Let's continue Hampi:
One thing I forgot to mention in the previous update: for lunch in Hampi after the ruins visits and the illegal pillar playing, everyone headed toward the internationally-renown restaurant the Mango Tree. What we didn't expect when we approached the restaurant: that we would walk 3 kms from the center of town and through a large banana plantation in order to get there. Literally we left the main road directly beside the river on a dirt path (following the directions of a large sign bearing "to the mango tree" on it... we weren't so skilled as to go this way on mere intuition), through someone's banana fields (bananas here are incredible: they're about half the size of the bananas we import from costa rica, are grown locally, and taste SO good. The taste begins like a regular banana, and then this wave of sweet and sour hits your mouth like there was a pineapple in the center. Local bananas definitely taste the best. Buy local!) and into a restaurant that, from the outset, looked like a shack. When you walked inside the shelter, the restaurant opened up to a panorama view of the river. The restaurant was on a hill, (it reminded me of Cafe Driade in Chapel Hill a lot, altho there were half as many mosquitoes, 10x more ground critters, and a much more appetizing view than the random forest behind it), and the tables were set on each landing, overlooking the river. Your "seats" were the ground, and your tables were much like footrests one would get while purchasing an easy chair at a furniture shop. The food was incredible. Best hummus, HANDS DOWN, that I've ever tasted outside of Israel. The felafel was beyond anything Beth-El ever imported. Given this long drawn out description of a random restaurant in Hampi, I have the following diagnosis as a student studying in India: First, go to Hampi, see the ruins, and experience yourself on a different planet. Then, go to the Mango Tree, at least thrice during your stay. You will not regret it.
The following pic was taken at the Mango Tree. The one after it was us walking along the dirt path to get there:
K, back to what I was originally gonna say in this post: The second day we spent in Hampi has been one of my most favorite times here thus far, barely beating out Jain Hill and the large naked man (the latter two were in contention because of the incredible views... Hampi luckily had them all over the place). We took an auto rikshaw to Hampi from Hospet, underwent planetary transformation once again (see previous post), and arrived on the main street in Hampi. We set off for a small rooftop restaurant (with shade, of course), and ate a very western breakfast. I got french toast, eggs, and filter coffee (aka- espresso, something that you never get here... normally the coffee I drink in Madurai is made from Nescafe mix). There were 10 of us, but only one cook/server/attendent. As such, the breakfast took about 2 hours in total. I kind of felt bad. It got to a point where the guy had to send a kid to a local store to get more supplies just to make our breakfast. Needless to say, we tipped him pretty heavily... He put a lot more into a western breakfast than anyone I've ever known. Pluswhich, the breakfast far outclassed Colby dining services. #4 dining-service-among-all-colleges-in-the-nation fail!
After breakfast we saw that directly next to the restaurant was a cycle rental place. Because we had the full day to do whatever we wanted, we figured, what the hell-- let's work for our enjoyment of the one of the world's most beautiful places. So, for 50 rupees each (only one buck) for a days worth of cycling, we set off across the river for the great unknown. Crossing the river was quite an experience. The only way to cross the river was a rickety wooden motor boat, driven by a very large guy in a straw hat (this was the first time I ever saw an Indian wearing a hat... despite the ridiculous amount of light we endure on a daily basis, somehow being Indian equips you with the ability to see very easily without a hat. Personally, I have to squint for the majority of the day, looking like I'm trying to focus in on something 2 kms down the road, when I'm actually trying to avoid the divet in the road that is a mere 3 feet in front of my cycle). Getting a cycle over the river was an interesting ordeal: you put the cycle on the back of the boat, which is elevated about 3 feet over the water, and balance yourself ON the cycle while a very rocky motor boat scuttles across the river. Thankfully I avoided falling in. A fun part of going across the river: while you're doing so, men who are standing on a nearby rock do cannonballs that often splash you with cool water (something that felt great amidst the 100 degree day... despite the fact that it almost touched my camera... if it had, shit would have gone down).
We reached the other side, and instantly the Indian paparazzi attacked us. Autos asking us "hanuman temple? lake? lake? lake? only 200 rupees there and back!" (only is such an understatement, the lake was like 3 kms away... you usually pay around 50 rupees for a trip like that around Madurai. Unfortunately because autos are often the only way to get to the lake for many tourists, they can rip you off and get away with it). We cycled by them, and headed toward the lake. The other side was beautiful. As you rode down the road leading to the lake, to your left stood small quaint restaurants and guest houses that surprisingly held a large number of Israelis (Hampi's a lovely Israeli hotspot...); to your right lay incredibly green rice patty fields with the rocky mountains jutting up behind it. Here's a pic to give you a better idea:
The drive to the lake was incredible. Words can't describe the landscape. It was literally the most intense green I've seen anywhere on Earth. I'll leave it at that. Swimming in the lake was much like swimming in the abandoned quarry just outside Chapel Hill. Very rocky, yet somehow very clean water. The lake was huge-- think Walden Pond size. If that doesn't make any sense, think Colby lake X100. It was a nice thing to go swimming. It was the first time I had been since I took a very very cold dip in a natural 40 degree pool near the White Mountains in western Maine last sumer (for all those not there, yes, I did scream and howl when I got in, and continued until I got outside). This time, however, the water was much nicer, and a lot warmer, thankfully.
We ate pita, humus, fries, and Israeli salad by the lakeside. One of the more relaxing meals I've ever had. I was suddenly brought back to those picnics I had with my mom and bro at Walden Pond when I lived in Boston (never failing to have a large bag of Kettle Chips with us... of which I ate at least half each time). After failing at the butterfly stroke, walking on water (with the help of a deceptively shallow rock), and finding out a guy's life deal (who was playing a noisy annoying instrument just across the way from our little base by the side of the lake), it was about 5 pm. The last boat across the river was at 6, so we had to hurry. We got back across, took a bus back to Hospet. I know I did a pretty crappy job of describing the epic day, making it sound not really that epic... oh well...
The day after, we took a sunrise hike up a hill beside Hampi, experienced a very orange sunrise (with the Indian haze fully visible... unfortunately :-/), and then left Hospet for Bangalore via overnight train. We checked into the hotel and then started to walk around. As soon as I walked in, I felt empty and had no idea why. Later I would find out that I had left my Colby College Dazzlin' Asses frisbee on the train from Hospet. I held a minor memorial ceremony for it in the hotel room, got over it (barely... I kept thinking how disappointed Lewis would be if I didn't actually teach street boys to play frisbee, ultimately becoming the olympic team for India in 25 years. Alas! It was not meant to be), and started to explore Bangalore. For those who have not been, Bangalore is one of the most developed cities in the south. With that in mind, picture the following scene as I looked down the road: A Ruby Tuesday's just across the street from a 3 story Levi's outlet store, Bars wherever the eye could see (one of which we went into for a beer... then swiftly exited. If you could ever put a spaceship into a room with no windows, this bar would be it. The bar was a sparkly silver; the bartender was dressed like an 80s Michael Jackson straight out of his Thriller music video. The space around the bar was huge, but it was compartmentalized into five different rooms, all separated by glass windows. On the radio was a remix of the popular song "Wagon Wheel". Upon entering, all of us looked at each other, assessed the scene in front of us, and then fled the scene as fast as a walk could take us. I was scarred for life), and thousands of Indians dressed in the latest western fashion. If I had just landed in downtown New York, and if New Yorkians were further south (so that people would tan easier), I wouldn't have known the difference. Mom was right: this was just another Western hole that tourists fall into. I managed to find a restaurant that served Tali meals (for freaking 80 rupees-- normally it's like 35), went back to the hotel, and fell asleep until our overnight train back to Madurai.
Tour was nice, but it was extremely nice to be back and away from the group for a while. We literally spent every single day together for a full week, and I was personally desperately needing alone time. When I got back to my host family's house, I spent some time pestering my 8 yr old host sister, playing football with my brother, and talking about random things with my host mother. Since I got back from tour, I have really come to value my host family so much. My host mother is a truly incredible person, and I have had many very penetrating and personal conversations with her, to the point that I actually felt more like her son than some random kid who she houses for money (they receive a lot of money from SITA for helping us out). In addition, I have become a brother to my siblings, someone they look up to. My host sister, who is barred from touching any person of the opposite sex if it isn't a guy her own age or a sibling as commanded by the caste system/society as a whole, and I have broken that barrier (k, that sounds wrong, I know, let me explain: physical love among members of a similar family does not happen very often at all. Hugging here is not something you do; in fact it's kind of hillarious to see how each Indian reacts to a hug-- some freeze and don't touch back at all, which makes for an awkward ordeal. Others just receive it, laugh and then return it cautiously. To emphasize, I have never once seen my host parents hug one of their children, let alone each other. Over the past few weeks, my host siblings have hugged me many times, a "physical" sign that I have become an integral part of the family as a son/sibling. YAY! :-)). My host brother is someone I wish I was when I was 13: smooth talking, one of the smartest in his grade, and VERY funny. I wish I could describe to you how many times I've spent my afternoon laughing with him, but words wouldn't do it justice I feel. Anyways, my life at home is awesome :-).
I started my "experience culture" part of the SITA program (which is weird... isn't being here a cultural excursion in itself?). Just to be predictable, I decided to take Karnataka Vocals. I had my first class 3 weeks ago, and I CAN"T get enough of it! Kevin would really hate the way we learn: everything is by ear, no sheet music or anything. To me, a dwindling sight reader, it is the perfect way to learn. The way that Karnatak music is charted out is through a syllable system (much like do, re, mi; except the scale goes like this: sa, ri, ga, ma, pa, da, ni, sa). Time is kept by beating with your hand on your knee. Time is charted out using vertical dashes and double verticle dashes, the former showing the first half of a phrase, and the latter for the phrase's finish. When I get back to the states, I'll sing some stuff for you guys-- the scales that you learn are truly remarkable, and if you happen to be interested, I can teach you how to do some of the stuff I'm doing as well!
On the cooking front, I have now learned how to make the following things: Sambar (a sauce you put on rice or eat with Dosai-- the rice/lentil pancake I've mentioned before), Dosai, Iddili (steamed dosai batter-- are like half moon cookies in shape, but couldn't be further from it in taste), 4 different types of chutney, and Ochre masala. When I get back to Colby in the fall, I'm definitely going to prepare a feast. Perhaps we could organize a form of community dinner-- OMG Thanksgiving dinner S. Indian style? PLEASE?! Sorry for being so excited, but the food here is sooo good (and full of spices and goodies-- spices in a not hot manner, like in a DELICIOUS manner). Anyways, Next on my agenda: Rasam, beet root masala, Addai.
I also forgot to tell you guys about my daily routine: each morning I get up at around 6:30 (yes guys, I actually WILLINGLY get up at 6:30!!! it feels great-- Steven Tatko, I now know why you do it so often :-)), take a bucket shower, do some last minute work, work out a bit, drink coffee, eat delicious food, and then cycle to the SITA center against the early morning traffic at 8:00 (haven't had any incident since that initial auto rikshaw scare... altho I have almost gone barreling into a bus on numerous occasions). At SITA, I always start my day with a healthy dose of an hour and a half of tamil, then have coffee, then go to my nxt class, eat lunch, nxt. class, coffee again (which is why I'm addicted now... which I really don't like!), next class, then I often go home at around 5:30 to play random games with my host siblings and the neighbors (WHICH I"M DEFINITELY TEACHING YOU GUYS WHEN I GET HOME OR BUST). Two day ago I introduced four square to them. That's their current obsession. If I don't have a class during a period (I only tke 4/7 classes they offer here), I either explore the area by cycle, do work (which is what I've been doing lately, which I hate...), or go update you guys in the nearby internet cafe (which is still like .30 cents an hour :-)). After play time, I eat dinner, usually do homework, watch a tv program in tamil with my family, and then start getting ready for bed.
Here's where it gets interesting. Mosquitoes here are INTENSE. They usually come out at two times en masse: dawn and dusk. When either of these two times set in, all windows and doors to the outside are closed, though lots of them still get in (somehow, I'm still trying to find that hidden crook...). So every night before I go to bed, there are around 10-15 mosquitoes chillin in my room, waiting to eat me alive while I sleep. Well, unfortunately for them, I don't like to get bitten. As such, among my nightly rituals is the following pencilled in item: Mosquito slaughter. That's right, I kill as many as I can and then sleep happier and with less bites on my person, which frankly, I can deal with. It sometimes takes up to 30 minutes to corner most of them, and often I just let one fly around while I go to sleep, but if I didn't do that, I would get close to no sleep. Laugh if you must, at the image of me running around my room with my two hands a foot away from each other chasing a flying being that is merely 2 cm long. It's good exercise anyway, and certainly gets me tired enough to just drop into bed and sleep through the night.
I was unaware, however, that dead mosquitoes attract ants. I realized this a little bit too late... and now I have an ant sanctuary and a mosquito morgue as a room. Fortunately, the cycle of life evens itself out. Personally I have no problem with ants. They actually are really fun to watch as a break between theoretical readings about the socio-political situation in southern India. The way they cooperate to transport food from the trash can in my room or stray food in the kitchen just across the hall from my room is quite miraculous. I once experienced a banana peel being brought from the kitchen, under the door, and up to the window sill. Unfortunately ants lack depth perception, and thus realized that it was quite impossible to get the banana peel outside the small 1 cm crack in the window. At this point they needed human intervention, so I opened the window and nudged it out the window. I would hesitate to call it beautiful, and a lot of you are probably going "why am I reading about Hasan's current obsession with the ants he feeds." Suffice it to say that ants are an integral part of my night-- the large ant march through my room to the kitchen is an ongoing obstacle that I must be aware of as I walk up and down my room.
As bad as it sounds, I've been benefitting from the underground movie trade quite a lot. To emphasize, I got 12 movies the other day for 120 rupees. That's a steal. 2 dollars and 10 cents for 12 movies that would cost at LEAST 120 dollars int he states. Not even Wal-Mart can top the Meenakshi Bazaar prices just outside the Meenakshi temple. There is one danger: all the movies are burnt onto CDs, and a lot of them don't work at all. I'm gonna stock up on movies that I've always wanted here, so an added bonus for next year: I'll be better stalked than the secret stash!
Other than that, I've been slowly trying to lay off the coffee (i've been trying chocolate milk-- my host fam calls it boost-- at home instead of caffinating myself), writing continually, and reading a lot of articles for this upcoming week from hell (4 essays, one interview with a person who doesn't speak english, and one test... good luck me!). Good news: after Friday it'll all be over, and our second tour to Kerela, the neighboring state to the west, starts this coming Sunday.
Since Annie Roos demanded an update on my current status: I am very happy here in India. Every experience I have here continues an ongoing growing experience that began when I was last here in 1996, and I am enjoying every moment of it. If you've made it this far down this update, I congratulate you. This was a bulky one, but it had to be updated at some point. Stay tuned before tour for other random things about Madurai and about SITA as a whole :-)
I love and miss every single one of you (even you Hazel, even though you can't really speak English... though given your past of hopping onto table tops, I wouldn't be surprised if you had started to peek on one of my emails that my mom reads), and I hope everything is going well on your end. Update me as always and I'll see you on the flip side.
Hasan Bhatti, Certified Indian Cycler
This is the only time I wish I could use the Facebook "Like" button.
ReplyDeleteI like your entries.
West Coast (now East Coast) Love.