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Published: March 23rd 2006
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Fi, the elephant, and the Maharaja's palace
Remember, we're tourists, not travellers... Now the cricket's over and Fi is on a plane home, I can actually get off my arse and update the blog. Think the last bit was about the bus journey to Mysore. Which was definitely the best bit of the first day there. Got off to a bad start - persistant tout, who followed us all the way to our first choice hotel, and who sent his kid along as a scout as we tried to find somewhere else. It's partly my own fault, I guess - I was still on Kerala mode - expecting everyone to be open, helpful and friendly, and so I engaged in conversation with this tout. Once you've done that, then you're totally lost.
So a day in Mysore soon knocked the Kerala vibe out of me, and it was back to practicing the thousand yard stare as you blank the legions of people trying to separate you from your rupees. Definitely ranks as the highest level of aggravation so far. A shame, because it's not a bad city. What made it so much worse was that the hotel was no haven. The Maura Palace - never go there. The road stank, and the
Mysore spice market
Photo courtesy of Fi, because I was too scared of the market traders. staff were unbelievable. We started getting the stairs instead of the lift because we got so fed up of being expected to tip the lift bloke just for pressing '3' on the controls. If we didn't come good with the rupees, then they'd follow us to the room, offering us dinner, towels, whatever.
When you have a day of being followed down the street by auto drivers, then the last thing you want is an action replay every time you get back to your room. On one occasion we got three rings on the doorbell, offering (I think...) room service, lunch, or room cleaning. One right after the other. Twat. Felt like telling him that he can ring the bell as much as he wants - that he can offer his mum and his sister as some buy-one-get-one-free deal - but he's still not going to get a tip for pressing a button on a lift.
That said, it's nothing to the bloke who actually snatched the key out of Fi's hand so that he could open the room door, wander into the room and show us how the fan and lights worked. After we'd been there for
Street life
Maybe the closest I've got to capturing how hectic Indian streetlife is. two days.
He didn't get a tip either.
Anyway, Mysore itself - enjoyed it in the end, despite the hotel's best efforts, but it's been my least favourite place so far. The hassle factor really put a damper on it. That said, there were plenty of really great experiences. The palace was, despite my initial reservations, absolutely great. And the guide was well worth his 400 rupees. Really cool old Indian dude, who seemed to be able to tell us the provenance of every single piece of furniture. English, Scottish, Venician, Czech - as he said, the only Indian thing about the palace was the bloke who shelled out the cash to build it.
Think Fi had a bit of a highlight in the grounds, too. After seeing temple elephants and wild elephants, she got herself a 50rp ride on a Maharaja's elephant. Some great photos - must get my arse in gear and post some of them.
Other high points - the fruit and veg market. Every fruit you could imagine, plus plenty you couldn't. The colours, smells and just the general bustle and hubub was really cool.
Some really good food, too - amazing thali served on a banana leaf. 30rp. Delicious, and spicy as hell - the only thing so far that Fi has had to admit defeat on, nose streaming and mouth burning.
Charumundi Hill was a bit underwhelming. My first temple. What the hell are you meant to do? We lined up, and were shoved about, and then seemed to have to give flowers to someone and money to someone else and got flowers from someone else and gave flowers to someone else, and then walked out with dual bhindis (remember - I'm a tourist, not a traveller!) and a pronounced "Was that it?" feeling.
The sandlewood factory, on the other hand, was bloody great. Totally nuts. A half hour auto ride from the city, in the middle of nowhere (passing more cows than I've ever seen). Get out of the auto and suddenly we're pounced upon by a guide. The factory was like something out of another age - it was about 90 years old, and I really don't think that a single thing had changed in that time. All manual - with tonnes of sandlewood being reduced to a beakerful of oil. (Via a distilation machine that would have looked low-tech in a school chemistry lesson.) The smell was amazing.
Was a rather disconcerting experience all round really, but in a good way. The auto driver wandered out and joined me and fi on the tour, happy as larry, and, madder still, not only was there no charge at all for the tour, but there was a bloody great sign up saying that you mustn't tip the guide.
In Mysore, that's far weirder than any number of cows on the road or naked Jain monks walking down the street...
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Chris
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Palace
Did you see the palace at night? Post some photos you lazy git!