Sherrill and I visited more than 60 countries and most of the United States during our 52 year marriage. This is number 69 of a series about our lives and travels, true stories of two people discovering the world, each other, and themselves through five decades of traveling together. If you scroll down, you'll come to earlier posts in this series. To start at the beginning of our marriage and travels look at the Archives list in the sidebar and start with May, 2017. Older posts are a previous series.
Sherrill & star-shaped temple, Somnathpur Why, people wanted to know, since Sherrill and I had survived one trip to India, were we going back? Maybe that was why. We had the opportunity, so in January 2008 off we went, this time to the southern part of that vast country, again with our friend Hala.
"But it's dirty," people told us, "you'll get sick, you'll die." This, of course, from people who'd never been there.
"Think of the stories we'll have for them," I told Sherrill, after one of these conversations.
"Yes. Especially if we die."
The previous post, A MARRIAGE IN MOTION 68, told about the first part of our visit to south India, beginning in the east coast city of Chennai and continuing eventually to the west coast city of Kochi, which is where we pick up the story here.
"But it's dirty," people told us, "you'll get sick, you'll die." This, of course, from people who'd never been there.
"Think of the stories we'll have for them," I told Sherrill, after one of these conversations.
"Yes. Especially if we die."
The previous post, A MARRIAGE IN MOTION 68, told about the first part of our visit to south India, beginning in the east coast city of Chennai and continuing eventually to the west coast city of Kochi, which is where we pick up the story here.
Priests on elephants, Elephant Festival, Kochi We were lucky to be in Kochi (Cochin) for the great elephant festival—special elephants given to temples by rich donors. Cleaning an elephant so it will be ready to wear its finery, we saw on the first day, was not easy, even when the elephant cooperated, and sometimes they got a little frisky. Crowds of Indian families came to admire both the elephants and the paraphernalia they'd be wearing. The next day, we rode a boat to the part of the city where the festival was being held. The streets and temple grounds were filled with thousands of people, but we didn't see any non-Indians except those in our group. At one intersection, three elephants waited in all their gold and feathers and beads, a pair of Brahmin priests on each.
Slowly, a dozen decorated elephants moved into position on the temple grounds like a chorus line about to start dancing, their giant India-shaped ears flapping as crowds surged around them, pushing Sherrill and me so closely to them that we began to feel nervous. Nearby, firecrackers were exploding. Nobody else seemed nervous, however, although we'd heard of excited or frightened elephants stampeding. Sherrill and I had become separated from the rest of our group, ending up directly in front of the twelve spectacularly attired elephants just as the priests began raising tall, gold parasols above them. We could feel a proud, godlike aura radiating from the magnificent animals. Eventually, our group came together again and we made our way to the street, which had been decorated with countless rows of silver streamers in honor of the festival.
 Kathakali Dance Performance, Kochi |  Dancer being made up for performance |
Indians, we'd learned, loved rituals, costumes, and high drama. All of this was combined in a production we saw while we were in Kochi of the Kathakali, a 400 year-old dance/drama performed by elaborately costumed men. Hala and our guide had arranged for us to see first how the performers were made up and costumed for the performance, a very long and elaborate process. The stylized performance—of an ancient tale of a female demon who disguised herself as a beautiful maiden, a noble prince, and an innocent princess—was very dramatic, although slow-moving. At the beginning of the show, the theater was full, but not everyone in the audience stuck it out to the end. Fascinating as it was, I think we left after about an hour.
"We got the idea," Sherrill agreed, as we walked out with the others.
Maybe super titles would have helped.
"We got the idea," Sherrill agreed, as we walked out with the others.
Maybe super titles would have helped.
We had no idea what was going to happen to us the next day because all the roads in the neighboring state of Karnataka had been shut down by striking truckers so that we wouldn't be able to reach Mysore, our next destination. No buses, taxis, private cars, or even trains were allowed to move. There were threats of violence if anyone tried. After breakfast, we unexpectedly had the morning free, so Sherrill told me to go exploring instead of driving her crazy with my fussing.
 Making rope from shredded plastic bags (above) and out of coconut husks (at right) |  |
I followed zigzagging streets deeper into the old import-export area of Kochi, waves of exotic aromas pursuing me as I walked past 17th century spice warehouses. Many of the bustling people were dressed in traditional Moslem clothing, some women completely covered except for their faces. I had to make my way among hand carts, loaded wagons, and three-wheeled trucks piled with rice, tea, and spices. A few goats wandered the area, but I only saw one cow, and it was asleep. A couple of young tea wallahs were navigating the crowds with surprising dexterity while carrying their wire containers holding glasses of chai.
Decorated truck, South India I was back at our hotel in time for lunch, but news about the strike and our transportation options kept changing. Finally, Hala and our guide, nick-named by the group the "Knight of the Burning Cell Phone," were able to get us seats on a plane to Bangalore in Karnataka. We flew on "Spice Air," our plane named "Mustard." When we arrived in Bangalore, however, we learned that the city still was closed off by the striking truckers, the roads to Mysore blocked. Bangalore, a major computer/IT center, had a population of five and a half million then and it seemed as if most of them were at the airport. Many of the stranded travelers were Moslem families returning from pilgrimages. Since it was impossible to get out of the airport, Hala and our guide ordered box lunches for us.
Finally, some hours later, we got to a hotel, had some food and rest, and the next morning discovered that the strike had ended and our guide miraculously had got us onto a bus to Mysore (since all the trains were overbooked). By the time we reached Mysore, we were almost back on schedule. How he had energy to do it, I never knew, but he immediately gave us a tour—during which we saw a group of young men with shaved heads in dark red robes—Tibetan refugees.
India is so huge that it encompasses many landscapes and climates. As we drove north from Mysore toward the fifteenth century capital of Hampi, the terrain grew drier, studded with cactuses, agave, palms, and massive boulders deposited by ancient glaciers. At lunch time, we pulled into a rustic truck stop, where we ate box lunches we had with us—although some of us bought additional snacks from the truck stop cook. The cross-country trucks in India were smaller than in the United States, but brightly decorated, each truck proclaiming its owner's personality. Several pulled into the stop while we there. When we were back on the road, we saw lines of them stretching into the distance because of the just-ended strike, their gaudy colors making them look like a parade of carnival wagons.
Along the way, we saw a farmer digging up his field with a wooden plow—only the blade was steel. Dazzling white egrets hopped around after him, eating insects and worms that he turned out of the rich brown soil.
India is so huge that it encompasses many landscapes and climates. As we drove north from Mysore toward the fifteenth century capital of Hampi, the terrain grew drier, studded with cactuses, agave, palms, and massive boulders deposited by ancient glaciers. At lunch time, we pulled into a rustic truck stop, where we ate box lunches we had with us—although some of us bought additional snacks from the truck stop cook. The cross-country trucks in India were smaller than in the United States, but brightly decorated, each truck proclaiming its owner's personality. Several pulled into the stop while we there. When we were back on the road, we saw lines of them stretching into the distance because of the just-ended strike, their gaudy colors making them look like a parade of carnival wagons.
Along the way, we saw a farmer digging up his field with a wooden plow—only the blade was steel. Dazzling white egrets hopped around after him, eating insects and worms that he turned out of the rich brown soil.
 Giant boulders overlooking Hampi bazaar and modern-looking Hampi temples |  |
Monster boulders and ancient temples seemed to drift around each other in a surreal dreamscape on Hampi's dry hillsides. Although some of the temples were older than many others we'd seen in India, the simplicity of their design gave them an incongruously modern look—rather like Frank Lloyd Wright's wide-eaved "prairie houses," but made of stone. Others were covered with massive, grotesque sculptures, showing different perceptions of the divine. Monkeys greeted us and rhythmic chanting drifted down the slope as we climbed a rocky hill to a small shrine. A sadu lived there, we discovered, spending his life praying and chanting, depending on others for what he needed to stay alive. He had turned his back on worldly existence to focus on the eternal, whatever it was.
Sherrill at Hampi temple For two days, we explored this extraordinary place of colossal temples and palaces and huge step tanks to store water cut deeply into the granite hills. From time to time, bas-reliefs and statues seemed to reach out, almost as if they were trying to grab us: oversized images of Hanuman, the monkey god; Ganesh, the elephant god; and Narasimha, half-monkey and half-man. In one temple complex, a gypsy woman suddenly jumped out. Short, gaudy in multi-layered skirts, scarves, and spangles, she complained angrily and shook her fist at us.
Sherrill and one of our friends in the group waited in the shade of a tree while the rest of us explored a hilltop temple. While we were gone, they were unexpectedly entertained by an eccentrically costumed man doing magic tricks. At the end of the performance, our friend gave the magician ten rupees.
"He was pretty good," Sherrill told me, "but we couldn't understand a word he said."
Part of our exploration of this vast city was in woven bamboo basket boats along a meandering river, four of us per boat. Since the boats were round, they weren't easy to steer, but the ride downriver brought out the child in us, whether we saw everything that we passed, or not.
 Bull carts, Badami Harvest Festival |  Festival market selling decorations & colored rice powder |
After Hampi, we visited more palaces, temples, and towns, renewing our acquaintance with Hindu gods and goddesses. Kali, the goddess of destruction, seemed very popular in the south. Small, dark, and fierce, she was considered good to have your side. One day, we passed close to a large camp of gypsy caravans, but when we stopped some of the men made it clear that they wanted us to move on.
A traffic jam of bull carts was a new experience, but we ran into one at Badami's great Harvest Festival. The cattle auction also was new to us, but the rest of the fair seemed like a U.S. county fair, with hundreds of colorful booths and stalls selling food, souvenirs, and produce, plus bells and decorations for cattle. When we reached our hotel later, almost the first thing we saw was a sign: "Beware Monkey Menace." We did see quite a few monkeys, but weren't bothered by them, not even when we visited some cave temples the next day.
A traffic jam of bull carts was a new experience, but we ran into one at Badami's great Harvest Festival. The cattle auction also was new to us, but the rest of the fair seemed like a U.S. county fair, with hundreds of colorful booths and stalls selling food, souvenirs, and produce, plus bells and decorations for cattle. When we reached our hotel later, almost the first thing we saw was a sign: "Beware Monkey Menace." We did see quite a few monkeys, but weren't bothered by them, not even when we visited some cave temples the next day.
Colonial Portuguese buildings, Goa Continuing up and over the step-like mountains known as the Western Ghats, we reached the coastal state of Goa. The architecture we passed now showed Portuguese influence. Although the area was conquered repeatedly by various rulers over the centuries, the Portuguese came to stay in 1510, using it as the launching point for their spice trading empire. The colonial town of Old Goa still showed some old world charm, with its monasteries, convents, churches, and seventeenth century houses and shops. We looked in at the great Basilica of Bom Jesus, with the tomb of St. Francis Xavier, whose body supposedly remained in pristine condition long after death—except for pieces that were stolen by other churches.
A short flight took us to Mumbai (Bombay), India's largest—and most chaotic—city. Of course, we visited the usual places, the "Gateway to India," symbol of the city, the astonishingly ornate Victorian train station and neighboring market, and the open air laundries at which scores of men labored all day for pennies. The best times, we sometimes felt, as in most great cities, were when we just wandered, looking and discovering on our own. Once again we were lucky. Just months after we were here, terrorists took over the Taj Mahal Hotel and other buildings in Mumbai, killing many people.
 Taj Mahal Hotel and Gate of India, Mumbai (above) and Outdoor Laundry, Mumbai (at right) |  |
The ancient rock-cut temples in the caves on the island of Elephanta made a spectacular conclusion to our month in the south of India—even though early Portuguese colonists had used the enormous statues for target practice. Fortunately for the nearly two-thousand year old statues, they seem to have been poor shots. Many of the statues showed the divine faces of the god Shiva, destroyer, creator, and preserver of the universe. Maybe his powers helped save the statues.
Sherrill and I walked from the brightness outside, past giant rock-cut columns, into the darkness of the central cave, eventually discovering a sculpture nearly 20 feet high and wide, the divine image of Shiva, eyes closed, silent and serene, damaged but still magnificent. From each side emerged the profile of another of Shiva's aspects, first the Destroyer, leading to time and death, and then the Creator, beautiful with a suggestion of the feminine, the here and now, forever. As if hypnotized by the statue, we gazed at it for what must have been a long time, then slowly walked back into daylight and the path down to the waiting boat.
 Elephanta Island cave temple carved from solid rock |  Three faces of Eternal Shiva, Elephanta Island cave temple |
People sometimes asked Sherrill and me if we weren't afraid when we traveled to places such as India and Iran, Turkey and China, those decades ago. We always said, No, we weren't afraid of either the places or the people—although cliff-side roads did make me nervous. We were glad to be there, happy that we were having these experiences. People everywhere, we'd discovered, were welcoming, kind, and generous. We could have added, also, that we weren't afraid because we were exploring the world together.
Sherrill, Mumbai To be continued....
If you find these posts interesting, why not explore the rest of my website, too? Just click on the buttons at the top of the page and discover where they take you—including a bio, information about my four novels, along with excerpts from them, and several complete short stories.
Please pass the posts on to anybody else you think might enjoy them.
If you find these posts interesting, why not explore the rest of my website, too? Just click on the buttons at the top of the page and discover where they take you—including a bio, information about my four novels, along with excerpts from them, and several complete short stories.
Please pass the posts on to anybody else you think might enjoy them.
RSS Feed