journey to the far north and find peace (I hope) in the mountains with one of my favorite people in this world; my dad.
Another day in Bangalore, spent journaling, updating my blog, talking to dad for the last time before he arrives (yay!) and to Mr. Yo for the last time until October (mwah!) Ready to move on again.... half scared (more honking - oy!) half excited and always glad to be moving through this crazy journey of mine... until Delhi... Adieu...
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Orion Petrykanyn
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Godspeed sweet-friend Meggie, Your travels are making me happy, if a bit melancholy with wanderlust. You rock! O