Wednesday, 26 January 2011
Kannur, Mangalore and UDUPI
Experimenting the next day Sat 29 January I can't see how I did a complete edit delete for only the second time ever but still suspect it has to do with unintentional depression of the Control key. A brand new computer a fast Internet connection at Upudi a comfortable seat and a cooling fan above, it's not always like this now to pick myself up and replace the 5 hours of writing over 2 long sessions, which was flowing easily at the end.
Kannur and Mangalore
 |
| Waiting hours in Vajpet for a bus to Kannur |
 |
| Hotel Omars, Kannur |
Ticket in hand by 9am the next day I got someone to show me the platform number (1) printed on my computerised ticket, then used a special purpose terminal to find the make up of the train, each carriage has a unique identity in order from the engine end, identities like S1, S2 which are 2nd class sleepers, then GEN, M1 which was a two tier 2nd class a/c sleeper, B1 and B2 which was our 3 tier 2nd class sleeper. The train was largely sleeper carriage since the train had started from Chennai 12 hours yesterday evening. Trains always stop at the same point on the platform so that position of each carriage (in our case the 19th carriage) is shown on a series of equally spaced electronic displays the length of the platform. So with this extra knowledge we looked for the position 19, thus knowing where to wait on the platform. By the time we boarded a lot of the second tier births were back in place and the carriages seemed nearly empty. There would have been absolutely no problem in getting a seat
 |
| Vaccination clinic on platform, waiting for the girl to feel at home |
In the next sleeper compartment (no separation in fact) was a lady Mrs Lakshni Sundaran (email Amma59) and her recently married daughter on their way, unbeknown to us, from her home in Chennai to Mangalore and then to Manipal just a few km north of our destination Udupi. We made no speaking contact on the 3 hour on the train journey to its destination at Mangalore, but she helped me off with our cases at the station and then asked where we were going and said she would find us a rickshaw to the correct bus stand, for which we thanked her thinking we would not see her again. As usual we immediately found a suitable bus from the various conductors shouting their destinations, one discovering our destination seized our bags and stowed them on top of the engine. We had just taken our seats when the daughter appeared at the door enquiring if we would prefer an a/c coach, we said we were OK so she waved as though goodbye, but a couple of minutes later reappeared with her mother and their own cases and got on taking two seats a little further forward which are reserved for ladies. As she boarded Amma (mother) asked if we had got tickets which we thought a strange question because tickets are nearly always sold by the conductors during the journey. A few minutes later she shouted over that she had purchased our tickets to save us the hassle, and would not accept money. Next she sent over two slips of paper one giving all her contact details, the other blank for us to do the same. Joan has just received the second of two email requests to join a previously unknown site as a 'friend', the first was discarded because her name was no recognised by Joan but the second will now be responded to as her full name is recorded in this blog.
The bus went through Upudi without stopping at a bus stand but a little later Amma waved us to get off where she was met by the son she had come to see. Manipal it seems is the seat of one of the more prestigious Universities in India specialising in Life Sciences with 20,000 such students plus another 14,000 on unrelated subjects. Her son who barely seemed older than mid twenties spoke perfect English with enthusiasm and high speed announced that he was a lecturer in Pharmacy, that his classes were largely made up of foreign students from across the globe but the lectures were always in English.
His mother and sister were here because the next day, Republic Day, he was to receive a presentation at the University, Amma had presumed that we would find more suitable hotels here than in Udupi, she was staying as usual at Green Park which is mentioned in our guide but he said was always full so booking ahead was essential. He disagreed with his mum and so he directed us back to Udupi to Keydiyoor Hotel (1350rp) where he said he often put university visitors.
He was right we have loved our time in Udupi and been very happy in that hotel (which is not in our guidebook). We have a large long room with a six foot wide double bed and a sitting area of two armchairs and a table at the well lit end by the window, tinted to make a typically grotty Indian town seem more warm in colour than it actually is, an ideal place to start by reading the morning paper. Which we follow by breakfast in the downstairs cafe, extra but less that 90rp for two, Joan opts for or Vada and curd, I for Pourri and Bhaji potato based dry filling or Korma a light vegetable curry sauce. Pourri is disgustingly fatty, batter cooked in a very hot fat blows up to the size of a thin air filled football, but is delicious and evil in the perfect measure. I wondered how Indians get fat on vegetarian diets and now I am learning fast, almost every thing is fried and even the breads (delicious) can be bought with lashings of extra butter oil, plus of course Indian's notoriously sweet tooth.
 |
| HOTEL KEYIYOOR |
We started by finding that no street map was to be had at the hotel (the norm here) so we found our way starting with a failed search for a street map at a Bookshop, but the owner directed us towards the the Sawswara Hotel as recommended in the guide, and thus locating ourselves for the first time on our guidebook's street map of the centre of town. Looking over their rooms they offer extremely good value at the budget end for 550rp but their more expensive rooms did not compare in value with ours. On to a second bookshop and a second failure to find a map but with a copy of Arundhati Roy's book 'Listening to Grasshoppers' an inditement of Democracy. Corruption supported by Fear, in politics, security forces and media, a picture in a series of essays of political life in India today whilst the worlds media applauds the world's biggest democracy.
She likens their politics to Fascism, aligns it with Nazi Germany, highlights the brutal suppression of people in Kashmir by the security forces and the police whose borders are protected by a million armed troops half Indian, half Pakistani. Has no time whatever for the BJP, the Hindu party who wrestled power from Congress (The Nehru Dynasty) when we were first here 20 years ago, nor has she much time for Congress. She quotes the latest Ghandi (Vandan?) who publicly called for compulsory sterilisation of Muslims. She also calls so called the Maoist terrorism in for our major eastern states West Bengal, Orrisa, ?,?, a Civil War, resulting from the stealing of land by big business seizing it from the vast native population for mining and other purposes. No wonder the papers are so full of stories of corruption and failures of the law and governance, she paints a dismal picture.
The second book seller sent us towards the temple area of Udupi with a recommendation to eat at the Woodlands restaurant. Just before that we got in conversation with a young Indian couple who were buying strange vegetables, they I felt were also here on holiday since they were clearly buying with a view to self a catering, but may have come originally from Udupi. They walked with us into the circle which is Car Street and pointed out Mitra Samaj the very small restaurant to which they were just going, saying Woodlands was very good but more expensive than it used to be.
The outside rim of Car Street is almost entirely Maths, which can possibly be thought of as the Hindu equivalent of the Muslim Madrasa, places for education but with a strong religious bias. There are two temples, one in the very centre around which are small shops including the above restaurant and a helpful tourist Office is just off Car Street.
Parked outside the temple are two huge religious cars, four huge wooden wheels, a bottom wooden decorated section which reminded me of a gaudy merry go round and a vividly covered top which clearly inspired today's hot air balloons, studded with electric lights which come into prominence in the procession which takes place every evening. Behind the temple is a large tank with a single storied temple in the centre and another small altar built over a catamaran. Whilst gazing into this tank who should we meet but Amma and family, they were here to view the nightly procession at 7.30, and after that invited us to eat with them afterwards, at Woodlands.
 |
| One of the Maths - rather like madrasas places of learning but for Hindus |
We learned a good deal more from the family, the girl who loved language and had a degree in French now followed her husband who was currently in East Malaysia from she had just returned in order to join her mother to the presentation. Her husband was a physiotherapist. The son was clearly doing well and highly confident that he would soon get a place at one of several prestigious foreign universities in order to further his experience, he had contacted and was considering such as UCL and King's of colleges of London University, America I think he said Harvard, but the favourite was clearly Barcelona, though I'm left wondering if the clinching aspect is not the chance to see his footballer heroes Messi and David Villa in the flesh. He was very keen on European football and was amazed like the rest of us why England did so poorly in the World Cup. Unusual to meet someone in this country who raves about a sport other than cricket. Incidentally we note that on the 2nd March England play Ireland in Bangalore in the World ODI Cup, we will be in Bangalore because the following day we fly back to London, I at least intend to go to the match.
 | ||
| Amma (Lakshmi Sudaran) with daughter and son |
Every evening we return and each time we learn more of the ceremony, in one of Karnataka's most important pilgrimage sites. Here then is a more complete picture, the very start we may unravel tonight. At the heart of the ceremony is a small god reminiscent of Kullu years ago, the story so far starts with the god on the catamaran temple circling the temple in the middle of the tank clockwise three times, covered in gold and well lit via a cable being walked around the central building at the end of which it is docked at the main temple and then is brought out of the main door of the Sri Ananthasana Temple into Car Street and put in another all gold temple on a much smaller wooden wheeled cart than those previously described. The procession stars with a marching band followed by an elephant, who spat at me when I tried to pass on his right hand side but was OK when I deviated to the other, men carrying a sort of gateway followed by say 20 people pulling the small cart , behind that one of the two large cars is pulled by long ropes by perhaps 100 people. At the half way point they stop for a firework display of Roman candles and rockets zooming high into the sky before breaking in spectacular style. On rocket failed to ascend and sprayed the crowd luckily without hurting anyone. When the other half of the circuit has been completed the small god is carried on a ceremonial hammock into the temple where it is again paraded around the altar whilst a small band, which would grace Swansea Jazzland with the intricate rhythm and tonality of the alto saxophone, slowly make three clockwise circuits whilst some prostrate themselves on the ground, whilst others merely kiss it.
Our photos, to which we add nightly, will help to record the scene and the changing light patterns on the balloons but what it cannot add is the sound, the continual intricate drumming which beats up a fine fury and the crowd, the crowd for the first time this time has a fair sprinkling of European tourist, usually in the form of tour parties. Nor the shouting as a cheer leader synchronises the pulling of the huge carts like the leader of a tug of war team, nor the summing up from the crowd of volunteers for the really hard part of returning the small carriage to its garage with shouts of Siva, Siva (volunteer help) or the placing of a wooden lever under wheels whenever it gets stuck in the fine sand at the entrance.
That first night with the family we retired to the packed Woodlands restaurant before the ceremony had finished and even then we had to wait for a table. It was good to get help from Indians to choose some dishes we had not tried before following explanations from the son of their type. Incidentally the family were Brahmins and based on earlier experience where a Brahmin family invited us to their home for dinner in Jaisalmeer but did not eat with us, this invitation to Woodlands took us by surprise.
So we shared this meal
Starters
Vegetable Manchow Soup (spicy)
Gobi Manchurian better than before in an area where the markets have beautiful big cauliflowers
Chilli Mushrooms
Kulcha and Naan bread
The former difficult to break with one hand due to the excess of gluten, the latter of wheat which has less. Bread breaking lessons were provide by our hosts, the index finger in front is used as the fulcrum whilst the break is made by pulling the piece between middle finger and thumb.
Main Course
Kaju Dingri delicious cashew nut based curry
Kadai Paneer where Kadai is nothing more than the metal dish with handles in which it is cooked but signals a superior vegetable curry.
Mughalai Biryani very much more flavour some than in much cheaper biryani we eat recently in Kannur
Sweet
Gadbag, a tall glass with ice-cream topped by a cherry with lots of nuts and dried fruit.
Typical cost of dinner at Woodlands 250 rp for two
MALPE
On the advice of the son (whose name beginning by V was too long to even attempt to learn we got up at 6am the following day when a red horizon was the only sign of daybreak and got a rickshaw to the fishing port of Malpe in order to see the fish unloaded and auctioned.
The rickshaw driver took us straight to the fishing port, just a few words Malpe, Beach - No and Fish - OK were enough for the directions to be made clear. It was indeed an experience not to be missed though the guide book doesn't even mention it. Perhaps a 100 small trawlers bringing their catch to the harbour, sorting and cleaning the catch on deck or on the concrete hard, a park full of smallish lorries waiting to ferry their fish to markets presumably across the whole area. Women everywhere carrying baskets of fish from their trawler of choice to where - was not clear, auctioning was rare, it seems the market destination was known in advance. Some women wore flowers as buns as the back of their heads, all protected their heads from the fishy water dripping from the baskets, some picturesquely with stout pieces of brown vegetation, perhaps the lower branches stripped from banana trees. The bowls were universally of plastic, some the shape of inverted coolie hats the other boring but even larger rectangular plastic bins, all heavy usually two men worked hard to lift the bowls onto the heads of waiting women in a relay race. If they hadn't got the vegetation shield they wore false buns right on top of their heads, which helped stabilise and centre the load, protect from water and perhaps also cushioned their heads a little
Lots of extremely hard work but almost always with good humour and a warm interest in us on lookers.
India's Independence Day Celebration
On the advice of the son we watched the impressive celebration in Delhi on the TV. It was quite clear that one of the things we British left behind was a love of ceremony.
No comments:
Post a Comment