South to Mamallapuram

Like Chennai, Mamallapuram is located on the east coast of India, in the state of Tamil Nadu.  Both have sandy beaches on the Bay of Bengal.  However, while Chennai is a major population center, Mamallapuram is a delightfully compact small town set in a region dominated by farming villages.

On Friday, the second day of our land tour, we drove south and reached the outskirts of Mamallapuram in the middle of the afternoon.  Before going into the town itself, we made a visit to the KVS Bharath Madha Nursery and Primary School.  This school was recently selected to receive support from the Grand Circle Foundation.  (OAT is division of Grand Circle.)

Jaisingh had already given us some interesting facts about education in India.  Girls and women can get free education at government-supported schools and universities, all the way through the doctoral level.  For men, the situation is slightly more complicated.  The cost of education is based on caste.  For boys and men from the lower castes (as well as for dalits, formerly known as untouchables), all education is free at “normal,” i.e. government-supported, schools.  However, boys and men from higher castes must pay for their education, with the amount determined by their caste.  

In addition to the normal schools, private educational institutions abound in India.  The majority of private schools are associated with Christian, especially Roman Catholic, churches.  Because they are generally considered to be superior to normal schools, they attract many students from middle- and upper-class families, regardless of their religion.

The private school we visited was not religious in nature.  As its founder and director explained, he started the school following the death of his wife 30 years ago using money from a family trust.  The goal was to provide a good education to poor children living in nearby farming villages.  The school is quite small, with a couple of rustic buildings, a student body of thirty or forty and a faculty of three teachers. The children at the school range in age from 4 to 11.  Boys and girls are in separate classes. The majority of the children pay nothing for their education, books, uniforms, and supplies.  For those few boys from higher caste families, the fee is 6000 rupees (approximately $90) per year.

When we arrived near the end of the school day, the children, all dressed in neat uniforms, were eagerly awaiting us.  Most spoke or understood some English (English instruction is part of the curriculum).  The former educators in our group were invited teach the children songs or games.  After being out of the classroom for a while, I relished the opportunity to step into the teacher role again. 

After the school visit, a real surprise was awaiting us.  Our Mamallapuram hotel for the next three nights was the Radisson Blu Temple Bay, a gorgeous resort on the shores of the Bay of Bengal.  The rooms were spacious and luxuriously decorated.  Balconies overlooked tropical gardens.  A long curving swimming pool (in fact, the longest in India) snaked through the property with chairs for poolside lounging set up under the palm trees.  I could immediately picture myself spending winters here.  And that was before I’d even seen the beach! 

At the Radisson Blu Temple Bay - paradise!

Complimentary high tea was being served by the infinity pool shortly after our arrival.  I hurried down to investigate.  There were no tea sandwiches, but from the Anglo-Indian array of snacks, I chose some savory fried items (onion pakoras, and cheese-stuffed pastry rolls), which looked more interesting than the English biscuits.  A sense of wellbeing settled over me as I sipped my milky masala chai and gazed out over the infinity pool to the rolling waves of the bay.  Yes, I thought with a sigh, I could get used to this.

Looking out at the Bay of Bengal as the sun sinks towards the horizon

Chennai - A Closer Look

With our wonderful OAT guide, Jaisingh, leading our group of 14 on the first morning of our Southern India tour, I began to gain a much fuller understanding of life in Chennai.  It was already promising to be another steamy summer-like December day when we set out to explore the city.  Fortunately, we were traveling in a huge, modern air-conditioned motor coach, which would be our “home away from home” for the next couple of weeks.  This was a pleasant surprise, as I’d expected that we’d be traveling in something more like the local commuter buses.  In fact, I’d brought along an inflatable seat cushion in anticipation of hard wooden slats for seats.  From my elevated perch above the road, I could look down calmly on the swarm of traffic (including the occasional cow), knowing that I didn’t have to cross any streets for a while. 

Soon, we were away from the immediate vicinity of the hotel, traveling to the west side of the city.  While our eyes were glued to the sights just outside the windows of the bus (photo op after photo op), we listened as Jaisingh provided background information on Chennai, capital of the state of Tamil Nadu.  The city is famous for its cotton fabric and for film production, which rivals that of Mumbai, aka Bollywood. 

The state of Tamil Nadu is known for its 75,000 temples, which range in size from simple sidewalk structures to sprawling complexes with ornately decorated towers.  Our first stop of the day was at a 19^th century Hindu shrine, the Muneeswarar “Bodyguard” Temple.  This modest temple attracts people from the middle and upper classes, who come to perform pujas, or prayer ceremonies.  It was a pretty chaotic scene in the street in front of the shrine, with several pujas going on simultaneously. 

I learned that pujas are often done when someone purchases a new vehicle.  On the street outside the shrine, we witnessed a puja being performed over a new motor scooter.  The vehicle was draped with garlands of marigolds, and the owners of the motor scooter watched while a chanting priest smashed coconuts, waved fire, and squeezed limes over everything. 

Puja at the Bodyguard Temple 

We also learned about a special puja that is performed when a girl gets her ears pierced for the first time.  This usually takes place at the age of 1, 3, 5 or 8.  On the momentous day, the parents dress the girl in her finest clothes and adorn her hair with flowers before they bring her to the shrine.  A priest performs a ceremonial head shaving, giving the girl’s hair as a sacrificial offering.  The little girls we saw at the temple that morning looked rather stunned and confused by the whole procedure.

In addition, we all had a good time engaging in coconut smashing at the temple. There was a low wall set up specifically for this purpose right outside the shrine. Jaisingh purchased coconuts and we took turns hurling them at the wall.  It’s a great way to relieve stress if you can’t get an appointment with your therapist.

Finally, before we re-boarded our bus, our driver performed a puja to ask for a safe journey for our group.  Once again, this involved garlands of flowers, smashed coconuts, flames and limes.  Everyone in our group participated by tossing golden marigold petals at the front of the bus. 

We then had a driving tour that brought us through various neighborhoods.  The sight of tourists was obviously a novelty to the residents of Chennai, as people of all ages waved excitedly to us.  This included family groups on motor scooters, school children in uniform, and groups of sari-clad students pouring out of women’s universities in middle-class neighborhoods. 

View from the front window of the bus

We saw plenty of stray dogs roaming the streets, but not very many cats.

According to Jaisingh, in this city of 8.5 million people, approximately 30% live in poverty.  Crossing one of the bridges over the Cooum River, we could see long lines of slums along both riverbanks.  Not surprisingly, the rivers are heavily polluted.  

The slums spill into the river. 

Our driver managed to steer the motor coach through the narrow lanes of one such slum so we could get a closer view from the windows of the bus.

Later that day, in the sultry afternoon heat, our air-conditioned home on wheels made its way to Georgetown, the most colonial section of Chennai.  Along the route, Jaisingh pointed out examples of Indo-Saracenic architecture dating back to the British Raj.  The style is an elegant synthesis of Indian, Mughal (Islamic) and European (Gothic through Victorian) influences.  The characteristic elements of red brick with white trim, and graceful design, often including spires and domes, make Indo-Saracenic architecture easily recognizable. 

The British established their presence in Chennai when they built Fort St. George in the 1670s.  A statue of King George V still marks the center of Georgetown.  Today, this is one of the busiest shopping areas in the city.  The main attraction for us was the flower bazaar.  People come to the flower bazaar to buy flowers for pujas at the temple and for pujas that they perform at shrines in their homes on a daily basis. 

Even before we stepped foot into the long narrow lane devoted to flower vendors, the aroma of jasmine overwhelmed us.  We had to squeeze our way through the extremely crowded passage where a seemingly endless string of vendors displayed red and white floral garlands, baskets of jasmine buds, and marigolds in a variety of colors.  A few stalls selling colorful fruits were mixed in.  The lane ended at a small Hindu temple. 

He offered me a flower! 

The narrow streets adjacent to the flower bazaar were devoted to other types of goods.  For example, one featured shop after shop selling pens, notebooks, etc.  Another street had only booksellers.  Back near the statue of King George, I found myself peering into the windows of a series of shops that specialized in dazzling costume jewelry.  I stepped into one to inquire about a few colorful gold-trimmed bangles and ended up buying a box of 144 bracelets, 12 each of 12 colors, for 350 rupees (about $10).  This was just the start of a major shopping spree that would continue until my last moments in India. 

After an hour or so on our own in Georgetown, we all staggered gratefully back onto our air-conditioned coach for the ride back to the hotel.  Our welcome dinner, the first of many wonderful meals on our tour, was held at the Sigree Global Grill, an upscale restaurant offering a staggering selection of dishes from around the world.  We all stuffed ourselves with the tasty small plates (lots of skewered items and deep-fried items) that were served at our table, not realizing that these were just the starters.  Somehow, I managed to find room to try several Indian dishes from the buffet, especially the desserts.  I was already familiar with gulab jamun (sweet milk powder-based balls in syrup) and kheer (vermicelli milk pudding) but I’d never before tasted malpua, a fluffy sweet pancake served warm with a sauce of thickened sweetened milk.  A woman in our group, who grew up in Mumbai, insisted that I try the malpua and noted that it’s not usually prepared outside the home.  Indian desserts may not be big on visual appeal, but they taste delicious.  By the time the feast ended, I had indulged in all four major food groups of Indian cuisine:  carbs, salt, sugar, and fried foods.  

By next morning, I had recovered my appetite and did justice to the hotel’s breakfast buffet.  After all, I needed to fortify myself for a busy day ahead.  As our bus drove north along the shores of the Bay of Bengal, we passed the 7 kilometer long Marina Beach, the second longest city beach in the world after Miami.  Jaisingh told us that Indians enjoy strolling along the sand while wearing their street clothes, but rarely go into the water.  From the windows of the bus, I could see swaying palm trees and crashing waves.  It’s too bad we didn’t have time to get out and feel the salt spray. 

Soon, we had the opportunity to experience a completely different form of transportation.  Our bus brought us to the Chennai Beach train station where we boarded an “aerial” train to the Mylapore district in the north of Chennai.  As you can see in the photo, we had to walk across some tracks to reach the train platform.  This type of train had hard wooden seats and no electric lights.  Throughout the 20-minute trip, the train doors and windows remained wide open.  I was lucky enough to get a window seat.  Plenty of passengers were hanging onto straps dangling from the ceiling.  

Walking to get our train to Mylapore

View from the aerial train

Mylapore is the site of the St. Thome Cathedral, built by the Portuguese in the 16^th century.  According to local legend, the cathedral was built over the tomb of St. Thomas, one of the original disciples of Christ, who supposedly brought Christianity to India in 52 CE.  Whether or not the story is true, the Gothic revival architecture of the building was quite striking – imagine Notre Dame painted gleaming white.

Men preparing for morning puja at the nearby temple in Mylapore

Selling coconuts on the street in Mylapore

While in Mylapore, we also relaxed for a few minutes in the shade of a pavilion where we conversed with some English-speaking locals before stopping for a mid-morning beverage and bathroom break.  Some members of the group ordered masala chai, the spiced Indian tea served either black or with hot milk.  I sampled a variety of unfamiliar sweet treats along with a typical south Indian filter coffee traditionally served in a stainless steel cup, which remains very hot! 

 Our next stop was at a branch of Higginbotham’s, a chain of bookstores that started in 1844.  The owner of the site we visited has made a commitment to providing training and jobs for transgender women, who face discrimination in education and employment.  We began our visit with an enlightening meeting with a member of India’s transgender community. Following our discussion, we enjoyed an East-West lunch in Higginbotham’s café.  The menu included roasted pumpkin and lentil soup with cumin breadsticks, various salads, fried chicken tenders, mushroom and cheese canapés, white pizza with pesto and chicken, and chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream made from water buffalo milk.  All of the delicious food was prepared and served by the transgender women who work at Higginbotham’s.  The bookstore has a large selection of English language books, and while I was there, I picked up several beautiful children’s books with Indian stories for Sylvie. 

Then it was time to bid farewell to Chennai.  We were headed for Mamallapuram, and that will be the subject of my next blog post. 

Chennai, On my Own

Vannakam!  That’s how you greet someone in Tamil, the language spoken in the state of Tamil Nadu in southern India.  The capital of Tamil Nadu is the city now called Chennai.  Until 1996, it was known as Madras.  With a population of 8.5 million people, Chennai is India’s fourth largest city. 

Culture shock is how I can best describe my initial reaction to Chennai when my flight landed at 3 a.m. on December 5.  I had been traveling for over 20 hours and I was hoping for a quiet transition into India.  No such luck.  The airport was mobbed and activity swirled all around me.  Dressed in my usual travel uniform of gray and black, I looked quite the outsider in the crowd of brilliant colors as I waited at the baggage carousel.  The women wore dazzling saris, bright colors amply accented with gold, and even the men were dressed in shirts of startling color. 

Through the fog of my exhaustion, I managed to change dollars to rupees and to work my way through the mob of people to the taxi stand.  Outside the terminal, the air was hot and muggy, the lights were glaring, and the noise of the traffic was deafening.  The roads around the airport were packed with pedestrians, taxis, auto-rickshaws, motor scooters, and stray dogs.  Doesn’t anyone sleep at night? I thought to myself as I settled in for the ride to the hotel. 

The Radisson Blu City Centre was my base for the next four days and nights.  Unlike the hotel where I’d stayed in Delhi many years ago, the Radisson was modern and featured air-conditioning throughout the building.  In fact, the rooms were freezing.  The thermostat in my room was set to 16 degrees Celsius, or about 61 degrees Fahrenheit.  “Americans like it cold,” is the explanation a member of the hotel staff offered.  After brushing my teeth with bottled water, I crawled into bed, pulled up the comforter, and slept until my alarm awakened me at 9 in the morning.

My strategy for dealing with jet lag is to ignore it and immediately start operating on local time.  Once I had fortified myself from the bountiful breakfast buffet, I set out to do some exploring of the city.  I had two days on my own in Chennai before my group tour began and I wanted to make good use of my time.  According to Google maps, the Government Museum, with its impressive collection of bronze statues, was only an 8-minute walk from the hotel.  That sounded like a good destination for a morning excursion.  “Yes, just turn right at the corner, walk a little ways and you’ll see the museum on the other side of the street,” the man at the front desk assured me. 

I set out confidently around noon, walking with care since sections of broken pavement forced me to step into the street at times.  It also seemed perfectly permissible for motor scooters to park on the sidewalk, forcing pedestrians into the roadway.  Whole families seemed to be perched on motor scooters, the women primly riding sideways in back of the male drivers. 

The midday traffic was ten times worse than the previous night.  The noise level was deafening.  There was a never-ending mass of vehicles on the road, and each and every one of them constantly honked its horn to signal its existence.  I glanced at shop windows, “pure veg” restaurants, and old men in dhotis squatting in whatever shade they could find.  Open-air stands selling sweets and snacks spilled onto the sidewalks.  After just a few minutes in the midday sun, I felt sweat running down my face.  Fortunately, I soon noticed the low red brick buildings of the museum compound.  Unfortunately, they were on the other side of the street, and there was not a traffic light or a crosswalk in sight. 

I reached a corner and waited for a break in the traffic so I could cross.  I waited, and waited, and waited.  Occasionally, someone would dash into the midst of the intersection, leading to swerving vehicles and even more honking of horns.  I would look on in horror, certain that I was about to witness a horrible accident.  Finally, after several minutes of waiting, I gave up and walked back to the hotel in defeat.  I imagined spending the next two days cooped up in the hotel. 

“I couldn’t cross the street!” I exclaimed the man at the front desk. He didn’t look at all perturbed.  “You go with a group of people and you’re safe,” he explained with a patient smile. 

I took a deep breath of air-conditioned hotel air before I stepped outside to try again.  This time I was determined.  Back at the corner, I watched as a group of potential street-crossers formed.  I gently angled my way into their midst.  When they moved, I moved with them.  There was an immediate bleating of horns, but a few seconds later, I found myself on the opposite side of the street, completely intact.

One of the buildings in the Government Museum complex 

For the next couple of hours, I strolled through the various buildings of the mostly un-air-conditioned Government Museum, looking at exhibits of bronzes, stone sculptures, and temple carvings.  I tried to recall the multiple representations of the different Hindu gods, and how to identify them based on their iconography, but I was soon overwhelmed.  However, I had no trouble recognizing Ganesha, with his elephant head.  The son of Shiva and Parvati, he is very commonly seen in southern India.  According to the exhibit, Ganesha is known for his ability to remove obstacles in everyday life. 

Ganesha 

Shiva is one of the major gods of the Hindu trinity and is the god most often worshipped in this part of India.  He is often represented in dancing form as Shiva Nataraja or Natesa. 

Shiva Natesa (11th century C.E.)

In the outdoor sculpture garden, Nandi, the sacred bull of Shiva, was resting in the shade.

Nandi (13th century C.E.)

In addition, I saw costumes, weapons, jewelry and coins from various historical periods.  Seeing Bronze Age artifacts from the Indus Valley brought back memories of my college archaeology class. 

Of course, after I finished up at the museum, I once again faced the challenge of crossing the street to get back to the hotel.  This time, I knew the routine.  I joined a small group and crossed with confidence.  Even the horns didn’t intimidate me now. 

At dinnertime, I crossed a different street to get a bite to eat at a vegetarian restaurant that clearly catered to locals.  There wasn’t a non-Indian in sight. The bill for a trio of tasty starters – bel puri, aloo tikka, and a samosa – came to about $3.  It was more than enough food.  

On my way to dinner - notice the Christmas store!

Afterwards, I wasn’t ready for the day to end, so I decided to walk a couple more blocks to check out “cotton alley.”  This long unpaved road is lined with open-air stalls selling fabric.  You can choose the fabric (cotton, silk, or cotton-silk blend) and have a tunic, pants, or dress made to order.  Confronted with so many choices, I found it impossible to make up my mind.  But as I was walking along, a ready-made dress displayed in one stall caught my attention.  It was a long, sleeveless sundress and the fabric was a black and white print that featured elephants.  Seeing my interest, the vendor immediately rushed up to me and quoted a price in rupees.  I remembered that I should bargain, however, as I tried half-heartedly to get my tired brain to do a rupees-to-dollars conversion.  In the end, I got the dress for 350 rupees.  When I got back to the hotel, I calculated that it had cost me about $6.

Aside from a slight feeling of guilt about bargaining down the price of the dress, I was feeling good.  I’d been in India less than 24 hours and I’d already started to feel comfortable in my new surroundings.  The feeling of sensory overload was fading as I became adjusted to the heat, the noise, the colors, tastes, and smells.  I went to bed eager to continue my explorations the following day.  

On my second morning in Chennai, I devoted a full hour to the breakfast buffet.  It was one of the most lavish breakfast buffets I’ve ever seen.  In addition to the usual “Western” breakfast choices, there was an Indian section and a Japanese section.  I could easily forgo the omelettes, cold cereal, pancakes and croissants when offered an array of more exotic items.  Masala dosa for breakfast?  Sure, why not!  Mango milkshake?  Yes, please.  I filled a plate with smoked salmon, papaya and pineapple, pongal and bonda (two Indian breakfast favorites). 

Masala dosa (rice flour crepe with spicy potato filling)

Bonda (one of the many fried items offered at breakfast) 

Then it was time to do some shopping.  A car from the hotel drove me through the city to several stores where I made a couple of small purchases.  We passed streets where every shop sold the same item, whether it was gold, or hardware, or silks, or electronics.  The sidewalks were filled with shoppers.  If it hadn’t been so hot out, I would have told the driver to drop me off and pick me up a couple of hours later so I could take my time walking around – but not in this heat.  I had to conserve my energy because the following morning, my OAT (Overseas Adventure Travel) tour would begin and I wanted to be ready.