Ajanta Caves (18MAR)

We departed Aurangabad and headed for Ajanta caves in route to Jalgaon. The caves were built by/for Buddhists between the 2nd century BC and 5th century AD and some were never completed allowing you to see what they would have looked like as the sculptors chipped away at the cliff-face. The completed caves were painted with incredible artwork depicting events in Buddha's life, his past incarnations and day to day life of the time. Many of these painting have been preserved through the centuries, most likely because the caves were 'lost,' until British soldiers re-discovered the caves in 1819 while hunting a tiger or on maneuvers (depending on the version of the story you wish to believe). There are 30 caves cut into the cliff face, which is the outside of a bend in the river valley that was dry during my visit, but is filled with waterfalls and a river during monsoon season.

The first cave has some of the best and most well preserved paintings and Maxie, one of the members of the tour, had a book of 1000 paintings to see before you die and one of the paintings is found in this cave. The caves are both monasteries for monks to live in, and temples with stupas for worship. Although some of the paintings have crumbled due to age and weathering, others were vandalized by early visitors, which is quite sad to see.

Due to the scenic location and impressive state of preservation, I think these caves were even more impressive than the caves at Ellora. The only reason I would discourage people from visiting would be due to the city of aggressive vendors that has sprung up in front of the parking lot. However, these can be avoided by visiting the site via the view point on the opposite bank of the river, which has a trail that leads you down to a series of bridges you can cross to the ticket office and entrance to the caves. And the view of the full valley is quite amazing from the viewpoint and hike down as well, and would make the trip worth it even if the vendors were not discouraging the use of the regular parking lot.

In high season the caves are reportedly packed with Indian tourist. We were fortunate to visit off season and on a week day so the crowds were minimal, however that made us even more of a target for vendors. Despite emptying my wallet of all money except for ticket fees and enough for a bottle of water, I still ended up with postcards, geodes, and small carved stones... I couldn't believe it myself.

Daulatabad Fort (17MAR)

Daulatabad, meaning city of Prosperity, has a long history.  The hill it is built upon, and around, has been occupied since 100 BC. Most notably, in 1327 Muhammad bin Tughluq moved the capital of his kingdom from Delhi to Daulatabad, to include the entire population. Two years later, he abandoned the site due to the insufficient water supply. During my visit the lack of water was evident with a fairly dry and barren landscape, however during the monsoon season the area is transformed into a lush green landscape of waterfalls and black cliff faces. Based on the limited pictures I have seen and the many water stained cliff faces, the contrast must be stunning.

I traveled out to the fort via a local Jeep Taxi, which was packed to the gills with human commerce. I would imagine it is designed to seat about 12, but we probably had 20 people in ours.  I have seen others with so many people inside that the best ride is hanging off the outside of the vehicle, where at least another six passangers were enjoying the fresh air as the taxi flew down the road! In my taxi, I was sitting in the front seat, where we had packed 5 people across.  The driver could only drive with one hand because half the steering wheel was in front of the next guy on the seat. Fortunately, it was not a long drive and and the crowd wasn't rowdy.

The fort has about four layers of defensive walls, plus a dry moat and wet moat. The wet moat is met by a sheer cliff face that was cut away by the builders to make it next to impossible to summit without using the bridge and tunnel system that leads to the top. The cave/tunnel that lead up to the top is not lit, but I was prepared with a flashlight to get through it. However, I didn't need it because a local man snagged me at the opening with a small torch of his own and led me through, giving me a history of the fort in broken but animated English. I understood the parts I already knew and hadn't wanted a guide or tour, but ended up giving him 10 rupees at the end of the tunnel to move on with my sightseeing. This voluntary assistance, which turns into tour guides expecting money, is all too common at tourist attractions in India and can grow annoying at times. You often end up not wanting to ask anyone anything for fear of them turning around and asking for a hand out for the information. Below the hill lies the ruins of the ancient city as well as the current village that sits within the limits of the outer most wall of the fort.

During my visit I was stopped multiple times to pose in pictures with the Indian tourist that found a lone western tourist almost as interesting as the fort they were there to see. This was quite enjoyable and it was refreshing to chat with people who wanted nothing more than to learn where you were from and how you were enjoying their country.

After touring the fort, I headed up the hill outside the outer wall to take a picture of the fort as the sun was setting. As I hiked up the road a man stopped on his motorbike and asked if he could help me. I told him I was headed up the hill and he kindly offered to give me a lift, which I accepted. He was thoughtful and drove cautiously up the hill and didn't even complain when I accidentally knocked a watermelon off the bike that I suspect he was bringing home from market. While watching the sunset I chatted with a couple of boys that were surprise I was traveling alone. I told them I had friend in Aurangabad, and asked if I should be concerned traveling alone and they reassured me that the area was safe and the population friendly as I had experienced so far. After the sunset I headed down the hill and another kind cyclist picked me up and drove me down the road to the bus stop.

The warm reception throughout the evening was quite enjoyable and would become a theme for the majority of my trip through central India.

Ellora Caves (16MAR)

I met my new group in Mumbai and spent less than 24 hours in the city before hopping on a train heading for Aurangabad to visit the Ellora Caves and other sites around the city.
The Ellora Caves are actually man made structures and were chipped, chiseled and carved out of a Basalt rock face between 350-700. The 34 caves stretch across a rock face for over a mile and were built by/for Hindus, Buddhists and Jains. The fact that they are all built in such close proximity, hints at the religious harmony that must have been enjoyed during the time. The center piece is Kailasnath Temple, cave 16, which took 150 years to carve by six generations of workers that carved from the top of the rock, above the current structure all the way down to the base of the temple, which is a single stone. The guide said it was the largest monolithic sculpture in the world, however Mt Rushmore sprung to my mind and I think it has the cave beat. However, the time of construction, and the fact that between two to three thousand tons of waste rock were removed, makes it an amazing feat regardless.
The Buddhist caves were less ornate and were designed as both monasteries and temples. The monasteries were deep, multi-level structures with columns running the depth of the cave as well as across the front of the cave opening and a few Buddha sculptures on the walls. The temple was the most impressive with a high ribbed roof down the center with a stupa and Buddha figure at the end and columns running down the sides. Our guide did some chanting in the cave to demonstrate the acoustics and one could only imagine how amazing it would sound with a group of monks chanting in unison.
The Jain caves were similar to the Hindu temples/caves, but they had the most impressive details in the ornate carvings through-out the cave.
All of the caves we visited were amazing, but we did not have time to visit all 34. One of the most striking elements of the caves history was the fact that they had been converted into homes and even barns for a time, before conservation work saved them from further ruin. Some of the caves had been painted initially but must of this had been lost to weather and the fires of the farmers and ranchers that took up residence in the caves. Additionally, there are multiple additional carvings or damage to original sculptures where 'residents' carved holes to tie up livestock or sheets to make walls for privacy. It has amazed me how the population can give such reverence to active temples, but treat them with complete disregard when they are inactive, turning a religious site into barns, homes or kitchens and completely destroying the amazing artwork they contain.
From Aurangabad we continued our travel NE and stopped at Ajanta Caves, which were 'lost' for centuries until being re-discovered by a British party of hunters... or soldiers on maneuvers. Due to the fact that the caves are tucked away and we not used as shelters, the cave paintings were better preserved and stand as testament to the grandeur of Ellora in its time.

Goa Road Trip (12-14MAR)

After our day of Holi, we got the itch to go south and see Palolem, which was referred to as 'paradise lost' in the Lonely Planet. Unfortunately, it was at the opposite end of Goa from where we were when we decided we needed to add it to the itinerary. After much debate, we finally decided to leave most of our stuff at the current room, which was only $7 a night, pack day bags and head south on a road trip to Palolem where we'd stay one night. By eyeballing the map of Goa in the Lonely Planet, we assessed that it would take about three hours to drive down. After a slow start, we rented scooters at about 10:30 and set off.

Within the first hour on the road, we were stopped by cops who told us we had to have helmets on the national highway, which really was a good choice regardless of the law. At any rate they threatened heavy fines for us (1050 rupees) and the bike owner (500 rupees), and said they would have to confiscate the bikes until the owner was notified and paid his fine. Plus they said we couldn't drive with our licenses and had to have international or India licenses. However, our guidebook and the hundreds of other tourist on the road suggested otherwise. We had no way of contacting the bike owner, and after some debate about other options, the cops finally told us to buy helmets from a local street vendor (200 rupees each, $4, for helmets made for show alone) and pay a 500 rupee fine and be on our way. They also promised no other cops would bother us now that we had helmets.

The cops are reportedly the most corrupt portion of the Indian government and bribes are referred to as 'Chai money.' Therefore, we had probably just bought their chai for the next month. We decided we didn't want to risk anymore fines, plus the highway was too crazy anyway; so chose a back road route to get the rest of the way to Palolem. In the end, we got to see some nice back roads scenery through the hills inland and along the southern coast, but we spent seven hours on the road to get to Palolem and arrived just on time for sunset.

Upon our arrival in Palolem, we were mobbed by scouts sent our by local hotels to drum up business. They followed us down the last stretch of road to the beach, and had us surrounded before we even killed the engines on our bikes. We got the names of the hotels, some prices, and assurances from all of them that the rooms were good at cheap prices. After some debate, we broke through to the beach telling them we had spent all day on the road and just wanted to enjoy the sunset. One persistent but easy going kid stuck with us for about 10 minutes while we took pictures of the rapidly fading sun so we finally gave in and followed him to his beach shack hotel. While we chatted he told us about the local ordinances which stipulate that the beach side commercial zone permits are only good for six months. After which, most of the city is torn down for monsoon season, leaving only a few permanent structures, and rebuilt the next season. Anyone who failed/refused to tear down their building at the end of the season, would find it destroyed by the fire/police dept. It was quite amazing to see how many 'hotels' and restaurants were built up every season to turn this beautiful crescent of sand palms and hills into a crowded beach resort.

The shacks were actually quite comfortable, despite their simple construction and limited/no amenities, some did include bathes and all had mosquito net covered beds. Our two bed shack with bathroom and ocean view cost us (400 rupees a night, $8). The beach was a beautiful crescent set between hills and rocky out-croppings at either end, with an island at the NW end that was connected to the mainland at low tide. The vendors were also more laid back, the tourist population was more our age, and we had some of the best seafood of the trip our first night; so we loved the place and ended up staying two nights. We were also blessed with great surf the next day and spent an hour boogie boarding on four foot waves that just kept coming.

Our last morning we grabbed breakfast and hit the road back to Ajuna, we took a little more direct route, with a little more highway time and made it back in five hours. After showers and a quick bite to eat, we treated ourselves to a post-bike, pre-bus Kerala Massage. Then we turned in our bikes and after trying to sell the helmets for 100 rupees, to our unhelpful bike renter, we settled at 50 rupees and left Goa on a sleeper bus to Mumbai.

Happy Holi (11MAR)

From Calangute Beach, the busiest beach in Goa, we headed north to Ajuna, which is famous for a Wednesday Flea Market. The beach was less impressive and had a lot of red rock formations that where concealed just under the surf at high tide, which made swimming a little more risky if you didn't know where to go. The tourist population seemed to be made up of old hippies re-living the glory days of the Goa party days of old. Only a few years ago, Ajuna was home to all night rave parties, but due to new law regulating late night noise the parties have died out or moved on to other beaches.

We came up for the Wednesday Flea Market but had a day to explore as well, and during the first morning we were warned about Holi. We heard several versions of why the holiday is celebrated. One was that it was either Ganash's or Shiva's birthday a week earlier and they were celebrating the full moon after his birthday. The second was a celabration tied to a story about Shiva, in which the other two primary gods, Bramah and Vishnue where argueing about which god was greatest when Shiva appeared in a Lingum, or shaft of light, that Brama and Vishnue could not see the top or bottom of, and therefore, Shiva was greatest. But, the most consistent story was that Holi is a celebration of the end of winter. And in the south, it is not celebrated as much due to the lack of a winter, so this may also be why the people in Goa, have less understanding as to why they are celebrating... but they aren't going to turn down an opportunity either.

So, what happens on Holi? People get brightly colored rice powder and throw it at, or smear it on, anything that moves. Again, in the north it is suppose to be more intense but it was crazy enough for me in Goa. Our guide actually told us they tell westerners not to even go outside in places like Varanasi, because locals get a little to crazy and have even torn clothes off of people on the streets. Another guy we met, that has been coming to India often, said a friend of his was knocked off of a bike at 40 KM/H when he was hit in the face with an entire bag of Holi flour. And Lonely Planet said there have been limited cases of acid being mixed with the coloring in sprays leaving permanent scars... of course we learned about all this after our day of Holi.

For Ross and I, our Holi day began at the beach before breakfast, where some kids asked first and then smeared our cheeks and foreheads with different colors. After breakfast, we rented scooters and hit the road, where we found ourselves in Holi hell. After leaving the main road, we began to run into Holi road blocks, manned by a collection of kids and some adults, that covered us with more color and told us to pay a toll to pass. We made it about 500 meters and hit about seven road blocks before our toll funds and patients began to run out. We were then caught between two road blocks and both were demanding tolls, to either move forward or retreat back the way we came. We parked our bikes and waited them out for few minute until they finally accepted 5 rupees to pass and head back the way we had come. (According to the locals giving money or small gifts is common on Holi and often people asked for 'boxes' when they Holied us, which they translated to Rupees for us.) Fortunately for us, we were able to pass through all our previous road blocks with little to no hassle and returned to the beaches where it was 'safer.'

We stopped in Arambol, one of the northern most beaches, for lunch and to scout out possible new place to stay. During and after lunch, we watched a Holi ambush develop, which painted everyone that entered or exited the beach. Arambol was a nice stretch of beach and had a pretty good sized western tourist population, which was a mix of old hippies, Russians, and others. We checked out a few hill side bungalows before heading back to Ajuna for the Flea Market. By this time, we were fully Holi and received many compliments on our 'nice Holi.'

It was a wild experience, but one we only want to live through once. The following days we learned that various villages celebrate on different days and we were hesitant to venture out for fear of a second dose of Holi. We did see others with splashes of color but managed to avoid any further doses of Holi ourselves. Our clothes are still stained, and it took about three days to wash the Holi out of our Hair and skin. In the Lonely Planet it recommends wearing an old shirt from grandma that you never where and wouldn't mind turning from bland to psychedelic, which is sound advice.

Panjim/Old Goa (9MAR)

First of all I would like to note that Goa is not a city, but actually a state within India. It is however a pretty small state and Ross and I covered quite a bit of it in our seven day stay. Our first highlight was a tour of Goa's colonial past. Goa was the home of Portuguese spice and fabric trade for many years and it is said that Old Goa, the capital from 1510-1759, once rivaled Lisbon. The capital was moved west to Panjim after several malaria and cholera epidemics ravaged the city. Now, it is little more than a collection of huge, tightly clustered cathedrals that hint at the glory of thriving population of the Portuguese past. However, before the Portuguese arrived, it was also the home of the local empires capital and palace, and all but a gate to the old palace was lost to Portuguese expansion. Even one of the cathedrals, built to look like St Peters in Rome, is believed to have been built on top of the foundations to an old Hindu Temple.

Also of note, the Basilica of Bom Jesus houses the remains of Saint Frances Xavier, who was a missionary to Asia and India and his body was miraculously preserved after his death and is displayed on occasion at the church. The last viewing had over a million viewers pass by his casket.

In Panjim, there is one impressive whitewashed cathedral, Church of Mary Immaculate Conception, where Portuguese sailors use to give thanks after a safe passage to Goa from Portugal. The rest of the old town is filled with red tile roofs and still has a Portuguese feel and traditions.

Hampi (5-6 MAR)

Hampi was a highlight of the trip so far. It is an oasis among mountains of boulders. As if God had set aside piles of stone on a carpet of green to use else where, but on the seventh day he rested and the piles were left; misplaced among a landscape filled with rice fields and banana plantations that are only interrupted by the rocks and a meandering river.

Today, the area is an oasis for tourists, that come for both the spectacular scenery, but also to escape the cities and relax in the bungalow retreats that dot the landscape along the river. However, 500 years ago the area was a bustling city and capital of an empire that controlled all of southern India. With an estimated population of 500,000 the city was rich with money from the spice trade and build temples and markets among and of the stone that covers the landscape. Then at it's peak the empire and city fell in battle leaving only remnants of stone behind. The ruins the remain are amazing, and we proved you can see nearly all of it in a day. However, as Lonely Planet points out, that is not the point in Hampi, and it would have been nice to have more time here to relax and really enjoy all Hampi has to offer.

On our first night, we climbed to the top of a hill were a small whitewashed temple is perched on the edge of a cliff. The temple is referred to as the Monkey Temple and it has a large population of mischievous monkeys that have a history of stealing sunglasses and other items from tourists, which they then sometimes will return in exchange for food. The sunset was incredible but the scenery that unfolded in every direction was impossible to capture in a single image.

On the second day, rented bikes and toured the ruins of Vijaynagar (Victory City). It took us all day and we even rented a Rickshaw for a portion that of the journey, which really gave me a better feel for how large the old city must have been. Today there are remnants of many of the old temples, markets, the central royal grounds, foundations of some of the nobleman's quarters, and some of the walls that once guarded it all. The rock sculpture work was extensive and amazingly ornate and I cannot imagine the manpower that must have been invested in building the city.

Kochi (1-2 MAR)

Helping haul in the catch in the local fishing nets.

The characters prepare their make up for the Kathakali Dance

A row of fishing nets which were introduced by the Chinese

Kochi is India's largest port city. However, the smaller, old Fort Kochi area is the most popular for tourists and has a history of influence from abroad. It was home to a large Jewish population for a time and still has an old synagogue, though the Jewish population has dwindled.

The Portuguese controlled the port for a time and built up the Fort area to include a palace for the local rulers. The palace was later renamed the Dutch Palace, when they took control of the area from the Portuguese. The banks are lined with fishing nets that were introduced by the Chinese. 

According to our guide, the area was considered one of the top 50 places to visit by national geographic, and the synagogue is a world heritage site. However, my initial impression was that the whole place was over rated, poorly maintained and more of run down city than tourist attraction.

On our second day, Ross and I rented bikes and pedaled around the narrow streets, and I began to see a little more of the charm hidden under a layer of dirt and debris. Many of the old buildings were quite nice, but were so run down and dirty the you could easily overlook their charm and architectural merit.

 During the outing we also helped the fishermen pull in one of the Chinese fishing nets, but had little fish to show for our efforts. In classic Indian style, they had invited us to help, we did their job, and then they asked us for a donation to supplement their incomes since the fishing season has been poor.

Also while we were in town we attended a Kathakali dance, which is a traditional folk dance that was used to tell the stories about Hindu gods. It was an interesting performance and the cast and host seemed a little crazy. However, this is understandable because they have been doing performances every night for over 20 years. And, I believe the MC has been hosting the dance and explaining the make-up application, hand and facial movements, and religious stories behind the performance for 40 years!  That is about ten times longer than I have held any single job.  I can only hope he loves what he does.  

Backwaters (28FEB)

Our group preparing to depart on a evening boat tour.  Our guide is the one person wearing a life vest... should we have been concerned?

Islands of palms among the seas of rice fields.

One of several churches in the area.  Kerala is 20% Christian, while nationwide they only make up 2% of the population.

A row of houseboats, which are popular for vacationers, and necessary to house the local population bursting from the island banks. 

The backwaters are a huge area of reclaimed land off the coast of Kerala. It is a rich river delta region, which is used primarily for rice farming. However, many travelers also come here for a romantic escape in houseboats that fill the canals and in some places look like trailer parks at sea. Some locals live on the houseboats as well, but out of necessity due to the limited amount of land for building communities.

Our stay was short and fairly activity packed, but it was still a relaxing break from the hustle of cities and land transport. We took a train up the coast from Varkala, but then transferred to boats and drifted through the canals that divide the rice fields and island communities. The rice fields stretched out like seas of green dotted by islands of palm trees. Along the banks of the canals people were busy with daily life: washing laundry on rocks they used to beat garments clean, bathing, fishing, and waiting for ferries to move about the community.

During our stay here, we vacationed in other peoples lives, by staying with local families for this part of our journey. The families we stayed with run a kind of bed and breakfast to supplement their rice farming incomes.  I would think having awe struck guests like us, has to make them appreciate the beauty of the land that they work and call home.

Our families also acted as our guides in the area and told us about the land reclamation, local boat making and repair, and even took us out on an evening canal tour in narrow canoes.  During the tour they sang us local folk songs as the dusk light dimmed and stars filled the night sky above the palm lined canal. One of the songs must have been a local favorite because we could here people joining in on the chorus from the banks.

The area has a 20% Christian community, which is ten times greater than the percent of Christians nationwide, and the difference is noticeable with the number of churches along the banks. However, you can also see the Hindu influence in the churches, which have lotus flowers under the cross and flag poles similar to the ones you find in Hindu temples.

Varkala (26/27FEB)

I'm way behind so here are some of the highlights and photos from Varkala.

Varkala is a beach resort town set on red cliffs. It is a beautiful setting but is sadly spoiled by trash. Each business seemed to have a dumping point along the cliffs where a white glacier of of plastic bags, bottles and paper slid down the cliffs and choked out the green vegetation that was trying to hold back the tide of trash. It was sad to see the trash and it boggled my mind since the setting was what brought in the tourists and tourism was probably the foundation of the economy followed by fishing, which was also supported by the tourism.

Ross and I continue to be weak Indian shoppers and now own even more items we had no intention to buy and often purchased at prices well above the local going rates. In Varkala we ended up with shirts, pens and bracelets, which we bought from cute kids that don't take no for an answer, but made the swindle fun.

Our two days were spent walking the cliff-edge boardwalk, dining at the many inviting restaurants along the way and soaking up the views, and spending time on the beach, where we did some boogie boarding and body surfing. The last of which left me with chipped teeth when I bounced off the bottom of the ocean on my chin.

Shirt shopping India style

Ahmed and I on the rooftop viewing platform of his families shop, with the Madurai Temple as a backdrop.


Prior to catching our night train, my roommate Ross and I went out with the intent of window shopping around Madurai's famous tailor markets.

We never made it, because as soon as we stepped out the door of our hotel, we found ourselves in the web of a charismatic, fast-talking tailor who wanted to show us his shirt shop. In a passionate plea he told us about his family history in the business, and ensured us his shop was right across the street, so he wouldn't take us out of our way.  We decided we could take a look and as we walked, he waved his hand saying the shop was 'right here.' We told him great and we wanted to stop in the neighboring shop as well, which he was happy to let us do.

We walked into a shop, and were greeted by yet another friendly salesman. He led us to the section of the shop with shirts our size and we began browsing, but everything was wrapped in plastic and we didn't want to start tearing them open and committing to a purchase. Our salesman took the initiative and pulled one out of the plastic and held the top up to my shoulder and pulled the bottom down and tapped my groin saying "Right size, right size." I was a little shocked but took it as a tailor thing, acknowledged the proper size and moved on. He then noted my friend Ross' nose ring and introduced himself to Ross, limp wristed and giggly... this was not a tailor thing. Next, he squeezed my arm while I was looking at another shirt and that marked time to move on and we headed for the door.

Our tailor friend was waiting outside with a charismatic smile, ready to bring us to his shop. Instead of going into a neighboring shop like we expected, he continued to lead us down the block still saying it was 'right here.' Finally, about a block further down the road we arrived at a door that actually led into a narrow hall lined with shops and dimly lit for what was sure to be our abduction and sale into human trafficking. Much to our relief, we were never bagged and gagged, but our wallets were ransomed for our freedom.

He sat us down at his shop, which consisted of a counter in front of a closet size room with enough room behind the counter for him to stand between the wall of shelves filled with fabrics behind him. At the end of the counter in the far corner of the 'closet' sat a sewing machine and several 'tailors,' old heavyset men with yesterday's five o'clock shadow and a look that suggested they had been beaten by the heat, cramped space and lack luster sales.  In front of the counter, we sat on two stools that hung out into the narrow hall and the other merchants and customers were observing the deal as it went down, surely in awe of this man's skill of luring tourist into his shop. Despite the fact that we entered the situation with no intent to buy, we now were in too deep, he was pushing the sale with passion and zeal and tent revival evangelist, and we were unable to muster the strength to turn it down or even to barter. We left paying about 500 rupees a shirt, about double a decent rate, and then got suckered into the next most popular scam in town.

Our new friend, now happy with his sale, wanted to 'thank us' by showing us a 'special' view of the temple, from a 'government building,' which at other times he called a bank. He explained in vague terms the importance of the momentous timing of our viewing and hustled us down the road. Having read about the scams to get you into shops with promises of panoramas, and Ross having already been pulled into one, we asked specifically if it was a shop. "No, no, government building" was the insistent reply.

We arrived, disappointed, at a shop to be handed off to the next contestant in the 'Scam a Tourist' fiasco. We reluctantly entered and hustled through the shop, past the salesmen without making eye contact, and stated the fact that we had said we didn't want to go to a shop, hoping the shop owners would here us and let us go easy. We continued straight through the shop without resistance, hit the stairs and charged for the roof to see this momentous event we had been promised. A salesman followed and waited in the corner of the 'viewing platform.' 

The view was less than spectacular and we noted the fact that the trees were already blocking the view and in a few years he'd be out of business.  He acknowledged with a smile, and said they had tried to cut them down, but they where not allowed.  He went on to explain that another viewpoint was about to open at the opposite end of the temple square and would likely put them out of business all together.

It was refreshing to just shoot the breeze with someone, without a turn to the sale, so we continued to chat about his life, business and anything else under the fading sun. Ahmed was from Kashmir, and did a good job of selling it as the next destination we needed to book. He also talked about how the rick shaw drivers and other business men benefit from bringing people to his shop, from both him and the temple. Ahmed said his shop gave gifts and monetary assistance to families and kids for bring in customers. And, to our benefit, he said our tailor was 'the best' at bringing people into the shop.

We would have stayed longer to talk with Ahmed, but needed to get back and meet our group for check out and dinner before heading for the train station. We bid him farewell and he led us back downstairs. As we passed the second floor he turned to us with a grin and said, "I'm sure you don't want to stop to look at the rugs." We agreed with a chuckle, and continued down the stairs. Before we left he said, "Perhaps you and your group could return later, even if it is just for tea." The whole experience was such a refreshing change of pace from the constant sales pitch that it would have been nice to return for tea, but we didn't have the time.

After returning to the hotel to meet our group, we headed out for dinner.  We ate at a roof top restaurant with a great view of the temple towers rising into the dusk lit sky. With their scaffolding of wood and banana leaves, which has probably been used for thousands of years, they looked like a piece of the past rising up from the present. A piece of old India among a modern concrete jungle filled with neon signs, bustling traffic and a people torn between the two worlds. Their culture steeped in a long history of Hinduism, crashing headlong into the global cyber present, where call centers and fast food chains connect them to the western world that is rapidly encroaching on the local traditions.

 

Train to Madurai

From Mamallapuram, we headed for the train station via bus. Committing to travel on India's highways is an act of faith, as much as it is an act of a desperate tourist. An early morning mist covered the landscape, basking everything in the creamy orange glow of the rising sun. We bobbed, swerved, and braked our way through the countryside and villages, watching it all race by outside our windows. On a hill, I saw a temple of gleaming white pillars catching the first rays of the morning sun above the mist. It was perched on the precipice of a cliff and looked as though it could tumble over the edge at any moment.

We arrived at the train station, which was a great example of the contrast that I have found to be a theme in India. The station itself was an older building faded by the sun and stained by the dust from the local roads. The platforms were dirty and covered by rusting corrugated metal, but the backdrop was amazing. The station was set on the edge of a lake with ghosts of mountains rising up from the morning mist on the left and right limits. A lone fisherman was standing on a long wooden canoe, which was powered by a long pole used to troll the bottom of the lake, as he broke the calm along the shore of lush dark green growth. He was headed north, and we boarded a train heading south for Madurai.

At each station the train approached, the air would come alive like a forest full of songbirds. Each with its own song: "Tea, Tea, Tea," "Coffee, Coffee, Coffee." Breads, CD's, Meals, Books, Drinks. Each being sold by a different vendor. Each vendor singing his sale with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Some like songbirds, some like auctioneers, and others like frogs, croaking as if they may not be able to bear another day of poor sales. Some climbed aboard and chirped down the isles loud enough to overcome both the melodic click clack of the rails and any slumber the passengers hoped to smuggle aboard.

Trash is a constant fixture on the landscape in India, and train windows double as trash receptacles for Indian travelers. It is a shame to see the litter along the tracks. However, like Hansel and Gretel's trail of breadcrumbs, the litter holds testament to what the vendors are selling along any given portion of the journey. At one stop, that seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, I noticed that there must be a coconut salesmen nearby, because the scene outside the window looked like the mass grave site of a vegetarian genocide, scattered with coconut carcasses in varying stages of decay.

Outside the open windows, a patchwork of every shade of green rolls by, sewn together by dusty red clay roads and black top that criss-cross and chase the tracks as we sail between cities and villages that interrupt the scenery. Our trip began with the morning cool waning, but the breeze through the windows felt refreshing. However, as we rolled into the late afternoon, the heat continued to build, and soon the breeze was more like the hot wind that brushes your face as you open the oven. As the temperature climbed, time slowed, and my interest in the scenery waned. On the downward slope of the days peak temperature, we finally arrived in Madurai.