Here We Are!

Where's that, you ask? At this very moment, we are in the super-crazy city of Kolkata (Calcutta), but will be heading north again in a few hours by train(s) to Darjeeling. So sorry we haven't updated our post in a while, but we have not had any reliable connections for internet in all of the places we have been where there's been time to update. The monsoon season has hit southern India early, and we have had intense heat followed by massive rains daily - though many days we've just had massive rains. We'll do our best to bring the blog up to speed given our travels and whereabouts. ******I am going to publish this post sans pictures - our camera is kaput! We backed up our images on CD a week ago just in case something like this happened, and our memory card is intact - so we'll get our pictures. I think the rest of the trip will have to be on a disposable camera, though.

When last updated, Colie and I were on our way out of Varkala. After surviving the beach, we took a bus ride up the massively overdeveloped coast to the in-between city of Kollam (Quilon). This town was to be a place to rest before heading into the backwaters of Kerala - via Alleppey (Alappuzha). As it turned out, the sights and sounds of Kollam were just what we needed after touristy Varkala. It is also considered a secret entryway to the backwaters. Kollam is known for cashews and for being one of the oldest port cities of the Arabian Sea. Oddly enough, we didn't see the ocean here, but were mystified by this rather typical, charming Indian city - the sound of prayer eminating from the mosques and broadcasting throughout the day over loudspeakers battling the non-stop honks from traffic and voices from the crowded markets reminded us of the vibrant chaos we've grown to love. One noise however, stood out from the rest as we passed by a large tree covered with these strange, noisy birds . . .

(THIS SHOULD BE A PICTURE OF . . . WELL, I'M SURE YOU CAN IMAGINE.)

. . . or maybe not birds. Yep, those are bats. Big ones.

Again, Kollam restores the authenticity of India. There are many prominent mosques that dominate the religious landscape here, though the city is abundant with numerous other well-practiced religions. Very much a conservative town, Kollam is also home to Syrian Christians - something of an anomaly. As with India 99.9% of the time, a mix of beliefs and practices interact and coexist as a mere part of a vibrant life.

Around sunset, we made our way to the railway station to obtain passes for our next day's travel. Heading back to our lodging through the narrow, bustling streets laden with innumerable shops, booths, restaurants, hordes of people - we ventured (veered and didn't turn around - that's a sure fire way to find adventure here!) off the main road and stumbled into a "farmer's" market - alive and bustling in its own concerns - full of boisterous selling, buying, haggling . . . eager vendors operated amidst their own seas of fresh fish, massive piles of fruits, vegetables, rice, lentils, spices, herbs, and more and more onions and garlic (for the bats? or kisses?) - an organic smorgasborg alive and functioning efficiently, at times chaotically. All this in the soft light of candles, fire, lanterns, and randomly/haphazardly rigged bulbs of various code violation. I couldn't help but entertain the notion that I was back in a biblical time. The varied mix of people weren't here for favorites, making "fresh, healthy, organic" choices for a Saturday diversion (something many of us enjoy!) - this was a daily ritual, the chance to find much needed dinner with the rupees gathered since the sun came up, and strength for another day's efforts. Here existed an urgency and import - an energy I had never witnesses at a market. This food market had the energy of a stock exchange floor. A light rain cooled the night air and brought some refuge from the oppressive humidity and heat that had been building all day. Again, the city of Kollam immersed us right back into real India. We loved our hotel for its old world charm and beauty - like some old southern plantation - though read after the fact that this was the place to avoid given how run-down and nasty it is. Perspective is a funny thing.

A train from Kollam delivered us to Alleppey - a canal city reminiscient of Venice, though with full-on Indian flare. This would be our staging ground for a venture into the waterways of Kerala. The pictures will do far more than any verbal description I could attempt. I'll just say that everywhere one looks here is beauty - and water. All other watery places like this that I've seen has either Jar Jar Binks or Kevin Costner there to ruin it. Many come to this place to cruise the backwaters in luxury in a houseboat made in the style of a rice barge. We thought a canoe would be better suited for us, so we took a 6-hour excursion down various waterways to see just what the backwaters looked like. Enjoy! *****Just imagine palm trees, flooded rice patties, backwater tributaries, beautiful clouds and visages where sky and land meld together in bold reflections. Paddling, soaked to the bone in a canoe during a torrential downpour where the droplets bounce off the water just as vigorously as they descend. A beaming backwater guide who doesn't have to do all of the paddling this time. An entire new set of birds and wildlife all previously unseen by your own eyes. A venemous snake swimming with its head out of the water with a fish in its jaws. A paradise largely untouched by pollutants that plague so many other beautiful places here.

Thanks for being patient with the post, I am truly sorry for the delays and hope you all can make a life experience here for yourselves some day. Truly wild!

-John

Inquiring minds do want to know

Hi Colie & John, hope you're out having great adventures. Miss your blogs & eager to hear all about it. Love you guys, Kathe

Your Draft

From your draft, we know that your adventure continues and you are enjoying the variety of your many choices of interest......your latest note appears as a draft and there are no pictures...not sure if they failed to be included or your note was indeed a draft and you will finish it at your next reliable opportunity....so....have fun and continue to enjoy India......sorry that you have had to endure the monsoon season, but now you know what is is and why we did not enjoy this gift of nature, while in Vietnam....Love    Dad   Namaste......I am enjoying living vicariouslyl through you...glad you are having so much fun and becoming one with the world.....am looking forward to your return and hearing your entire story...miss you and love you both...take care...Mom

What is going on?

I miss your regular updates. Dad

Varkala . . . Valhalla?

Hey, all! I just have time for a quick update as where we presently are having very frequent power failures that usually last anywhere for 10 minutes to 3 hours. We have a lot to catch up on - Edit - we've updated the blog to show a few places in Pondicherry (complete with French colonial influences); the Sri Aurobindo Ashram where we stayed for a mere 100 rupees ($2.50 US) per night; the beach where we ate plates of super-fresh pineapple for 10 rupees a pop and watched families play in the night air; and the scenic streets where we whiled away the time just looking at the architechture and smelling the aromatic trash heaps obscured carefully from view.
We took an arduous, bumpy, stop-and-go, hot, crowded, 22-hour bus ride across southern India from Pondi to Trivanrum (on the West coast). We are currently in Varkala - a scenic town built precariously on sea cliffs, overlooking a strip of sandy beach. We have been here for 3 nights, and will leave tomorrow morning for the backwaters of Kerala. Varkala is beautiful - but quite touristy. Apparently it is a hot-spot for Euros, but we have fortunately missed the really crazy times where there are too many people and many visitors have to sleep on the beach.

One interesting tidbit regarding this region (Kerala): It has the first democratically elected Communist government. Kerala boasts the highest literacy rate in India

at 91% - not too shabby), but has other problems that keep the picture from being entirely rosy. Also, It is difficult to grasp/measure how well the controlled distribution of wealth actually impacts the general population's standard of living. Colie and I did take a walk through some back neighborhoods today, and they were lovely and clean. Little kids (often dressed quite westernized) would come out of their homes to try out their English in basic conversations with us - while their proud parents would wave and watch from their doorways. It was the first time we've had groups of kids running up to us all excited, jumping and laughing. It was really cute.

Varkala's beach is really great. It actually has some pretty fun waves for body surfing and boogey boarding - but it is the most dangerous beach in Kerala. I've never seen a beach with such constant riptides. The waves come in straight-on (perpendicular) to the beach for 10+ minutes, then they shift and begin to get bigger at a 45-degree angle to the beach - coming in toward the south. Smaller ones still come in straight. This seems to pile water up and creates a counter-clockwise spin and a very strong riptide out to the ocean. It can be very hard to fight even in knee-deep water. This river-like feature of the water has created a channel in the sand that angles out to the ocean. So, you wade out in realtively shallow water for some time until you reach the channel, then have to swim further out where the water gets more shallow again! That's where the larger waves are breaking, in 5-12 foot deep water. It is fine until the waves shift at the angle to the beach, but then you really have to watch out. The first few times the riptide pulls you, it is a bit scary (you do have to float or swim with it, if you fought against the current, you'd be spinning your wheels) - but you learn quickly and it is easy to avoid. I just make sure I shift with the waves and not hang around for the water to flow off the beach - and fully understand the literal root of the "Sink or Swim" saying. Colie and I had some sadistic fun in the more shallow parts of the channel fighting the riptide. OH! You have to watch the undertow when a big wave crosses the channel just after the waves shift from angles to perpendicular. I don't think we should learn any more about the mechanics and anomalies of this beach . . .

. . . Another note about the beach . . . caught a great wave today in about 9 feet of water - but the bigger ones have serious tubes to them. I rode the wave for a bit, but didn't turn out of the tube in time. It was all very fun, but I did get slammed hard enough to get a slight stone bruise on my heel. It's nothing to worry about, but I'll be taking a few days off from running.

I imagine we'll be in Hampi in 3 days or so! Colie sez "Hi guys!"

-John

Bouldering Amongst the Ruins

This entry may be more for you climbing addicts out there: During our 27-hour train ride from Mumbai to Chennai, we passed through a section of India's interior (somewhere in the eastern half of Andhra Pradesh) that had 300-1200 foot rock walls that seemingly strected for miles. These rock walls appeared to be sandstone, but were seen from a few miles away. At the base of the walls were random villages surrounded by tons of granite boulders and crags. There were occassional quarries, but it seemed like the best rock to climb was being left alone. The colors ranged from tan, largely porphyritic stone reminiscient of Buena Vista, to light and dark greys of what you see in Squamish - it was all so varied and plentiful. One stretch looked like 4 miles of the Buttermilks. Most boulders were free standing and were 12-25 feet tall. I wanted the train to break down so badly on this stretch.

I haven't been climbing much on this trip but for just a quick bouldering session amongst the rock carvings and temples of Mamallapuram, Tamil Nadu. The setting where the best rocks were found was in a beautifully kept garden area full of classic lines juxtaposed with Narasima Varman I and II (5th-7th century AD) carvings. I had to choose carefully, as some lines would contain carvings, or perhaps too close to something sacred to the locals. Truth be told, at 90+ degrees F, high humidity, intense sun, no chalk, limitations of personal ability ( a big player in the scenario!), and extremely polished rock - I wasn't going up too high on many boulders by choice or otherwise.

One indicator of the polished stone could be seen at the base of a famous, compelling boulder known as "Krishna's Butterball." This precariously situated stone was set on a slab, attracted attention like the Garden of the God's Balanced Rock, and had a contiunual stream of kids at the bottom end of of the boulder taking turns sliding down the slab on their rears - a natural slide. I must admit, much to the delight of the kids, and the chagrin of the elders - I tested this out myself and found it to be quite enjoyable. Anyway, the Butterball had many possible, beautiful boulder problems on its south face. The pictures, however, reveal my inability to break through the starting moves. The start was severely overhanging, with marginal and slippery feet, glommy fingertip crimps, which my perspiring hands could not seem to gain friction on. They felt like I had a layer of Cheetos grease on them - you know, when your tips are orange after munching for a while? I couldn't get a feel for the ratings, as the heat was just too much of a factor for me. I thought 5.12b (V4?) given the circumstance, but imagine I could manage pretty well with chalk and cooler temps. I could see Chad (friend in Colorado Springs) casually floating up various lines, but knew I didn't really have a prayer. One thing I could see - after the start - the face had fantastic incut flakes and great feet at a mild overhang to near vertical level, with many possible variations, all somewhere in the 5.11 range.

As I attempted to breach the start of some of these problems on the Butterball, I had a few people tell me not to do this. No one had any problems with people scrambling on the rocks, they were just afraid that I would hurt myself. It seemed as though they really thought I had not considered the danger of falling, and their warnings were all that was between me and certain doom. One guy was sure that even a slip from the start would send me careening down the slab like the kids on the granite slide, and would wince as I'd reach for higher holds.

After sizing up the Butterball, we did find a striking finger crack splitting a stone in a quite corner of the park. This was still very polished, but quite striking, and ranged from fingers to tips. The crux provided some great toe-camming and tips stacking. The toe was so secure, though, that the grade could have only been 5.9+ at the most. Again, hard to tell given the heat and sweat. Needless to say, I'm chompin' at the bit to get to Hampi. Once there, I'll be sure to plan things out better and devote a few mornings and late evenings to avoid the thuggish heat and humidity here. We are considering heading to a hill station called Ooty (Udhagamandalam), near the Nilgiri Hills where the map indicates 2600+ meter (about 8,500 foot) peaks. Though I've heard nothing of climbing in this region of tigers and elephants, I know cooler mountain areas are always a good bet to find rocks. I'll keep you posted as to what we discover as we shift from the

east to west coast of India.

The Fishermen Get 3 Days Off

The fishermen get three days off as holiday per year in Mamallpuram. Most work a six-day week, from 3:00 AM until late evening - with a typical day including the finding, clearing and resetting of nets, line fishing, returning to shore (sometimes from 100 (about 64 miles) kilometers out), sorting of the daily catch, organizing nets, and selling their bounty at the market. On the 1 day per week off, they have some beer and relax. This is some of what we learned from a local Mamallapuram fisherman named Koalmuni.

Koalmuni was on a beach walk during his 3-day holiday, and was one of many curious Indians with whom we had conversations that ranged from bizarre, to quirky and humorous - but most often fascinating. My conversation with Koalmuni also involved an Indian who had lived in Detroit for 6 months and another gentleman who taught Engineering in Chennai. Between the Hindi and Tamil languages I'm lost - but fortunately even broken English can be quite effective. Indians are also typically very willing to translate for others as needed. During the talk, Koalmuni asked if I would talk on his cell phone to his "girlfriend", who spoke very good English and worked at a bank in Chennai. She was quite friendly and seemed to be amazed that Koalmuni was speaking with not only Westerners on the beach, but one who used to work in a bank in the United States. Very pleased with how this conversation went, Koalmuni extended unto us an invitation for dinner that very evening. We agreed to meet in town at 8:30 pm, then follow him to his home.

We were in for an interesting evening, to be sure. Koalmuni gave us a ride (from our hotel - which he surprised us by coming to pick us up) on his motorcycle to his home - and yes, all three of us rode on the bike at the same time. Please keep in mind that here, 3 on a bike is nothing. Almost every bike on the street has at least 3 people and some kind of animal or bag of food on it as well. In Mumbai, I saw an entire family and a full-size goat on one moped! A real moped, too. The guy actually peddled to get the engine going! But I digress. Upon arrival to his home, dinner was ready. His girlfriend met us at the door, but to our befuddlement, she spoke no English at all. As it turns out, this was Koalmuni's wife of 6 months . . . from an arranged marriage. I really have no idea what the whole girlfriend from the bank was about.

Before the meal, we took a quick tour of the home, which was quite comfortable and maintained a beautiful shrine to Shiva and Koalmuni's deceased mother. As with Sajad's dinner, we were treated with much respect and wanted for nothing on the table. As a fisherman, Koalmuni had plenty of fresh fish. He prepared two whole fish for me alone! We also had rice, chicken legs, and some tasty veg for Colie. "Superstrong" Kingfishers (Indian beer, Superstrong indicates alcohol above 6%, though it tasted like someone at the brewery dumps Jack in there somewhere - though Colie and I disagree on the subject, I also think "Jack" pisses in the beer, too.) were also served in their standard approximate 28 oz. bottle. The dinner itself was fantastic, and we could tell a lot of pride and work went into the preparation and serving of the meal.

Koalmundi's wife, speaking no English, worked very hard and did not eat while we did. It was difficult for us to grasp the level of subserviance Koalmuni expected from his bride, and this seem to lead to tension and near hostility between them. This was unfortunate, because she seemed very sweet and was quite a gracious hostess. Koalmuni would rarely interpret for her, though I know she was aware of and appreciated our gratitude. As with many men here, especially as one moves south in India, the male is certainly dominant and the master of the household - and quite severely so, in some cases. This component and dynamic present in our hosts' marriage made for a distracting evening for Colie - who will readily jump in with all she has at the first moment of a perceived injustice (one of the many reasons I love her!). But I was blissfully up to my elbows in fresh fish and chicken legs, expected this male domineering to some extent, and had more interaction with Koalmuni - so I didn't notice as much or as early as she did.

After dinner, Koalmuni's wife dressed Colie up in one of her Saris. She picked beautiful color combos, was quite gentle with Colie . . . but you should read more about this event in Colie's comments associated with this post. Colie would like to point out that the overexaggerated smile in the picture below was due to overextended camera delay.

After dinner, we sat on the roof and enjoyed the sea breeze and talked of the night sky and explained life in Colorado - with Orion directly overhead. I rode the motorcycle up and down the street, then we headed to the "festival". We sat a bit back on the sand and watched some truly horrific lip synching and boy-band-esque stage dancing, which was apparently the main event for the first night of the festival. The crowd did go wild when Britney Spear's "Hit Me Baby" was momentarily sampled. The real festival was in town at a makeshift shrine. We watched the repressed Indian youths do their best to - wow, I'm not sure how to explain what they were up to. Some strange mating-ritual of close quarter slam/dirty dancing - man on man styley! We keep marvelling at how the culture that gave us the Kama Sutra doesn't stand for men and women holding hands in public. Kisses are reserved for behind closed doors or the raciest, most scandalous Ballywood or Chennai films. Yet all over, men lounge about all over each other, hold hands, and do the Lambada (the forbidden dance) together at any time - an no one bats an eye.

Colie and I soon retired to our little room and enjoyed each other's company and read from our books. Again, the meal was fantastic, but the obvious marital issues of the hosts were something of a distraction. Yet another worthwhile and amazing experience in India.

-John (I'll add pictures when I can find a computer with a USB port!)(Also noteworthy: It's 6:35 pm here while it's 4:41 am right now for you! Wake up! 10 March 2008 is a great day! We head home in one month.)

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner . . .

Over the past couple of days, we've had the opportunity to meet with lots of different people in and around Mamallapuram. The majority of people we've exchanged pleasantries with have been entirely superficial and calculated - beyond the everyday, "Hello friend! How are you?", comes the inevitable, "You want look in my shop?" It's easy enough to ignore the "touts" and their phony sales pitches, but occasionally you find some truly generous, genuine people who are interested in the individual as much as the sale. Perhaps two of the greatest friendships we've made while staying on the coast came from two of the most honest businessmen we've met in India.

Sajad and Shahid are Kashmiri natives who run a seasonal tourist shop near the beach in Mamallapuram. At first, we were drawn in by their whole-hearted greetings, and friendly, no pressure invitation to browse the shop. As we looked around, Sajad was more than happy to explain the differences between various silks and silk blends - explaining the time and effort put into each piece. We were surprised at the time and effort he took to describe the overall function of the marketplace, and impressed by his knowledge of the various cotton-silk blends available. (Up until this point, all we heard was, "Yes madam, 100% silk!", or, "50/50 blend, sir!") What impressed us most, was his warm, quiet demeanor, his modesty, and his reasonable pricing.

We didn't intially buy anything that night, but the next morning we found ourselves at the store front looking inside. After some small talk and a very generous discount, we walked out of the store with at least two extra pounds of goodies to squash in our packs. Most customer-proprietor relationships end as soon as one walks out the door, but Sajad and Shahid were incredibly kind and made it a point to wave "hello" every time we walked past the store to the beach. It wasn't long before we found ourselves talking for an hour at a time each evening as we walked home from the beach.

After many long talks of mountains, politics, cricket and cuisine outside the shore front, Sajad invited the two of us for dinner over at his house. Needless to say, we were honored, albeit a bit taken aback. Neither John nor I have ever been invited as "tourists" to a native's house before, so neither of us knew quite what to expect. What stressed us out the most was what exactly we should bring to complement dinner. Sajad and Shahid are both practicing Muslims, and I knew that wine was quite out of the question (nevermind that in Tamil Nadu you can't find a place to sell you a beer for under $3.00. The consumption of alcohol is frowned upon here, though beer is available in restaurants at steep "whitey" prices.) So we decided on cookies and dates as an after-dinner treat and made our way to dinner.

As it turned out, Sajad's mother and father were in town visiting for the week - a lovely surprise as Sajad's mother prepared the entire meal in traditional Kashmiri style. (Sajad and Shahid told us later that they'd never have invited us over if they were the responsible for the meal. They were afraid we'd never eat Kashmiri food again!) Sajad's family were beautiful and most gracious hosts, they led us in a short Muslim blessing and insisted that we ate first - before the rest of the family. The meal itself was so tasty - Sajad's mother prepared traditional Kashmiri chili-chicken with rice and veggies, as well as a nummy carrot relish and side salad. I felt bad, seeing as how all this work was put into preparing such a delicious and rich meal, so I swallowed a few bites of chicken and more than my fair share of the gravy - so as not to appear as an ungrateful guest. ( I suffered for it the next morning, but I have to admit the savory flavors were well worth the tummy discomfort.)

But beyond the food, the company we kept along with the feeling of contentment and belonging are memories we'll keep with us long after we return state-side. It was so comfortable lounging on the tile floor and watching Sajad's baby brother dance to the soft background music, hearing stories of their beloved homeland of Kashmir and feast they are planning for us upon our arrival ("two years from now?"). The entire evening was so intoxicatingly wonderful that I can't imagine a more satisifying night in India.

(We've rescued this draft from the abyss! It was supposed to be posted several days ago, but our connection was snarky and disagreeable. We're hoping to follow this post up with its companion piece in a few days - a commentary of a traditonal Hindi dinner. But for now, enjoy our wonky, blurry camera pictures of our new friends and our favorite meal in India!)

-Colie

Running About

For those of you who jog/run, you may be able to think back to some memorable tours of cities you've had and just how amazing running can be in a new place, country, etc. My dad introduced me to running distance, and always said it was a great way to get your bearings and subject yourself to some unique experiences. Our first international run together was in Heidelberg, Germany - and was so memorable and worthwhile. It is noteworthy that when he began jogging/running, it was a new phenomenon (jogging for health was a new thing in the 70s), and TAB* was the health drink of choice. Of course, peoples have been running after prey, as couriers, and as a means of escape, etc., for a long time - but they didn't have TAB*, dammit. *Please note that carbonated beverages adversely impact your body's ability to carry oxygen throughout the bloodstream.

That said, I took in my first run in India yesterday at about 10:30 am, and it was one of my top 5 runs of my life. I couldn't run in Mumbai, though I wanted to. The air there is so dirty, I'd have Marlboro Man lungs after 2 blocks. Mamallapuram is quite different. The people here keep the streets relatively clean, the onshore breezes from the Arabian Sea bring freshened purity to the air breathed, and the moisture/sunshine mix adds a latent heat component to one's spirits with every stride. One note: It is easily in the 90s F by 10:30 am in southern India - so running here is about proper hydration and willpower - like running midday in Kansas . . . in stroke-inducing early August. Avoiding crocodiles on the lakeshores and seasnakes washed up on the shores should also be added to running guidelines here. Remembering hurdling over rattlesnakes (plus king snakes, copperheads, garners, hognose, etc.) on the singletracks in Kansas (and Gardners + Rattlers in Colorado) certainly causes me to completely remove narrow trails in the jungle from my list here, where there are seriously deadly and lightning-fast serpents.

Okay, so about the run. I walked to the west end of town to begin, as running is not something people do here, and didn't want to cause a scene or panic. Let me say this . . . massive ruins and carvings from the 5th and 7th Century (AD) is a great place to begin a run. After a block or two, I was in a part of the outskirts of town I had not seen. Exploring is one of the great adventures of running for me. My sweat broke early, which is fortunate, as there was no breeze at the time and the evaporating sweat helped a bit with the heat- but was really akimbo to fighting Conan with a peppered turkey thigh. The people that were around were curious and gave many smiling, and many confused looks. As is common of the many generous and kind-hearted people here, I had to refuse several offers of people who would ride up to me on their bikes and tell me to hop on, that they would take me where I needed to go quickly! For that alone, I knew I had already "arrived". So, I'd try to explain as I'd run, with bicyclists aside that I was running for health, exploration, meditation, reflection, self-analysis - all the things one runs for, or from. All this while passing ruins unearthed 200 years ago by the British, which had previously been buried in sand for centuries. Echos of a past people - with their descendants all about. Fortunately, the road led to an 85 year old goat-herder (with his 17 goats) just outside of town. He immediately swung his arms and said, "Running!", with the excitement and understanding. I paused momentarily, gave a friendly greeting, and waited as he explained to the bike-riders what I was up to. They all nodded, waved with smiles, and turned around and headed back to town. How wonderful that these people were willing and happy to go out of their way, interrupting their own affairs, to take me where I needed to go - an absolute stanger, but visitor. I have to interject and challenge you all to treat visitors to our country with utter kindness, say "hi" to them with smiles. Offer to give them information or assistance - for that is the tip of the iceberg of what we get here around every corner (of course, many are set-ups to buy something, but many are not).

So I kept heading south, parallel to the shore, but inland about a mile (the ocean looked much closer). The road I was on was visually a challenge. It was dead flat, at this point a full-on sandy desert - with the near distance distorted with the heat and evaporation of water. I could vaguely see a village to the left, a gateway, and a lone tree outside of the gate. The shadow cast by the tree was providing some respite from the heat to group of people. As I drew nearer, I could see they were traditionally dressed Tamil women waiting for a ride to town. I crossed to the other side of the street, so as not to crowd and maintain respect for the accepted separation of men and women here, but one woman got up as I approached and crossed to my side of the street. She was well into her 60s, the elder of the group, and began jogging - as if to run to town. She offered a friendly wave and greeting and was laughing, along with the group. This point was already well outside of town - and was a much welcome comedic interlude.

I could see that this road was heading into more of the same desert, and was gradually breaking from the coast. Thus far, there was no point to break left in a perpendicular fashion to the beach, where I planned on returning to town by. I soon happened upon an old stone gate and archway, with eroded postings, advertisements, and who knows what markings. A rough path through sand with sporadic, low-to-the-ground vegetation led past a large clearings only inhabitants that I could see: two goats. So I went for it. I could see the ocean, and it didn't look too far, but again, the rising vapors distort the distance. Here I could remove my shirt and catch some rays, as there were absolutely no people to be seen. I'd slow down and scan carefully around the vegetation for snakes, paid close attention to the buildings some distance to my right for shouts, warnings, whatever - and made my way past the goats, who offered a lazy bleat (or perhaps a warning that they would not share the sparse vegetation!) for my efforts. After some time, I still hadn't made the coast. Man, it was hot. At this point, I was running on muscle and core effort, as the sea level oxygen counts make breathing easy, but sandy running is quite tiring, creating a feeling of sluggishness. I couldn't help but smile and say aloud to myself, "Mirage" - pronounced "Mee Rah' Gee'!!!" as Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, and others in Looney Toons Cartoons do.

The trail occasionally passed some inland lakes, which I previously could not see, and I slowed down here and exercised extreme caution, as I had been warned by many locals that these lakes had crocodiles in and around them. Spooky Boots!!! Fortunately, Steve Irwin and Paul Hogan (Crocodile Dundee) taught us all we need to know about crocs, salties, etc. Trust me - I didn't mess around, and took great precaution here to remain very safe. My care was probably overkill, but better safe than, well, a biscuit for some prehistoric behemoth.

Well, I finally made the coast, and was greeted by a wonderful sea breeze that wicked away lots of sweat and cooled me to near chill. I had the seaside completely to myself. As I ran along the beach, doing my best to find that perfect blend of hard sand - not too wet, not too soft, not at risk of getting saltwater shoe cakes - I soon happened upon a Big Buddy. This, of course, was a very friendly, lithe dog of about 1.5 years. I stopped and petted, praised this adorable tail-wagger (who's rear wiggled as much as her tail), who then decided to accompany me on my run. I had noticed she was chasing something into the water as I had approached - and this she continued as we made our way up the coast. Crabs would run from their holes and into the water as we approached, and she was lightning quick in her hunt of them. At each near success, she would come back to my side as if to say, "I'm so fast, huh? I'm a good dog, yes? Thanks for scaring the crabs for me!!!" I began to worry I was leading her up the coast too much, but she had boundless energy, 4 legs, and a hungry tummy. Much to her good fortune, we happened upon a very large turtle that was dead on the beach. It appeared to have received a fatal bite from a shark, which had completely removed its left flipper and actually a good portion of the shell. Probably a tiger shark. I looked for a moment, peered out to the ocean, heard the Jaws music in my head, and continued up the coast.

After reaching a seaside fishing village, getting a greeting bark from a dog not used to outsiders, and chatting for a few moments with 5 fishermen about the area, the fishing, the upcoming festival, where I was from, where I was going, etc. - I could see that I was reaching the Shore Temple - close to the end. I ran hard to finish, really clearing the cobwebs - and some fowl Mumbai lungers. I put my shirt back on as I was close to townsfolk, and walked the final kilometer to our place. I began to realize just how hot the day was - but, as in Kansas, the running helps to keep you cool. As with many great runs, one can see much of their surroundings, gain insights into themselves, reflect on the past, present, and future - and completely sweat your ass off! If you come to India - it's a great way to go.

Mosquitos and Cricket comments . . .

Thanks everyone for your continued comments. We just added a quick reply in the comments section of Mosquitos and Cricket. We plan on adding some great additions tomorrow, after the first night of the festival here in Mamallapuram.

Mosquitos and Cricket

Paradise does have one flaw . . . mosquitos at night! Colie and I are on the lookout for a mosquito net at this point, and need to find some more malaria tablets. As for the Cricket (not crickets), India is celebrating their victory today (moments ago) over Australia in Cricket. I break into nervous fits when I see them play, as they use a big paddle reminiscient of the one my mom used to spank me with . . . daily. Just kidding, Mom! No, really guys, DAILY!!!

BTW . . . look for the goat in the above picture. He's resting on a rock toward the right.

The prices here are considerably less than Mumbai, but not dirt dirt cheap. Mumbai is known for expensive hotels. Our hotel there was a room that was as long and wide as me stretched out, and had a shower room adjacent to it. We shared toilets (not exactly wetern style) with the floor. Daily rent was initially 800 Rupees, or $20 - but we negotiated a rate of 450 after that. In Chennai, we had a great room for 400 Rupees - complete with western toilet, shower room, flat screen TV, nice courtyard view, and marble flooring. Here we are paying 300 Rupees for a great little seaside room with a balcony. For your viewing pleasure, here are some pics of the places we've stayed. The first is the Maria Lodge, across from a mosque in Mumbai:

The entryway is seen in the first photo. It can be very hard to spot on the hectic streets of Mumbai. Our room was on the 4th floor. The first night, we had a great view of the street. To save some dough, though, ya know . . . we moved down the hall to this little space that lacked windows, but at least had a ceiling fan.

This is a picture of the shower. We use the little bucket to pour and the big one to gather. The water is cool and refreshing, just like the high quality H2O served by "The Waterboy" (an Adam Sandler flick, if you missed it). It seems to almost always be hot here.

The shower entry. Simple, basic, reasonably comfortable. A room we'll never forget. It was always peaceful to come back to.

This photo is of our upgraded room in Chennai. Again, much nicer - and cheaper. But in Chennai.

Finally, a peek into our room here in Mamallapuram. The fan has proven itself in keeping us cool at night, and is also a gallant - and most welcome - mosquito swatter. They only come at night, but they are tricky little boogers and have a 14.5 inch tube for sucking blood. I'm going to catch the one that bit me between my toes and make her sleep in a 30% deet towell.


This is the view off our balcony overlooking thatched rooftops and some local flora. The ocean is slightly right behind the trees. This town is much more laid back and far less busy than the previous places we've visited. We'll probably be here for a few more days, then head south to Pondi (Pondicherry). It will be hard to leave here, though. We just finished a French-Indian lunch in a thatch-roofed restaurant, that was more ashram than restaurant - just down from the beach. We spent the day looking at rock carvings, soaking up sun on the beach and body-surfing, and doing a little shopping in the markets. It just seems to keep getting better! Thank you all for keeping us posted . . . we are glad to hear what you all are up to!

-John

Planes, Trains, and Auto-Rickshaws!

Greetings from Mamallapuram! We find ourselves in absolute paradise these days . . . I don't know if there's another way to put it. We took our 27-hour train ride from Mumbai to Chennai, which essentially crosses the entire continent. We were fortunate enough to book passage in an air-conditioned car, and shared a nook with 2 men from the area we are currently visiting. One was a conservative holy-type-man and the other a former railroad director and cricket guru. Everyone was so very pleasant and made the journey something special. We really enjoyed their company as much as the gorgeous Indian countryside. We stopped at many places along the way, and saw everything ranging from shanties, deserts, mountains, giant rock walls, polluted and unpolluted waterways, farms, villages, and many, many, many cups of chai. We decided that since we didn't have a nook to ourselves, these very kind and helpful Indians were excellent coincidental roommates. We slept on bunks, read our books, visited new friends, and zipped across a very vast and diverse country.

As it stands now, we are in a small seaside town known as Mamallapuram. The town is much smaller and way more laid back than the rest of the places we have visited. We took a two-hour bus ride south from Chennai just this afternoon, and immediately fell in love with this place. The area was wiped out hard from the tsunami, but has recovered nicely. We are staying just off the beach, seen below . . .

. . . and have already enjoyed some fresh seafood and a quick walk of a bazaar. This little village is known for rock-carving, silks, fishing/cuisine, and shrines. Our dinner was a whopping Rupees 200. That's about $5.00 US for an "out of the net" fresh plate of curried mackerel with rice and some prawns with fried rice. Not too bad. Out hotel costs Rupees 300 for one night, or $7.50 US. We'll update again soon, and to answer a question some of you may be asking - YES. I do plan on climbing the pressure crack up the west face of the sea rock in the picture. The rock is gritty and is just begging for an ascent. Time to go . . . there is an 11:00 pm curfew and we have a few things to do yet tonight. Cheers!

-John