Mysore

Took a very nice train from Bangalore to Mysore, complete with A/C, served meals and snacks, and complementary ear plug and eye covers! Not bad for a two and a half hour train ride. And Mysore itself was such a welcome change from Bangalore. The traffic is delightfully light and quiet (there is no incessant honking) and the air is completely breathable (sans pollution). What a relief.

After checking into our room we went to check out the sultan's palace. On our way to the sultans palace we were accosted by all the familiar rickshaw drivers trying to trick us into hiring them for the day by saying the palace was closed but they would show us other sites. It is definitely a tourist town. But once we got away from them we witnessed a very unusual procession of dancers, drums and monks with an elephant. It was very unexpected but really lifted our spirits after the rickshaw wallahs.

On our way into the temple we met a charming German woman named Petra who has been living in Britain for years. Being retired she travels all over the world and has been to India before. She was a great tour guide, even if she knew nothing of the palace she had fabulous stories. You can tour through the palace and the temples out back, but you have to do it bare foot. This is a little disconcerting in some areas that are actually gravel and a little painful, but even worse is the fact that there are elephant and camel rides on the grounds, so you have to keep an eye out for dung. The palace itself was very nice inside. Quite ornate in an almost renaissance fashion with stained glass and murals on the ceiling. And the walls were hung with beautiful period paintings showing the palace and its inhabitants from the imperial time as well as the time of the British Raj. Petra and I went into the temple for a blessing (actually I almost had to drag her in, but she enjoyed it just the same).

Luckily we had planned our excursion for a Sunday evening as the Palace is known for lighting thousands of lights on Sunday nights to illuminate the architecture. We waited quite a while for the lighting, being eaten by mosquitoes. As the sun set the palace was beautiful, glowing and fairy tale. And then at 8:00, BAM, they turned it into Las Vegas by turning on thousands of garish lights. People applauded they were so happy to see this abomination. Therese and I just high tailed it out of there. At least the restraint where we went for supper had a great view of the palace, and they had turned the lights out by then.

On our way back we heard music and dancing, and then saw a huge tent with an elephant parked next to it. Guess what, the unusual procession was some performing group from Kerala doing temple dancing. Now temple dancing may sound very serene and mystical, but not the way these guys did it. They were ripped, and for very good reason. The temple dancing was done for hours as they continually circled the small central temporary temple doing all sorts of jumping dance steps, while holding weapons in their hands. I was exhausted just watching them. And they seemed to communicate in some ways with the drummers. I don't know if I felt any holier after watching those dancers, but I was definitely impressed with the masculine form!

The next morning was time for shopping. The market in Mysore is quite well known for the coloured powders and perfume oils, as well as abundant flowers and produce. Unfortunately, as well known as it is it is almost impossible to find. First you have to get the idea of open air market out of your head. There is no wide open space in an Indian city. And second, Indians are very poor at giving directions. We must have walked a complete circuit around it before we finally got in. But it was worth the walk. It is a group of narrow streets, jammed with sellers of jewellery, bright coloured tikka powders, fruit, vegetables, flower garlands, scented oil and incense, just to name a few.

I was on shopper overload for the first half hour, just stumbling around in a daze listening to the shouts of "Madam" this and "Madam" that. Therese and I got separated at one point and I was trying to find her. The sweetest little boy, about 10 years old, came up to me and tells me my friend is over there, and takes me to her. On the way he asks where I am from in flawless English. Canada I say. French or English he asks. English I say, but I speak a little French. Well, he launches into a perfect Je m'appelle ____. Qu'est ce que votre nom madame? I say Eve. Well that little devil just smiles up at me with those mischievious eyes and says "Enchante". Talk about charm! So of course I ended up at his stall where he works with his mother and brother selling the incense that she makes, and he is showing me how they make incense. Pretty soon he has me smelling all the different oils from his uncle's shop next door. And I just loved it! I knew I was getting a sell job, but from such a charming little salesman who can resist. He kept trying out his French on me, but he was definitely better than I was so we would revert back to English. He also spoke Italian and some German. And he doesn't go to school, what a waste. Well then his twelve year old brother shows up and his French is even better. These boys should be in foreign service or something because they have way too much charm for a Mysore market. I think they could negotiate world peace with a smile and an "Enchante".

I ended up spending the entire afternoon in the market. After meeting the two fabulous salesmen, I then had to meet their uncles. One was an MBA student at the local university in Mysore, so we ended up chatting business schools for at least an hour. Well after I made it out of the shop with a bag full of hand made incense and oils, I finally was ready to explore the rest of the vendors. Pretty soon I had a garland of jasmine flowers in my hair, and a big smile on my face. The market is amazing. It isn’t very large in space terms, but what they pack in is certainly a delight for the senses. There was one block of just bananas, one block of flowers and women making flower garlands, another block of fruits and vegetable, little cross streets with powder vendors and jewellery stalls. I didn’t actually buy very much because I knew it was one of the places I wanted to go back to with my friend Jilane when she comes in March. Much better to pace myself.

I made my way back to the hotel and met up with Therese. She had not had a good afternoon unfortunately. Not being one for endless shopping, she had left to go look for a massage place. When we finally met up at the hotel she was ready to head back to Bangalore. She hadn’t found the massage place, so instead had gone up to the local temple at Chamundi Hill. There are stairs you can climb up to get to this temple which is one of the eight most holy sites in Southern India. From what she said the vendors and beggars were awful and had stressed her out so she wanted to go back. She took a train back that afternoon. I spent a very quiet knight eating room service and watching TV, both luxuries unavailable at school!

My curiosity was piqued by what Therese had said about the temple and I just had to see it for myself. So the next morning I flagged a rickshaw and asked him to take me to the stairs of the temple. As we were driving up the hill, he pointed out many beautiful views of Mysore and the sandalwood trees that grow everywhere. He offered to wait for me to come back down at no extra charge, so I agreed. When we stopped we were at the little village at the top. He had skipped the stairs completely! I got out of the rickshaw and he showed me the direction to the temple. On the way there, there were vendors trying to push things at you for offering in the temple, etc. It was not that bad. With temples one must leave your shoes outside, so I went to the shoe check area. As I was checking my shoes a man in the shoe check handed me a small statue and flower to take in the temple for offering. I asked how much, and he said not to worry, to pay what I could when I came back.

As I approached the temple there was a huge line on one side and a ticket seller on the other. I asked one of the passers by if I needed a ticket and they said yes and directed me. I bought my ticket, and was shuffled in a side entrance. Apparently the ticket was not necessary; it just allowed you to skip the line.

It was a special festival time so there were many people coming to visit the temple. There were security guards inside actually pushing people through if they thought they were spending to much time at puja (anything more than 10 seconds!). So far no significantly spiritual experience. You are packed in body to body through the main part and only slightly less so through the rest of the temple. Within five minutes you are back outside. I managed to leave my offerings at the last prayer area before being pushed out the door. Waiting outside was the man from the shoe check area demanding 200 rupees for the statue and flower! I was incensed! After trying to bargain politely for a few minutes, he was getting very aggressive and rude. I finally got fed up and said “How much is it going to take to get rid of you. Take 50 rupees and leave!” What a rip off. Afterwards I was standing to take a picture of the temple and a monk who was standing there told me that he had ripped me off, that other vendors were selling the same statue and flower for half that price. He was disappointed in what had happened, but yet had done nothing to stop it. I was having a decidedly unspiritual experience. The whole thing just made me feel like I was the white tourist who was there to be bilked. After I picked up my shoes I saw the statue/flower wallah again and told him that I thought what he did was very unkind. He actually laughed and said that I had been very generous.

The whole experience soured me so badly I just wanted to get back to Bangalore. I grabbed my rickshaw and fled back to town, checked out and went directly to the train station. On the train I met a British couple who had left Mysore a day early. I asked why. Chamundi Hill temple had apparently soured them as well. Oh well. At least if Jilane and I go back to Mysore (which I would like to do), I will know what to do and what not to do! Besides I still haven’t checked out the silk factory and sandalwood craft area. Ah sweet shopping, far more spiritual and less commercial than Chamundi Hill temple.

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