Just a Big Pile of Rocks

Hampi, Karnataka - February 28

It's been a bittersweet 10 days here. A year ago, I would've been WOWed and have never wanted to leave, but now... I appreciate it. Probably more than many a traveler judging by the amount of time we spend out + about. Many move through here quickly or spend days on end lazing around chatting and swimming. Those things are good too, but you can do that anywhere. How many times in your life will you be in a ruined 13th century city sited amidst a surreal, boulder-strewn landscape? We certainly spend time sitting + chatting too, but prefer to get out and do it in the boulders. BUT, my capacity to appreciate and really get into a place - especially where good architecture is concerned - is DEEP. We can spend an entire DAY at just ONE temple to really absorb it - the details, what it must have been like to be there in the day - so to have this feeling of "OK, another temple" just isn't sitting well with me. A place like Hampi is ONE OF A KIND, and I have the supreme fortune of being here... so, WHAT IS MY PROBLEM?!

For one, Hampi village (and even across the river) have turned into a tourist ghetto with the associated burger/ pizza/ felafel joints and stalls selling hippie-wear. As comfy as that may be, being comfy certainly isn't why I came to India. And even though the long string of guesthouses is sandwiched by rural villages + farmland, there's too much western influence. The sight of so much exposed skin (Even though I'd love to do it myself - it's HOT!) is both distressing and depressing to me. The locals certainly don't dress this way, so it doesn't surprise me that women walk past as though I were invisible. I find myself feeling ashamed at being lumped together with the rest because of the color of my skin.

Secondly, I think I'm a bit jaded now. I'm sure everyone has a different threshold for how long they can be satisfied with JUST traveling. I hit mine somewhere around Hanoi at about the year-and-a-half point. Darin was feeling the same. It was here that we stopped for a month and started looking for work we could feel good about. We did eventually find it and our work with Kiva + Maxima in Phnom Penh was a fantastic interlude. Three months later and we were on the move again, this time to India. We figured the shock of daily life there would reinvigorate us. In our first month here, besides Auroville + the Tiruvannamalai pilgrimage, we found ourselves complaining and arguing often. Once in Kerala though, the hospitality of the people and mellower rhythm of coastal life brought us around. A month later, and more sights + cities under my belt, I'm feeling saturated and irritable again.

But THIS IS IT! The tail end of my potentially once-in-a-lifetime. I refuse to let this 2-1/2 year long Asian Odyssey fizzle out like this! It's time to get out of here and start experiencing the REAL India - drinking in roadside chai stalls + eating at crowded dhabas - even IF everyone stares at us. See colorful festivals, the likes of which I've rarely seen elsewhere. At least that feels REAL. At least it feels like India. And it's the unique experiences that make coming here worth all the headache. It's why I returned.

What ELSE can I do? Maybe it's time to do something more personal - yoga, meditation, trekking. Right now, I crave, I NEED, something to help me prepare both mentally and physically for our inevitable stateside re-entry. I need to mix this in with the cultural so that I can more likely appreciate the magic of sites + experiences here as fully as I want. I don't want Hampi to be just a big pile of rocks when it's so much more.

To see what a magical place it is, check the "link" for more photos

The Land of Loud

Hampi, Karnataka - February 24

It was another people intense day! One minute we're sitting and quietly reflecting on the ruins and listening to the calls of wild parrots, the next we're bombarded - families, groups of young men, an entire class of schoolchildren - you never know who you'll be dealing with but you can hear them coming from a mile away (In contrast it's funny that another westerner can just sneak right up on you). We're finding it especially bad on weekends when every country bumpkin comes out of the woodwork for a day outing. People seem incapable of just walking by, and even when we sit in an out-of-the-way spot, as soon as we're spotted they'll diverge from their course and make a bee-line for us. The dialogue typically runs as such - "Hello, Hello!", "Which county?", "How much money you make?" in the case of adults, or "Helloschoolpen?!", "Hellochocolate?!", "Hellophoto?!" for children. This scenario will be reenacted literally HUNDREDS of times on a weekend day so that by late afternoon you just want to run to your room and hide. In addition, and though I know it's not intended to be menacing, there's a distinct difference in western cultures that allows for personal space. It's not enough that you feel harassed, but people encircle you, pushing closer and closer trying to get nearer than their neighbor. They thrust their hands out all around, somewhere having gotten the impression that we always shake hands with everyone. Staying healthy is a real issue in India, not only from food + water, but it's frightening to think of the last time that most of these hands were washed with soap. I try to be as diplomatic as I can and give them a "Namaste" with hands folded in prayer as is customary here, thereby keeping my mits out of grasp. Men are an even bigger challenge than children. In Indian culture, men do NOT touch women (except when they grope on crowded buses which is why they sit segregated) so they seem overeager to touch me. Even grey-haired men can act with a juvenile lack of sophistication that is mind-boggling and pathetic.

Anyway, I digress. The noise is what's really been bothering me lately because I fear permanent hearing damage from this trip. Whether it's the music blaring distorted at top volume on the bus + street or screeching horns, somewhere along the line I think the Indians by-and-large have suffered permanent hearing loss (One study I read cited 1 in 12 people). People don't TALK to you or each other, they YELL. That's part of why their constant desire to confront me, or any foreigner, is so disruptive. You are in fact surrounded by an over-eager, yelling mob.

Fortunately, for all the daily experiences that are a real pain-in-the-ass, there is - if you're lucky - at least ONE gem. Those Only in India moments with people so full of character you later wonder if you imagined them. It's those that I have to remind myself of to keep my temper in check and keep from yelling back something other than "Hello!"

An Afternoon at the Market

Mysore, Karnataka - February 19

The old market in Mysore is still housed in a lovely, crumbling, colonial structure of faded yellow. It's much more picturesque than any other we've yet seen in the country which are primarily comprised of baskets on the ground and rickety tables with tarps stretched over on bamboo poles for shade. There's usually some scrap corrugated metal for sides + back for those vendors with a bit more cash. The produce is limp and dogs, cows, goats + pigs roam around scrounging what they can to eat. The vendors look hot + bored as they swat away flies and animals. In stark contrast stands this reasonably well-maintained and colorful one-square-block building with orderly aisles. It was easy to while away hours browsing the various stalls and during our 5-day stay we bought fruit + veggies, spices, incense and perfume oils. The people were friendly too.

This guy's wrapping garlands of hand-strung roses with silver tinsel. People buy these as temple offering and drape them around the gods.

This shop sells colored powders that people use for decoration and which priests anoint the foreheads of believers when they make an offering at a temple


Even the large, canvas sacks stuffed with rice, lentils + chilies are colorful


I bought mustard + fennel seeds from this vendor. Also shown are cashews, cloves, nutmeg, tumeric, raisins, black peppercorns + three kinds of sugar.

This vendor took some artistic license with her produce display.

She doesn't even own a stall. I watched her carefully arranging her produce straight on the stone floor of the market and gave her a thumbs up. She called over one of the neighboring vendors who served as translator between us and we had a nice, little chat about the basics - country, age, children. Later that afternoon, I passed her again and she asked me to come over and have a chai with her. Sweet and sassy... and what a smile!

This stall sells nothing but seeds and paraphernalia for farmers. They offer numerous kinds of legumes, green beans, squash, bitter melon, carrot, potato, cauliflower, tomato, herbs, onions, peppers, eggplant, cabbage and flowers too. Sold by the packet or kilo.

The Bangalore Classifieds

Anyone looking for a mail order mate?

Ladies and Gents wanted.

India may be progressing, but from everything we've seen love marriages are still not the norm. Even among the middle to upper class it appears that the ideal mate is still ellusive... Maybe they should try to get with the times and allow dating in India, or have more realistic expectations. The perfect candidate must be be young, beautiful, light skinned, educated, from a high caste AND willing to relocate?! Give me a break!

Sites, Statues and Smiles

Sravanabelagola, Karnataka - February 15

Upon recommendation from a couple people we met while staying at the lovely Honey Valley, we decided to visit some thousand-year-old ruins and the tallest monolithic stone carving in the world before continuing on to Mysore. We were not disappointed. The Hoysala-style temples at both Halebid + Belur boast unique, star-shaped plans and OUTRAGEOUSLY intricate stone carvings. Better than any we'd yet seen. The later, a Jain deity standing high on a hill overlooking the town of Sravanabelagola, was equally dramatic. A restaurant in this charming, little town is where we sit now, enjoying a breakfast of chai, upma + idly.

Besides the quality + grace of the architecture we've seen, the people have been another highlight. Shy, well-manered and not all that used to seeing foreigners, they queitly sit nearby (especially the women + girls) and smile + stare, particularly at me. Any sort of acknowledgement on my part ellicts bursts of giggles which are quickly muffled by hand over mouth as they look away. Younger kids, as they seem to be everywhere, are a bit more brazen. The ones we've met here use "Please", "Sir" and "Madam" and love to drill you with questions to practice their English at every opportunity. They also LOVE to have their photos taken, which was how, yesterday, I found myself surrounded by this lovely swarm of butterflies. All 12-13 years old on a school fiedtrip from the northern part of the state. They were MUCH more interested in me than the giant deity. I was thoroughly charmed :)

Check the "link" for more photos

Please Don't Eat Us!

Cannanore (Kannur), Kerala - February 3

It's 9:30 AM and we've just left our first Theyyam performance. We sit in a small, roadside restaurant where the hot, sweet chai warms and revives me. We kinda screwed up on this one, not arriving until almost 6 AM, as we didn't really understand how it all works. We just weren't even sure WHEN to go as we'd been told the performances last all night, begin at 7 PM, and at midnight, and 4 in the morning, but go until Noon... Huh?! Even finding the right temple, especially in the middle of the night, is a bit of an adventure in itself. We could hear the beating of drums from the spot where the rickshaw dropped us and told us to follow the string of fluorescent tubes vertically suspended from tree branches. The first thing we saw upon entering the sacred grove where the temple stood was a seated figure, painted white with black designs and crowned with a 30-foot-high headress! We watched for awhile as people went to him for what looked to be fortune telling. Further in, the dance was underway. The dancer/God or Theyyam wore an elaborate red skirt with silver bells and large headress. He had white cotton around his mouth to enlarge it's appearance and silver orbs covering his eyes. The Theyyam danced around the sacred grove of the temple, shaking smoldering twigs which cast sparks about. The rhythm of the tablas + horns was tribal and infectious, and very fierce at times. Traditionally, the dancer works himself into a trance and blood sacrifices were sometimes made. There were only a handful of tourists in the crowd of 80ish and contrary to the Kathakali performance we'd just seen in Cochin, as good as that was, this was no Made for Tourists affair. Everyone, young and old, watched intently and at the end surrounded the God to receive a blessing.

It's amazing that this ancient ritual from the time of Shakespeare is still alive today. It's almost equally amazing, and what a great pleasure it is, to be welcomed as a foriegner into such an intimate and holy ceremony. We've never seen, or even DREAMED we'd see anything like this! We want to do it again.


The following day

Wow - The Theyyam this morning was AMAZING! I still feel shaken from it. The temple grounds with giant, old banyan and frangipani trees, the fire, the drums, the open curiosity of the people, the dimly-lit mysteriousness of it all... This gathering was at least 1-1/2 times the size of the previous nights and with no other foreigners. The whole aura was such, and combined with the fact that several men + older teens were asking an uncomfortable lot of questions about what hotel we're staying at, how did we get to the village, what are our jobs, did we bring cameras + mobile phones, etc. that in my mind it all began adding up to "Does anyone know you're here?" I began feeling apprehensive that we might not make it out of here all in one piece. My mind conjured the image of Johnny Depp when he was tied up by the tribe in Pirates - They liked us, but did our unexpected and possibly auspicious appearance at such a sacred event indicate the need for a sacrifice? Possibly human? Possibly us?! Starting to shiver, I turned to Darin and said "If the God turns and points at us and begins speaking excitedly to the people - RUN!" The vibe didn't SEEM menacing, but it was THAT intense. I know it sounds a bit paranoid, but you DO hear stories + read warnings about travellers disappearing without a trace, and I thought - Yup, and it happens JUST LIKE THIS. For more than three hours I tortured myself in this way while at the same time being mesmerized by the music + dance and feeling thankful for our good fortune to be there.

To start, this Theyyam had been more difficult to find than our last, especially at 3 in the morning. When we began to see families walking down the road and then the fluorescent tubes illuminating a dirt trail we knew we must be there. Within a minute of our arrival we realized that no dancing was happening and that all eyes were on US. We figured we'd take a seat at the circular bench surrounding the base of the old banyan and just try to, you know, blend in. As to be expected, within another minute we were surrounded by a group of children and a chorus of "Hello, what is your name's?" Then, the next tier of delegates, high-school-aged boys with a little English proficiency - one of whom was behaving strangely and had the bewildered look on his face of a boy getting drunk for the very first time. As soon as we could extricate ourselves, we migrated a few steps down to the shoeless, sacred ground surrounding the temple. The night was unusually chilly and I was grateful to be able to place my feet in the still-warm ashes of an extinguished fire. We were tentatively answering the men's questions (that I mentioned earlier) when we noticed people gathering around a figure that was now seated under the old banyan. Our self-appointed minder, Vysha, said it was the God having the finishing touches of his costume applied. We walked back over and noticed the villagers buying packs of white cotton which the Brahmin's/priests then affixed to the God's entire torso + arms so that he appeared a fierce Q-tip warrior. The words of the Kathakali narrator from the other night came to mind - Head bigger. Mouth bigger. Body bigger. - to create a larger-than-life God in human form.

The drums began and then the God ran around the banyan down onto the sacred ground. The band of drummers + horn players continually adjusted to his rhythm - slower, now faster, then steady, now faster again, now frenzied - in an endless ebb + flow like the sea. And me, frightened + hypnotised like a sailor to the Sirens, so that in my impotence I tasted bile in my throat. Honestly, I just didn't know - would, or could they harm us? Ultimately, I resolved it was all in my head, and by the dawns first light I was no longer afraid. The performance wound down and people trailed off to their respective homes in the village. And we departed too, the morning mist still hugging the ground and birds singing as we walked the 3km back to the main highway to flag a bus back to town.


In hindsight, one of the things I've realized I like best about Indian festivals and pilgrimages is the communal vibe. Whether it be a 1-day or 1-week event, the people come out in DROVES and seem to share a strong sense of camaraderie. We saw this at the Tiruvannamalai full moon walk and now at the annual temple Theyyams. Though these events essentially go all night, they involve several hours of down-time in between in which to hang out with your neighbors (though segregated by sex) and essentially enjoy a big, adult slumber party. It'd be great if we had more occasions for this at home.

Check the "link" for all our photos from Kerala. Darin's got a couple great ones from the big night as I was too scared to pull my camera out.