Madurai

Madurai is near the southern extent of India, tucked in the foothills where the eastern and western ranges meet. It was also the ancient meeting place of the scholars of Hinduism and is now home of the famous Sri Meenakshi Temple. The temple covers six hectares, or about four city blocks, and is surrounded by walls with an entrance in each cardinal direction that sit beneath impressive Dravidian towers up to 150 feet tall covered in ornate and colorful depictions of Hindu gods and goddesses. Inside there are eight more towers in the same style of various heights. Unfortunately, I was visiting at the wrong time of the wrong year, because they are all covered in scaffolding and banana leaves for repainting, which is done every 12-15 years (depending on which guide you speak to). At any rate, they will be uncovered in may as part of a large celebration which will bring pilgrims from around the world to this holy site. I was fortunate not to have huge throngs of pilgrims, and visited in the cool of the morning before the crowds of tourist arrived as well. Within the walls of the temple complex is a labyrinth of halls, statues and honoring many of the millions of Hindu gods and goddesses as well as a museum in the hall of one thousand columns... however there are actually only 985. I don't know what happened to the other fifteen, possibly budget cuts or the fall of dynasties cut the hall short. Today the museum is also under renovation so I was unable to explore all of its depths. One of the best views is from the Pool of the Lotus, where pilgrims once bathed before entering the main temples.

Madurai is also home of the Gandhi museum, which is ironically located in a palace built in Western styles of the era of British control, from which Gandhi had spent his life trying to gain India's Independence. The museum provided a good summary of the events, during British rule, that led up to and included Gandhi's lifework for the people of India and his death by assassination from the very people he committed his life to serve. His plight, methods and ability to motivate the population was similar to Martin Luther Kings, however he had to influence the international arena to free India from British rule as well as the population of India at large to change some of the laws of caste that divided the nation. It is an amazing testament to the selfless commitment to a cause for the greater good of of man kind.

Mamallapuram

Today, Mamallapuram is a small fishing village on India's eastern shores just south of Chennai. It also has a decent sized tourist population due to its history as a trading port from the Pallava kings of Kanchipuram. During the peak of their dynasty, 400-700AD, they carved many sculptures and temples into the rock faces that protected the town from an land invasions from the west. In addition to these amazing carvings the town also has a beautiful beach and Shore Temple that has been rescued from the seas that threatened to devour it, a fate shared by several other temples that lie under the crashing waves today.

For me Mamallapuram was a refreshing break from the crowds and grunge of the city in Chennai. The first thing we visited was the shore temple, which showed evidence of years of abuse from the crashing waves of the Bay of Bengal. It is now a UNESCO world heritage sight and is protected from the sea by a large rock embankment. While visiting the temple, we were swarmed by a group of kids on a field trip to visit the temple, who all wanted to introduce themselves, find out where we were from and excitedly posed for large group photos and swarmed around the tiny digital screen to see the final product.

Next we headed for the Five Rathas, which is a series of temples designed to look like chariots and was left unfinished as the dynasty collapsed. It was carved from a single stone and was covered by sand until it was excavated by the British only 200 years ago when the East India Company controlled the country. It is an impressive collection of carvings and temples and I can't imagine how long they were chipping away at the stone to create the collection. Among the other cliffs there are many other carvings and other points where it looks as though temples or structures had been started but now are nothing more than scars of a by-gone era, that leave you wondering what could have been. At the highest point on the rocks behind town there is a temple or guard shack that has a commanding view of the seas to the east and the plains to the west, that sits astride a more modern lighthouse that warns the ships of today that they are off the shores of a great port of yesterday.

The day flew by and I could have easily spent a week in this town. The beggars and street merchants are still constant theme, but here even they seem to be a little more laid back, and quicker to give up the sale for some banter about where you are from and wish you a good stay in their country.

Though the day was short the night was long and changed my opinion of the mosquitoes. Before, thought they were lazy vagabonds, drifting on the breeze waiting for a victim to run into them. Almost to lazy to even go to the trouble of sucking blood. Now I know that this deceiving show is really the result of gorging themselves into a lazy stupor during the night. Our hotel did not have A/C, so we had opened the windows in hopes of a cool evening breeze off the ocean. Instead, we were robbed of blood by thieves on the breeze, which mockingly buzzed a 'thank you' in my ear a hundred times as they fled. I wrapped myself in a sheet for protection but left my face defenseless. They left it feeling swollen with bites, to include a 'goodnight kiss' that had left my upper lip swollen. When they weren't biting me I was slapping phantoms from my face like a madman possessed by demons. I was glad to see the morning light and welcomed the all day train ride to Madurai that awaited group.

First impressions of India

I will have to come back to Seoul, but wanted to get my first impressions of India down while they are fresh on my mind. I arrived into Mumbai Airport initially and had to catch a plane to Chennai about four hours after I arrived. I spoke with a man on the plane about the layover and he said things are slower here. When we arrived everyone crowded the isle like America but once they were moving they sauntered along like there was no hurry at all, and I thought the man was on to something.
The first thing to hit me when I stepped off the plane was the smell of burning trash that was reminiscent of Iraq. The airport seemed to be wrapped in smog from the fires and when I left for Chennai, it seemed to cover the earth below like a thin film leaving everything in the dawn light looking brown and out of focus.
The next thing was my first beggars of the trip, the mosquitoes, looking for an ounce from my veins. I haven't seen mosquitoes through my winter travel, but I guess never have an off season here. I guess it is the lack of season that makes them a little more lazy here. They seemed quite passive and did more floating around waiting for a victim to run into them, rather than seeking you out. One even drifted into my backpack when I opened it briefly apparently to lazy to even fly and trying to catch a free ride wherever I was going.
After my reshuffling through buses and security to the domestic terminal waiting area, we then filed out the door to catch a bus to our aircraft at the same spot we were dropped off at the domestic terminal. The system was a little chaotic as they had passengers for about five different flights crowding the curb and small signs for where you should stand to catch a bus for your respective flight. The sign for my flight was at the end of the curb and once we were on the bus, it pulled forward about 20 yards, and turned left so we could get off the bus at the plane that was directly across from the door to the waiting area we just left. The walk to the plane was probably a shorter walk than it was to the bus pick-up point. It was amusing, but it seems they have many small jobs that the system could due without, but they help the overall population and economy by keeping people employed. I saw similar efforts in Japan where we watched a team of three men direct traffic into a parking garage, and the light and arrow on the street would surely have done just as effective of a job.
Anyway, I arrived in Chennai at about 8:00 am, and I could tell it was warmer and more humid by the way the planes wing began to sweat as soon as we landed. I retrieved my bags and began dealing with the barrage of friendly Indians all trying to help me for a price. The first were the taxi pre-pay booth personnel that wanted to get me a ride and then wanted to exchange my money but when I asked for an ATM they became very short and cold and shooed me off in the proper direction. Then I got outside and began working my way through the crowd of Rickshaw and taxi drivers to get to the ATM. One persistent Rickshaw driver was persistent and led me to the ATM and waited for me outside. He charged as much as a taxi, but claimed to be giving me a deal. I figured since it was my first 'took took'- three wheeled rickshaw- experience I might as well just take him up on the offer. He then walks me about two blocks past dozens of waiting taxis and rickshaws telling them all my destination, which sounds a lot like he is bragging about a trophy fair, before we finally get to his rickshaw. Along the way I kid and ask him if we were going to walk to my hotel or if he was giving me a ride, at which point he quickly flags down another rickshaw to drive us to his rickshaw. I pass and tell him I'm kidding. I get an hour tour of India traffic with a free stop at a gas station, where he takes my fair to fill his tank, plus breathe in enough early morning exhaust fumes to trim my life by a year, before we arrive at my hotel.
After checking in I meet my roommate, Ross, who had arrived about three that morning and we took off to see some of the local sites. We started walking for downtown, but soon gave up and took a left to the beach, which looked much closer. Along the route we were propositioned by every passing and parked rickshaw driver to give us a ride and we finally gave it at the beach were we had pulled out our map to determine where we were, and found this is equivalent to waving a 'rickshaw please' flag. Several drivers had offered to give us a tour of popular sights for about 150 rupees each and we haggled this driver down to 100 for the two of us (about $2). He then gets on the phone with a friend and pulls us around to pick up his friend before we start our tour, so it is now an even two on two 'fight'. The friend is our 'translator' and begins by telling us how he is in college and makes it a point to inform us that he is a Christian and 'loves Jesus', which I'm not sure of the relevancy but we go on with introductions as we drive. He then notices Ross is smoking a cigarette he had rolled himself and asks if we want marijuana, and that Chennai has the best marijuana. We pass on this and then he asks if we like Indian girls, which we also tell him we are not in the market for them either.
Our first stop is St Thomas Basilica, where St Thomas had reportedly built a church when he came to India spreading the word, and he is also reportedly buried below the church. It was an impressive church and they had a museum and pictures of Pope John Paul II, visit to the church along with other memorabilia in the small museum. Next our driver and translator took us to Kapaleeswarar Temple, the most popular Hindu Shrine in Chennai. It was interesting, but we were barraged with beggars and more friendly locals offering to give us tours of the area, for a price. From here the tour turned into a 'driver benefit tour,' which was apparent as it developed and we later read about in Ross' Lonely Planet guide.
We went to antique and jewelery shops, that were 'the best in town.' And then they brought us to a good restaurant for lunch. They of course joined us, but when the bill was requested, only one was requested; and when we asked how we were splitting it, they suddenly could not understand our English. We picked up the tab and the meal cost about double, per person, what it would cost at any comparable restaurant. After lunch we need to stop at an ATM and then we wanted to go back to the hotel, but our guides wanted to show us two more shops. We told them we had no interest in buying souvenirs, but would look around if it would help them out, which is when they explained they got gas coupons from the businesses for bringing in tourists.
We finally arrived back at our hotel and ended up paying 100 rupees per person, rather than total. We also came full circle with all the 'translators' talk of college, tests, his broke down rickshaw... he wanted us to give him money to help pay for his upcoming college tests. 'Not much, just ten dollars each' (500 rupees). We declined and reminded him we paid double the agreed fair and bought him lunch, and went to all the shops we had no interest in, which he blew off as the past and offered us a deal, five dollars each. It seemed nothing mattered, but what we could do for them next.
During the first half of the tour we ran into another pair of travellers at 4 of the same stops and were sure there were many more suckers out there just like us and wished we could compare notes with them at the end to see how each of us had fared and what the various nuances of each experience were. In the Lonely Planet guide we read that the Rickshaw drivers often get a commission from the places they bring you and that the prices are always inflated. Plus at some hotel restaurants they won't even allow the drivers in because they apparently will demand commissions, if they are not already established.
Finally, to add insult to injury, we discovered the temple and basillica we had visited where literally right around the corner from our hotel, and our Intrepid tour guide was going to take us to see them the following night on our first walk around the area.
And this is India, the land of the kindest fleecings in the world. Where your are robbed in front of your face, thanked for it with a smile, and then asked for a little more. However, as you walk down the road and see people sleeping the the gutter next to another man pissing in the same gutter, you cannot help but feel for them and applaud their efforts to get by, even if it means a few extra dollars on top of your fair and a free lunch among new 'friends.'

Niseko

Niseko is known by some as 'Little Australia,' due to the large amount of Australians that travel here for the great powder and have bought property in the last few years. I talked to a guy from the UK that has lived in Tokyo the last 12 years and he said the price of property has gone up to nearly 30 times the values of 10 years ago, but has receded with the recent global market woes. While another guy told me he had Japanese friends who could order dinner at a local restaurant because the waiter didn't speak Japanese! I went to a pizza place that looked like it was transplanted from Australia's Gold Coast and was complete with a Surfboard on the wall and a Japanese musician singing English tunes.

I, however, stayed on the south, Annapuri, side of the mountain, which is much less crowded with tourists and my hostel, Niseko-Kogen, was more of a traditional style Japanese accommodation. The owners were great and always on the move. The wife treated you like you were one of her grand children and took care of all the cooking and booking, while the husband was in charge of running guests to and from the train station and ski lifts. He was also a notable accordion player from what I could gather from the awards and newspaper clippings on the walls. Another couple staying there told me the place was Lonely Planet's top pick and that some guests are treated with some accordion playing during their stay, but I was not so lucky. They also told me that the building was an old school.

Every morning the wife would have a great breakfast prepared and on the table by seven and the husband would be rattling the windows as he plowed the snow in the parking lot with a little bulldozer, which I guess is a required piece of equipment due to the shear volume of snow they get in a typical winter. However, this winter has been far from typical and I was told it was actually some of the worst snow conditions for skiers in 14 years. That was depressing enough, but what made it the worse conditions I have ever experienced was the rain on day two. The night before it had snowed quite heavily so I was pumped to get out on the slopes in the morning. Unfortunately, as we were driving to the slopes it began to grow foggy with a light mist and by the time I got up the hill for my first run it was a light rain. I got to the bottom, completely soaked and called it quits. Fortunately, I had a nice fireplace back at the hostel to sit by and sip coffee while I caught up on Blogging about Tokyo and Sapporo.

The pictures are of the fresh powder covering the train track just before I left and the hostel also surrounded with the powder I missed out on. The area is beautifully set between the mountain that the resorts are on and a volcano that looks like a mini Fuji. Unfortunately, I didn't take a picture the first day when it was visible and the rest of the time it was concealed by clouds, rain or snow.

Trying to fly out of Hokkaido

So my timing was slightly off on my trip to Hokkaido. I was able to see the snow festivals, which was great, but I wanted to sample their world famous powder and missed it. Actually, I did get a little snow for my last day of boarding, but the majority fell as a was leaving the mountains and as I was waiting for my plane. In fact, so much fell that my flight was delayed about 8 hours. So, I got to read my book and catch up on some journal writing. Despite the delay, I must say Japan has a much better way of handling delays than America. Instead of piling us on board and waiting hours on the plane, they kept us in the waiting area, and gave us 500 yen ($5) in credit at the local food kiosk to buy something to eat and drink. That was pretty impressive, but what was more impressive is the folks at the kiosk told me about the credit when I tried to buy a drink rather than just taking my cash an not saying anything. And the airline had some folks walking around the waiting area to inform tourists like myself, who probably didn't understand the announcements in Japanese.
I was one of the first people in the waiting area, so it was pretty empty and quiet when I arrived but as more and more flights were cancelled or delayed the place soon became a pretty hectic and crowded scene with the main attraction at the windows in front of me where the ballet of snow plows, plane de-icers and other trucks and ground crew were clamouring between flurries to prepare the aircraft and runway before the next storm hit. The visibility was fluctuating from about 200 meters to several miles and sunny skies, when you had enough time to see the next storm rolling in like a sandstorm. It was quite a show and at times I couldn't even see it because the crowds of travellers at the window, with cameras in hand, often blocked the view completely. Meanwhile, behind me there was a second crowd at the small food kiosk stripping the shelves as they stocked up on food rations with their 500 yen credit. And a third, but smallest crowd was killing time in the duty free shop, where I had spent the last of my yen just before the throngs of stranded tourist filled the waiting area.
My 2 o'clock flight finally got off the ground just before 9, and I made it to Seoul at midnight to find the airport was largely shut down for the night and I couldn't get any cash or a bus until six in the morning, so I slept on a bench for an couple hours and one more on the bus before getting started with my site seeing in Seoul.

For the sign lovers out there, I have also included a sign that was on the back of the toilet in Japan. I don't read Japanese, but I think it says something about not making your wife angry by leaving the toilet seat up.