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Published: June 10th 2007
Meenakshi Temple
Meenakshi Temple is the biggest tourist attraction in Madurai. The temple covers 16 acres.
Traffic Before I start, I want to point out that the icon to the left entitled "Traffic" is a video I took while in a rickshaw. Have a look. So I find myself back in Madurai after a refreshing trip (5 days I think, I lost track) into the mountains of Northwest Tamil Nadu. The trip was actually more of a work retreat, a rare chance to have the full and undivided attention of Henri, who is pretty much always off doing something. For example, at the moment he's on a 20-day trip through Europe, doing I don't know what, but most likely meeting with some EU folks, since they fund the National Project on Preventing Torture. He always seems to be off on some trip that doesn't bring him back until the wee hours of the morning. I think part of the issue is that every time they hear about some incidence of police violence, he heads off to the location to speak to the locals about taking action to protect their rights. He was emphasizing to me the effect that the caste system, for example, has on the psyche of the people here. When their rights are infringed, it
The Bazaar
The entrance of a bazaar across the street from Meenakshi Temple. just doesn't occur to them that they can do anything about it, and if it does they fear taking any action, knowing that the system rewards the corrupt and punishes the weak. It's a sad state of affairs, and Henri says that after 27 years of heading to villages and advocating that people stand up for their rights, he's only beginning to see significant results. But certainly there is a pervasive cultural tendency to accept one's lot and move on. An interesting by-product of that which I recently learned of is that the concept of torts (civil suits to recover compensation for some injury) has only recently come into existence in India, and even now it's used sparingly. The bottom line is that when accidents occur, people just deal with it their own way, choosing not to go to court (probably because the courts don't function that well). It's a far cry from America, where spilt coffee will land you a multi-million dollar lawsuit.
Anyways, onto the trip. We traveled out to Coimbatore, a northwestern city and the second largest in Tamil Nadu. The five-hour car ride was beautiful, with vast plains of coconut trees dotted with the occasional
Tailors
These guys, located in the Bazaar, have been my go-to guys for custom-fit clothing. jagged mountaintop jutting from the flat ground. By the time we reached Coimbatore, I was disappointed that we hadn't gained any elevation. I figured if we were going to take a work retreat, we could at least go somewhere cooler. We had lunch and the other American intern Andrew and I had a laugh at a car with a huge sticker on the front that said "Infant Jesus". One striking difference between this area and Rajasthan is the huge prevalence of Christians. I noticed numerous churches and graveyards on the way (Hindus cremate their dead, and although I'm not sure about Muslims there seem to be few of them here anyways). And in typical Indian fashion, they prove to be more openly devout than American Christians. They just overflow with outward enthusiasm for their higher power of choice. The richness of the religious diversity never ceases to amaze me. It's said that one reason missionary work isn't particularly prevalent in India is that people are so secure in their religious niches that the language of missionaries simply falls on dead ears. Which isn't to say that communal struggles don't happen, especially between Hindu and Muslim. In fact, such struggles are
The Infant Jesus Mobile
I thought a visual would help. probably a side effect of the immense pride that everyone takes in their religion. These divisions are pretty intractable. For example, my prior host father in Udaipur, Amit, used to explain to me that although some of his best friends were Muslims, he could never entirely trust them for exactly that reason (he was also of the opinion that "every Pakistani is a terrorist"). Interestingly, Hindus were perfectly happy to accept the Bohras, a community of families that had once been Hindus but had converted to Islam while the Moghuls were in power because they could get better jobs as Muslims. I think part of this acceptance is due to the fact that they tend to be wealthy.
So back to the trip. After lunch I was met with a pleasant surprise, which is that we had to continue on to our destination, which was in fact in the mountains. The range was beautiful, but unfortunately we couldn't go hiking because there had recently been incidents of people getting killed by wild elephants. We actually spotted one on the way out, and it was really amazing, far bigger than any elephant I've seen in India's cities. We stayed at
The Karl Kubel Institute
From left to right, Me, Cynthia, Henri, Andrew, Jivanta. the Karl Kubel Institute for Development Education, a campus set up by a German philanthropist specifically for the purpose of NGOs having work retreats. They pay for their expenses by offering their campus to businesses as well. It was a beautiful little campus, with three lodgings, a dining hall, a basketball court, beautiful vegetation, and a meditation center. The basic purpose of the retreat was to assess our progress on the National Project on Preventing Torture and to meet with the Indian law school interns that had been collecting data for me to use in my paper. Unfortunately, the data turned out to be grossly inadequate. Some of it is due to the fact that they're 19-year-old students and don't have rigorous research skills, and the rest has to do with People's Watch's failure to realize this fact and give them adequate instructions. Anyways, Henri has sent them to do the work more properly, despite the fact that their internships are over.
The real pay-off was a 2-day trip to Coonoor and Ooty, hill stations on the misty plateaus of the Nilgiri mountain range. As we drove with the range looming in the distance, we were surrounded on either
St. Pius Missionary School
I thought the hallway was pretty cool looking. side by groves of meticulously planted coconut trees, each one's trunk rising parallel to the others before bursting into a canopy of giant leaves at the top. It looked kind of like a giant bar code, if you can imagine that. It was the first time in South India that I've felt like I was in any sort of jungle. It was to change quickly, though, as we soon began an arduous ascent into the mountains. The ride up was great, as we could see jagged peaks protecting the mountains like a fortress wall. It was basically a succession of hairpin turns for half an hour or 45 minutes, until the town below looked miniature. As we climbed, we passed inquisitive monkeys on the side of the road. Finally, we reached the plateau of green rolling hills that houses Coonoor and Ooty. Coonoor had this great mystical feel that seems to accompany mountain cities. I remember having the same feeling in Dharamshala and Rishikesh in the Himalayas. It's dirty just like any other place in India, but it's a refreshing sort of dirty, unlike the stiflingly hot variety. The clouds provided an eerie mist to the entire scene. The hillsides
St. Theodore's Sanatorium
The view from the front of the Missionary School. are covered with bright green tea plants, divided into horizontal rows that conform perfectly to the contours of the hills. We spent the night in a hostel called St. Pius Missionary School (I take back everything I said about missionaries in India) and enjoyed the opportunity to sleep comfortably without a fan. The school apparently brings in young seminary scholars for a year after high school and a year after college. We spent the next day sightseeing, going to the highest spot in Ooty, the highest elevation tea factory in South India (seriously!), a beautiful botanical garden, a truly horrendous amusement park called the Boat House, and a park called Sim's Park. I'll elaborate on the Boat House, since the others are fairly self-explanatory. In my experience so far, hill stations in India tend to be geared towards the Indian tourist (anyone who was with me at Mount Abu in Rajasthan will agree). That's a bad thing. Although I often complain about being a spectacle in India, nothing can compare to the obnoxiousness of the Indian tourist. You would think that, being travelers, they would be a bit more worldly and would not be so amazed by a white person
Coonoor Train Station
"Coonoor" is written in Tamil, then Hindi, then English. The government prints most signs in Hindi even though nobody speaks it. in their presence. But nothing could be further from the truth. I've found that by far the most respectful people are in the villages and small towns. These tourists are just really really loud and obnoxious and they stare unyieldingly at any caucasian that crosses their path. The other thing about Indian tourist spots is that they don't (and sensibly so) have attractions that appeal to Western tourists. We want to see all the cultural items that they take for granted because they live here. They want to go to run-down amusement parks. But anyways, we went to the Boat House and paddled around a small lake on pedal-boats for half an hour. By the end I was ready to head back to Madurai.
The drive back was interesting, as we got caught in a huge, HUGE rainstorm. It really was like nothing I've ever seen. It must have taken us an hour and a half to get back down the mountainside. I poked my head out the window and saw a raging river gushing down the side of the road. It was pretty awesome. We ended up getting home at 4 in the morning, which kind of sucked.
Ooty Hillside
A look at the terrace agriculture in Ooty. Ah yes, I wanted to share a funny little story about a conversation that occurred in Coonoor. I was chatting with this guy Jivanta, who's from Nepal but is on a ten-month internship at People's Watch. He was telling me how, in his words, "South Asians are knowing least, but are talking very broadly". His basic point was that, in his opinion, South Asians tend to talk and talk and talk as if experts on the issue at hand when they really have no idea what they're talking about. It's something I've wondered about because I can verify that Indians definitely love talking on and on. The question is whether anything substantive is coming out and he argues that the answer is no. He told me how he met the Ambassador of the US to Nepal through his program, and he was so impressed by how economically he used his words and how he only talked about things that he knew about. Anyways, the funny part of the story is that earlier that day I had the pleasure of witnessing my first ever political speech in India. In Coonoor, a platform was set up on which perhaps 20 politicians
A Mighty Feat
Indeed, it IS the highest elevation tea factory in South India. sat, while one stood at the podium, frantically and vehemently spouting off about whatever issue. I don't know what he was saying, but most likely he was flinging abuses at the leaders of every other party and not providing any ideas of his own (just a guess). The funny part was that there were rows of plastic chairs set up for spectators, but not a single person was there! The guy was speaking to nobody, and everyone went about their daily business as if nothing was going on. When I brought the story up to Jivanta, he gave me this look as though that's what happens when you talk endlessly about nothing. This is the kind of behavior that drives the folks at People's Watch up the wall.
So I hope you've enjoyed this heavy dose of commentary accompanied by very little in the way of actual goings-on. At least from my perspective, the little cultural foibles are the most interesting part.
Much Love,
Aaron
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