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Published: March 2nd 2006
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Our last entry from Mysore was cut short as we had to rush off to catch the train to Hampi. There wasn't time to tell you about our trip to the government silk factory in Mysore. Set up as a make-work project by the Marajah of Mysore many years ago, this factory processes the raw silk yarn produced by people in the rural villages. The yarn is wound, twisted and warped before ending up on one 70 or so large Japanese-made looms in a large, very noisy room devoid of ear-muffs or any other safety precautions. Most of the silk from these looms ends up in the colourful saris worn by Indian women. We found ourselves drawn to the raw silk and the printed patterns and had a great time in the shops looking at the incredible colours.
We left Mysore on the train to Bangalore and then north on the over-night Hampi Express. In a brilliant late-afternoon sun the train passed through a rice-bowl of paddies and farms where water was in abundance and was well-harnessed by man. Teams of oxen pulled ploughs through the mud in one small field while, in adjoining fields, women in brilliant saris were bent
at the waist planting rice seedlings. The fields were surrounded with palm trees. On higher ground were fields of sugar cane and banana trees. We were a bit nostalgic as we were leaving south India and our journey was half over.
Indian trains, unlike our own Canadian trains, really serve the people. They carry millions of passengers every day with a reasonably priced seat for every budget. Although we prefer an over-head fan to air-conditioning in our hotel rooms, we usually succumb to the AC seats on trains because of their added comfort and privacy - especially for long journeys.
Our first destination was Hampi - the capital of Vijaynagar, a 500 year-old Hindu dynasty - a UNESCO World heritage site. Set in a moonscape of huge granite rocks are the ruins of hundreds of temples as well as a few still well-preserved. The narrow, winding flagstone-paved streets are lined with cheap hotels, textile and fabric shops, small restaurants, shady trees and other small shops designed to separate a tourist from a dollar. Hampi is a town created by Indian pilgrims and backpackers from Goa in the early eighties when the temples and ruins were 'discovered'.
Our small, clean hotel
room cost 400 rupees (C$12) a night. There was a little open-air restaurant out front where we could watch the constant parade of Hindu pilgrims make their way down to the river to bathe. According to the guide we hired, Hampi is one of five most holy places to Hindus The invading Moslem hordes destroyed most of the 400 temples in the middle of the 16th century and the area slowly faded until its recent re-birth.
Hampi is a stone mason's dream with endless walls and buildings of perfectly cut, beautifully chiselled and exotically carved stone fit together dry. The old city had a protective ring of seven concentric walls. Each wall was three and a half km inside the next. In all there was some 26 km2 to discover in the all-too-short time we had between trains.
We had a guided a walking tour in the afternoon followed by a rickshaw tour the next morning. Every moment was simply stunning as we came upon one splendour after another. The highlight was the music temple - the Vithala Temple complex with 56 'Musical Pillars' which reverberate when tapped, although this practice is now discouraged to avoid further damage our guide
insisted we press our ears to the columns while he knocked his knuckles on the stone. We heard true, beautiful notes. He described the scene as it must have been 500 years ago: each pillar had its own musician with sandalwood sticks. Playing together the sound could be heard over 1.5 km away.
The third and by far the longest of our four-leg train journey north was very pleasant except for one thing: it arrived at its destination five hours after the fourth leg train departed. We discovered this as we boarded around 8:00pm and found our seats along the aisle in 3AC. Darla was feeling pretty conspicuous as one of only a few women in the car and the only western woman. There are no curtains in 3AC and she could feel the eyes upon her. When we had originally made our reservations there were no 2AC seats available, however we asked the conductor if we could upgrade and he moved us to the next car and gave us two lower berths with no-one above and curtains to draw for privacy. We were in heaven as we slept, ate, wrote and read for the next 34 hours.
The train arrived in Amedabad in Gujarat at the convenient hour of 4:00 am. An autorickshaw driver took us to a travel agent who sold us bus tickets for a 6:00 am departure to Udaipur in Rajasthan. This is where we discovered another corollary of 'Indian time'. The scheduled departure time is only valid if the bus is full. If not, then it makes the rounds between the station and travel agents trolling for customers until all the seats are full. By 7:00am we had found those requisite customers and we headed out to the newest and nicest highway we have seen in India yet: freshly paved double lanes with a divider all the way. We passed through fields of barley, corn and potatoes with hedgerows of bougainvilla. We were surprised to see a preponderance of Massey-Ferguson 1035 tractors. Some time back Canada must have sold India a factory of the molds as this is the tractor one sees - many new - whenever there is mechanized farming. We passed other fields where men were gracefully scything grain and women followed to gather, bind and stook the sheaves. The flat green valleys and bumpy brown hills of Gujarat gradually gave way to taller, drier mountains with very small green valleys. Fences of dry-stacked stone and thorn bushes ran right up to the top of mountains.
The weather here in Udaipur, the 'City of Lakes' is a pleasant 25C. We have splurged on a hotel with a pool and a large room with a king-size bed for C$33 a night. Today we had a tour of the City Palace of the Mewar dynasty - the only maharaja to never surrender to the British. The history is fascinating, the sights so beautiful...really, almost every day we look at each other and marvel at the amazing journey we are having in this most incredible country. There is exceptional value to be had here even for people of modest means like ourselves. We are supposed to bargain but often we let the little stuff go - why fight over 50 cents?
An interesting division of labour has evolved where Darla goes through the guide books and calls ahead to reserve the hotels. At the bus or train station we are sought out by a rickshaw driver who takes us to the hotel. I stay with the luggage while 'Madame' checks out the room (because if it's OK for Darla it's certainly OK for me). I get to plan the routes, the schedule and arrange for the train tickets. Darla usually chooses the restaurants, too. She also washes all the laundry regularly and we hang it in our hotel room where it dries in minutes.
We have decided that the only way to explain tourist life here is to say that India is for campers. If you are from the west and you take pleasure in overcoming all the minor inconveniences of what we call camping then you will love India. Camping is work and so is India. The rewards to us are very much worth the work.
We have splurged again and hired a car and driver for the next ten days for only C$350. This way we will get to all the remote places in Rajasthan, Land of Princes, on our own schedule.
Enclosed are a few photos. Will try to add more soon. Love to all!!
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