My travel log

Gamagedara, the village home

2012-01-30T18:27:00.000-08:00

Horana for me is associated withGamagedara and Mr. Piyasoma Bentota. I first came across Mr. Bentota when hevisited my office and the head of office introduced him to me. He had come toshare details of the rush and reed diversification works that he and his teamdid. I subsequently had the opportunity to visit them in Horana.

Gamagedara (village home) is thepopular name of Podujana Himikam Kamituwa, a non-Governmental organization more famously known for theirrush and reed conservation and diversification programme. An initiative that won them the Equator prize in 2004. Mr. Bentota and thepeople at Gamagedara believe that rush and reed is a natural resource that needsto be conserved and which, if properly harvested and used, can producelivelihood for rural villagers and they strongly believe that it is an inherenttradition and culture that should not die out. So, in order to keep up withmodern trends, they have adapted the technique to produce modern products suchas laptop cases, brief cases, yoga mats etc.

With a firm commitment to villagecustoms, the place has been built using mud and wattle – the eco-friendly andmost common building material in the past. Warmly welcoming any visitors, theyare happy to show you around the place and discuss how their products are made.The handloom machines, the weaving machines, the types of rush and reed foundin Sri Lanka, the types of products that areproduced etc. They offer courses, based on request, on rush and reed productdevelopment starting with the basic 4 week course. They generally start withthe mat in their basic course as it is easier to weave and also gives a lot ofroom for the trainees to experiment with colour mixing and the advanced caneven weave stories into their mats. Mr. Bentota proudly shows a mat woven byone of the more skilled trainers, an eighty year old woman, who has woven thepicture of her village into her mat complete with a dagoba. Most of theirtrainers are over the age of sixty. There is an emphasis in their courses ofpassing knowledge of traditions and customs from the elderly to the youngergenerations in the country.

Mr. Bentota takes us to the diningroom where two sides of the walls are lined with the mud and wattle benchescovered with reed mats to make the seating and a carved wooden table on oneside where the healthy ‘belimal’ tea is served us in coconut shells along with‘halape’ as a snack. He introduces us to some of the people who served us thetea – they are committee members of Gamagedara. He proudly shows us theirvegetable garden behind the open air dining room and how meals cooked atGamagedara always use vegetables from their own garden. They have been raisingawareness and training farmers around the area on better farming practicesparticularly in relation to paddy cultivation as well as vegetable homegardening and the promotion of nutritious indigenous vegetables. During some ofmy visits, I have had the privilege of sharing a meal with them and have alwaysbeen delighted with the experience. The samba rice and the numerous vegetablecurries from vegetables I had never even heard of and all served in individualclay pots with coconut spoons/ ladles… plates woven out of rush and reed with aleaf placed on top where the food is served. After the meal, the leaves arethrown away but the environmentally friendly plates are re-used till they wearaway.

My visits to Gamagedara havealways been an experience I have cherished and the warm hospitality of the teamhas added to the experience. I have also enjoyed purchasing rush and reedproducts from their little sales outlet at the front, where one can buy mats,sun-hats, bags and a host of other products.

A visit to Gamagedara on theRatnapura road on Gurugedara in Horana close to the new Brandix garment factoryis certainly a recommended experience.

Rush and Reed Conservation and Diversification Program of the Podujana Himikam Kamituwa - Sri Lanka (EN) from Equator Initiative on Vimeo.

Wellawatte of my mother

2012-01-25T22:48:00.000-08:00

For the past few weeks, I have given in to my mother's requests of accompanying her on her evening walks. While I am not averse to walks, I prefer a level ground without interruptions from passing traffic when walking for health reasons. This is not possible in Wellawatte as pavements merge with roads and vehicles sometimes go on the pavements. However, of late, seeing my mother's health declining and realizing her need to continue walking - something she has always loved doing, I have agreed to go on evening walks with her. The disturbances on the road don't bother me so much now as in my mind, I am offering the support of my arm for her to hold on to as we walk. She is happy that finally she has persuaded me to walk for my fitness.

Walking along the same route each day, I have begun observing things that I did not really notice or pay attention to before. The cows that sometimes turn up on the roads blocking our path as they meander along, taking their own cool time, to go wherever they are walking towards. The dogs along the road, some of whose personalities we have started noticing. The Marine Drive that she enjoys walking along with the sea breeze and the beautiful sunset. Walking along the drive up to IBC road and visiting the Pillaiyar shrine. The shrine is installed in a home and considered a powerful shrine especially by those seeking visas to western countries earning the shrine the name 'Visa Pillaiyar'. The shrine does not have priests and pujas are conducted by the couple in whose house the shrine is installed. However, we have curtailed the length of our walks in recent times and do not make it all the way around Marine Drive.

I have particularly noticed the market area with the little vegetable and fruit stalls operating out of box like spaces. I used to avoid that place because it was always, almost impossible to move along that front due to the crowds teeming around. A new market building has been opened supposedly to beautify the place and many of the stalls have been moved in but my mother prefers this outdoor market, buying from these little stalls. What attracts me is the rapport that these sellers have with my mother. The 'Good evening's and the 'Good morning's that they greet her with, whenever she passes them on the road and insisting that she buys their first vegetables during her morning walks as a few of them believe that my mother brings their business luck for that day. Even if there are lots of people already trying to purchase stuff, the way my mother's favourite sellers prioritize her and put her few purchases in a bag and hand it over, knowing very well that she is not a person who waits.

Sometimes,we go beyond the market area up to St. Lawrence’s church – a pretty catholicchurch on Galle road, right next to Sapphire hotel. The church has aninteresting history connected to the first Portuguese on the island.

Franciscode Almeida was the counselor to King John II of Portugal and is credited in the conquest of Granada in 1492. In 1503, he was appointed as the firstviceroy of Portuguese India with the task of building four forts in theSouth-west India and bringing the spice trade under the Portuguese control. Withan armada of 22 ships, de Almeida left Lisbon on March 25, 1505. He reached the shores of Anjediva island, off thecoast of Goa, in September 1505 and started building his fort. InOctober, he started building the fort at Cannanore (Kannur) in Kerala with thepermission of the friendly ruler. As he reached Cochin at the end of October, he learnt that Portuguesetraders in Quilon had been murdered and he sent his son who destroyed several Calicut vessels at the harbour of Quilon. It was either during this time or afterthe Battle of Cannanore between the Indian and Portuguese fleets in 1506 that Lourenço de Almeida started exploringthe island in the South of India – Sri Lanka. His ship was said to have been driven by a storm tothe shores of Colombo and after safely landing, he set up a trade stationwhich enabled the installed expansion of the Portuguese empire in Asia.He also installed a chapel dedicated to St. Lawrence with the permission of theKing of Kotte. The first recorded Catholic mass in the country was held at thissite. The church that has been built on the site of the chapel is modern andhas a pleasing structure. At the entrance of the church, there is a shrine forMary with the inscription of the storm landing of Almeida.

At other times, we walk the opposite direction andwalk down chapel lane leading to the shrine of Mary on Mallika lane. A shrinefor Amman was installed at a house opposite the shrine forMary. With contributions of devotees, the house has now been converted into atemple. My mother generally visits both shrines on Mallika lane each day. Similar to the Pillaiyar shrine near IBC road, this shrine also does not have formal priests and the temple pujas are conducted by volunteers - mostly elderly women or men.

Each place made special to me because my mother frequents them. The realization that each minute is precious.

More importantly, the Wellawatte of my mother is the walk I take with her - the hand that I used to hold for support when growing up, now holding mine as we walk along the road each evening.

Galle Fort

2012-01-22T07:02:00.000-08:00

The Galle Fort has been a place that I have visited on an annual basis for the past few years. We started our visits simply because it was the venue of the Galle Literary Festival. However, the first time we went, we just went for one of the literary festival sessions held at Halle De Galle and opted for walking around the old streets and enjoying the atmosphere of the place. Since then, we have tried to make the annual day trip and almost always stick to our one literary festival session with the rest of the time for simply roaming around the fort.

An ancient port city on an important spice trade route, the Portuguese first built the fort in the 16th century after they landed in the city to defend themselves against the locals. It was later improved upon greatly by the Dutch in the 17th and 18th centuries with some additions by the British when they took over in the 18th century. It is currently a UNESCO world heritage site and is maintained quite well. To this day, it is a combined living and commercial area with one section housing Government offices and the bulk of it, a criss-cross of symmetrical streets with houses and small businesses interspersed with a historical landmark such as the lighthouse, the Dutch Reformed Church etc.

The main gate to the Fort is currently on a side road leading to the Fort. The Gate is a fortified structure with space within its walls. Probably offices and quarters of the Dutch in the past, it houses the Maritime museum as well as spaces for hosting art exhibitions. When one turns to the right as soon as one enters through the main gate and walks along the walls of the fort, one comes to the street with both the 18th century Dutch Reformed Church (the oldest Dutch built church in Sri Lanka) as well as the 19th century Anglican church and library. Tombstone inscriptions greet you as you step into the Dutch Reformed Church though you feel a bit self-conscious to be knowingly walking over the tombs of the dead. The church is simple and practical in its construction and is built to keep out the heat of the city. Crude stained glass windows adorn the walls and an old organ rests along one side of the chapel. Adjacent to the church, a small library had been constructed in 1832 and functions to this date. The Anglican church is a slightly prettier church than the DRC though maintaining the same concept of simplicity and practicality in its design. Walking further past the Dutch Reformed Church, one comes to the Government office section and eventually to the public square. The fort was very much a self-contained town during the days of the Dutch and the British.

It is lovely to walk through the old streets - the Leynbahn street - a street that according to one of my Dutch friends could have been similar to the rope maker's street in old Netherlands where the ropes were made and soaked along drain lines that ran along the length of the street. Indeed, during the Dutch period, Galle became a rope making center. Lace making was also introduced and to this day, both crafts are prevalent as a cottage industry in that town. The Pedlar's street was the area where the Moor traders had their businesses and to this day, small businesses run by Muslim families form the bulk of the enterprises within the Fort complex.

Reaching the end of Pedlar Street, one comes to the ramparts of the fort and it is a lovely area to walk across in the early mornings or evenings when the sun is not blazing over you. The grass mounds that cover the walls and the sea crashing against the ramparts is charming. If you walk along the ramparts, you eventually come to the lighthouse which you anyway see from a distance and the early 20th century mosque that lies a few metres from the lighthouse. These two landmarks usually form the iconic photographs of the Fort and basically characterize the Fort legacy - the Moor traders who made Galle an important port city on the Spice trade route and the subsequent European colonizers who built fortifications to protect their interests.

Three days in Siem Reap

2009-12-21T18:00:00.000-08:00

The flight from Ho Chi Minh city to Siem Reap was just over an hour - a pretty short flight on Cambodian Angkor Airways/Vietnamese Airlines and I was looking forward to reaching Cambodia and staying put in one place for a few days, after the constant movement of the past 4 days. The air hostesses in their lovely ao dai offered the usual cold towels before the take off. After take-off, they came back once again and started handing out snack boxes - nothing for the vegetarian though, which was disappointing for my vegetarian friend. As it was a short flight, it was alright. Midway though, the plane started behaving like a train with loud noises and bumpy motion. Turbulence? It gradually settled but within a short time after having crossed into Phnom Penh, the plan started nose diving down or at least that was what I imagined it was doing as we started dropping altitude very fast and my ear started hurting a lot. Fifteen minutes more and we would land. I told myself as the ear pain worsened. Finally, the captain announced the approaching landing and again nose-dived down as the altitude reduced rapidly. Everyone in the plane, within my view, looked concerned and in some pain or discomfort. In the same rapid speed, the plane touched down on the ground and sped across the runway. We were thrown forward but the seatbelts held us back. The plane then continued on its crazy speed on the runway and I was becoming alarmed that we were not reducing speed and that we would hit something soon if we didn't. Finally, after some tense moments, the pilot brought the plane to a slow pace and sighs of relief could be heard throughout the plane. The drama didn't stop there as the plane then turned and twisted on the runway like a car going through loops. This continued till the plane reached close to the arrival terminal. We then disembarked after glancing angrily at the pilot's cockpit and made our way to the terminal. Health forms were handed out at a table placed outside and all passengers were requested to fill the forms and hand it back in before proceeding inside. So, in the middle of the night at about 8.30p.m., we filled up our forms in the open space and then handed it over and got a yellow paper with information on H1N1 virus before we were allowed into the terminal. There were two sections - one was a visa upon arrival counter and the other was the immigration counters. We proceeded directly to the immigration counters as we had already obtained our visas in Vietnam. A uniformed official stopped us and asked, 'India? visa?'. We said we already had visas and proceeded to the counters where we were amongst the first in line. One of my friends went up to the counter first where she was rudely told to go and stand at the side. Surprised, we protested that we already had visas. Another uniformed official came and asked for our passports and took all three and went into a room after telling us to stand at the side away from the queues of western and south east asian tourists. We waited for several minutes as other passengers passed us and giving us quizzical looks. My friends decided to go to the visa on arrival counter and ask about the passports while I went back to the officer who had taken our passports and asked him when we would get it back and that we wanted it back very soon. He pointed to the side and told us to wait there. Finally, a man came out and gave us back our passports and we proceeded to the immigration counter. I went first this time and as soon as the man there saw my face and colour of skin, he immediately started saying something in his language and was about to return my passport and tell me to go back and stand on the side. I was fuming by then and told him, "I already have a visa and your people have already checked our passports." Luckily, the person who had checked our passports was standing nearby and he affirmed what I had told. Still, grudgingly, the official looked at each and every page in my passport and then finally, asked me to come infront of a camera. I was in no mood to be obliging and felt that if they wanted a photo, they could take it but I was not moving from where I stood. I guess he sensed my mood because he decided to turn the camera to me and took my picture before stamping my visa. After this process was repeated for each one of us, we finally went to the baggage belt, got our bags and walked out of the airport venting our anger at the discourteous and unfriendly staff at the immigration control desks. The pink signboard of River Garden stating, "Welcome, Ahila Thillainathan" greeted us.

We went forward and the hotel staff took one of the bags and led the way infront to the carpark. We found ourselves walking towards the area where motorcycles were parked and wondered where our car was when he stopped infront of the tuk-tuk. Our baggage was loaded on the front seat and the three of us squeezed into the main seat and trying to hold our luggage in place while the tuk-tuk sped into the night. We passed many resorts and hotels in the touristy part of the city and made our way into a less touristy area. Actually, it seemed to be the poorer part of the town. My friends were wondering where we were going and as I had been the one who had found this place on the net and booked it, I was beginning to be slightly concerned. However, soon, we stopped infront of a gate that seemed to lead into a nice environment. Some of the River Garden staff came our and greeted us warmly and helped us with our bags and led us into the reception area. The hotel policy required that 100% of the room payment plus the refundable room key deposit (USD 20/ room) be made upfront upon arrival. After making the payments, we were given our keys and taken to the rooms. My room was a cosy, little single room with a bed on one side and a semi-open bathroom and washbasin on the other.

As the hotel restaurant closed around 10p.m., we decided to have our dinner first before we unpacked. The open kitchen and dining space at Oxcourt, the hotel restaurant delighted us. I ordered some Khmer style vegetable soup as it was a bit late in the night for a more substantial meal and I was in need of something hot. My vegetarian friend was delighted with her food for the first time since we started our travel as she ordered a vegetable patti with fries. After a satisfying meal, we went back to our rooms to rest and looked forward for the next day's trip.

Just as we finished breakfast, Pech Mony, our guide for the three days arrived with his van and after introducing each other, we started off on our small circuit tour of the Angkor temples.

First, we went to the Bayon temples - the complex with enormous faces carved at each of its entrance doorways and also within the main temple. The ruins of a sleeping Buddha was placed at the entrance with offerings of flowers and incense before it.

The gallery of carvings on the Cambodian life back in the days of the temple was interesting as daily life of people going to the market or travelling with their families and livestock was depicted. One scene that the guide pointed out to us was that of a woman taking a rest in the market place with her basket of ware while a thief lifts the basket lid and steals something. The animals, the forests all are carved into the long wall. It seemed as if the carvers wanted to preserve their Kingdom's history in stone.

After the visit to the enormous Bayon temple, we stopped at a little informal place selling water and fresh coconut. We rested a bit drinking some iced coconut and water while children and women tried to sell souvenirs. They were not annoying as the touts in India or even, Sri Lanka and one felt sorry for the kids. After our little break, we walked around the back to the ongoing renovation project of a humungous sleeping Buddha which had disintegrated and was being restored stone by stone. We proceeded to the terrace of the leper king/ Yaman (as it is disputed as to who the terrace was dedicated to - the God of death or the King who is supposed to have suffered from leprosy) and the Elephant terrace before we again became tired. It was difficult walking under the blazing sun of Siem Reap and having the dry heat scorch you.

We decided to have our lunch at one of the eateries facing the temple complex before proceeding to our next temple visit - the Ta Phrom temple which our guide jokingly referred to as the Angelina Jolie temple after the movie Tomb Raider had been filmed there. As we walked through the woods to the temple complex, traditional live music played by the land mine victims at the entrance floated in the air mixing with the trees. It was a lovely effect. The deep, dark pools with trees looming over it as we crossed the bridge to the temple and the huge, gnarled roots that covered the walls of the temple were very beautiful. At some point, it felt as if the trees surrounding the temple had decided to undertake their own carving and had twisted and formed themselves into various shapes and forms around the temple. The trees were as much of an interest as the temple itself.

We crossed the bridge over the moat and entered the temple complex. The apsaras carved at Angkor Wat were more detailed and refined than the ones at Bayon temple. The story from Hindu mythology of the demons trying to get the elixir of life by tugging at the serpent Adisesham wrapped around Mount Meru was the inspiration for the temple. The main temple with its five towers was likened to Mount Meru and all around the temple, the serpent was carved with Naga heads reaching out to the sky at intervals. The guide said that the naga entrances along the path was also used as a traffic control with people entering from the east and leaving through the north in a one-way human traffic. A huge statue of Vishnu was within the temple complex and many incense sticks were being burned as offerings.

The galleries along the walls depicted the story of Ramayana on one wall, mainly focusing on the final war of Rama with Ravana in Lanka and the story of Mahabharata on another wall, again mainly focusing on the final war where Lord Krishna delivers his discourse to Arjuna.

After our day of temple visits, which involved around 7 - 8 hours of walking, we just wanted to go back to the hotel and rest. Our guide was keen on showing us some of the other smaller temples in the small circuit but we had had enough.

We went back to the hotel and rested for at least 2 hours before we decided to go to the Old Market area for some dinner and shopping. The hotel tuk-tuk dropped us infront of the Grand Cafe and we agreed that we would be back at that drop-off point by 9.30p.m. As we were famished, we decided to first have dinner and walked along the streets lined with restaurants and cafes and shops until we decided to eat at a place called the Soup Dragon Cafe. We went upstairs and found a table overlooking the street. I had a delicious dinner of sticky rice served with amok tofu which was beautifully served in a hand-woven palm leaf container. After the dinner, as we walked back towards Grand Cafe towards the old market, we passed lots of reflexology foot massage places. As my feet was hurting a lot after the intense day of walking, I felt like trying out a foot massage. The other two also decided to accompany me and we went into a place opposite Grand Cafe for USD 15 for foot massages for the three of us. The massage was alright but did not quite reduce the pain or strain in my feet. As our tuk-tuk had arrived, we decided to postpone our shopping for the next day and only browsed through the Senteurs D'Angkor shop where I found some really lovely silk shawls which were gift wrapped in hand-woven palm leaf envelopes. The tuk-tuk drive back to the hotel through the night was one of the highlights of the Siem Reap trip.

The next morning, I had wanted to visit Angkor Wat to see the sunrise. The guide had agreed to come at 5a.m. and as I didn't want to miss it, I had set my alarm to 4a.m. on my mobile phone. When the bell went off, I hurriedly got ready and just as I was about to leave the room realised that my mobile phone had been still in the Sri Lankan time which was 1 1/2 hours behind the Cambodian time so it was actually 6 a.m. as I walked to the entrance of the hotel. The guide was upset and said that the sun had already risen and if I wanted to cancel the morning visit. I replied that I still wanted to go as it was a lovely morning and I loved morning drives. So, we went to Angkor Wat and there was less people than in the afternoon and I appreciated the beauty of the temple and the surrounding moat and trees more in the cool morning breeze before heading back to the hotel for breakfast. The lovely plate of fruit which was carved prettily by the kitchen staff tasted delicious that morning and after breakfast, we started our trip to the next highlight of our visit, Kbal Sbean. There was a change in our guides as Mony had an exam to sit for that day and introduced us to his uncle Vith. His uncle was very sharp and open in his observations of daily living in Siem Reap, some of which were really amusing.

After an hour's drive, we reached the base of the 1500m mountain, which we had to climb to reach the temple carved in the riverbed. As I was the one with the walking problem, my friends agreed to take it slow and we climbed slowly taking frequent breaks along the way. However, the path started becoming more steeper and difficult for me and by the time, we reached 1400m, it became very difficult. The last 100m seemed very steep and though I was confident, I could have managed it with the help of an experienced climber, I was not confident of the support of my two tiny friends and they themselves were not too confident either. After a woman who went ahead of us slipped and fell and the path seemed to become more steeper, I made a decision that I would stay at that point while my friends went ahead. It was a difficult one to make because Kbal Sbean had intrigued me from the minute I saw pictures of it on the internet, much more than photos of the Bayon temple or Angkor Wat had done. I had felt that it was the biggest highlight of the Siem Reap visit and to make the decision not to complete the last leg of the climb to see the temple directly was very hard. I went back to the 1400m point and sat on a rock while the others proceeded. My wait was not too bad as I was kept amused by the scores of travellers climbing up the mountain. Different nationalities, different greetings... some just went by without a glance, some nodded an acknowledgement at seeing a fellow human being seated in the midst of the path, many smiled and said 'hello' and some even ventured to ask why I had given up and not attempted the last 100m. My friends returned and confirmed my feeling that the riverbed temple was indeed the biggest highlight of the visit to Siem Reap and they had absolutely loved it. We made our way down the mountain without a break and decided to have our lunch at a restaurant close by. I had a delicious lunch of garlic rice with chicken satay and peanut sauce, while my vegetarian friend's curry was served in a huge coconut shell.

After lunch, we visited the Banteay Srei temple. It was really hot by then and we were beginning to feel drained so we decided that it would be the only temple we visited before heading back to the hotel. The temple was smaller than the temples we had visited the first day but was more exquisitely carved and better preserved. Here again, the carvings reflected Hindu mythological stories and especially a lot of carvings of Hanuman and the monkey warriors of Rama's army. Ravana seemed to have captured the imagination of the temple carvers of Angkor and here too, Ravana was depicted in a scene carrying away Seetha to Lanka while Rama and Luxman fight him.

After the visit, the guide was keen on showing the other temples in the bigger circuit but we were too exhausted and insisted that we return to the hotel. He agreed and said that we could use the van to drop us off in the market area in the evening, if we felt like shopping. So, we agreed that we would be picked up at 6.30p.m. and went to our rooms and promptly fell asleep. I awoke in the evening with my throat feeling a little sore and having a slight headache. I felt like resting that evening indoors but decided to pull myself together for the night out. We visited the night market which was filled with stalls selling trinkets and souvenirs and bought a lot of gift items before heading to the Old Market area to have dinner with some friends of one of my fellow travellers. We met at the Banana Leaf restaurant but as it seemed full, we walked further and decided to try Le Tigre du Papier cafe which had a more Italian-based menu.

After dinner, my friends wanted to browse through the shops around the old market area whereas my tired feet required rest. I spotted a nice looking spa called Bodia Spa near the pharmacy opposite Banana Leaf and Soup Dragon Cafe and decided to try out another foot massage. This place was lovely with huge reclining seats and lotus tea and cold towels served as we sat browsing through the folder of packages offered. I settled for the foot massage. The ambience was really nice with lotus ponds along the way and the sound of birds chirping softly in the background. I fell asleep in my comfortable leather chair as the 22 year old masseuse from Phnom Penh gently massaged my tired feet. I was offered another cup of lotus tea and a cold towel before leaving the place and my friends who had come to pick me up, decided to try the place the following day.

The third morning, I woke up sick - my throat had worsened and I felt that I was developing a cough. I decided to take strepsils, vitamin C and panadols so that I would not fall sick further.

Mony came to pick us up around 8 a.m. and to take us to the floating villages. After discussing whether to go to Kampong Phluk or Kampong Khleang, we decided to go to the latter as it was less touristy. After a drive of more than an hour passing villages and interesting Khmer cottages, we reached the dock where we paid USD 15/ person for a boat cruise on the lake. We were led to a rickety little boat where the captain seemed to be a teenager. He struggled with getting the boat out of the dock and required the help of another person who seemed more experienced. As we did not want to take chances, we requested our guide that we wanted the more experienced person to be our captain. This was communicated and the man agreed while the boy went back to the dock, disappointed.

The boat cruise was an interesting experience and I wondered at the existence of the community living in the floating villages. To go about their daily living over the waters and hardly coming onto land.

After the boat cruise, we returned back to Siem Reap and stopped at the Old Market area for lunch. Our guide recommended the Khmer kitchen which was located on the road parallel to the Pub Street where Soup Dragon Cafe and Banana Leaf was located. The Khmer kitchen was a more simpler cafe located on a quite street and I enjoyed the ginger and lemongrass chicken soup that I had as it felt good for my worsening throat. After the lunch and a little shopping at Senteurs D'Angkor, we headed back to the hotel for some rest. By evening, I did not feel better so decided that I would skip the evening trip into town and to stay indoors at the hotel and rest and slowly pack up as we were flying out the following morning.

In the morning, our guide for the three days came with the van to take us to the airport and we left the cosy little hotel. The guide took us to the airport via the road passing Angkor Wat and we stopped for a final time to take a few photos of Angkor Wat in the early morning light before leaving Siem Reap and Cambodia.

Malaysian Holiday - Kuala Lumpur

2009-11-13T07:42:00.000-08:00

We reached 41 Beranggan, our guesthouse for the last day of our Malaysian holiday just before noon. After checking in and dropping off our bags in the room, we decided to go out and have some lunch and then to go to the Mid Valley mall for some shopping.

The guesthouse staff suggested Nagasari cafe just around the corner for lunch and we walked to the cafe. After the lunch, we took a taxi to the mall and my friend was most in her elements as she was a shopper. I, on the other hand, disliked shopping and usually only undertook to shop for essentials. So, we decided that we would go our separate ways and meet up at a central point. By the time we finished shopping, it was around 7p.m. and we decided to go down to the basement court and get some refreshment or dinner before returning to the guesthouse. My friend opted for Subway while I decided to try an interesting restaurant where one had to take a note-pad and mark the dishes one wanted by looking at a picture board of the dishes and then pay for it, if one wanted a take-away. And, one could watch the chefs through the glass windows as they prepared the steamed dumplings in bamboo containers. I got some takeaway noodle soup with chicken and spicy chilli sauce which was one of the most delicious meals I had eaten during my entire stay in Malaysia.

We came out of the mall and tried to hail a taxi when one of the men at a desk by the doorway came hurriedly and asked if we wanted a taxi, he would call for the blue taxis. We had come across a blue taxi earlier that day but found that their meters ran at double the rate of the normal red taxis so rejected the offer. We tried to hail a passing red taxi but the man said that the taxis were not allowed to stop at that point. Meanwhile, the red taxi had stopped a little distance away and she said that he had stopped for us so we quickly went and got into that taxi. The taxi driver was having his dinner sandwich so I am not sure whether he did stop for us or whether he stopped to have his dinner.
'Where you want to go?'
'41 Beranggan'
'Beranggan'
'yes. Beranggan, near Jalan Raja Chulan and near Jalan Ceylon.'
'Ah.. Jalan Ceylon.'
Then, he started the taxi and while we were driving out of the mall, I asked how far away was Petronas towers and whether we could drive past it on the way to the guesthouse. He asked, 'Petronas? What Petronas?' We said, 'KLCC', 'twin towers' and then he said, 'ahh... twin towers...' 'yes. twin towers. we would like to drive past it on the way to the guest house.' He replied that it was too far so we decided to give up and just return to the guesthouse.

After a few minutes of silence, he asked again, 'why Petronas? it is closed now' I replied that we knew but as we were leaving Kuala Lumpur the next morning we would like to see the highlight of Kuala Lumpur before we left. He asked, 'you are leaving tomorrow?' My friend replied, 'yes that is why we would like to drive past the towers.' He immediately asked, 'drive past. what do you mean drive past?' We had to rephrase it and say that we wanted to go to the towers, stop outside, take a photo and go onto the guesthouse.

Eventually, he understood what we wanted to do and agreed to take us past Petronas. Having come to an agreement, all of us relaxed and enjoyed the drive. He stopped briefly infront of the immense towers and I couldn't resist taking a picture of the immense structure looming above me. After a couple of pictures, I was ready to go on to the guesthouse.

We passed roads that seemed a bit familiar from the early afternoon drive so we knew we were approaching our guesthouse. He entered Jalan Ceylon and stated, 'Jalan Ceylon.. now where?' I replied, 'Jalan Beranggan' but that drew a blank on his head and in the dark, I was not sure of my bearings. We tried to fish out names of streets we had passed earlier when my friend remembered the cafe we had lunch earlier and mentioned, 'Nagasari cafe'. That immediately struck a cord with him and he said, 'Ahh.. Nagasari..' and drove us onto that street. My friend luckily remembered that street and was able to direct him from there to the guesthouse. He asked if we wanted a taxi to go to the airport in the morning but as we had already booked a taxi through the guesthouse, we said no and got out.

We had our takeaway dinner in the dining room where a fellow guest joined us. She had been scuba diving and snorkeling in Indonesia and had come to Malaysia to get her visa extended. After dinner, we decided to complete our packing and get a little sleep before the taxi came to pick us up at 3a.m.

We took the flight back home ar 6.15a.m. and the return flight was a contrast to my outgoing flight. During the flight out to Malaysia, I had a friendly and talkative neighbour who kept me awake during the entire flight while on my return flight, I had two silent neighbours so I was able to catch up on my sleep.

We reached Colombo around 7.15a.m. and I was happy to be returning home though I had a lovely holiday in Malaysia.

Malaysian Holiday - Melaka

2009-11-11T16:53:00.000-08:00

We took the taxi to Medan Gopeng bus terminal in the morning to catch our bus to Melaka. As the experience in the few days of bus travel in Malaysia showed us, there were several bus companies with varied services plying the roads of the country. The bus terminal was like a market-place with bus companies having booths and calling out for passengers to the various destinations. Once you bought a ticket at a particular counter, there would be a person using a walkie-talkie confirming with the bus driver and who would point you the way to the said bus. Also, the bus registration number was written on the ticket so that you would check and get into the correct bus. The prices and times for these various buses was slightly different So, we decided that we would check out a few counters before we decided which bus to take. The first counter person stated that the bus to Melaka left at 9.30 and she was pushing us to buy the ticket. However, we said we would get back and we split up and inquired at several other counters. There were a few missed calls as some said that their buses were leaving at 9.30a.m. as well but when they contacted the bus, there was only room for one seat. We went back to the first counter we had approached and requested for tickets. The woman at the counter didn't even turn around. She simply said, 'no tickets. full'. Guess she was angry that we didn't buy the tickets from her originally.

The next set of buses to Melaka seemed to leave only at 11.30a.m. and the Transnational bus only left once a day at 1p.m. As we wanted to have the whole afternoon and evening for exploring in Melaka, we decided to go for the next best option: taking the bus to Kuala Lumpur and from there another bus to Melaka. We found a bus leaving within a few minutes for KL and bought the tickets and got into the bus without even asking around for other buses. However, this bus seemed to be the least comfortable of the buses we had traveled till then. Anyway, we settled for the 4 hour drive to Kuala Lumpur. The bus was supposed to leave at 9a.m. but we were still at the terminal at 9.15. So, my friend went up to the driver and the conductor and asked when the bus would leave and also about connecting buses to Melaka. They responded that they would leave in another 10 mins and by 9.30a.m., we did indeed leave for Melaka.

Midway, the conductor who was an Indian Malay spoke to us in Tamil and asked if we wanted to go to Kuala Lumpur or directly to Melaka and we replied 'Melaka'. So, he said that it would be good for us to get down at Klang Central without going into Kuala Lumpur and that there was a bus going from there to Melaka at 13.00. This would save us time so we happily agreed. There was a long and protracted conversation between the conductor and the driver after which the conductor promptly went off to sleep. So, I was a bit unsure whether the outcome of that conversation was to drop us at Klang Central or at the stated drop off point in Kuala Lumpur. The inter-city buses didn't seem to make stops on the way so I was doubtful till we approached the highway area with signboards stating 'Klang', 'Cyberjaya', 'Putrajaya'. True enough, the bus made the detour while the conductor woke up and launched into a lengthy and loud phone conversation with someone after signing for us to get ready to get down. The bus took us right to the terminal and to the Melaka bus stand and the conductor told us to go to one of the terminal staff he pointed to from the bus and said that he would help us with showing us the right bus etc. He was very kind and even helped us with unloading our bags and wished us a good journey and the driver also smiled and asked, 'Sri Lanka?'.

We went to the person that the conductor had waved to and he led the way through the shops within the terminal to the Transnational bus counter and got two tickets for the bus leaving at 13.00. We had a few minutes left so decided to try a snack from the snack stalls in the terminal - waffle with blueberry jam.

The Transnational bus started off at sharp 13.00 and we reached Melaka at 15.00p.m. as per schedule. From the Melaka terminal, we took a taxi to Baba House located in the old heritage part of the city. By the time the taxi reached the guesthouse, the rain which had started as a drizzle was now pouring. As we turned narrow streets, my biggest concern was how do we get down from the taxi and transfer our baggage to the guesthouse without getting drenched.

Finally, the taxi reached Jalan Tan Tun Cheng Lock and stopped infront of the Baba House cafe on the other side of the road as there were cars parked on the side of Baba House. The taxi driver complacently stated the price and expected us to pay and get out in that pouring rain. We asked if he had an umbrella and then it seemed to strike him that we might need some help. So, he got down and quickly ran to the doorway on the side that the taxi was parked in and tried to catch the attention of the Baba House cafe staff and to signal umbrellas were needed. We also got down and stood in that narrow doorway. There were some tourists seated in that tiny covered verandah of Baba House but they didn't bat an eyelid or pass the message to the cafe staff inside. Finally, the driver gave up and opened the trunk and took out our luggage in the pouring rain and put it in the doorway, took the payment for the drive and drove off. We were debating as to whether to wait awhile in the doorway till the rain reduced a bit or whether to just go ahead and cross the road and get drenched, baggage and person in all. At this point, a young Chinese Malaysian opened the doorway of the place we were standing in front of and invited us to sit inside till the rain abated. We found that it was a cafe which seemed like a nice and cosy place but as we decided to ask for an umbrella instead. The young man brought us two umbrellas and said that we could keep it till the rain stopped and return it later. So, with the huge World Vision umbrellas, we crossed the road and went into the cafe. One of the staff told us that the hotel reception was a few doors down and took us through the inner passageway to the reception. We checked in and were told that our room was located on the first floor, up the staircase in the second house. That was it. No further help. No bellboys or doormen or anyone to show us the room location. We went to the middle house and looked at the stair case which looked pretty steep and I didn't want to be climbing up and down the wrong stair cases with the bags so went up to one of the reception staff and asked which was the correct staircase. She was at least helpful and she came and showed us the correct staircase and told us that we could use the lift, if we wanted to. We said we preferred the lift and she took us to the tiny lift and decided to come up with us to show the room.

While Baba House seemed a tiny place from the outside with small doorways, the interior seemed to be extensive with several passageways and seating areas. The house was a very old house and must have been the home of a very wealthy family based on the number of rooms inside. We were showed our tiny airconditioned room which had two beds, a writing table, a TV and a tinier attached bathroom. The room was not one where one could stay in and rest as it had a very closed feeling because of the lack of windows. There was a tiny window but which had to be closed because it opened onto the passageway and was right beside the door handle so anyone could open the door from outside if we left it open and went out.

After a little rest, we decided to go out and have a meal as we were both hungry. We decided to go to the cafe in front as they had been kind enough to lend us the umbrellas earlier. The cafe was called the Coconut House cafe and it was a really cosy place with some lovely photos by Steve Chong adorning its wall. The cafe's inner courtyard was also very interesting with a tiny well and wooden tables in the midst and looking upto the quaint rooms upstairs.

As the Coconut house cafe was a place specializing in wood-fired pizzas, I ordered a pocket pizza called the 'little prince' and my friend, pizza margherita. There was a group of university students at the next table and who were clicking away at various nooks and corners of the cafe. It took a long while for our pizza to be served but finally, it arrived.

After our filling meal, we decided to go and find a money-changer's shop before we explored further as we had run out of ringgits by then. We walked up the street towards the town hall but couldn't find one. We asked a passer-by and they pointed to a little street. We turned into that street and true enough, there was a money changer's place but it was closed. So, we continued our walk along another street when I realized that this was the famous Jonker Walk street talked about in the travel websites. The street was lined with tourist-oriented shops but as we anyway, didn't have any cash on hand to buy anything, we skipped the shops and crossed over the tourist information office, opposite Stadshuys, the town hall. The tourist office was closed though it was written on the door that it was open till 6 p.m. on saturdays. While we were wondering how we would get some cash in the Malaysian currency, I spotted the elaborately decorated trishaws playing loud Bollywood music. I asked one trishaw driver how much it would cost for a drive around some historical parts of the city. He said 20RM for a half hour drive. I agreed with the condition that we be taken to a money changer's place along the way. He said that he could not leave as he was with some tourists but that one of his colleagues would take us and he called for another trishaw across the road.

We repeated our request of going to the money-changer's place and the rickshaw driver agreed but suggested that he would take us to the money changer's at the end of the tour rather than at the beginning. We agreed and climbed onto the brightly coloured and decorated trishaw.

The driver took us first to the ruins of the Portuguese fort and the Porta da Santiago and said he would wait at the entrance for us to walk about a little and return. He pointed to us the two Melaka trees in front of the doorway. He stated that the name of the city was derived from the name of this tree. Then, he drove us past the river cruise starting point, past the old ship museum and onto the more commercial part of the city, past the public buses and taxis. It was a bit embarassing and funny to be travelling in that garishly decorated, attention-seeking mode of transport but it was a mode of transport that was fulfilling our need to find a money changer's place. The driver proudly told us that the trishaw was the 'king of the roads of Melaka' as cars and buses impatiently blew their horns as our trishaw meandered slowly on its way to the next destination - the Newton food court. The driver said that there was a money changer's counter at the food court so we got down and went in but found the counter closed though there was an 'open' sign at the counter. We waited impatiently infront of the counter and one of the waiters came and asked us if we wanted to order food or were waiting for the money-changer. We stated the latter so he asked us to wait a little as the money changer had just stepped out but would be back soon. Sure enough, within a few minutes, a man breezed by asking if we were waiting to change money and opened his little counter. We changed the money and returned to the trishaw. We requested the trishaw driver to drop us at the starting point of the river cruise and we were dropped off in front of the counter, next to the old ship museum.

We paid for the Melakan river cruise and got into the little tourist boat. The river looked so dirty and was very smelly. We joked that it was like going for a cruise on Beira lake in Colombo. Despite the stench of the river, the cruise did give us an interesting view of the city - both its historical part with the ruins, buildings and churches and the modern cafes and buildings as well as the dwellings of the poorer inhabitants of the city and the traditional Melakan houses.

After finishing our cruise, we decided to walk back to Baba House cafe via the Jonker Walk street. As the weekend market on Jonker walk street was in full swing, the street was fully packed. I wanted to stop at the sweet house at the start of the street and try out some cendol which was a Malaysian dessert with shaved ice and jellied candies and red sugar. The cendol I tried had a taste of palm sugar in it and some kind of beans which was a strange combination to my taste buds.

We walked along the street browsing through a few shops before turning off the street that connected Jonker walk street to Jalan Tan Tun Cheng Lock. The connecting street was full of nice cafes with out-door seating and nice Portuguese music playing in the background. As we were not hungry after the pizza and the cendol, we decided to skip dinner and return to the Baba House. We booked a cab for the following morning through the hotel reception and decided to sit awhile in the little Baba House cafe before going to our claustrophobia-inducing room. As we sat there at one of the little white iron-wrought tables, a man who looked very Indian came in and spoke to one of the kitchen staff. Then, he looked at us and asked where we were from. I replied, 'Sri Lanka'. He asked whether we were staying at the hotel We nodded but as we found him intrusive, we turned to the TV in order to discourage further talk. He obviously understood because he hurriedly explained that was the driver and that he would be driving us to the station tomorrow and double-checked the time we wanted to leave for the bus station.

We decided to go up to the room and rest as we had been on the road a lot that day. The next morning, we packed up and brought our luggage down to the inner courtyard and left our luggage at vacant table and went to get our breakfast from the cafe. It was fully packed and there were queues and human traffic jams within that tiny cafe. It felt more like a school cafe. After weaving through the queues, we managed to get some breakfast and went back to the quiet of the inner courtyard table. The view from the breakfast table of the surrounding and especially, the view of the sky and the paintings on the first floor verandahs was lovely.

After breakfast, we checked out and the Baba House driver drove us to the bus terminal. The hotel receptionist had recommended the KKKL line for the Melaka to Kuala Lumpur route as he said that it was the fastest. So, we decided to try it and it was a comfortable drive to Kuala Lumpur and we reached the city by 11.30a.m. However, as we reached Pudujaya, the bus seeemed to stop and people started getting off. As it seemed the middle of the road and as we couldn't see any taxis which was our staple mode of transportation for getting to the hotel in each city we visited, we were a bit flustered. So, my friend went and asked the driver where the bus would be stopping finally. He didn't reply and when she repeated the question, he impatiently responded, 'Pudujaya, Pudujaya' as if this was something that everyone should know.

As the minutes passed and almost everyone had got off except for one other passenger, I spotted a taxi close by and more taxis a bit further. We decided to get off the bus and asked the driver to open the luggage door for us to take out our bags. We took the bags and went to the nearest taxi parked nearby and asked to take us to Jalan Beranggan. The driver agreed and we got in and drove off, away from the long queue at the road leading to the Pudujaya bus terminal.

Malaysian Holiday - Ipoh

2009-11-09T15:39:00.000-08:00

The drive over Penang bridge was nice. The bridge is the longest in Malaysia and among the top 25 longest bridges in the world with a length of 13.5 km. According to a travel website, vehicles were not allowed to pause on the bridge but some did stop for a few minutes to take some photos of the beautiful views of GeorgeTown that the bridge provided. The taxi driver mentioned that the bridge was also a popular spot for people contemplating suicides and recounted that one of his taxi driver friends had been driving a couple who had requested for a pause at the mid-point. Thinking they were going to take a photo, he had stopped but the couple had jumped into the waters and drowned. He said that his friend had been in shock for several weeks after that. Abu Bakar dropped us at the the bus terminal and requested us or any of our friends to call him when we next visited GeorgeTown. We got our tickets on the first counter that we came across which stated 'Butterworth - Ipoh'.

We got onto the bus and waited for the bus to start. We had to wait an hour or more as the bus waited to collect passengers. This also gave us a lesson in the Malaysian express bus systems. As we waited in the terminal, we saw that Transnational buses seemed to be going as per time schedule with or without all the seats being sold whereas other buses seemed to linger around hoping to catch more passengers. It was too late to shift buses as we had already paid 18RM for the ticket so we waited till the bus took us to Medan Gopeng bus terminal in Ipoh. The bus stopped for a break at around 3p.m. and as we were hungry, we decided to have some lunch at the food court. I had a 'nasi lemak' which was rice cooked with coconut milk (the Malaysian version of the Sri Lankan 'kiribath') and served with a little chilli paste in small, triangle shaped banana-wrapped packs and a lychee drink. The lychee box drink reminded me of my first days of schooling in Indonesia where the box drink was an essential part of my school snack pack.

From there, we took the taxi to Regalodge hotel which had a nice room with twin beds, bath, hot water, air-conditioning and a huge TV. As it was again raining, we decided to rest a bit and plan out where we wanted to go etc. As Ipoh didn't seem as inviting as it was during planning and as my friend was not too keen on visiting Gua Tempurung - the underground cave exploration tour which would require a half-day the following day, we decided we would skip the underground caves and leave for Melaka the following morning. We also decided that we would just go for a drive in the evening around the city and to the Sam Poh Tong cave temple and the vegetarian cafe in front of it.

We requested the hotel to call for a taxi and around 5.30p.m., we left for our drive around the city. The city had a very strong influence of the Middle East and the roads, the clock tower and several architecture in the midst of the city reminded me of Abu Dhabi and Dubai. When I saw streets named after the King of Saudi Arabia, it explained where the influence of the modern building architecture came from.

The taxi driver informed us that Sam Poh Tong would be closed at that time but we said we would like to go there anyway and especially to the vegetarian cafe. He said 'ok' and drove us beyond the city and to more rural areas - paddy fields surrounded by huge hills. It felt a bit isolated as the darkness of the night was spreading and I was wondering if we should just turn back. Anyway, he soon stopped at the entrance of a cave temple which was locked and I found was not Sam Poh Tong but Kek Look Tong. I took a photo of the entrance and then asked the driver to take us to Sam Poh Tong. He drove us back and showed us Thai temples on the way. As he was very much bent on Thai temples than Chinese temples, we asked if he was from Thailand originally. We didn't get an answer to that but heard about the Thai monks in the temples. Finally, he stopped at another cave temple where the gates were open. He said that this was a temple that he came often to pray and it was a Chinese temple with Thai monks.

As this temple was still not Sam Poh Tong, which had the vegetarian cafe in front, we were reluctant to get down but as the taxi driver had got down and was chatting with the monks, we decided to get down and walk around a little bit. I went into the temple entrance and the temple seemed very new with lots of statues along the sides and lots of dry food items and other supplies in the middle.

After a little time, we requested the driver to take us to Sam Poh Tong. We had to repeat the entire explanation as to why we wanted to go there even if it was closed at that time. We mentioned the vegetarian cafe and he asked if we were vegetarians and my friend said that she was. So, he drove us to the temple and showed that it was closed but there didn't seem to be any cafe in front of it. So, we asked him to take us to a place in the town where there was good vegetarian food and he took us to a chinese restaurant. That restaurant seemed to be packed with Chinese families. I tried the vegetarian fried rice with assam fish and chinese tea while my friend was content with the vegetarian fried rice.

After dinner, we requested the driver to take us to the railway station so that we could check if there were trains going to Melaka in the morning. We thought it would be fun to try out the train as well as we seemed to be trying out all modes of transportation in Malaysia. The Ipoh railway station is one of the most beautiful railway stations I have seen so far. I wish I had taken a photo but it was raining again and we quickly dashed into the terminal to check out the train info. The info desk was closed and someone told us to wait for 30 mins after which the counter would be opened. As we didn't want to wait, we decided to skip the train journey and to use our normal bus mode the next day.

Malaysian holiday - GeorgeTown

2009-11-04T05:02:00.000-08:00

The speed boat ride to Kuala Kedah took about an hour and a half. It docked at a rural fishing village and the stench of the fish was the first thing that greeted us as we struggled with our bags up the steps into the fresh air.

Walking out of the small port, we heard a man on a loud speaker broadcasting taxi prices to various destinations. We went upto the stand and asked to be dropped at the inter-city bus station. 20 RM for a 20-30 minute drive. The drive took us past a developing village but which seemed to have a lot of scrap workyards. It reminded me of Panchikawatte in Colombo. Rows and rows of shops with vehicle parts and old, unusable vehicles.

Finally, we reached the bus station and boarded the Transnational bus to Butterworth. No help from the bus crew with our bags but fortunately a young boy who was putting his own luggage in the baggage compartment helped us with ours. The drive was around 2 hours and we were dropped at the Butterworth terminal. The taxis at the Butterworth end quoted high prices in the range of 50-60RM to get to our guesthouse in GeorgeTown so we decided to first use the ferry to get to GeorgeTown. The ferry was only 1.2RM and it was a novel experience. The first floor of the ferry was the walk-in area for people to sit or stand during the crossing. The lower floor of the ferry was the vehicles to drive in and make the crossing. It was raining heavily that evening, yet the waters seemed very busy with the ferry crossings. Ships were moored at different points and several oil rigs could be seen. I could see several high rise buildings as we approached GeorgeTown.

After arriving at GeorgeTown, we walked out the ferry terminal through the covered walkway which led to a marketplace. We directly went to the taxi stand and got a taxi for 10RM to the guesthouse.

The Old Penang Guesthouse was according to Trip Advisor the No 1 specialty lodging in GeorgeTown and having checked out their website, I found the place very appealing so I looked forward to staying at the guesthouse in the old quarter of GeorgeTown. Upon arriving there, we were greeted by a young girl seated at the desk at the entrance who informed us that the place was fully booked. I told her that I had already booked through the internet in advance so we should have a room. She smiled and said, 'clever to book in advance over the internet' and checked her charts and smiled and said, 'yes'. She briefed us on the regulations of the guesthouse - no shoes from the staircase upwards, make-your-own breakfast with the available supplies in the morning etc. As we didn't have sufficient ringgits, she was nice enough to say that we could pay for the room later that night.

The ground floor seemed packed: the computer near the entrance was occupied by a couple, the TV lounge area had about 4-5 people and the three tiny round tables with metal and wood chairs were also fully occupied. It seemed strange to have to remove one's shoes and leave it at the bottom of the stairway amongst numerous other shoes and to have to carry the bags up a steep wooden staircase and my friend was muttering at the prospect.

Anyway, we managed it to the top and were taken to our room - No 10 which was the corner room overlooking the backstreet. There were only two beds and a night table and a clothes stand in the little room but it seemed cosy and clean. The windows were unique as it was shuttered panels from floor to ceiling and which was covered with a bamboo shade which could be pulled up or down according to our needs.

As we had had a long travel and got a bit drenched towards the last bit of travel to the guesthouse, we decided to have a wash and change before we went out to change money and to have some dinner. We walked over the old, wooden boards to the shared bathrooms which had two shower cabins and a toilet.

As I tweaked the shower knobs trying to figure out how it worked, I heard the singing of some performer across the road. As I finally worked out the knobs and a cold stream of water hit me, the voice went a pitch higher and was so shrill. It sounded really funny from the shower room. My friend in the other cabin also must have felt the same as she also burst out laughing. The rain outside, the new surrounding, the cemented shower room with a skylight, the cold water of the shower and the shrill voice of the Chinese singer combined gave us the most funniest and memorable experience in Malaysia.

After the shower and changing into some warmer clothes, we borrowed the guesthouse umbrella and decided to walk to Lebuh Chulia to change some dollars into ringgits. After changing the money, we walked a bit further trying to locate a nice cafe for a dinner but the place looked a bit deserted and there was a police car or two patrolling the roads which we felt indicated that this might be a high crime area. An old man with a trishaw hailed us and offered to drive us around. I felt uncomfortable as the old man seemed frail and it was not fair to ask him to cycle us around. Nonetheless, we decided to try the trishaw for a very short drive around - 5RM to the Taton cafe suggested by the guesthouse and 5RM for the drive back so that he would also earn some money. The trishaw was a small contraption that could hold one person nicely but was a squeeze for two but we managed. As it was drizzling, the driver turned up the tarpaulin cover for some protection. I was more worried about the old man and whether the exertion would tire him or if he would get a heart attack. We passed a street named Jalan Tamil and then the trishaw driver turned a street. At one point, he pulled back the sheet and started telling us something in Chinese. It was drizzling and we were wondering why he had stopped. Then, we saw some police officers infront who were standing around their car. We didn't still see the reason why the trishaw driver stopped but as the street was brightly lit and I spotted a nice restaurant on the other side of the road, I suggested we get down and have some dinner. We paid 5RM and said that we would go and have dinner. He seemed a bit bewildered so I asked if he could stay till we had dinner at the restaurant opposite. He nodded and pointed where he stood so we went ahead to the Chinese restaurant.

The ambience was very nice with polished wooden tables and nice paintings. I decided to try out a mee hoon noddle soup with fishballs and steamed chicken mee and some Chinese tea while my friend opted for a glass of milo only. It was a lovely dinner for me at least and we returned by the trishaw. The old man however refused to drop us at the guesthouse and stopped at the point where he picked us up. He lowered the tarpaulin and suggested we walk the remaining distance. It was a bit difficult getting out of the narrow trishaw and the old man was highly amused at seeing my attempt at getting down and laughed. Though he was annoying, I found the old man very amusing with his toothless laugh.

We paid the balance and walked back to the guesthouse stopping at the small 7 eleven store at the corner of the street leading to the guesthouse. We got some canned nescafe and some buns with coconut filling for my friend who didn't eat at the chinese restaurant.

I decided to check my emails but the internet was very slow that I gave up after reading one email. I also did not feel comfortable leaving my Nike shoes at the bottom of the staircase so carried it in my hand to my room. The next morning, I forgot the 'no-shoe upstairs' condition and put on my shoes and came down for breakfast. So did my friend. As I was walking down the stairs, I remembered it and as it didn't make sense for me to remove the shoes at that point, we just continued down hoping that the guesthouse staff would not see us. Unfortunately, as we walked down the steps, the owner himself was at the foot of the stairs bringing in breakfast supplies to the side board. As we walked to a free table, he came up to us and sternly admonished us 'next time, no shoes'. We felt like a pair of school kids in a hostel as we apologized and went to get our toast and coffee.

After breakfast, we walked up the street to locate a bus or taxi stand to take us to Penang Hill. We found some taxis parked infront of a mall and got a taxi for 30RM to drive us to Penang Hill. The drive took us through various parts of GeorgeTown and we reached the entrance to the funicular station. The taxi driver, Abu Bakar, gave us his number and asked us to call him on our way back so he could drop us at the guesthouse.

We went into the station and got tickets for the old-fashioned train going up the Penang Hill to its top.

The train ride up the very steep track took a long time and as it was clouded that day, the view of GeorgeTown from the top of the hill was blurry. After a brief walk around the top, we decided to come down.

As we came out of the station, we saw the bus 204 about to leave. As it was the bus which went past our guesthouse, according to one of the other guests, we ran towards it and got it. The driver was kind enough to wait and we got our 2RM tickets and settled in for a drive back passing through newer inner roads. As we felt we were nearing our destination and did not know where exactly to get down, I approached the driver with my map and indicated that I needed to get down near Lebuh Chulia. He immediately stopped the bus and said that we were on the wrong bus and that we had to go on bus 203. He asked us to get down there and that he would put us on the right bus. He also got out himself and waited with us for the bus. Luckily, bus 203 came within a minute and he told the driver of that bus not to charge us and to drop us at Lebuh Chulia. He was a really kind Indian Malay.

So, we managed to get back to the guesthouse a few minutes before our check-out time at 12p.m. and requested the owner/manager to call Abu Bakar, the taxi driver who dropped us at the Penang hill station.

The taxi was there on time and we left the quaint and endearing guesthouse for our onward journey. I requested the driver to stop at a sweet shop for me to get some Tambun biscuits and white coffee and then to drive over the longest bridge in Malaysia to get to the Butterworth terminal.

Malaysian Holiday - Langkawi

2009-11-03T16:37:00.000-08:00

With the cheap prices of Air Asia tempting us, a colleague and I decided to go on a short holiday in the last week of October. After looking at the various destinations, we decided that Malaysia would be our destination for this October holiday.

We left Sri Lanka at 8.15a.m. and landed in Kuala Lumpur's Low cost carrier terminal airport around 2.25p.m. and transferred to the domestic flight terminal for the flight to Langkawi. By the time, we reached Langkawi, it was 5.15p.m. (Malaysian time). Nearly 8 1/2 hours spent in planes and airports. Taking the airport taxi, we reached the Langkawi boutique resort in the Pantai Cenang beach area. The drive from the airport to the hotel was about 15-20 minutes and we went past a lot of paddy fields and coconut trees and a lovely rainbow. I felt that I was driving past a Sri Lankan village, except for the fact that the roads were much better. The hotel had a huge entrance facade and after checking in, we were taken by the hotel van to the set of apartment blocks at the back where the rooms were located. The rooms were large but in poor shape either due to poor maintenance or because they were really old. It was dark and raining outside but we decided to go for a drive to the Eagle square in the south east coast of the island and back. We hitched a ride to the entrance of the hotel with a Malaysian family who were leaving our block and requested the hotel to call for a taxi. The rain had reduced and was drizzling by the time the taxi came and it was a nice drive to the jetty point. The square looked deserted though and there was hardly anyone else there as we walked across the lit square towards the eagle - the symbol of the island. As the area looked dead, we decided to head back to the hotel after getting a few snacks at a little supermarket on the way. Either because of the rain or because nightlife was unknown to the island, we hardly came across other vehicles or people during our entire drive back.

The next morning, we decided to go on the cable car to the top of Gunung Mat Cincang. So, we hired a cab after breakfast to drive us to the oriental village, wait for an hour and then drive us back. The drive along the south west coast was beautiful and gave us lovely views of the sea and the yachts. Langkawi was certainly a destination for the sailing enthusiasts who would no doubt love to explore the 99 islands of Langkawi in their boats. A unique feature of the island was the sea on one side of the drive and the lush, green paddy fields on the other side and the mountains and cliffs in front. A very scenic place. We reached the oriental village in 20 minutes or so and found that we had to wait till 10a.m for the cable car to start operations. So, we wandered around the souvenir shops in the oriental village, buying knick knacks for family and friends back home.

According to a local myth, Mat Cincang and Mat Raya were giants who were about to become relatives through a marriage alliance between the families. However, the groom's misconduct at the wedding party caused a fight between the two families and pots and pans were thrown around. Finally, peace was mediated between the two families and the two key figures turned themselves into stone in repentance and were harmonious since then. These were supposed to be the two mountains facing each other - Gunung Mat Cincang and Gunung Mat Raya with the mediator as a little hill in between. Many places in the island were named after where the pot fell, the gravy seeped through the ground etc. My version of the story is that there may have been a major volcanic eruption in the past, which the villagers may have construed as a fight between the two giant mountains, and the island has been quiet since then.

Around 10a.m., we got onto the car which allowed for six people to be seated and went up the mountain to the topmost point at around 700 m above sea level. The winds were blowing very roughly so the gate that led to the walk across the sky bridge was closed and even the viewing point at the top was to be closed again soon. We were lucky to have caught the right time to go up the mountain. The view was absolutely wonderful.

After the cable car ride, we returned to the hotel and checked out. While waiting for the cab, we decided to have lunch at a little cafe near the hotel. After looking at a few cafes, we decided to try out Man's cafe which seemed to have a nice eating area. I tried out the 'kampung' style rice and vegetables with fried fish while my vegetarian friend opted for the sandwich. My dish came within a few minutes while it took at least 10 minutes for the cheese sandwich to arrive.

Finishing the lunch, we took the taxi to the jetty point and bought tickets to Kuala Kedah. While waiting for our boat ride, we went through the duty free shops at the boat terminal. It was a long walk from the terminal to our boat and when we reached the boat, we found that we had to carry our luggage down the steps into the air-conditioned seating space. The boat people did not offer help with our bags. That is one common trait that was observed across Malaysia. No-one, not even the transport people like the cab drivers, bus drivers and conductors, boat ticket collectors, offers to help even if they see you struggling with your bags.

Haputale and the tea plantations

2008-12-28T16:55:00.000-08:00

Haputale is a really breathtaking place, if one goes out of the tiny and congested town. I stayed at the Kelburne Mountain View guest house which is a 10 minute drive, after one turns right from the Badulla/Bandarawela main road from the town onto the Dambatenna road. The drive is along narrow roads through tea plantations and a tiny sign board on the right is all that indicates that there is a guest house down below. The contact details of the office in Colombo where bookings have to be made prior to going to the cottage here.

Pinnawala Elephant Orphanage

2008-10-18T18:51:00.000-07:00

Went for a lovely day trip to Pinnawala yesterday with a colleague.

We took the inter-city bus from the main bus stand at Gunasinghapura, near the Fort station in Colombo and went to the Kegalle bus stand. From there, we took another bus heading for Rambukkana which dropped us off right in front of the elephant orphanage. The total travel cost by public transport for two was around 200 rupees, one way and it took us nearly 3 hours travel time by road.

There was a long queue and initially we thought it was for the ticket counter but then found that people were just waiting at the gates for some reaason and there was no-one at the counter so we walked directly to the counter and got our tickets. For Sri Lankans, it is 50 rupees and for foreign residents in Sri Lanka, it is 100 rupees while tourists have to pay 1000 rupees for the same ticket. This ticket allows one to have a one-time entry to the orphanage, which is the residence of the elephants and which also has the information desk, souvenir shop. The ticket also allows one time entry to the street leading to the river which is across the road and through which the elephants go for their twice a day bathing routine.

The bottle feeding takes place at 9.15, 13.15 and 17.00 and the river procession takes place at 10 and 2 for a two hour water-time.

We directly went to the bottle-feeding area as it was already 9.25 and there were two babies being bottle-fed. Of the three elephants in that place, only the youngest seemed fine despite being chained. The other two looked unhappy being chained there. After a couple of minutes, we walked to the open muddy area where the elephants lived and we saw them walking about in groups. That area also felt a bit small for the large number of elephants living there.

We decided then to go directly towards the river and sales people lining the tourist-oriented shops kept calling out. There are two restaurants overlooking the river and we chose the one closest to the water and sat there waiting for the herds to arrive. It was fun when they did arrive and I was happy to see them unchained and obviously looking forward to the river bath as they were enthusiastically running forward and getting into the water. Babies clung to older elephants as they got into the water and the littlest of the lot was protected by the older elephants on all four sides.

It was interesting to see the elephants moving about in smaller groups and to see the individual personalities. There were those who demonstrated leadership and those who wished to stand out from the rest and there were those who were plain goofy. One elephant baby loved the water so much that he/she just lay down in the water and everything of it was underneath, except for its trunk which was poking out of the water and at intervals, one of its foot would float above. There was an older elephant which meticulously washed itself, spraying water over it conscientiously, rubbing against the rocks and then again washing itself. That one seemed to be very much respected and liked by the others though I don't know why it was the only one kept chained to a rock. It would greet any passing babies with its trunk. It had a faithful partner who was very much annoyed with the chains around this one that it kept tugging at the chains a lot of the time. A couple of young elephants were in a playful mood and locked trunks and heads for a wrestling game and then the groups decided to move in their own individual paths. One group cross the river to the other side where there was a muddy area and just lay down and rolled in the mud, loving it while another group decided to walk further up towards some greenery and have some fresh snack.

One elephant that I felt so sorry for was one who had lost half of one of his front legs and was the last one to arrive at the river and who cautiously made its way up to the edge and felt the water with its trunk but would not budge beyond that. It was such a sorry sight to see it standing forlornly at the edge looking at the others in the water and without having any friends of its own. At one point, a younger elephant who decided to be mean started pushing it into the water at which point this elephant just lay down on its front two legs refusing to budge. Luckily, one of the carers saw that and poked his stick into the trouble-maker which screamed out in pain and jumped into the water. Even the one with the missing leg quickly got into the water in fear. It was very sad to see them so scared of the stick with a sharp edged knife or rod that the carers carried and which they used to command the elephants about. When the carers felt it was time for the elephants to return, they just made a call and the elephants started moving back towards the edge, even the ones which had gone further away.

I guess that the orphanage being there has given these elephants a chance to experience life, which they definitely would not have as most of them had been orphaned and maimed in the wild and would have certainly died and having grown and bred in captivity, they might not have a chance back in their natural environment. At the same time, I feel that some services could improve. While I felt that the elephants seemed happier when they were unchained and playing uninhibitedly in the water, the space at the orphanage seemed too small for the 40 or so elephants living there. Further to have them on display from 8.15 in the morning to 6p.m. in the evening on a daily basis must take away a lot of their privacy. However, the department of the national zoological gardens has attempted something to keep these elephants alive and that is a good initiative.

While my colleague felt that 1000 rupees off foreigners without a resident visa was a rip-off, I disagree. The money collected is what goes towards the maintenance of the orphanage for the food and medicines for the elephants as well as the staff there and it is reasonable to expect to have to pay for the maintenance. I feel that the money charged to locals can also be increased as 50 rupees will hardly be enough for much.

We were famished by then and wanted to have our lunch but there was a man who kept asking us to visit the spice garden on that street which was included in the price of the ticket. As we did plan to visit a spice garden, we decided to have a quick tour of the garden before heading for lunch. The tour turned out to be interesting as the guide was a student of the ayurvedic institute in Mawanella and told us about what each plant could be used for and then background info on the medicines and syrups that had been made out of these herbs was provided in a little shed by the river. We were invited to try out the king coconut hair tonic and it was massaged into our heads. The smell was also nice unlike the coconut hair oils found in the markets. We were also invited to try out the facial massage with the sandalwood cream which instantly had a refreshing effect on the face. We were also invited to try out a slimming tonic made of red pineapple, bee's honey, lime leaves and other extracts as well as a hair removing cream that turned out to work very well and without any pain or after-effects. It was an interesting and unexpected tour which made it more enjoyable.

At the little shop in the garden, we bought less than we originally planned because the prices of the products was very expensive. Most products were over 1000 rupees. However, given that these are products prepared by the ayurvedic institute and quality tested by the Government and which were not available elsewhere in the country and as they claimed, very difficult to prepare, the prices were alright.

I asked Bandara, our self-appointed guide, whether there was a village shop for lunch, and he said he would take us to such a place right after our final visit to the elephant dung shop. Here, the dung was cleaned, processed and made into paper and then converted to writing paper, gift wraps, albums etc. It was interesting but felt that the prices were marked for the foreign tourists so refrained from buying anything. My colleague, however, couldn't resist a Kandy Perahera procession made out of the recycled pulp and embossed on the recycled paper.

With that visit, we went to a little lunch place overlooking the river and where we were served a lunch of rice, brinjals, manioc, beans, chicken and pappadam. This was right next to the Elephant park hotel but very simple.

On our way back, we decided to take the train as we were both train fans. Taking the three-wheeler from Pinnawala, we went to the Rambukkana railway station and took the normal train back to Fort station. The journey back was interesting and comfortable as it was the short distance train which had seats on the sides of the train and a lot of standing space and very large windows that were open. Since it was a saturday, it was not crowded and therefore very spacious and airy. The travel back took about 2 1/2 hours to 3 hours.

Italian Holiday - Firenze III

2008-07-20T01:10:00.001-07:00

On June 26th, I decided to go for a walking tour of Florence in the morning, taking the route from my street to the Duomo and then visiting the San Lorenzo mercato, walking past the Republicca and Uffizi upto the Ponte Vecchio. Thereafter, to take the train to Pisa and visit the tower and then finally taking the train to Montecatini Terme, a famous thermal spring area and to visit the Grotta Giusti spa.

The Duomo was closed in the morning at the time I reached the place and so I walked around it taking photos, the smaller chapel which I assumed was the christening chapel was left open for some workers to go through and I had the glimpse of a beautiful interior captured here in the slide show. The details of the carvings on the walls interested me a lot, especially to think of the care and time that the carver had put into creating it. Especially the miniature ones.

Then, I walked to the San Lorenzo market and went in to see if there was anything interesting to take home and bought some fresh pesto sauce and dried pasta. From there, I walked to the Uffizi gallery area walking past the Republicca square. I didn't go into the gallery as I was not in the mood to look at paintings and preferred to be outdoors. So, I walked on until I reached the Ponte Vechio. The bridge looked lovely but the smell from the canal was unbearable.

As planned, I went to the Santa Maria Novella station and bought my ticket for Pisa from the tabachi shop, after having waited in the Trenitalia information desk queue for more than half an hour. I got into the train going to Lucca and got off at Pisa. At the Pisa station, I asked about the trains going to Montecatini Terme and found that I had to take two trains - first to Lucca and from there, the train to Florence. I decided to buy the ticket for the train leaving in 1 1/2 hours, as I assumed that there was nothing much to see in Pisa except the tower. The Filipino couple who had been standing behind me at the counter and with whom I had been chatting while waiting in the queue said that they were planning to take the taxi and if I would be interested in sharing the cab with them. I said yes as I thought I might as well save time and maximize my time at the tower. However, they took a long time at the counter to have their tickets changed and when we made it out of the station, I had just over an hour left. I had contemplated telling them that I would go on my own but didn't feel it was polite. We went to the taxi stand but there was a very long queue at the stand and after waiting for a long time, I decided to see if there were other options and found the bus stand and the bus that went to the tower. So, I persuaded them to come for the bus as I assumed that there might be frequent buses. However, I was wrong and after half an hour of waiting, I realized I would not have the time to go and visit the tower and come back in time to catch the train. So, I finally told the couple that I had to leave them, which I should have done at the start, and wished them a good visit to the tower. I went back into the station and the train to Lucca was waiting at the platform. I got into the train and had my grilled sandwich filled with tomato and mozzarella, which I had purchased from the San Lorenzo market in the morning.

I visited the Grotta Giusti Spa at Montecatini terme and decided to try the Grotta. It was a different experience visiting heaven, purgatory and inferno - the different thermal caves at the Grotta. The Spa provided long, white cotton robes hot and fresh from the oven along with a red mantel to wear during the cave visit. The 50 minute experience refreshed me a lot and I returned to Florence energized.

Italian Holiday - Firenze II

2008-07-19T21:27:00.000-07:00

At breakfast the next morning at Rosali Pepi's apartment, I met the mother and daughter who were holidaying in Italy. They said that they would be visiting Lucca that day. I asked them how they got to the Santa Maria Novella station as I had to be at the meeting point to go on the CAF tour (which I had also booked online from home) to Siena and San Gimignano at 9a.m. They said that they never took the bus and always walked about the city and as they planned to leave before 8.30a.m. for the station, I could join them.

Happy that I would not be getting lost wandering, I enjoyed my breakfast of muesli and yoghurt and brown bread and jam with coffee. I managed to reach the CAF tour meeting point and locate the bus on time. The guide checked my name and said that I had mentioned that I had walking difficulties in my email to them on booking and therefore to stick close to him. That was nice as actually he did check if I was alright and comfortable occasionally throughout the day trip.

The bus started on its way and out of the city passing Palazzo Strossi in which, according to the guide, there was a free special exhibition ongoing during that period. We left Florence through Porta Romano and passed the village of La Certosa, a nice area with a monastery on a hill. I think that would also be a nice place to stay at, rather than the center of the city.

The guide was giving brief information on Florence from time to time and mentioned that Florence was founded by Julius Ceasar initially as a settlement for his soldiers. Then, he spoke of the wines of the region, which he seemed to be more interested in, to the point of giving percentage concentrations of the varieties of grapes used in the production of the Chianti wine and the rooster seal on the original Chianti wine from the region developed by producers to establish their league of wine production and protect it from wines being produced in other parts of Italy and sold using the same name. He said that the region was very fertile and renowned for its olive oil, cheese and wine.

Upon reaching Siena, the guide divided us into four groups: two english speaking groups, one french-speaking and one spanish speaking and assigned us four local guides. My group's guide was an interesting guide who interspersed her information sharing with personal jokes.

Our walking tour took us through interesting, curving streets crowded with people until we stopped at square with a statue. She said that it was an important part of the city, where the headquarters of the Siena bank - Montei dei Paschi was located. She said that this bank was the oldest working bank in the world and continued to be a working bank since it was founded in the 12th century. She proudly stated that it had branches in other parts of Europe and America. She said that there was a local joke about the three dreams that every Sienese had in their life, "to work at the Montei Dei Paschi, to come to the Montei Dei Paschi to withdraw or deposit money, to retire and get their pension money from Montei Dei Paschi." She said that this illustrated how important this bank was in the lives of the Sienese.

Then, she pointed out an interesting wall tile. She said that the tile had the mascot of the contrada. She added that Siena was divided into 17 contradas/ communes and each had a mascot. The tiles were placed on the walls of buildings on the borders of the communes to indicate where the communes started and ended. She said within these contradas, there were friendly communies and enemy communes. On a personal note, she joked that though she was from the 'porcupine' commune, which was the best according to her, her son Filipo unfortunately was not of the same commune but that of her husband's as the local practice was that daughters would belong to the mother's contrada and the sons to the father's contrada. Every year there was a contrada ceremony where every baby born that year would be introduced to the senior members of the commune and be given a certificate stating its full name and the parents name and being provided lifetime membership in that particular contrada. While the contradas did not seem to provide more than a venue for social gathering these days in the form of annual games played between contradas, in the old days they must have been important political alliances.

Then, we walked on to another square where a statue of the legend of the wolf and Romulus and Remus was raised. The guide jokingly said that the Sienese who were jealous that the Romans had a legend with regard to their founders decided to create a legend of their own. According to the local legend, when Romulus killed his brother Remus, the two sons of Remus escaped and fled away from Rome. They reached this hilly area and decided to start their own city here and that the city derived its name Siena from the eldest son of Remus. She said that the Sienese were enemies of the Romans till they were conquered.

Finally, our walk took us to the entrance of the Duomo. We walked into the Duomo, skipping the ticket lines. There were areas cordoned off and where renovation work was ongoing on the old paintings and statues. She said that the entire floor was made of very old beautiful tile paintings and graffiti but that most of it was boarded up to preserve them. In two areas where renovation work was ongoing, they were visible to the public. She said we could also visit the library of the Duomo and see the murals but that we were not allowed to speak in there due to having to preserve the paintings which would be damaged by moisture. However, the crowds which were in the tiny library did not seem to take heed and continued to speak as they went around the library and out.

After the tour of the Duomo, we were taken on a sloping path up to the museum and told that we could visit it on our own and meet the guide outside for those who were joining the group lunch at the restaurant or else to meet at the bell tower in the square at 2p.m. I had decided to join the lunch group as I had not wanted to get lost or have difficulties locating the bus, so I went to the restaurant booked by the tour. I had stated that I did not eat red meat and therefore preferred only pasta and I had actually ordered hot pasta with pesto from a waiter upon being seated at the table. However, when the meals were served after a long time of waiting, I found that my order had been cancelled by the waitress who served us as she was of the opinion that the CAF tour group would be served a set menu of cold meat, pasta and wine and cheese. I told them that I only wanted the pasta and wanted to eat what I had ordered. However, they were very stubborn and finally served me the cold pasta which was part of the set menu for the other group members and charged me the same price. As the bus guide was unable to help me there even with his italian in communicating to them, I just put up with it and left for the bell tower which I had spotted from the restaurant.

Then, we resumed our journey and travelled to San Gimignano which we were allowed to explore on our own. I find that I always find exploring on my own more interesting than being herded in a group. San Gimignano, with its old streets and ancient buildings and towers was a lovely area and had great scenic views. Despite it being focused totally on tourism, it was a lovely place and I enjoyed my walk there. I had read that the towers in this medieval village had been built by its residents to show their status and that the families had competed against each other to build higher and higher towers as height was equated to power, wealth and higher status. However, most of these towers were later destroyed by the invading army and only a few of these towers remained today.

I decided to try a gelato in the several hand made gelato parlours in the place and enjoyed my extra rich chocolate gelato before returning to Florence.

Italian Holidays - Firenze I

2008-07-19T19:09:00.001-07:00

I reached Firenze Santa Maria Novella station before noon and went straight to the tourist information counter to get a map of the city and to ask for directions on how I could reach Via Dei Pepi which was close to the Piazza Santa Croce landmark. The information staff marked the street on the map and said that it was roughly a 20 minute walk and that she did not know which number bus should be taken but that I should take a bus which would be on the outside to my right. She also said that I could buy bus tickets at any tabachi shop. As I saw one close by, I went and bought a four set ticket for 4.50 euro and tried to find out if she knew which bus number I should be taking. She also didn't seemed to know and just pointed in one of the exit directions. I then decided to change my remaining travellers cheques at the foreign exchange desk at the station and the man who was at the counter was very pleasant and could speak English. He said that he was giving me a special rate of 10% when their usual rate was 13% and if I used their privilege card next time I changed at any of their counters, I would get special rates. I was wondering why the people at the previous two city desks had not told me this as I had been consistently using the foreign exchange desks at the train stations and was always charged their steep 13% rate. As he was very helpful and spoke English, I decided to ask him if he knew the bus number for my destination but he was also not aware as he said that he mainly used his car. He said that he could call a taxi for me if I liked but I declined, which was a big mistake, as I wanted to go by the bus. So he told me to check with the police standing close to the entrance of the stations. I decided that I would buy my takeaway lunch of spaghetti alla pomodoro at from the self-service Chef Express bar at the station and find my way to the B&B. There were three police officers standing at the entrance. I asked them and they were not so much interested in even bothering to look at the map that I was pointing to and told me to check at the bus station opposite the station.

There were many stops marked at the bus stations and buses seemed to be coming and going with several people getting on and off. I saw some bus staff hanging about what looked their office and decided to ask them. They looked and said "quarto, Bus 40" and gestured that I had to go past the station to the other side. As they had taken time to reply and as they had discussed before replying, I was doubtful if this was the right bus and so I decided to have a look at the bus boards displayed at this point to see if Piazza Santa Croce was mentioned anywhere. I did not see it and I saw the ticket counter and thought that might be the right place to ask. I asked the man at the counter and he said '14' and pointed in the direction to the other side of the station, but 45 degrees to the west of the direction pointed out by the bus drivers. Before moving towards that general direction, I thought I would ask some women standing at the bus stop and I said, "Scusi. Dove bus por Piazza Santa Croce?" A couple of women joined in and after discussing amongst themselves pointed in the direction 90 degrees to the west of the direction shown by the bus drivers and said that I had to come to the 'Basilica Santa Maria Novella' for my stop. So, having got a range of locations where my bus stop could be and two possible bus numbers, I decided to try my luck first in the direction of where the bus drivers pointed, thinking that they would be better placed to know routes.

So, I crossed the road, walked past the busy taxi stands, contemplated taking a taxi but determined to find the bus stop, moved past. There were some buses parked there but as I went closer, I realized they were tour buses and not the regular public buses. I asked some people around that area but they were totally blank. Next, I proceeded towards the direction pointed out by the ticket counter and it seemed a major stop with several lists of bus routes mentioned. I read each of those routes to see if Piazza Santa Croce was mentioned but it was not and my queries to people standing there also drew a blank until one person pointed the direction of which the women had pointed to. So, I decided to walk towards that direction and saw a bus stand on the other side of the road but that also did not seem to have Piazza Santa Croce marked. I saw that all my walking had brought me to the office of the Firenze tourist information center and thought I would try my luck inside. I found that the women had been right in their direction of the bus stop, because the information desk person told me that I had to go towards the right of the building and I would find my bus 14 stop there. So, I went out and went to the right and saw a Bus 14 stopping at the bus stop. I hurried and managed to get in just as the bus was about to leave. I found myself a seat in the limited seats available in an Italian bus and decided to re-confirm with the person seated behind me. He replied that he did not know English but knew french and by the time I managed to convey to him that I was trying to get to Piazza Santa Croce and he said that I was in the wrong bus, we were well past many stops. He said that I was in the correct bus but in the wrong direction. He suggested that I get off exactly three stops from there, as that stop had the returning bus stop right across the street and I wouldn't have to be searching for the stop. When the third stop approached and I got up, the woman seated facing me moved her hand and in the process knocked my hand which was full of papers, the map and address book etc. So, I had to hurriedly take them and rush to the door but just as I reached it, the door closed in my face. I pushed the button and looked at the mirror of the driver. He also looked at me but proceeded to start the bus and go on. I was very annoyed. However, i had no option but to get off at the next stop, which seemed to be in a quiet part of the city and there was no one on the road but fast moving cars. I did not see any bus stops on the other side so I decided my best option would be to walk in the direction the bus had come in to the previous stop. So, I decided to walk back but in my anger that I had not been let out at the third stop, I had not carefully noted the path and when I came to a turning, I was a bit confused. I did not want to be getting lost again so I decided to find out before proceeding further.

Luckily, an old man came by soon and I asked him, "Dove bus stop 14 por Piazza Santa Croce?" He wanted me to show the location I wanted to reach on the map and he shook his head and said that I was right at the other end of where I should be and told me to walk straight through the tiny tunnel and come to the bus stops. He said 14 C was going in the opposite direction to which I had to go and my direction was 14 A or B. He then asked me which country I was from and I said, 'Sri Lanka'. He smiled and said that he had visited the place and he asked what I was doing in Italy and I replied, 'tourist'. He beamed and asked whether my albergo was near Piazza Santa Croce. Then he started saying a lot of things, which became more difficult to follow from his earlier, easier-to-follow slow Italian. What I made out was that he was saying that that area was an expensive place and he would recommend an albergo in Via Borgo Pinti and he told me to say that I was an 'amica dei Rafaelo' and I would be treated warmly. I thanked him and moved on towards my bus stop. Finally, I made it to the right bus stop but after waiting for more than 20 mins with no sign of a bus, I decided I had had enough and I should take a taxi. However, once I made that decision, I did not see any taxi stands as this was a residential area. As I continued waiting and trying to stop any passing taxi, which unfortunately had passengers in them, a taxi came and stopped in front of me and the driver got out saying, 'you called?'. While I was thankful that an empty taxi had finally come, I also knew I had not called and thought it might have been called by someone living in one of the apartment blocks. I replied that, 'yes, I wanted a taxi but no, I had not called.' He nodded and said that,'yes, not you but my friend called and said you needed a taxi. You had tried to stop a passing taxi?', he said. Gratefully, I got into the taxi and asked to be taken to Via Dei Pepi. In less than 10 minutes, I was at Via Dei Pepi 7, in front of the building that seemed exactly as shown in the website. The taxi fare was 10 euros but worth it for all the trouble I had gone through in reaching my b&b. I guess it is sometimes worth it to take a taxi, especially when you are arriving in a new city which has poor information desks and no readily available bus routes.

However, my saga of reaching my B&B didn't stop there. I went in through the open gate and rang the bell at a closed door on the ground floor. The door opened and a man peeped out and I asked, 'L'Acacia?'. He shook his head and said, 'non'. I asked, 'Dove L'Acacia?'. He again shook his head and closed the door. I was shocked. This was the building shown in the website and I was standing at the very arch and could see the courtyard with the old acacia tree and the wall murals and this was Via Dei Pepi 7 but if this was not L'Acacia, where was I to go. There were steps going up and as I had read that the place had been let out as private apartments to be able to maintain the old building, I thought maybe that b&b was located in a higher floor. I climbed to the first floor with my suitcase and rang the bell, as there were no name plates there as well. No-one answered the door, though I could have sworn I heard voices. I waited some time and thought of whether I should climb another flight of steps or go down. I heard voices downstairs and I looked down and saw a couple who were tourists. So, I thought that they could be staying at the b&b, which perhaps had a different entrance so I asked them where L'Acacia was. The man went off without bothering to answer but the woman stopped and answered in English, "I am sorry but we are tourists as well and just came into this building to take photographs so we can't help you there." I thanked her and she went. I decided I would go down and try to find a way to contact the owners of L'Acacia as I had their phone number with me. When I reached the outside only, I saw that there was an intercom with buttons for different apartments. I saw L'Acacia mentioned, as well as the names of Rosali Pepi and Diana Pepi who were the owners who had corresponded with me over the booking. I pressed all three buttons and finally, I heard a voice saying, 'Diana Pepi'. I was really happy to hear her voice. I replied, 'this is Ahila. I had made a booking at L'Acacia for three nights.' She responded warmly, 'Ah, yes, Ahila. Please come up. We are on the second floor.' Then she asked me if I had luggage with me and whether I needed help taking it up. I said 'yes, I would appreciate help as I have a bad leg and am really tired.'

She said she would be down in a minute to help me carry my suitcase up. I had assumed that there would be someone like a porter who would help me with my bag but I felt bad that she was coming down to help. So, I decided to take it up on my own. As I reached the first landing, she reached me and volunteered to carry my suitcase. I said that it was ok I could do it on my own and finally we agreed we would carry it together and we reached the first floor and then the second landing till both of us got tired. We paused for a brief rest and then finally made it to a huge wooden door that was the entrance of L'Acacia. She took me through the hall and the living room and to my room, which was a pleasant surprise. A lovely, spacious room with a huge, comfortable looking bed, a nice old wardrobe and two couches facing a TV and a pedestal fan greeted me. She also showed me my private bathroom which was located on the corridor past the dining room and said that the other private bathroom was for the other guests, a mother and daughter staying in another room. She also showed me the lovely two-story apartment for couples and the two apartments where her mother stayed with her four cats and dog and where she stayed.

As I had originally planned to visit Uffizi gallery on the afternoon/ evening of the day I arrived in and after the difficulty in finding Piazza Santa Croce, I decided that I would ask her if she knew the bus route to reach the Uffizi. She replied saying that she never used the bus and that everyone in Florence either walked or took the car and that L'Acacia was in the center of the historic part of the city and everything that I needed to see as a tourist was within walking distance. She gave me a better map saying that the map I had was not easy to read. She also mentioned that June 24th was San Giovani's day in Florence and therefore a public holiday and there would be a 15th century football match at Piazza Santa Croce that evening due to which the road where the B&B was located would be closed and if I wanted to go out, to make sure that I took the L'Acacia visiting card so that I would be let back in.

After a brief rest, I decided to have a wash and my lunch and then go out. However, after my lunch, I was still feeling tired and not particularly in the mood for sightseeing but rather for resting. I decided that it was better to regain my energy rather than operate on low energy mode and took a long nap. In the evening, around 5p.m., I decided to go out but as I reached the ground floor, I saw the gate was locked and I heard loud noises from firecrackers and crowds coming from the direction of Piazza Santa Croce. As I hesitated to go out, a group ran past the gate screaming towards the Piazza. They were all painted in red and seemed football fanatics. I seriously began to doubt if I should go out at all. However, after some time, the street seemed quiet, very quiet so I thought I would venture out. I stepped out of the gate and saw the two ends of the street blocked and lots of police and medics with shields and batons at the blocks. For a second, I was about to just turn around and go back in but then I hate being nervous for something that I felt I shouldn't be nervous about, so I walked up to the barrier and the police looked questioning at me. I said, "I want to go to the supermercato" and pointed in the direction away from the piazza. Going to the supermarket had been one of my plans for the evening but at the end of the sightseeing. The police impatiently nodded and said, "preggo". I walked past the painted, shaven heads of football fanatics and walked down the street to the direction of the supermarket mentioned by Diana. The street was totally quiet and expect for the football fans, there was no one else and there was a very tense sort of excitement about the place. I decided that that evening was not the right time to be going about exploring in the city for the first time and that I should simply go back to the apartment after buying some essentials at the supermarket and have a quiet evening, watching the Italian TV channels.

I bought myself tuna and tomato sandwiches and a bottle of lime juice for dinner as well as my supplies of water bottles for the three days and walked back to the blocked street. When I reached closer and closer, I noticed that were increased verbal altercations between the police and the crowds. As I reached the crowd and said, 'scusi', I think my face must have displayed my nervous feeling because the men who had been shouting at the police started making way for me and was telling the other men to let the signorina pass through. I was happy to reach my apartment and room and watched pieces of some Italian movies and dubbed American TV series like 'Charmed', 'Friends' etc. for the rest of the evening.

Italian holiday - Venezia II

2008-07-10T05:51:00.000-07:00

The next morning, June 23rd, I decided that I would visit the islands as well as walk around the city. I went down for breakfast and saw the tables in the garden laid out. A couple were seated at a table and a man was mowing the grass. The man looked up and greeted me, 'Buon Giorno'. I responded likewise and sat at a table. He put his mowing machine to a side and came and asked me what I would like to have with breakfast: capucchino, tea or anything else. I responded 'capucchino'. He went in to make my capucchino. Vajira, the Sri Lankan staff at the Ponte Chiodo B&B, then came in from outside and proceeded to layout his purchases on the breakfast table. I went to see what there was on the breakfast table and saw a fruit basket and some croissants and rock-hard buns on a plate along with an assortment of jams, along with orange juice and cookies. The croissants in Italy, I found, mostly had marmelade or jam filling and not more of the melt-in-the-mouth plain butter croissants that I loved in Paris.

Mattia, the owner of the B&B, asked me during breakfast if I was planning to visit St. Mark's square and the islands. I said I had visited St. Mark's square the previous evening and planned to visit the islands today. He threw up his hands and said that he didn't know why some website has put up these two locations as must-sees because all tourists simply went only to these two. He asked whether Paris was only the Eiffel tower. He said that there was so much more to Venice that people missed out on. I asked him what he would recommend then for the visitor to Venice. He said a simple walking tour of the city, which would give so much insight into the loveliness of the place. I then said that perhaps he should put his recommendations up on his website. He said that it was a good idea which he would consider doing so as to stop himself repeating his frustrations to each visitor.

After breakfast, when I went to his office to settle my bills as I would be leaving early the next morning before the office opened, he took out a map of the city and made a drawing of the route that he liked and suggested for the first time visitor to Venice. I decided to take his recommendation and follow the route and I had a great time savouring the less crowded and less touristy walking route.

I left the B&B and walked along Strada Nuova towards the Rialto Bridge area, passing some interesting churches and canals with gondolas on the way. Then, I had my first glimpse of the bridge through the narrow streets and as I edged closer, the tourist crowds increased and finally arrived at the bridge. I walked over the bridge where stalls were set up selling souvenirs and trinkets and went to the other side. I decided to proceed to Chiesa Dei Frari, which according to Mattia, was the second biggest and important church in Venice after St. Mark's basilica and which he personally liked. Proceeding through streets that were quiet in some places and busy in others, I kept clicking at anything that caught my fancy: a dog standing at a shop doorway looking out onto the street, a quaint, little pink walled church, parked or cruising gondolas. I reached a large square as my feet decided that they needed some rest. So, I sat in a large square which had a few elderly people seated here and there and two pigeons walking towards the well to have a drink of water and enjoyed the quiet place.

Then, I proceeded forth towards my destination of Chiesa Dei Frari and passed shops selling colourful venetian masks and glass products from Murano and many more churches and bridges and canals. An interesting sight was the postman making his delivery. I saw a man running along the street with a trolley that had parcels and letters on it and he would stop door to door to make his deliveries. What was more interesting was when he had to cross bridges. He had an art of pushing the trolley step by step up, which made it seem a lighter load especially as he did it fast.

I finally reached Chiesa Dei Frari, which was huge and imposing. There were artists seated at the side of the watch painting and selling their artwork. I walked further to the square and decided to sit on the steps with a few other people who were taking a break there. I have often found that I have observed some nice angle seated, especially on steps, and thus I took most of my photos of the church from my seat on the steps. There was an antique bookshop in one of the buildings opposite where I was seated and there was a chinese restaurant besides Calle De La Passion. After enjoying the view and resting for some time, I decided to proceed to Campo Santa Margherita, which Mattia mentioned was around the university area and thus more quieter and less touristy. I took my masterpiece photo during this bit of walk, when I accidentally captured a pigeon swooping down while taking a photograph of an immense building. The pigeon is captured in detail from under and it is a lovely photo, which I have included in the slide show. I passed a tiny square called Campiello S. Bocco, after this and this square seemed to be a very busy residential area, with people hanging out their clothes, buying things at the grocery store, people collecting water in buckets from the well fountain in the middle of the square, flowers being sold in a shop. It looked like I had walked suddenly into the midst of the private lives of the people of Venice. I proceeded till I reached Campo Santa Margherita and searched for a shade from the scorching noon sun and a bench to rest my tired feet. I found under a lovely, large tree and of course, I clicked on the view that I saw through the branches. Two sparrows decided to come to the nearest branch and chirp about and I took a picture but it is difficult to spot the sparrow amongst the leaves. I have included that photo here in the slide show.

After resting and looking at the fruit markets in the square, I decided to proceed to my next destination: Ca' Rezzonica. Mattia had recommended it as a nice museum and as it was included as an addition in my St. Mark's square museum ticket, I decided that I would go and visit the small palace museum. Going in the direction that the museum was located, I passed a fruit and vegetables boat from which people were shopping directly. It was a nice boat packed with varieties of colour. I crossed over a bridge and passed a museum with artefacts and inventions or models of inventions of Michaelangelo. I am not sure if it was a special exhibition or whether that museum was dedicated to Michaelangelo. I had to walk along a final canal before reaching the museum and that path was a very quiet one, except for the talk of the gondolier taking a couple for a ride in his gondola. He was telling them that this was where the people of Venice actually lived and this was a nice route away from the masses of tourists. I paused to take pictures so that they would pass me by and leave me to enjoy the quietness of the area on my own. It was interesting to see each house having a garage-like space for their boat. I finally arrived at Ca' Rezzonica. As photos were forbidden within the museum, I had to content myself with photos of views from the entrance. The museum had nice paintings and much nicer views of the city.

It was past 1p.m. and I was getting hungry, but more importantly, my feet were ready to collapse and my camera's battery gave out and had to be recharged. So, I decided to go back to my room and have a little rest while charging my batteries before taking a cooler evening boat trip to the islands. I loved being on the sea and I really wanted to go on the longer trip to the islands, even if I did not get out and explore the islands themselves.

In the evening, I walked to the Fondamente Nuove line which is close to the Chiesa Dei Jesuiti and took the boat to Murano and Burano. I walked to the back of the boat and out into the open seating area and enjoyed the view and the sea air. I clicked my camera throughout the 2 hour boat ride to the islands and back. The route took me past tiny islands with ruins and to the first bigger island stop that was Murano. Murano didn't seem appealing with its factories lined up along the coast. My favourite island was Mazzorbo, which had the cutest looking streets with houses painted in all shades of colours lined along its small streets. A blue house would be adjacent to a yellow house or a pink house. The residents had just gone ahead and painted their houses in their favourite colours, I suppose. Mazzorbo was adjacent to the Burano stop so I would recommend this island as a place that one could consider staying at during their stay in Venice. Especially as one will have access to the non-touristy side of the island after all the tourists have left in the evening and only residents remain. Besides, accommodation and food might be cheaper and rooms more spacious.

When the boat returned to its original starting point at Fondamente Nuova, I decided to take the boat to Lido, which was the stop where the Grand Canal Line 1 ended. This would allow me to get into an empty returning boat and access to the seats at the open section of the boat. So, I had a nice ride along the Grand Canal, passing San Giorgio, San Marco, Accademia, Ca' Rezzonica, Rialto and Ca' D'Oro.

As it was around 8p.m. and my last night in Venice, I decided to have dinner at the restaurant close to my B&B, which was one of the places recommended by them. However, Antica Adelaide was disappointing and I did not enjoy my tagliatelle, which they seemed to have cooked with canned sauce, as much as I had enjoyed my simple and hot dish of fresh spaghetti with tuna sauce at a tiny bar in Torino.

The next morning, I took the Line 1 boat and went to the Piazzale Roma to take the train to Firenze.

Italian holiday - Venezia I

2008-07-09T05:29:00.000-07:00

I had a 6.52a.m. train to catch and I decided to check out of the university dorm room at 6a.m., since I had assumed 50 minutes would be enough for me to go by the tram to the station, which was only four stops away. I had however overlooked the simple fact that the route that I had come to the university dorm was a one-way road and I did not know where the bus going in the opposite direction was. Seeing no-one on the road, I decided to walk in the direction of the station, which was one long walk in a straight road, hoping that I would either find the bus route to the station on the parallel roads or meet someone who could tell me where I should be taking the tram. Unfortunately, I did not realise either and after making slow progress heaving my luggage with me and the time reaching the 6.40a.m. limit, I decided to take a taxi though it would cost more than one third the cost of my one-week Torino travel and museum pass.

Managed to reach the station in time and after requesting the assistance of a security personnel at the station, managed to locate my train. This was not very obvious looking at the train arrivals and departures board because the main board only displayed the end station. Whereas your ticket only mentioned the station where you were getting off. So, until and unless you were familiar with the country layout and could guess from the city name displayed that you were travelling in that direction, it could be very frustrating to locate the right train. Even the person helping me first showed me to the wrong train. One way to verify the right train in Torino, is to look at the small TV screens on each platform start that gave the full journey of the train about to depart from the station. If your stop was mentioned in that list of stops, there was a great likelihood that it was your train. After that, you could get confirmation from that particular train's officials, who are usually around the start or end of the train. In my case, the security person realized that there was another train that fit my ticket more and he checked the TV screen to verify that Venezia was mentioned in the list of stops. I also verified with the train official before getting onboard. Then, I had my second lesson in train travel in Italy. On the ticket, there is something called the carozza and the posti. I had assumed that as long as it was a second class compartment, I could sit anywhere like on the Milano to Torino train. However, seeing smaller compartments within the coaches and seeing seat numbers on each, I realized that I had a specific seat. I decided to ask for information and found that the carozza refered to the coach one should be getting on and posti the seat number. Pretty straightforward but one had to learn it in Italian.

Found my compartment and my seat number in a small closed compartment with a little boy and his grandparents. I had to put my suitcase on the rack above and I could not lift it. This time, the grandfather came to my aid with the grandmother disapproving of his lifting a heavy suitcase. I thanked him and slipped into my window seat, to realize I had forgotten to close the glass door behind me when I had come in. I decided to get up and close it. I pointed to the door and asked, "Would you prefer the door closed?". The grandfather quickly got up and closed the door and gestured for me to sit and said something in Italian which I felt was to the effect not to trouble myself and he could close the door. I respondeed, "Grazie". The grandmother also beamed at me and I was relieved that she was not offended over the suitcase. That ice was broken and I found the two very friendly. They started off in italian but I had problems comprehending beyond a word or two and they did not know english. Then, the grandfather asked if I knew french. I said, "un peu". After that, it was fun trying to communicate in mixed italian, french and english. They were curious to know why I was in Italy and whether I was travelling alone. They were surprised to learn that I was travelling solo, especially coming to Italy all the way from Sri Lanka which they did not exactly know where it was in the world, and they actually said, "Brava". It felt like being with one's grandparents who found everything that you did admirable. The grandfather then proceeded to tell me that the little boy was his daughter's son and was trying to find the english word for it, when his grandson pitched in and said, "grandparents - grandfather and grandmother". Again, there was a "brava" from the grandmother and she was so proud her grandson could speak english and she informed me that he learnt it at school where they taught him english. The little boy, who had been shy all this time, now loosened up and wanted to know more about Sri Lanka. He asked how the country was doing economy-wise, whether it was rich or poor, what kind of animals could be found in the country, whether there were any monkeys here, whether it was hot or cold and whether it snowed, whether it was a peaceful country. He also got a doubt whether Sri Lanka was in Africa. His grandfather wanted to know what were the differences I felt there existed between Sri Lanka and European countries, like Italy. His grandmother wanted to show me her grandchildren's photograph and maize and rice fields as we passed the areas of Vercelli. They were also curious to know the route I would be taking on my travels. They commended on my choice and said that each city was diverse and beautiful and had special praise for Rome, "Ah.. Roma... bellisima". When two teenagers got on board and came into our compartment, the jovial grandparents started chatting them up and decided to introduce me to them saying that I was travelling solo all the way from Sri Lanka. It was a very funny and enjoyable train journey, which ended in Milano when the trio got off at their destination. They got off shaking hands and saying "Arrividerci".

After that the journey was uneventful and quiet, even though the compartment filled up with other passengers, including a cantata singer who read her music notes throughout the journey to Venezia. I got off at Venezia Santa Lucia station and made straight for the tourist desk, after getting two of my Euros traveller's cheque changed at the Foreign exchange desk at the station. I must say that I was surprised at the huge commission deducted. For cashing a 400 euros worth of travellers cheques, I was charged 60 euros as commission which I felt was too steep. Anyway, didn't have a choice and made my way to the tourist booth and waited in the queue for my turn to get my 48 hour HelloVenezia travel card, which would provide me unlimited travel on the public boat buses for that time duration. I knew from the instructions given on the website of the bed and breakfast place that I had booked that I had to take Line 1, the main line that went along the Grand Canal and had to get off at the 5th stop at Ca D'Oro. From there, I had to walk down a short street called Calle Ca D'Oro and turn left at a large street named Strada Nuova. On my right, I was supposed to find a little square with a well near a little fountain and I had to turn right to cross square while keeping to my left. At the left corner of square, I was supposed to turn left down the small street and find a street named 'Calle Priuli'. Then, I had to turn right and go along it and cross a little iron bridge, while paying attention to the fact that the street name changes to Calle de la Raccheta after the bridge. I would then find the Townhouse Suite at 3749 Ponte Chiodo.

Well, I came out of the station and found the boat stops right in front of me with the Lines 1, 2 & 3 in order. I went in the stop for Line 1, after validating my ticket at the entrance, and a boat bus came along. Got off at the right stop and walked down the tiny, little alley which was the only footpath from the boat landing inwards and came on to a larger street which was called Strada Nuova. Spotted a tiny well just before me but not a square and spied something like a square further to my left. This was the point that I missed my instructions and lost my way and ended up going up and down tiny streets and up and down little bridges with my luggage in the noon sun. No one seemed to know anything about where any street was located because the people walking by all seemed to be tourists and the shopkeepers apparently didn't live there or explore the area. Finally, I managed to get some help from an elderly man going for a walk and he thought that Ponte Chiodo could be on a parallel road to the one I was on but there was no short cut from this road but I had to go back to the main road, Strada Nuova. He walked back with me and took me to the street where the tiny well was and crossed it and we turned left and I came across 'Calle Priuli'. He pointed to a bridge along that road and he said I must cross it to get to my albergo. I thanked him and grateful that I had finally found the right road, went over the iron bridge and was delighted to see the name 'Calle de la Racheta' appear after the bridge. It was a very short walk to my b&b and I rang the bell. It was opened by an Asian man, who looked very Sri Lankan. He proceeded to give me the registration form to fill. Seeing my Sri Lankan address, he was so surprised and happy and started conversing in Sinhala. I was given a bunch of keys, the key to the gate entrance, the house entrance and my room entrance and I was shown a tiny room on the first floor. I was also told that breakfast was served from 8.30 to 10.30 but I could always make my own tea or coffee anytime, with the materials left on the sideboard of the dining room. I was also given a map of the city with some restaurants marked on it, as being better value for money.

It was already past 1.30p.m. and though I felt tired with all the search for my b&b place, carrying my suitcase, I decided to have the slice of pizza that I had bought at the railway station quickly and go to St. Mark's square where I was supposed to join the original walking tour at 2p.m. with Avventure Bellisime which I had booked and paid for online. However, by the time I had got my boat going in the direction of San Marco and made my way through the hundreds of people, it was almost 2.30p.m. I realised that it was impossible to locate my tour group and feeling the heat of the sun draining me, felt that I needed to do an indoor tour not outdoor. Decided to go into Palazzo Ducale museum entrance and got the St. Mark's square museum ticket, which was an entrance ticket to the four museums around St. Mark's square, including Palazzo Ducale and one other museum from a list. That was a wise choice as the Doge's palace provided a cool refuge and great photo angles. I finally came out of the side entrance and found the famous St. Mark's basilica on my right. I realised much later that I could have gone to the basilica from within but when I tried to go through the front entrance, the security personnel there said that the basilica was closed after 5p.m. and to come the next day. So, I walked around the square, took photos and visited another one of the St. Mark's square museum, before deciding to go back to my room and rest. I was too tired. I got myself a falafel burger from the tiny takeaway near my b&b and went back to my tiny but compact and cosy room.

Italian Holiday - Torino

2008-07-05T09:23:00.001-07:00

Arrived in Milano after two long flights and transfer in Dubai. Took the shuttle bus from Malpensa airport to the central station, which was a long ride through the rains. At the station, however, I faced my first hurdle after being informed that I had to climb a long flight of stairs to the first floor to buy my ticket to Torino. As there was no other means of getting up there, I made a firm resolve that I could do it and carried my suitcase, one step at a time till I reached the top. It was easy finding the Trenitalia customer service with the queue standing in front of it. However, when I reached the top of the queue, either because the customer service was only in italian or it was truly the case, I was told to go to the counters 1 - 4 located downstairs on the other direction by which I had come up. So, had to carry the bag down again to a room where there were five counters and a long queue. I took my queue number and waited, feeling quite cold and very tired. I had expected Italy to be warmer than 10 degrees in summer. After a relatively long wait, counter 5 beckoned me and the trenitalia official there turned out to be very helpful. I had also written down all the tickets that I wanted with the journey date and start and end destination, for her easier comprehension. I ended up buying point-to-point tickets for all my train travel in Italy at that point itself, instead of a railpass on her recommendation. Having purchased my onward journey tickets after the conference, I only had the Milano - Torino ticket left. She said that a train was leaving in less than 10 minutes and I could run up to the platform located on the first floor and catch it but at the same time, not to forget to validate my ticket in the yellow box on the platform before entering the train. With the ticket in one hand and my suitcase in the other, I decided to undertake the heavy task of negotiating the staircase again. With time running out and my limbs protesting, I managed to reach the required platform just in time to validate my ticket and climb onboard. I sat in the first compartment that I entered after verifying that it was a 2nd class compartment.

The train to Torino took nearly two hours or slightly more, passing lovely little towns which I was not in much of a mood to appreciate having travelled straight through for nearly 24 hours and was just wanting to rest.

At Torino station, I went straight to the tourist information desk and asked for a Torino+Piemonte travel card which allowed unlimited travel in public transport and access to museums in Torino. With the travel card, I was given a map and I got the information of how to reach my university dorm room using public transport. I was lucky that the person who gave me instructions gave me clear instructions and I took the right tram in the right direction (which was not the case in my public bus commuting in Florence). Got off via Garibaldi, as instructed and decided to go into the fast food joint facing the stand so that I could buy my dinner and ask for directions to the university dorm rooms. Surprisingly, the young staff at the joint were not aware of the University of Torino's dorm rooms in the vicinity nor of a street named via Cappel Verde. Finally, one of them thought that it would be located in the direction of Porta Palatino and directed me to go straight and turn right. With that instruction, I walked down the street hoping that I was going in the right direction and I was happy and surprised to see a street on the left immediately after the fast food joint that had via Cappel Verde on its signboard. I guess the staff just came directly to their working place and left to wherever they came from, without ever looking about their neighbourhood.

After completing my registration, I collected my key and information materials and prepared to walk up the two flights of stairs to my room on the 2nd floor. Luckily, the student who was waiting to show me my room offered to take my bag up and I was spared that additional burden in my exhausted state. The micro-waved supermarket ready-to-eat spaghetti with tomato package completed my first day in Italy. And, I collapsed tired on my bed located on the lower floor of the two floor double dorm room, an unusual structure for a hostel room.

The next morning, I was late in getting up with the bleak weather outside and the travel tiredness still hanging over me. Eventually, I got up and decided to venture out to get some breakfast - my first capucchino in Italy and to buy some essentials such as an adapter for charging my mobile phone, as the two adapters that I had brought with me didn't fit in the plug points in my room. Found a coffee bar adjacent to the fast food joint of the previous evening and had my cafe and brioche there. Went for a walk towards the open market location that was mentioned by the receptionist. Passed some ruins, which was the Porta Palatina and a small mall lazily awakening to the morning, with a few shops being opened up and the sales people getting ready for their day's business. Walking through and past it, I came to a noisy, open area where the market was being held. I was uninterested in the clothes stalls but the colour and smells of the fruit market attracted me and I decided to buy some fruits. Decided to head back to the room to prepare for my presentation for the conference, as I had not had any time to do so back home.

In the evening, I decided to go out and explore the Piazza Castello area indicated on my map, which seemed to be at the end of Via Garibaldi. The Palazzo Reale, the royal palace of the House of Savoy, was located on this piazza and I decided to visit the palace museum. Two statues of a rider on a horse was at the entrance gate and I walked down the path to the entrance. It was nearly 6p.m. and there were few people seated on benches. It felt like the museum was closed but as I had read that the museum was open till 7.30, I thought I would find the museum entrance and find an official, where I could ask further information from. There seemed to be only one open doorway and I walked towards that and was met with the statue of Carlo Alberto majestically looking down on passersby. I turned and walked up the marble staircase with intricate carvings at the head. My face was turned upwards, gazing at the paintings on the ceiling. I walked into a room where two museum officials sat at a table and there were a couple of people seated in the middle of a room. I showed my Torino card and was issued a ticket to visit the palace museum and the guided tour was scheduled for 6.20p.m. I went down and into the courtyard to take some pictures until the tour time and then went back. Two guides, who seemed more like security officials than guides, beckoned us to a door and locked it behind us, after we had entered it.

We were then told that we could not take any pictures beyond that point and that we had to climb up the stairs. The tour was unfortunately in italian though more than half the visitors were non-italian speaking tourists. So, I could not follow what the guide said and focused on the rooms that we visited and tried to gather the stories behind them from their contents. The Mandarin room was interesting in its redness as was the intricate carvings on vases and candle holders. However, after visiting one stuffy room after another and having to stand on a thin carpet till the guide finished his explanations and led us to the next room, I began to feel nauseous. After a certain point, I felt that I had had enough and told the security person coming behind us that I wanted to leave the tour and go out. She was not pleased but finally agreed to let me leave as I was pretty insistent that I had to leave then. Taking out a huge bunch of keys, she opened a door and took me to an elevator, where she made a call and handed me over to another security personnel who took me to the entrance gate and let me out. I therefore did not get to visit the chapel in the west wing, which had housed the Turin shroud. However, the fresh air that greeted me as I came into the open piazza did me a lot of good and I returned to my room, quite happy with my outing.

The next three days was occupied with the conference, though I did manage to visit the Mole Antoneliana or the National Film Museum and the Museo Egizio/Egyptian museum on two evenings. The National Film Museum had a panoramic lift which took one to the top where one could have a good view of the city. The museum itself was interesting with a central hall where two big screens played movies and visitors could sit on reclining chairs and enjoy the ongoing movie. A huge golden statue was a central piece in that hall and the room that led behind it was dedicated to the movie 'Cabiria', which I learnt was a 1914 Italian movie that was a huge hit. Walking around that museum was like walking into a set of some movie or other, with the theme of the movie the decoration for that set and the movie playing in a unique part of the room: on the lab table of a laboratory etc. Many sets were dedicated to Hollywood movies and actors and actresses. The Egyptian museum had a collection of interesting artefacts though what I found more interesting was the roomfull of mummies.

The final afternoon in Torino, after the conference was over, I decided to visit the Basilica di Superga after lunch. A conference friend and I took the bus 15 from Piazza Castello as mentioned on my map. The bus sign also said Sassi - Superga so confident we were on the right bus, we sat on the free seats on the back and enjoyed the drive. The bus went through different parts of the city and at the end, arrived at a stop where everyone got off. However, we did not see any basilica in sight nor did we see any historic tram leading up the hill to the basilica. So, we asked the bus driver and after much pointing at the map, he said that this bus would take us there and that he would show us the tram that went up to the basilica but to give him a few minutes to have his coffee. So, we sat in the bus until another bus driver came and told us that we had to move to the bus that was parked at the back. To be sure, we showed him the map and said that we wanted to go to the Basilica di Superga and he nodded and pointed to the bus parked behind the bus we were in. So, we got into that bus which was a nicely air conditioned bus. The driver who had gone for coffee returned and got into this bus and the bus started. I was trying to see if I could spot any of the roads mentioned on the map. Also, we were supposed to cross a river but it seemed a long drive. I was just commenting that the real length of the roads was much longer than it appeared to be on the maps, when my friend pointed to a fountain on the middle of a square and said "we are coming back to the hotel where I live". She had pointed out a square with a fountain earlier on our way out and indicated that her hotel was near that area. I calmly replied that it must be similar to the one near her hotel. As soon as I had said that, I recognized Piazza Castello and realised that we had arrived at the exact place we had started off. It was very funny to realize that we had taken the bus in the wrong direction but it had been a nice drive that had taken us through different parts of the city, which we would not have otherwise seen.

In a few minutes after that, we passed the river Po as we were supposed to and we could see the hill and the Basilica getting closer. Finally, the bus stopped and the driver pointed out a little station saying that we had to take our tram from there to the Basilica.

We took the little tram up to the basilica and walked up the winding path. The view of the basilica from between the trees and the branches was lovely and I kept clicking my camera. I have now several photos of the same view but there is one that is my favourite and which is in the slide show. A photo where my hand shook due to which the images are blurred but the colours are mixed in a lovely way like a piece of modern art.

I had read that the basilica had been built in order to fulfill the vow made by Vittorio Amedeo II, when the region was about to be invaded by the French troops. More on the story can be found here. It was lovely church in a very peaceful location and I found the interior very calming. After spending some time there, we decided to visit the basilica museum as well, especially as we were in time for the guided tour which was as usual in italian. The view of the basilica from the inner courtyard was even prettier and especially through the arches in the corridor. The rooms themselves were ok, with some interesting artefacts, especially sculptures. There was an interesting sculpture of a realistic looking rooster aggressively digging up dirt on the mantelpiece. According to what I could understand from the guide's italian, this was supposed to be multi-symbolism, religious and historic.

After the tour, we decided to return to the city as we wanted to have pizza on our final night in Torino and also get some of the giandujotti from the birthplace of chocolate. Visiting a chocolaterie on Via Po was a lovely experience and very tempting to see all the varieties of chocolates, both hand-made and factory manufactured ones. We also enjoyed having the first pizza since we arrived in Italy, fresh from the wood stove.

Torino was a pleasant city, quiet and welcoming and I enjoyed my stay there.

Postcards from Trincomalee cont'd...

2008-03-29T17:25:00.000-07:00

Koneswara temple in Trincomalee is one of the four oldest Shiva temples in Sri Lanka. The path to the temple currently hosts the Kachcheri (District Secretariat) and military camps, therefore it is not very accessible to the general public. Legend has it that the original, ancient temple was situated on top of Swami Rock and which was razed to the ground by the Portuguese. The current temple was subsequently built.

We were lucky to visit the temple on the annual festival day, so were treated to a special 'pusai' (religious ceremony) and 'prasadham' (offering). A tree where people had tied miniature wooden cradles praying for the birth of their own children stood beside a rock. As we were taking photos from the rocky area, in front of the new temple, a man who had come for the prayers, mentioned that we could go further down and explore the remnants of the ancient temple under the sea.

We wanted to go to the hot springs in Kinniya, if possible, but as our day was busy, we did not have the opportunity to go there.

However, as in my previous visit to Trincomalee, I marvel at the beautiful landscape that has been left unspoilt. Especially the trees look beautiful against the background of green fields or ungrazed lands and clear, blue skies. The numerous lakes and tanks have provided a good base for birds and I saw many of various sizes and colours that I had never seen before.

I had to forcibly refrain myself from taking photographs of trees and the landscape, as these were also bases for the armed forces and therefore restricted areas, especially for photography. The experience of witnessing a land of such natural beauty however was sufficient.

Postcards from Trincomalee

2008-03-29T07:21:00.000-07:00

Stayed at the Club Oceanic during my visit to Trincomalee last week. As it is managed by the John Keells hotel chain, it is well-maintained despite the few visitors at the hotel. Nice location by the beach.

Arrived at the hotel in the evening and went straight to the beach for a short walk. I only learnt now that crabs actually moved sideways, when I saw tiny, brown crabs jumping out of circular holes on the beach and move so fast sideways. The next morning, I saw the fishermen pulling in their nets move sideways. A colleague who was at the beach at dawn break each day and stayed on till the fishermen pulled in their catch, was gifted a dead sea-horse by a fisherman.

A beautiful ink sketch adorned the wall of my room and I kept admiring the details. Besides the painting, the room itself was okay, with basic facilities such as a bed, table and chairs, wardrobe with a locker inside, a tiny TV with a few satellite channels like BBC, National Geographic and CineMax and the bathrooms had hot water showers. With the access to the beautiful beach, the hotel presented a pleasant stay. Only drawback with the rooms was that there was no key or special lock, that could lock the room from inside. It was the pressable door knob that could always be opened from the outside with the key. It was a bit disconcerting as we always found traces of visits of the hotel staff every time we returned to our rooms, besides the cleaning that was done during the mornings. Especially when mosquito mats were lighted during the hour that we were having dinner at the restaurant. Also, it was annoying when housekeeping made room-to-room calls during the night, especially after 9p.m., asking if we wanted extra mosquito mats or laundry bags. All these could have been placed in the room in the morning during the cleaning time.

Nice and small bar called the Buccaneer bar overlooking the garden and beach. Nice to sip a virgin pina colada and relax, after a packed day of work visits. There is a wooden sign in the bar that indicates the level that the sea came up to at the bar on December 26, 2004. The Cafe Astrale, the restaurant of the hotel, serves a good buffet breakfast (especially some delicious pastries) and a buffet dinner. I had a breakfast companion every morning throughout my visit. The squirrel was not at all shy and came right onto the table and I was quite afraid that it would come directly to my plate. However, the little fellow was quite content to eat bits of croissant and toast given at regular intervals.

There was a tiny raised hut in the garden, which I had spotted on the first evening and wondered for whom it had been designed for. I came to the conclusion that perhaps it was for the squirrel. It was a bit too lopsided though for the tennants.

Petra and Wadi Rum

2008-01-02T08:22:00.000-08:00

Travelled to Amman in late October. Didn't have much time for sightseeing but managed to visit Petra and Wadi Rum.

Started off early in the morning for Petra and reached there closer to noon. We had only a couple of hours to explore Petra and we immediately started our long trek. Our huge group broke up into smaller groups and pairs. With my physical handicap, I guess I was part of the last group and we walked at our own pace and savoured the rock formations and the carvings in the rocks. The coolness of the path between the rocks and we reached the famous monastery that adorns most pictures of Petra on tourist books and internet sites. By the time, we had walked up to the monastery, it was time to turn back so we only permitted ourselves a few minutes to browse the tourist shops. Bought a sand painting in a bottle, though our Lebanese friends later told us that we could have got the same for a fraction of the price outside and that we had to learn to bargain. Was extremely tired and thought of taking the horse cart back to the entrance but thought 20JD was too much for the ride back so walked all the way back in the hot sun and was extremely tired and hot at the end of it.

A long drowsy ride from Petra took us to Wadi Rum, where we stayed at a camp and climbed the rocks to view the sunset. I decided to brave it and climb the rocks too, along with the others. Had problems climbing down but luckily had a couple of friends helping me down plus a Scottish mountaineer who was trained to help people get down mountains they had climbed up and had trouble climbing down. So, reached base safely. In the early morning hours, the group enjoyed learning softball and I was entranced by the feel of the softball glove in my hand. So much so that the next day back in Amman, I went for the softball practices.

On our final day in Amman, as we had some free time, we decided to visit Dead Sea. We just had time to drive up there and for those who wanted to take a dip in the water, a short dip or rather float and then it was back to Amman and to the airport.

Exploring Hambantota cont'd...

2007-09-09T07:20:00.001-07:00

Yala National Park is located just next to Kirinde and is one of the most visited safaris in Sri Lanka. I had skipped the visit to the park during my visit, as I had spent some time in the sun that morning and did not feel too well. The sun can be scorching midmorning onwards so best to take precautions.

Kathirgamam in Tamil and Kataragama in Sinhala, a famous pilgrimage point of Sri Lanka, is just a half hour away. Went during the peak season and thus could not visit the place at a leisure pace, because of the crowds. Usually, the foot pilgrimage starts a couple of months before the annual festival in July. When I was in Batticaloa, I used to see long lines of pilgrims setting off barefoot, dressed in yellow and carrying shoulder bags. I was told that they would be walking all the way to Kathirgamam, a journey that took them a month or two to complete. During my visit there, I visited the Mariamman temple and had to rush back before the roads closed at 7p.m. Hope to go another time and climb the mountain where the pansala is located.

Recommended accommodation:
Elephant Reach Yala: A very good hotel, outside of the national park, adjacent to Kirinde, with nice and huge cottage style rooms with built around a lovely swimming pool. (RO: LKR 4000, HB: LKR 6000)

There are some accommodation facilities within the park and more suited for those wishing to explore the national park and wake up early to observe nature and wildlife.

Hotel Oasis, Hambantota: A nice hotel located in the town and nearly an hour away from Kirinde. Prices are expensive (RO: LKR 5300 and each meal costs about LKR 1000 per person). Went there a year ago, when the place was filled with personnel from INGOs who were on mission visits to the area. Recently, I stopped there for lunch when passing by and saw that there was hardly any business so much so that they did not even bother putting on the air condition of the dining room on for us, the only diners that day but there prices still remained the same.

Peacock Beach was supposed to have been the more famous hotel in the town area but was badly damaged by the tsunami. It has now been renovated.

Exploring Hambantota...

2007-09-08T18:12:00.000-07:00

The story of the Vihara Maha Devi in Kirinde
The first recorded tsunami of Sri Lanka in literature is the story of the Kelaniya princess, who ended up with a name in history.

Acc: to my story-teller, the King of Kelaniya, South-west Sri Lanka, had a beautiful wife. His step-brother was having an affair with his wife and they used to exchange letters in secret. The King intercepted one of the letters and he was outraged, as he recognized the handwriting, even though the letter was not signed. He wrongly assumed that the handwriting was that of his priest and had him put to death. (His priest, who was his childhood friend, and his brother had studied at the same Buddhist school and somehow ended up with a similar handwriting.)

The story continues that nature feeling furious at the wrong done to a Buddhist monk responded in the form of a tsunami. As people ran to the King for help with regard to the oncoming sea, the astrologers and other counsel of the King told him that the only remedy was to sacrifice a virgin woman. No-one stepped forward to sacrifice their family members. The Princess, the daughter of the King, finally stepped forward and said that she would sacrifice herself, in order to save the people. She was put in a boat, with lots of riches, to take with her to the other life and sent towards the sea. The tsunami however lifted her boat and landed it on another shore of Sri Lanka, in the south east (now Kirinde, in the district of Hambantota).

The fishermen in the area were astonished and ran to their King to say that a boat had been swept ashore with a beautiful woman on board and as all things on that land was the King's, they had rushed to inform him. King Kawantissa came to the beach to see for himself the strange sight that had caused such commotion and he decided to marry the Princess himself. The children born of their union were Dutugemunu and Tissa, later to become famous Kings in the recorded history of Sri Lanka.

A temple, the Vihara Maha Devi pansala, stands at a high point on Kirinde beach to mark the landing of the Princess.

The story of Dutugemunu as Prince and King
In the statue house of Vihara Maha Devi pansala, the story of the landing of the Princess, her marriage to King Kawantissa is painted on the circular wall.

The paintings on the wall proceed further showing the Princess, now Queen, serving an old Buddhist monk in their Kingdom and as he lies dying, praying that he be reborn as her son. Her wish is granted and the monk is supposed to be born as Dutugemunu. As Dutugemunu and his younger brother Tissa grow up and the country faces inter Kingdom wars and invasions from Tamil Kings from the North, the peace loving King extracts a promise from his two young sons that they will not react to threats and refrain from warring and killing people, when they become Kings.

A picture then shows the young Prince Dutugemunu lying on a huge bed curled in a foetal position. His mother sits beside him and asks him why he sleeps thus. He replies that he has no space to stretch his legs as the sea surrounds him in the south and east and King Ellalan is pressing from the north and so this is the only way he can sleep. His mother understands his frustration but reminds him firmly of his promise to his father.

However, after his father dies, Dutugemunu now King, finds he is unable to resist any longer and seeks his mother's permission to be released from his promise to his father and to allow him to fight a war with Ellalan, the King of the North. He promises her that he will try to minimize the deaths incurred from a war. On that promise, she finally releases him from his promise and he sets off to the north.

At the battleground, he requests King Ellalan that only the two of them fight, as it is a fight between only the two of them and that the people needn't suffer unnecessarily and so the soldiers should stay back from fighting. Ellalan acquisces and both fight. The younger King slays the older King and Dutugemunu becomes the King of the island. He sets up his Kingdom in Anuradhapura, in north central Sri Lanka. At the site of where King Ellalan was slain, he set up a memorial and enforced the law that each passerby had to offer his or her respect at the site.

This is the story that is narrated in South Sri Lanka and the story that makes him one of the most respected and popular Kings amongst the Sinhalese.

I also happened to hear the story, as narrated from the North and it is the story of a blood thirsty King, in search of power and land, propelled to war by his mother and thereby leading to the death of the just Tamil King Ellalan. Therefore, King Dutugemunu is not such a popular historical figure amongst the Tamils.

For me, it was interesting to listen to the story of the same person, as handed down in history, amongst two ethnic groups, and observe how the angle of view hugely affects the perspective.

In the story house of the Vihara Maha Devi pansala, the story of King Dutugemunu does not stop there. He is credited with building great irrigation tanks and other infrastructure that is still in evidence in Sri Lanka and towards his dying age, he had a wish of building the tallest Buddhist temple in Sri Lanka. Halfway, his health declined and he couldn't move from his palace to the temple site, so he asked to be placed in sight of the temple, so that he could watch it being built and die with its completion. His brother, Tissa, knowing that his brother would not be alive long enough till the temple was completed, created an illusion. He had the half built structure whitewashed and the dome created with white sheets, so that the old King whose sight was weak and his limbs frail thought that his inspiration was completed as he lay on his deathbed and peacefully released his last breath.

I find the story houses of pansalas (buddhist temples) the most interesting part, with tales of local legends painted on the walls. A walk around the circular wall is akin to reading a book, yet without a story teller, the paintings may well be disconnected paintings. Therefore, it is better to ask about the story on the walls from someone who works/ volunteers at the temple.

Exploring Matara...

2007-09-02T17:57:00.000-07:00

Top three places to visit:
(1) Vevurukannala Temple:
The highlights of this temple for the non-Buddhist visitor is the possibility of learning more about the Buddha's life and about the Jathaka stories.

In the statue house, my favourite story is the statue depicting Buddha returning to his home, after obtaining enlightenment and his son, Rahula holds his hand out and asks, "You have given a lot to everyone who has come to you but what have you to give me, your own son?" And Buddha is said to have replied that he has nothing but sharing his way of life as a Buddhist, following which Rahula joins his father as a disciple.

A bo tree stands in the middle and is said to be from the original sapling brought by Mahinda, which was planted in Anuradhapura.

A huge statue of Buddha sits beside the house of statue and can be climbed. Each floor has paintings from the Jathaka stories, stories on the previous births of Buddha. A story that I still remember is the story of Yasodha and her husband, Siddhartha who became Buddha. The two are said to have shared a deep love, which brought them together in each birth and in their final births, both are said to have been born at the same time but due to a sin that Yasodha is said to have committed against Siddhartha in one of their earliest births as elephants, where she was the cause for his death, she does not experience the privilege of achieving nirvana at the same time. I heard this story for the first time at this temple. At the top floor, one emerges into the open and is allowed to peep through a porthole into the brain of Buddha, a tiny room filled with 17,500 books said to depict the wealth of knowledge that Buddha had.

A must-see for visitors to Matara and something that local residents are proud of.

(2) Hummana/ Blow hole: Nature's gift. The blow hole is an interesting place, with the blowing noise that precedes the spout of sea water amongst a crop of rocks. The force of the water as it spouts up, can be very strong and care must be taken not to be too near the opening.

(3) Dondra Lighthouse: the tallest lighthouse in Sri Lanka.

Accommodation:
Dickwella Resort, Dickwella: A nice resort by the beach, managed by an Italian (RO basis: LKR 5000, HB: LKR 6000). This resort was damaged by the tsunami and has been renovated but has not yet restored all of its rooms nor its tourist inflow and had hardly any other guests during the two times I stayed there earlier this year. The rooms are lovely and comfortable with huge four-poster beds, couches, comfy arm chairs and has scenic views of the sea. No TV but it is hardly missed. Dining options are limited, though there is a nice restaurant overlooking the sea, due to their being only one cook and waiter who will serve only what they want.

"American or continental breakfast?
What is there for American?
Toast, omelette, fruit and coffee
What is there for continental?
Toast, fruit, coffee and omelete"

Not much of a choice there but at least the food served is eatable and the great view more than compensates for the menu.

Polhena Beach Resort, Polhena: Closer to the Matara town and a much cheaper option (LKR 2000). Only 4 rooms on the upper floor, two of which overlook the sea and a lovely, tiny private beach. Great to sit in the balcony watching the stilt fishermen fishing in the lovely, clear blue sea. Basic furniture only. No hot water available, so can be a bit discomforting to learn that you have to have a cold shower early in the morning, as you get ready to leave the place. No restaurant as such but meals can be ordered, though there is only a choice between two meals: fried rice or fried noodles. If meals can be brought in from outside, the place can turn out to be a cheap and lovely option ensuring privacy and quiet.

Lalitha Resort, Matara: This is on the main road and very busy. Rooms are okay (RO: LKR 4300) and provided with normal hotel amenities: bed, TV, hot water. Balconies of each room face each other and not the road so it is better to keep curtains closed. Tiny restaurant downstairs, which seems to be popular in the area and which proclaims to have an international menu for each day of the week but somehow seems to have only Sri Lankan food each day.

Polhena Reef Garden: Rooms look nice but beach is extremely crowded and one has to pre-book. Unfriendly staff, who told us to go back all the way to Weligama, over an hour away, when we asked for suggestions of other nearby hotels as they were fully booked.

Driving to Trincomalee

2007-02-07T02:28:00.000-08:00

We took a short-cut from Colombo to Ja-Ela and from there to the Dambulla Road, via Kurunegala yesterday. The setting sun cast a magical glow over Hamilton Canal, built by the Dutch. The colourful boats which were anchored in the pinkish-golden waters added to the pleasing effect. The banks of the canal were lined with vendors, who sold their ware, fish and poultry, under the flourescent bulbs of their carts.

The car paused at a bridge, where the canal waters met the sea in the distance. The colour combination gave a pleasing visual effect.

We stopped over at Gimanhala Transit Hotel in Dambulla, a nice, friendly and small hotel right on the main road. This morning, we reached Trincomalee.

09/02/2007 update
Back in Colombo after an 8 hour drive back yesterday from Trincomalee. We stayed at the Welcombe Hotel on Orr's Hill during our two days there. As the rooms in the main building were fully occupied, two of were us were given rooms in the bungalow, a four bedroomed old house with a hall and dining room. The room was okay for a brief visit and had some beds in the old four-poster style, with mosquito nets. Hot showers were not a regular feature as the heating depended on the solar-powered heater. The dining room area was lit by some old lamps, now fitted with electric bulbs but unfortunately, the hotel wouldn't serve us in that dining room and we had to go to the restaurant, where the menu was always set. This could be a slight problem for vegetarians because the menu has mainly non-vegetarian options but the restaurant staff are quite accommodating.

Trincomalee is certainly one of the most beautiful districts of Sri Lanka and there were so many peaceful and scenic landscapes, and we passed many bird sanctuaries, that it could have been a leading eco-tourist place for the country. It was sad to see so many places abandoned by people due to the conflict.

Dehiwela Zoo

2007-02-03T23:23:00.000-08:00

I have never been fond of the zoo. My recollections of the Dehiwela zoo, the only zoo in Sri Lanka, is basically walking around in the hot sun, tired and the smell of animal droppings unpleasantly wafting in the air, not really interested in looking at the caged animals.. a brief respite seated on a grassy turf, watching some tired elephants going about in circles. No, I have never liked the zoo.

Yet, today I found myself going on an outing to the zoo with my mother, who loves the zoo since her childhood. We started our zoo trip with a visit to the aquarium. We passed the Californian sea lion which was having a nap quietly by the little pool, unfazed by the crowds seated in the audience area, who were watching it and the long queues passing by its residence into the Min Medura Aquarium, opened in 1973.

Coming out of the aquarium, we walked to the aviary and first passed the cockatoo cages. I really love the cockatoos, with their flamboyant colours and personality. Opposite their cages were those of the owls. Each one meditating in its own cage and branch. A couple of sloth bears were playing with each other and a little agouti slept in its corner in a space that was pretty large for such a small animal, compared to the space given to the sloth bears in the adjacent area.

We walked through a lovely walk-in aviary, with a net covering a large area and a wooden bridge going through it for people to walk in. Though the signboard requested people to be silent, people were just talking loudly and the crowds going through must have disturbed the birds so we couldn't see many, except the friendly mynahs and the ducks playfully swimming in the pond. We could hear them though.

We came out and passed the dwellings of the monkeys. A grivet monkey looked sadly at me, holding on to the bars, while the squirrel monkey in the adjacent cage capered about like crazy. In another cage, a mother with a baby monkey, hurried to the bars, where a couple of other monkeys were gathered and reaching out to receive the peanuts being given by a visitor. The mother looked interestedly at the peanuts but hesitated to reach out her hand, her cute little baby hanging on to her. She got pretty restless and moved away a bit, the baby had loosened its hold and was left behind. It squealed and then walked towards the mother. Another monkey, probably an older sibling reached out and hugged the little one. It was really a sweet gesture. In another area, near a water marshy place left for birds to fly in and out as they wished, there were several different migratory birds that had probably flown in for the winter. They looked tranquil and content, just relaxing on the huge, old tree or swimming in the marshy water beneath. The caged monkeys next to this section were going crazy and kicked up a huge ruckus jumping from one end to the other. It must be maddening for them to be caged, rather than being free to roam about where they want to and seeing the birds flying in and out.

The elephant stalls were empty. I guess they must have gone out for a walk. Only Joa, a young African elephant born in 1991, was left in his stall and he was definitely not relaxed. He kept waving his trunk and head continuously. A lot of animals kept doing that: the sloth bear in its dwelling, some of the deers in their section...

Most animals though chose to sleep in a corner with their heads turned away from the prying eyes of the crowds. The smaller cats slept in wood hollows or up on a branch shelf in a corner, while the bigger cats seemed more relaxed to sleep in the public view and did not seem disturbed by the passer-by.

The giraffes, camels, oryxes, zebras, deers all seemed to have sad and defeated faces and had their faces to the ground or stood about listlessly. On our way back to the entrance, we passed an interesting orangutan seated near the stream running through its dwelling and looking at the people looking at it. The dusty orange coat looked like a loose robe and the poise of the orangutan, calm and meditative, as if it had reached a stage of understanding of life and it looked at us humans, calmly, unexcited.

When we walked back towards the entrance, the animals were waking up slowly to a new day and their noises started filling the air.

Though I still do not like the zoos, at least my childhood impression has improved ever so slightly.

Batticaloa - its essence Part II

2006-12-31T08:28:00.000-08:00

Dutch Bar - Of lodgings, delicious meals and the Burghers...

The area adjacent to the Kallady bridge commonly known as the Dutch Bar, mainly the settlement area of descendants of the Dutch and the Portuguese, also referred to as the Burghers in Sri Lanka. Some of the older generation still retain Portuguese as their medium of communication amongst themselves but that is fast vanishing with each new generation that is assimilating more and more rapidly with others outside their community.

This area is also home to three inns, two of which are famous in Batticaloa.

Riviera Resort

Going over the old Kallady bridge and into the Dutch bar area through the winding, crowded streets towards the beach, one comes across a couple of lodgings: Riviera Resort, Bridge View Inn. There is also a place called the Dutch Bar Inn, which however does not provide accommodation.

Riviera, lying right on the lagoon, is my favourite. This place has existed for more than 10 years slowly building up cottage by cottage and surviving the tsunami. A former coconut estate converted to a popular resort, the place has long walking paths winding through its premises and passing the vegetable garden, where the resort's kitchen gets its produce from. Stone benches are located along the lagoon shore so that guests may have a quiet talk or enjoy the calmness of the lagoon's deep waters or a view of the busy Kallady bridge, without the noise of traffic.

The lapping of the water as you sip fresh mango juice seated on the cool white stone benches is a pleasant experience. A perfect retreat from the rest of the world, yet at such close reach is the magnet that draws many to Riviera.

The restaurant is somewhat a disappointment, in that you cannot drop in for a meal and order what you like. All meals are pre-ordered well in time and the tables are laid according to the orders for the day and food, which is expensive when compared to other eating places in town, is placed in hot dishes, for you to serve yourself, whenever you feel like eating.

The resort also used to arrange fishing boat rides for guests but I am not sure if they still do it. The wire fence at the water's edge was washed off by the tsunami and now the owner has just placed sandbags and tyres on the edges so you feel much closer to the water. The other parts of the resort, which were also said to have been damaged by the tsunami, have now been repaired and for me visiting the place recently, two years after the tsunami, couldn't see any difference to how it was prior to the tsunami.

Bridge View Inn

The second popular place of accommodation in Batticaloa's limited number of places to stay is the Bridge View Inn. It has only the name 'Bridge View' but offers no view of the bridge, even in its new two story building, built after the tsunami. The rooms are pretty basic but reasonably clean in the new building. A restaurant, more popular as a bar, and where you will have to pre-order meals exists. A place that I stay at only if my other two choices are fully booked.

Dutch Bar Inn
This is a lesser known place and is actually not a place of accommodation but rather a place to hold meetings in the hut-like conference room, with great meals provided on a pre-ordered basis.

All three places are close to the Kallady beach, a long expanse of brown sandy beach but which many do not bathe in, due to the very rough waters. In the first months in Batticaloa, my colleagues and I used to visit the beach on weekend afternoons and have some hot, spicy 'kadalai' (or chickpeas/ channa), while sitting under the shade of a large fishing boat.

The Dutch Bar area was almost completely engulfed by the tsunami and water reached up to almost the Kallady bridge but reconstruction efforts has seen that new houses have replaced the old, washed off ones. One does see the odd boat still upturned in an odd place or the 'gopuram', the top of a temple, sitting on the sand as if it were always there, the deserted school that was converted to a welfare center.

Batticaloa - its essence Part I

2006-12-28T18:12:00.000-08:00

(I had intended to write about Batticaloa and the places I enjoyed most during my work there in 2004 but had not got around to it apart from very brief sketches here and there. Memories of the place have been evoked by comments on a recent post on Batticaloa and I am going to attempt to capture the essence of the place which continues to lure me, through random reminiscences in my upcoming posts)

Navalady - the tragic beauty

One weekend in May during my work days in Batticaloa, Rahini suggested a day's outing to Navalady to her paternal aunt's place. She picked me up from my hostel on her bicycle and we went past Bar Road to the shores of Amirthahaly opposite the shore of Navalady. My friend always said she had two villages, her mother's village of Amirthahaly and her father's birth village of Navalady. She considered herself essentially Amirthaly but always spoke of the beauty of Navalady with fondness and awe. Leaving the bicycle by a concrete storage room which she said belonged to one of her relatives, she went to speak to some fishermen sorting out their catch and asked whether her uncle had come ashore. They responded in the affirmative and that he had gone into town to do some shopping. So, we sat on the shore by the storage room, watching at a fisherman take out mussels from his net, and waiting for her uncle to come.

A thin, frail-looking man came along with a bag of rice and my friend asked if he could take us to Navalady in his canoe. He responded with a grin, "How much will you give me?" I asked earnestly, "How much do you want?" My friend smiled and said, "He is my uncle. He is just joking." He pushed his blue canoe into the lagoon and asked us to get inside. I sat on the tail end of the canoe facing my friend, while her uncle paddled the canoe towards the other shore.

As we reached the shore of Navalady, Viji, her cousin rushed to help her father and gave a cry of joy to see my friend. Both exchanged playful banter about how the other had forgotten them and had become too proud to visit relatives. I followed walking carefully over the sea weeds and other sea products strewn on the grass. A brown dog rushed towards us barking happily. Viji opened a coconut leaf woven gate and we walked into their compound. An almost open kitchen separated from the main house was the first part of the house we saw. Viji rushed inside to inform her sister and mother that Rahini was there to visit them. Her sister peeped out, face reddened by the smoke and heat from their cooking. She asked Viji to give us some 'Ilaneer' (coconut water). My friend inquired about the health of their mother, who sat at the entrance staring into space. She later explained to me that her aunt was affected by the death of her brother, Rahini's father, in the mid-90s and continued to be unwell ever since. We learnt that they were expecting guests that day, the newly married brother and his wife's family was visiting for lunch. We decided to leave after a short while but were coaxed by the family to stay for lunch. We agreed and decided to sit under the shade of the mango tree. Mats were put out for us. Rahini happily pointed out the coconut tree that her father had planted. Each tree within that premise had a history and her uncle and she enjoyed reminiscing who had planted what and the occasion related to it. Her uncle then asked about me and my birthplace. He wanted to know if I liked crabs so that he could go out and fish for some and have a special treat for me for lunch and was greatly disappointed to learn that I did not eat any sea-food, let alone crabs. I had been going through my vegetarian phase then. We enjoyed a delicious, home-cooked lunch with the children, with Viji and her father constantly offering us more food. I was offered some water from their well and it was the first time that I had enjoyed drinking well-water in Batticaloa. It tasted so much like the water I was used to drinking in Colombo and not like the unpleasant well water at my hostel, the taste of which was heightened by boiling it over firewood. I had not been able to drink the water to the extent that I stuck to bottled waters.

After lunch, so as to give the visitors time with the family, my friend suggested we move to the hut opposite. She said that it was the hut of another of their relations who no longer lived there. We walked over the white sand in the blazing sun, opened the thatched door and entered a tiny living space, very neatly kept. Some pots and pans were arranged neatly on one side and two mats neatly folded in the other corner. A tiny mirror hung on the thatched wall. It was cooler inside and we spread out the mats and settled down for the afternoon, chatting about our respective life experiences. I guess the visit after a long time to her father's side of the family had loosened her memory chest and Rahini was very much in a reminiscing mood and I, witnessing the warmth between the relatives, was in a contemplative mood about my own relationship with my father's side of the family. Viji joined us after her hostess duties back at their house was completed and she came to chat with her favourite cousin. Viji was going to take her O/L exams the following year.

As afternoon slowly gave way to early evening, we saw from the doorway of the hut, a young girl carrying a silver pail-can and tiredly walking down the path. Rahini hailed her and she walked up to us. She must have been around 10 years old. My friend asked her what she had in her pail. She said patties and fried manioca. "Give us some of both for 20 rupees", said my friend. I looked at her. I was still full from the heavy lunch and was not sure that I wanted to eat from a street vendor, that too a child. My friend asked the shy child to sit with us for some time. The poor girl looked really tired and no wonder, it was a blazing sun that had shined down upon the stretch of beach that was Navalady and to have walked up and down selling food would have been exhausting. "Do you go to school?" I asked the girl and she replied, 'yes'. "Do you work on school days as well?" I asked and she replied, 'yes, I go out to sell after I return home from school'. After the girl left, Rahini told me that the girl's house was just a short distance from her cousin's house and the mother had passed away. The girl was living with her younger brother and grandmother and father. The father was an alcoholic and unemployed and therefore it was the grandmother who struggled to bring them up, by making fried snacks which the children took to the beach to sell. Knowing that the beach attracted many types of human beings, including the twisted ones, I was concerned to think of the girl-child walking up and down the beach.

When it was sufficiently cooler outside, Viji and my friend suggested a walk along the beach. We walked past the casuarina trees that had been planted along the beach, between the houses and the white sandy beach, so as to protect the houses from severe storms. My friend joked that the residents kept chopping off the branches for firewood and also for security, as one could not see who was beyond through the thick thicket. We stepped onto the white sand and it was a very beautiful sight, an expanse of unspoilt beach with the blue sea crashing onto its shores. We were the only ones walking on the beach and we could see the bar mouth in the distance, the place where the river met the sea. There was a small sand bar, a strip of land across that my friend said was totally covered during monsoon season. Standing on the edge of the lagoon closer to the bar mouth, I was tempted to dip my foot in the inviting waters but my friend sharply pulled me back saying that it was dangerous as the waters were misleading. The first few steps might be on sand in shallow waters of the river shore but it suddenly gave way into the deep waters of the ocean and the currents were so high that anyone who was pulled under was certain to die. She said that there was a folk tale that the waters near the thin sand bar bewitched those who stood on it and drew them into the waters, drowning them in the process. From where I stood, the waters seemed harmless and innocent, belying their depth.

As the sun was slowly setting, we decided to walk back taking the road this time, instead of the beach and we passed a children's home where nearly 200 children who had lost their parents lived under the patronage of a church.

After offering us some ginger tea, we were rowed back to Amirthahaly by her uncle. It was close to 7p.m. and the setting sun cast a pink spell on the sky and waters. The waters were calm and soothing and everything looked beautiful. I thought my friend's uncle's family lived an idyllic life living by and off nature.

Seven months after I thought of them when the tsunami hit the shores of Batticaloa and news from the radio announced that the village of Navalady had been washed away. I remembered the tiny stretch of beach, lying between the river and the sea, jutting from the mainland that formed Navalady and could not think that anyone would have survived. When news finally reached me, I learnt that Viji's mother, sister and sister's baby had died in the tsunami. Viji had survived by holding onto a tree that had fallen over her and for months, she was physically and mentally traumatized. Her father had survived as he had been on the mainland doing his routine shopping for the family and he had been the one who had helped pull my friend, when the waters dragged my friend at the Mamangam Pillaiyar temple land. The children's home however did not survive and I can only mourn for them and the child who helped her grandmother with earning their daily living. Viji's remaining family have now moved out of their paternal land and moved into a temporary house in the mainland. I have not been able to go to Navalady ever since and have not attempted it in my subsequent visits to Batticaloa, as the beauty of the place remains etched in my mind and my horror at the events that followed.

Nikki in Kovalam

2006-12-27T18:13:00.000-08:00

Over Christmas, I decided to fly over to Trivandrum to visit my best friend in school and her family, who were visiting India for their holidays. I was meeting her after 13 years. She had organized a 2-day trip to Kovalam, the famous beach of Kerala and very close to Trivandrum.

As I came out of the Trivandrum airport and scanned the faces waiting outside, I felt a slight unease in the event I did not recognize them in the crowd. Anyway, I saw a hand wave and I looked and recognized her husband and I looked quickly beside him. There was my friend, holding her little 3-year old toddler. So many years had passed by but seeing her again, I felt time had not moved. That we were back in 10th grade. She seemed outwardly unchanged.

As we travelled south towards Kovalam, I looked at her daughter, Nikki. She reminded me of a baby photo of my friend that I had. Nikki gradually warmed up to her mother's friend and by the time we got down at the hotel, she was happy to be carried by me.

Nikki was a delightful child that I found myself taking out my camera to capture a smile of hers or a particular expression she had when looking at something new. The first time I took out my camera and took a picture of her, she rushed to my side to look at the picture. She was used to the digital camera of her parents and could not initially understand that my camera did not show pictures on the screen. I asked her instead to look through the window and tell me what she saw. She started clicking on the buttons on top and suddenly the number in counter started going down from 10. For a second, I thought she had pressed the manual rewind button and that the roll was rewinding and her mother scolded her for touching the camera. Looking at her stunned face, I felt so sorry for her. I also realised that she had pressed the automatic button and so quickly turned the camera to face her. So, there was the first photo that Nikki took. I explained to her that we would look around and if we felt that the place was beautiful, she was to look through the window and when she saw the scenery she liked, she was to click only on the button on the top. She excitedly looked around and chose the coconut tree in front and then a crow that flew past her and settled on the roof of the cottage in front. After a couple of photos, we told her that the camera needed rest and we would take more photos on the beach, later in the evening. She took it very seriously that when I took some photos of her over lunch, she told me shaking her little head, "Not here. Outside on the beach."

Meal times were a delight as the little lady insisted on her high seat and she would sit up and converse with everyone and inquire if we liked our food. Her favourite at breakfast was fruit juice and she would always ask, "you don't like juice?" if we didn't take some juice as well. It was usually difficult though, getting her to the restaurant as there was a fork in the path we took from our rooms to the restaurant and one of the paths led to the beach and she was always more inclined to go down that path and had to be called back sharply or carried to the restaurant. She didn't like us spending time over meals, when we could be by the beach or going out for an outing.

In the evening, we decided to walk along the beach to the lighthouse. Nikki had been excited the whole afternoon but when we set out, she was fast asleep and was carried on her mother's arms. We went past the private beach of the hotel and went across the public beach where a mosque stood. I had read on the internet that it was not allowed to photograph the mosque. Also, I had read a blog post by a person who had visited Kovalam on Christmas and who had commented that the beach was crowded by locals who celebrated Christmas at the beach with their families. It was true, the public beach was packed with so many people, not only local families but also pilgrims who came in bus loads, wearing the black sarongs or saffron sarongs and took a dip in the sea. Possibly the beach had some association with religion or maybe, they were just taking a bath on their way to Sabarimalai, the famous pilgrim site.

We walked down to the lighthouse beach and still found the lighthouse a long way off. My friend was tired and we decided that we would sit where we were and just enjoy the beach. On the way back, we looked into some shops. I was surprised to find mainly Kashmiri run shops selling Kashmiri and Rajasthani products. I thought it was funny that in a tourist place close to the southernmost point of India, there wasn't any Kerala stuff along the beach. Though it didn't make sense to me as a foreign visitor to Kerala and who if I were to shop would look around for Kerala products, I realised that these beaches were also popular destinations of Keralites themselves and who enjoyed being able to buy Rajasthani products on their holiday.

A beach ball was purchased for Nikki and she played with her parents on the beach to her heart's content, while I kept clicking photos of them. I think Nikki's favourite moments of the Kovalam visit would have been the beach ball games played with both her parents and the hammock which doubled up as a swing with her sitting in the middle, enjoying every minute of it.

I am not a child-person, in the sense that I usually get tired after spending some time with children but this was the first time that I spent so much time with a child and loved every minute of it. Perhaps it was due to the fact that Nikki was my friend's child and I found it fascinating to get to know her and discover traces of my friend in her and perhaps more because she was a naturally exuberant, cheerful, talkative yet sensitive child. She was more or less the star in the hotel we stayed and there was an older North Indian couple, who called her the leader and brought her some chocolates. She also enjoyed making friends and if she saw any girls, even if they were 10 years older than her, she would initiate the friendship with a "My name is Nikita. What's your name?" and for the remaining duration of the new friend's presence, she would be tagging along her friend, smiling at her and showing off her mother's things.

The second day, my friend had initially planned to visit Ponmudi, a hill resort with trekking trails but after considering that it would take 5 hours up and down from Kovalam, we decided to go for a more closer option. Padmanabhapuram Palace was closer to Kanyakumari and would also take as much time. Finally, we settled on the Sri Padmanabhasamy temple and the adjoining KuthiraMalika Palace Museum in Trivandrum and then to the Akkulam tourist village.

When we reached the temple, we found that parking was a problem. After finally managing to find a parking place, close to the temple, we walked to the temple entrance. My friend said that only hindus wearing saris and sarongs were allowed in earlier. Now, anyone could go in but they still had to rent out a 'moonda' and wrap it around, before entering the temple. When we went to the place where we could rent out the wrap-arounds, we found that it was so crowded and my friend was not comfortable leaving her bag at that place. We decided to avoid the hassle and just go to the Palace museum. It was a beautiful south Indian palace, practical, cool and spacious without any showy finishes. We walked through the spacious rooms where the royal family would have gathered for their meals, the King would have written an official letter or penned some poetry, the music and dancing room, the cradle where the royal child would have been rocked to sleep and the lovely horse carvings outside tiny windows. I wonder if those windows were for the women of the royal family, who were not allowed to go outside. It was so cool, so homely in that palace as opposed to the stiff, crowded and formal settings of the palaces of the North that I had visited.

The name of the palace was also interesting. Kuthiramalika meant 'horse palace', which as the tourist webpages mention came because of the horses carved along a wall of the palace. I wondered however if Maharaja Swati Thirunal Balarama Varma, who built the palace designed it to reflect an older story that had connections with Sri Lanka. There is a village in North Sri Lanka called 'Mavittapuram' or the horse village and the story behind the village is that the temple in the place is so powerful that an Indian princess who was born with a horse's face came to the village to pray at the temple and had her face transformed to that of a normal woman. I think the Maharaja being a poet could have been inspired by the tale that he chose to have horses carved on the walls and called it the horse palace. Now, the palace which was still a private palace with part of it being open to visitors as a museum also continued to be a gathering of music connoisseurs with an annual carnatic and hindustani music festival being held within the precincts of the palace
every January.

By the time, we came out of the palace, Nikki was very tired and after some crying she fell fast asleep. So, we decided to have lunch and return to the hotel after a little shopping. We stopped at Regency at South Park, my friend's favourite restaurant in Trivandrum and near her former university. The service was great and I enjoyed the meal a lot.

I enjoyed being on the beach, simply relaxing and listening to the waves or chatting to my friend or to her family and realised that it was the first time that I had actually lived up close to a sandy beach. This despite the fact that I lived on an island and practically had the sea all around and could see the sea from my balcony at home. I guess I hardly went to the beach near home because it was not a sandy beach but had rocks which dropped directly into the sea. The city planners had also designed the coastal paths in such a way so as to ruin it for the people living near the area but excellent for those travelling by train from Colombo to the South, as the train went almost the entire distance right by the sea.

The last morning as I walked over the rocks enjoying being the only one on the beach and listening to the rough waves, I heard loud temple music in Tamil, coming from the shopping area in front of the hotel. I was drawn to the source of the music and I found it a small Murugan temple. I walked in and prayed and a man came and gave me some prasadham and wrapped up some flowers and Vibuthi, Santhanam and Pottu in a tiny banana leaf and gave it to me. I turned back to the hotel, with the smell of the temple wafting pleasantly in my nose.

After breakfast and a little rest, we left for the airport. On the way, we passed floats and pilgrims in bright yellow. My friend said that they were going for the annual festival to Sivagiri, a place closer to Varkala where there was a kind of memorial ashram of Sree Narayana Guru, a man who was considered as a great social reformer of Kerala and who believed in one caste, one religion, one God for human beings and had advocated equality for all. There was loud music being played on the floats. I pointed out a float, which had men in different animal costumes, to Nikki. She looked but then turned to me and said 'Too loud'. She preferred her own songs, either made up or learnt and would happily sing to her heart's content.

Once her mother asked her to sit properly and hold onto the seat infront so that she wouldn't get badly hurt if there were an accident. She also added that I had had an accident recently. Nikki listened to it gravely and then turned to me wide-eyed and asked, "You had an accident?" I nodded. She then asked, "You had an accident and died?" She held on to the seat in front and told me also to hold on to the seat as well.

I enjoyed a truly wonderful holiday, with lots of school reminiscences and learning more of the developments and changes in my friend's personality, meeting her husband and getting to know her wonderful child.

Land of the Singing Fish

2006-12-09T05:41:00.000-08:00

Everytime I visit Batticaloa and I pass the signboard, which says "Welcome to the Land of the Singing Fish", through the crude gateway, by the deep lagoon and passing the road leading to Thiruperunthurai and the Amman temple, with its bright red and white candy-coloured wall, I experience a sense of happiness. A happiness that comes from coming across the familiar. In Batticaloa, like Madonna's song "this used to be my playground", there are so many places that I can say with fond recollection, 'this used to be the hostel where I lived', 'this used to be my work-place', 'this used to be the beach' or 'this used to be the temple pool' by which my colleagues/friends sat chatting, 'this used to be our favourite kadalai (chickpea) shop', 'this used to be the theater where we watched movies' and so on.

Batticaloa, definitely has a charm, that grows into you and though I did not think it ever had much of a social network or outlet, my nine months there was fraught with both a stimulating and challenging work experience that has retained within me a fondness for the district. I see unhappily the changes that are taking place by the day, which is setting back the improvements that have been taking place in the last few years to the 90s conflict period. I wish for a more peaceful time, where people could go to the lagoon on a full moon's night and listen to the singing fish (as the folk tales of Batticaloa describe) and which are said to have stopped singing since the conflict started decades ago.

The Quest for the Aurora Borealis

2006-11-16T17:03:00.002-08:00

(Reminiscence of a 2001 travel)

My first encounter with the Aurora Borealis occurred by chance. During my student days in Stockholm, I had received a letter from a friend who had in her closing remarks wished me a great Scandinavian experience, especially with regard to the famous northern lights. So, one chilly autumn afternoon, having finished an assignment and not in a particular mood to study, I decided to browse the internet for Scandinavian related topics of interest and I chose the topic ‘Aurora’. I came across Dick Hutchison’s page. My first glimpse of the aurora and I was totally bewitched. Truly love at first sight. It became my infatuation and for days after I would in all my free time read articles about the aurora on the web and admire the breathtaking pictures of the phenomenon captured by mortal cameras. I decided I had to see this phenomenon in person and thus began my planning for my arctic trip. Many lovely hours were spent searching for places where the aurora could be best observed, the season for observing it. Due to time and financial constraints of student life, it was finally decided that the trip would be a Christmas weekend trip to Kiruna, in the north of Sweden. My travel partner, a fellow Sri Lankan expatriate in Stockholm, was more interested in sightseeing than simply observing nature at a cost. Moreover, we were taking a chance with the aurora. Only the few lucky ones got to see the aurora. So, I browsed the web and looked up tempting options for the tourist, to prevent any disappointment, the ice hotel, a dog sledge ride and a visit to a Sami Village and heritage museum etc. Travelling modes was explored and decided upon, youth hostels and guest houses were browsed and finalized and the itinerary planned.

Fellow passengers

2006-11-16T17:03:00.001-08:00

My travel partner and I set off on the evening train from T-Centralen in Stockholm on a more than 12 hour journey to Kiruna in the Swedish Lapland. We had also decided to take advantage of the direct train to Narvik, a town which played an important role in World War II and had the unique placement that it could be reached only via the train from Stockholm. As the fjords in northern Lappland were famous for their breathtaking beauty, we decided to go straight ahead and take in the famous views from the train and return to Kiruna by the return train. On boarding the train in Stockholm, we searched for our couchette numbers and found that though I had booked adjacent seat numbers, our seats were in adjacent compartments. My partner’s seat was in a fully packed compartment of teenagers and mine was in a compartment with only two other passengers. So, she shifted to my compartment. Our fellow passengers were going home up to Central Sweden for their Christmas vacation, and were curious as to where we were going.

Kiruna? Why there?
Just to experience the Swedish winter.
But it is so cold up there.
Yes. We know.
But why do you want to be so cold? There is nothing to see there.
We are interested in the Aurora.
The aurora?
The Northern Lights.
The Northern Lights? Jaha. Norrsken.
But, it is so much better in the summer?
You can’t see the Northern Lights in the summer.
But it is so cold up there.
We come from a very warm country and the cold intrigues us.
Do you have enough warm clothes?
Yes. We think so.
You will need lots of warm clothes.

The long train journey

2006-11-16T17:00:00.000-08:00

Our fellow passengers having worked overtime for the Christmas holidays were tired and were ready to go to bed by 7p.m. As they were particular about sleeping in their particular numbers, we had to give up sitting positions to have the bunk beds put in place. My friend decided to go out for a walk. She returned excited in a few minutes. She had spotted an empty couchette in that compartment. We decided to move there. Feeling the freedom of space, we put up our legs and decided to have our dinner. My travel partner had been responsible for bringing our dinner and she had bought a pizza from a pizzeria near her apartment. She said that she had ordered an interesting topping, which she was curious about trying. “What was the topping?” I asked. “Banana, Chicken and peanuts”, came the reply. Ugh. I thought. What a combination. I had no alternative but to eat a slice of that dreadful mixture, in order to be not disrespectful of my friend’s choice. As we sat talking, the ticket inspector came by. She asked questions, in rapid Swedish. I could only make out a word here and there but I assumed she was asking to see our tickets. So, we took them out. She again spoke rapidly. Again I assumed she must be asking why we were in a different couchette, than the one assigned to us. So, I replied that we wanted a place to sit and talk, while our fellow-travellers had wanted to sleep and that we would go back to our couchette once the passengers assigned to this couchette returned. We asked if it was alright. She smiled, nodded and left. We chatted till we grew tired and as no-one still came, we decided to sleep in that couchette itself. We closed the door and went to sleep.

In the middle of the night, there was knocking on the door. I got up and rushed to open the door, thinking that the passengers for this compartment had come. There was a woman and a little boy, her son, standing outside. She apologized and said they were from the sitting compartments (sittplatts) and they had been travelling since the day before from Berlin and were very tired and her son was badly in need of sleep. The ticket conductor had directed them to her compartment. We realized then that we had actually taken over the conductor’s room. And now, bits of words from what the conductor had said earlier that night made sense. We pulled out the bunk beds for the two. They said they were going to their hometown of Tromso in the north of Norway, beyond Narvik. They said that we should have gone all the way upto Tromso as it was really beautiful. My friend looked at me. The expression on her face was that I had overlooked this in my travel planning. I shrugged. One had to always set a limit to desire or else one would never be satisfied. Our major goal and budget needed to be matched, the rest were fringe benefits. We went back to sleep. I tried to catch glimpses of the night sky through the window, in the hope of catching the aurora but the light that the electric train cast on the snow outside was reflected back to the windows and that was all that could be seen outside.

Narvik

2006-11-16T16:59:00.000-08:00

In the morning, the two returned to their sittplatts, even though we invited them to stay over for the remaining trip up to Narvik. I had brought along a flask of hot water and we made some Nescafe coffee and had our breakfast, watching the passing landscape. We passed Kiruna at 8a.m. and the journey became more interesting as our train trudged past the Lapporten or the Gateway to Lappland, a U-shaped mountain pass beyond Kiruna (Photo below taken in late winter/ early spring, from Focus on Sweden).

Lapporten - Focus on Sweden
Vast expanses of white was all that could be seen for miles and then suddenly we entered a rocky region, with sudden drops, the famous fjords. I had read on the web that the mining town, Narvik, had been bombed a lot in the world war and a fighter plane that had dropped into the fjord was still preserved. I looked out of the window hoping to catch the sight. A voice on the overhead speaker in the train was talking about the sites we were passing. We could not understand though. All too soon, we reached the station of Narvik. We got out with our bags. Having an hour or two before our return journey, we left our bags with the station master and went out to explore the town. We came out of the little station. There was hardly anyone outside. We tried to find the local museum for more information on the town’s history and the sites preserved from World War II. We decided to take the winding road to the left. It seemed to be in the direction of the fjords and I felt if we walked that way, we might come to the landmark mentioned in the web. We passed lovely curving roads along the cliff road with long, sharp icicles beautifully adorning the rocks on either side. Though they looked beautiful at a distance, I felt they were dangerous, if we had to pass under them, having heard an incident in Stockholm where a pedestrian had been killed by one of those icicle-stakes dropping over him. After walking some time, we felt we were getting a bit lost and going deeper into residential areas, where there were hardly anyone on the roads, whom we could ask for directions. We decided to return to the station and inquire from someone there. We were re-directed to the exact opposite path we had taken earlier.

With only an hour or two left for our return journey, we decided to simply enjoy a walk into the town and return to the station. Quiet streets. Hardly anyone out on the streets. We trudged along in the deep snow, looking out for some interesting site that would make our walk more interesting. We came across a yellow signboard, which had arrows pointing to the directions of some major cities and the respective distances from Narvik. Then, walking further, we came across a park with some bronze sculptures of children. We decided to go closer to examine the sculptures, which looked like children playing from a distance. When we approached, we were horrified to realize that the sculptures were not that of happy children but were in fact children suffering, blood was painted on various vital body parts of the naked children, whose faces depicted intense suffering. We had no idea why such a portrait was sculpted in a park or what it depicted but I was really upset by the scene. We decided to return to the station without further exploration.

On the River Torne

2006-11-16T16:54:00.001-08:00

We reached Kiruna around 8p.m. and we took a cab to our guesthouse. The next morning, we walked into town to explore the cheapest way of travel to the ice hotel. There was hardly a shop opened. It was Christmas Eve. We found one florist shop open and which seemed to be doing a reasonably heavy business. We walked in and approached an employee to ask some information on modes of transportation, but she asked us to take a queue number. Swedes are very particular about their queues and numbers. We didn’t want to start off on a bad footing, so we took a queue number and waited patiently. When our turn finally came up, we were told that there were buses to the ice hotel in Jukkasjärvi. They were not very sure about the number, though, but did not think that the buses ran on Christmas Eve. “So, how can we get to the ice hotel? We have come a long way and we don’t want to stay confined within the town”, we asked a bit desperate. “Well, there are the taxis. You can call. Here’s a taxi number. Shall I call one for you?” asked the helpful young shop assistant.

There was a pretty pale pink sky in the background, when we reached the ice hotel. We decided to explore the town while there was still light and besides, we had a long wait till the evening for the aurora and could explore the ice hotel in the afternoon. So, we walked towards an old church that I had marked in the tourist places to visit in Jukkasjärvi. We passed a heritage museum, which looked inviting with chopped wood piled in a corner. Unfortunately, it was closed. My friend was beginning to be testy about everything being closed as I was the one who had made all the travel arrangements and I was just content to walk around Jukkasjärvi and relax in a warm area and later on wait for the aurora. She wanted to see more sites and tourist places. Fortunately the church was open. We walked into the little wooden church which had brightly coloured drawings on its walls and, which was relatively warmer than the outside. (Photo inside church from Focus on Sweden)

Church of Jukkasjärvi - Focus on Sweden

After sitting there for some time, in the silence of the church, we went out and it sure was a beautiful landscape. The church was on the edge of the Torneälven River, or more commonly known as the River Torne, which the founder of the ice hotel was advocating to be added to the World Heritage list.

I stood on the soft snow and looked. Pure white snow. Distant hills. No sound, except for the noise of my breath. Clear, fresh air. The sky had donned a beautiful coat of greenish, red. I took a deep breath. There was a sense of exhilaration within. I could die this minute and be perfectly content. This was paradise. I was standing on top of a frozen river and feeling complete peace of mind and contentment.

P.S: The photos taken on River Torne and the house in Jukkasjarvi, in this post and of the ice scuplture and snow carving in the next post, was really beautiful when developed five years ago, but the digital scanning of the negatives seems to have resulted in a deterioration of the quality of the photo. Anyway, the memory remains..

Ice hotel

2006-11-16T16:50:00.000-08:00

Then the cold got to me. The freezing cold crept in and all I wanted to do was to get to a relatively warmer spot. We turned back and bought some lunch at a supermarket still open and walked back to the ice hotel. The cozy wooden, reception cabin, which lodged the office, ticket counter and souvenir shop, became our pit stop for the day. After lunch, we decided to explore the ice hotel. It was dark outside and we walked towards the entrance of the ice hotel, a modest door covered by reindeer skin. The adjoining chapel door opened and a wedding party burst out. It was a beautiful sight. The bride in a beautiful white gown with the groom and best man on either side in black coats and fur caps. We learnt that this was the first wedding of the season as the chapel had just been completed. The temperature was dropping to -30 outside and we felt too cold to enjoy the sight for long and walked into the ice hotel. There was a small reception desk within the entrance. There was a couple of hotel staff at the entrance acting as guides. We decided to request one of them to show us around.

It was around -5 inside the hotel but much warmer than the outside air. We walked down the passage flanked by ice pillars, over the snow floor and were shown the gallery of ice sculptures. The theme that year had been family. Our guide, who was a student, was working at the hotel for the second consecutive year. She said that each year, ice-artists from all over the world were invited to work on the hotel. Each artist was given his or her own room to work on. We saw the globe room with the round ice bed at the centre and two ice steps leading up to the bed with lighted candle holders all around. “How can anyone sleep on ice? Wouldn’t it melt because of the warmth of the body?”, we wondered out aloud. We were told that guests were given special thermal clothing and sleeping bags and warm reindeer skin blankets and that the beds were not totally made of ice. The base had a wooden contraption to hold the structure together which provided more warmth than sleeping on a snow floor.

We saw the conference room. A rectangular ice table with six high chairs around it and a huge chandelier above. The room was well-lit by the exquisitely carved ice chandelier. We were impressed. With the warmth from the light, how can the ice not melt? We were told that optic fibre lights were used, instead of normal bulbs, which prevented or at least reduced the melting of the ice. We sat at the conference table to take a picture for memory and my jacket was a little wet when I rose, from the melting of my seat. There was even a comfy corner in front of a fire place. Two ice chairs had been placed in front of an ice fire place and a red fire glowed in its fenders. We looked again. It was again the optic fibre light covered in red, simulating the fire. We moved onto the suites: the Royal Viking suite. Costing more than 5000 Swedish Kroners per night to sleep in, it had a mini Viking ship carved out of ice in its centre with the bed in its body. An ice rune stone added to the furnishings of the suite. Various ice sculptures adorned the snow walls. We were taken to the ice bar and having come to the end of our tour, our guide left us. The ice bar was in the middle of a round room with low seating places all around, covered by reindeer skin. Guests were served alcohol in ice glasses. Being non-alcoholic, we chose orange juice instead.

We were thankful for our warm beds waiting within solid wooden walls and a central heating system back in the town of Kiruna. Nonetheless, the ice hotel, which was built fresh from ice blocks cut from the River Torne and which melted and re-joined the waters of the river every summer, was an amazing fete of sculpture and definitely an experience worth visiting.

We returned to our pit stop: the wooden reception cabin. There was a coffee machine there and we gratefully had a sip of hot Gevalia coffee.

After resting a bit, we decided it was time for our aurora watch. As we went out, we saw people rush out of little, steamy wooden huts opposite the reception cabin, screaming and running for a hole in the ice and jumping into it. We were astonished though we knew Scandinavians were fond of their saunas. To go out into the extreme cold needed mental disciplining. To run out and jump into the freezing cold water naked was suicidal, we felt. Especially after sitting in a stuffy, steaming room. But, apparently the jumpers seemed to be in a euphoric state. We learnt that the experience costs nearly 1000Kr. To pay to jump into a hole in the ice. It makes you wonder at times.

Waiting for the aurora

2006-11-16T16:47:00.001-08:00

We walked down past the ice hotel to the River Torne and waited. It was past 6p.m. and pitch dark. We wondered which direction in the sky we should observe. There was a faint orangish glow in one horizon, in the direction of the town of Kiruna. My friend was sure that the aurora display would be on that part of the sky. There were some clouds in the opposite direction to the town. Not a very good news but nonetheless, I was of the opinion that an aurora would start from behind the hills, in the direction perpendicular to the town and the clouds. I had no idea which was north, east, west or south. We waited. My friend started clapping and running about. It was freezing but I was too embarrassed to run about, though there was no-one else besides the two of us on the river. I chose to walk briskly instead. Eventually, the cold got to me and the pain was also exquisite. Despite wearing three pairs of gloves, and clothing and even a face mask and woollen caps, there was a sharp pain in my bones.

After an hour and a half, we couldn’t hold on anymore, we decided to return to the cabin and have a brief rest and hot coffee. We went back and the cabin was really inviting. The tourists, a major part of whom were from the Far East that day, had left on ice hotel arranged guided tours for aurora sightseeing: going on snow mobile rides, having dinner over an open fire and waiting for the aurora.

We sat in a warm corner, had a quick sandwich and coffee and went back. And just in the horizon that I had predicted, we saw thin rays of green light shooting up. My friend was sceptical. She felt it was kids shining green torches at the sky on the eve of Christmas. I did not think so as the lights appeared at random over the entire horizon, some fading away quickly, some staying on for some time, moving a bit. The green was a rich, exotic colour to be the work of human hands. I was convinced this was the beginning of a beautiful display but even after half an hour, nothing further developed. Besides our endurance level had dropped. Where we were able to stay for nearly an hour and a half the first time, we were finding it difficult to cope with half an hour. After 45 minutes in the freezing cold, we returned to our comfort zone. There were fewer people now. In one corner, a wood fire had been set ablaze, glogg and peppar kakor for the visitors was set on a low table. Christmas music was in the air. We decided to try some of the traditional Swedish Christmas drink of mixed spices and wine and the ginger cookies. This time our break extended to an hour simply because it felt good to be sitting by the fire, enjoying a spicy, warming drink.

We checked at the reception desk to see if those who had gone out on the tour had experienced the aurora but they were not able to help us, as they had no phone contact with their guides. Instead, they offered us their update from the Kiruna space station on the plausibility of citing the aurora that day. It was 90%. Precisely the reason why I had chosen that particular weekend to come up north. We went back, confident and refreshed. We were determined that we would not return until we had seen the aurora.

We went back to our aurora watch and scanned the eyes. Neither of us would admit being cold. Nor would we admit that thick clouds had progressed and covered a large part of the sky. The sky in the direction of the hills still had comparatively fewer clouds. We were determined. Nature is neither moved by determination nor will nor by the statistical predictions of a space station. Therefore, despite waiting past midnight, we did not see any aurora display only the development of a dull orangish glow of thick clouds. I had to admit to myself that we were simply not going to see the aurora that night. After holding on stubbornly for some more time in vain hope, we both trudged back to our pit stop. A niggling feeling was in my mind that we might have missed the aurora during our extended break over the glogg and fire. Anyway, we asked the reception desk to call a cab to take us back to town and we waited, a little dejected and sullen.

The next day, we were to experience a 10km. dog-sledge ride through the woods and have a traditional lunch in a traditional Sami hut. Our guide was to pick us up from the guesthouse we were staying at in the town of Kiruna. It was a pretty comfortable guesthouse, with self-catering facilities.

Dog-sled ride

2006-11-16T16:46:00.001-08:00

In the morning, we got up looking forward to the dog-sledge ride. The guide came in his van to pick us up. The van had a trailer attached to its back. Barking could be heard from within. So the dogs had already been brought along. I realised I wouldn’t get the chance to see the cute Siberian Husky puppies, shown on the guide’s webpage. There were also four other tourists, who were from Netherlands.

We drove for quite some time and as we left the town behind, the dogs started howling with excitement. When the van stopped at Kurravaara, they were beside themselves. The guide got out and handed us our thermal suits. We had opted to use the guide’s suits as our winter jacket felt a bit mushy from the previous day’s adventure out in the cold. The bright orange suits seemed flimsy and smelly and I felt that I was better off in my old jacket but there was no time to change back. The guide was letting the dogs out of their cages to be harnessed to the sledge and was deciding on the order that the dogs would follow for the day and he was handing out a dog to each person to handle. We were told to hold on to the dogs no matter what. All were whining and barking behind their cages. One cage door was opened and out flew my dog. There was no leash and I had to hold onto the collar. My dog was too spirited to be confined by the hand of a stranger. It flew off down the road, with me running to keep up and shouting for it to stop. I finally managed to pull the collar up a bit and the dog suddenly stopped and of course, I fell down into the snow. This amused my dog and he or she thought I was playing and started to play, jumping and trying to bite me, albeit playfully. One of the Dutch tourists came to my aid. I was very much embarrassed because everyone else had their dogs calm and quietly by their sides.

The dogs were then harnessed to the sledge. We were told that we had to win the dogs’ respect by showing them who was in control and if that key message is missing, the ride would turn out a total disaster. Two of the Dutch tourists had requested to ride their own sled, while the rest of us had opted for the guide’s sledge. We were not too confident of our mastery over the dogs. Least of all me. For the benefit of the two adventurous sledge-riders and for our general knowledge, the guide took us through the basic points of dog-sledge rides.

• Always use a tone that is friendly but firm.
Never be harsh. You wouldn’t like to be ordered about, would you? So wouldn’t the dogs. Never be too soft, either. Dogs spot weaknesses and if they think you are too pliable, they will lose respect for you and will not listen to your command.

• Always reward them with an encouraging word, after they have followed a command.
You like to be recognized for a job well done. So do they.

• Always acknowledge the leader of the pack.
Egos are fragile. If you disregard the leader, the rest of the dogs will follow suit. And, then your team will disintegrate and that’s the end of a ride.

• Always act upon perceived misdemeanour.
If you see a dog disrupting the team movement or trying to incite another dog, act upon it immediately. Make the whole team stop. Give a word of warning to the disruptive dog. If you let it pass, the dog will perceive your move as acceptance and continue disrupting and this may erupt in total mayhem.

With these words of wisdom, we began our ride. I can only describe the movement as akin to a roller coaster ride. Apart from the numb sensation that I felt in my entire body and icicles forming near my nose and mouth, I only recall a mad dashing through snow-covered woods, too fast to enjoy the beauty of the landscape and too cold to enjoy the ride. I only wished we would reach the hut quicker. My head had begun to hurt. I guess I have low levels of tolerance for the arctic cold or I was not warmly dressed. Finally, the sled stopped. To my dismay, I saw no hut but an expanse of snow all around. Were we going to have lunch in the open? I could not stand another moment in the cold.

At the Sami hut

2006-11-16T16:44:00.000-08:00

The guide told us that this was as far as the dogs would take us. From here, we would continue on our own to the hut. What about the dogs? We were going to tether the dogs to a rope nailed in the snow. The dogs were tired so it was easier tethering them to the rope. The guide had dug a small hole in the snow in front of each dog and we were asked to pour the contents of a bowl, filled with dog food, into the hole in front of each. After feeding the dogs, we walked on, until we came to a little river. Actually, it was a big river: the River Torne but we were walking over its frozen parts. The hut was on the other side of the river. How were we going to get across? The guide pointed to a small dinghy, covered by snow. He un-tethered it and pushed it slowly to the edge of the flowing river. Slowly he lowered himself in and taking three people at a time with him, he paddled to the other end and back. The other end seemed like a small island. It had trees beautifully covered with snow. There was snow all around. Our feet buried itself in the soft snow and we smudged our way through the woods and reached a tiny hut, made out of what looked like roots. Circular in shape and having a conical roof. This, our guide informed us was the traditional Sami hut, made of birch poles and covered with sod, and there we would be having our lunch. We could either have a nice walk and explore our surroundings and come back for lunch, or sit in the hut while he cooked lunch. The four Dutch tourists immediately set off. My travel partner and I were simply too cold and so we went into the hut with the guide. It was dark inside and I put my foot down and stumbled headlong into the tiny room. I had missed the step. A dirty looking bed occupied a narrow space. We walked past the bedroom, into another small space that constituted of the dining room. It had a small wooden table against the wall and two wooden benches on either side. A candle holder stood on a wooden stand in the middle. There were a couple of books on a tiny wooden bookshelf.

Our guide offered to make us some hot tea and we gladly acquiesced. He went into the kitchen, adjacent to the dining area and lit the small stove and boiled some water. We sat on a wooden bench leaning against the birch poles holding up the roof. He measured some tea leaves into a pot and placed two large wooden mugs in front of us. When the water had boiled, he poured the water into the pot and brought the pot to the table and poured us some tea. Then he returned to his cooking and pulled out a sack and took out some potatoes. From another huge brown bag, he measured out some dark nuggets. We asked him what it was. Smoked reindeer meat. It was the Sami staple food. Our guide informed us that it was a banned delicacy and could not be exported out of Lapland. As the reindeers were dwindling in population, they could only be consumed by the locals. I thought of Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, my first introduction to a reindeer in my childhood and here I was going to have its meat for lunch. My inclination for vegetarian food aside, I was not comfortable with trying out the meat of a large animal and that too, a reindeer and Santa Claus’ friends. He started cooking and the warmth of the stove and the smell of spices made us feel really comfortable and pretty hungry soon.

The group from Netherlands returned from their walk and we chatted over boiled potatoes, eaten with reindeer meat and gravy in little wooden bowls and hot, steaming cups of tea. Our aurora watch, the previous night, was heard with much interest by our new acquaintances and they decided to look out for the aurora during their visit to the ice hotel that evening. They were planning on staying overnight at the ice hotel. It was a pleasant lunch and we were loath to end our conversation. We were talking about the observed calmness in people living towards the North Pole and the relative hot-tempers of the people living close to the equator. I felt it was related to the absence or presence of the sun. Too little sun and people’s feelings became too frozen to react and boiling temperatures brought them on the edge of patience. The guide decided it was time for us to return.

A friend in need...

2006-11-16T16:41:00.000-08:00

When we approached the other side of the bank, we heard the howls of the dogs who anticipated our approach. I felt really sorry for them. To wait in the cold and not to be able to run about even to be warm. They were yelping and whining when we reached them. We were asked to help un-tether the dogs and harness them to the sledge. As we approached the dogs, they wagged their tails so much and were very glad to see us. I guess the long wait in the cold had curbed their exuberance and all they wanted to do was go home and rest. The ride back was even colder than the morning. It was pitch dark when we reached the van. Everyone quickly removed the borrowed thermal clothing and got into their respective jackets which were left in the van. I removed my gloves to unzip my thermal suit but my fingers quickly froze. My teeth were chattering and I was practically shivering like a leaf. To make it worse, the zipper got stuck. I was dismayed and asked my travel partner to help me out. She, on the other hand, decided it was enough cold that she could stand and got into the van and with the others. The guide was finishing loading up the dogs and was getting into the van. I was nearly in tears and felt really helpless.

One of the Dutch tourists, maybe the same one who had helped me in the morning with the dog, got out of the van and in a calm voice, asked me to relax and be patient, and helped me with the zipper. I was very much touched. I did feel silly not being able to undo a zipper but when someone voluntarily helps you out in your moment of distress, his or her kindness touches you to the core.

We parted at our guesthouse and bid farewell. As we were travelling back by train to Stockholm that evening itself, the guide offered to drop us at the station. My quest had not been met with success and my friend had not visited the tourist places she had heard other travellers speak of during the two days in Kiruna: the mining place, the space station etc, which left her disgruntled with my travel planning. With mixed feelings my travel partner and I returned to Stockholm and our respective lives. The importance of the need for a good travel partner firmly etched in our minds.

Postscript:
A year later just a couple of days before Christmas, I sat at my window, absentmindedly contemplating the church opposite my apartment in Stockholm. It was around 9p.m. and I had my room lights switched off. Suddenly, my thoughts became concentrated by movement over the tiny rock formation beyond the church. My eyes focused and I held my breath. Rapid movement of green light went across the sky. Beginning as a circular green ball and moving across the sky as if it had been flung out. The intensity started increasing and then there rays of green aurora in the sky. Finally, there was a dullish green glow left in the sky for a long time – a reminder that an amazing event had just taken place in the past hour.

Golden Triangle Trip

2006-11-08T08:09:00.000-08:00

India had always been my first country of choice for exploration and travel and I have always wished to explore each nook and corner. I had lived in Chennai in my childhood but had been confined to my immediate school and home neighbourhood. So I finally decided to go on my first holiday after two years of intensive work and extensive medical leave to the North of India.

Not being as physically fit as I used to be, I chose the comforts of a private car and driver and pre-arranged hotels, through Indian Horizons aka Flexi tours. I definitely recommend this option for first time travellers to the North of India, as otherwise you may be overwhelmed with the task of finding transport and appropriate hotels. And, I found the package price (US $500 per person which included for all 8 days of the travel: an a/c car with driver and guide, 3 star hotel accommodation on b&b basis, entrance fees to sites agreed upon, all taxes) offered by Flexi tours comparatively cheaper than what I would have spent arranging the trip. The airfare from Udaipur to Delhi cost us USD 135 per person extra, as we had requested that we wanted to travel back to Delhi by air to reduce the time spent in driving back, which we could utilize for shopping in Delhi.

We travelled with Air Sahara to Delhi on Oct 21st via Chennai. At Chennai, even for the transit, we had to check out with our baggage, clear immigrations and walk from the international terminal to the domestic terminal. It is a slightly confusing procedure as you come out to the road and seeing the people waiting to receive their friends and families, you feel that you have come out by the wrong exit, until you learn that it is correct and you have to walk all the way to the domestic terminal and repeat the entire process of checking in: registering baggage and security check etc. The flight itself was okay and as it was Diwali, we were served some nice 'mithai'.

In Delhi, we were met by a representative from Flexi tours and the driver, Dev (who was going to take us on our holiday). We passed a nice monument on our way to Hotel Broadway: a procession of statues of India's founding leaders starting with Mahatma Gandhi, followed by Kasturbai Gandhi and Nehru et al.

Our room at Hotel Broadway, room no 46 was decorated by Catherine Levy, a parisian-based lifestyle decor artist. The room has some very interesting decor: a unique ceiling painted like a roulette table and the fan with the words 'Measure your luck' to indicate the percentage of luck where the fan points to when you stop it. A steel cupboard, probably a food storage container converted to a wardrobe was between the writing table and sofa. It had a small TV covered with bright floral cloth atop it. A small radio was fitted on the wall above the writing table and had strobe lights fitted in for dance floor effects. The writing table was a small canteen table and its chair, a small barber's chair. A blue painted sofa with bright red and yellow birds stitched on it and a low nursery table was placed on one end. The bedside lamps were an optician's rectangular eye testing lamps with the testing alphabets on its screens. The walls were painted in green with red lines going in the middle. There was no differentiation between the walls and the door. Christmas bulbs decorated the window overlooking a mosque. The bathroom was a bright blue-tiled room with tiles of different places around the world (Eiffel Tower, Swiss alps etc) interspersed. Near the sink, were some beautiful tiles of Indian villages.

Room no 46 was truly a unique room and which had a personal touch which we enjoyed a lot. I was disappointed that we were not given the same room but a blander, normal room on our last night in Delhi on the 27th, when we returned from the Rajasthan and Agra tour.

Delhi

2006-11-08T08:08:00.000-08:00

Our first afternoon in Delhi was basically a drive through different parts of the city.

Of those in my memory now is Chanakyapuri, the diplomatic region of New Delhi. It impressed me as I have not seen such a separate beautiful enclave of embassies and diplomatic residences along a tree-lined well-maintained avenue, even though I have lived most of my life in embassy settings in different countries. Of course, a friend of mine who had lived in the residential quarter of the Sri Lankan embassy in Kautilya Marg complained that life was constrained as all the people who worked together in the day were living in the same building, thus privacy or space was not there. Guess it depends on the angle from which one looks. The road certainly looked good when driving past and reminded me of Corniche beach.

Our guide, a student of Russian studies at JNU, took us to the Red Fort and Jama Masjid but advised us against going inside, as it would be too crowded. Being our first day and a little tired from the flight to Delhi, we agreed and took photos from outside, while the guide told us about the mutiny of 1857 and the capture of Bahadur Shah at the Red Fort, which was now mainly an army residence.

We went to the India gate, a first world war monument built in memory of the more than 90,000 Indian soldiers who died in the war. The names and regiment of the dead were carved into the stones. We were told that due to security reasons a safety fence had been put up around the monument and now no-one could go near the walls. It was while at the India gate that a woman approached us and loudly wished us 'Happy Diwali' and pinned an Indian flag on me. I was taken aback but wished her back and was about to move on, when she demanded a donation for the children's school which she said she was collecting money for. It was our first introduction to the aggressive and bold side of North India.

From the India gate, one could see the Rashtrapati Bhawan and the Parliament House. We were told that both the President's palace and the India Gate were built in perfect alignment and that they were of the same height of 42.5m. The Parliament house were two identical buildings on either side of the road leading to the President's palace.

Then, we went to the highlight of the evening, which was my specifically requested priority site: RajGhat, the place where Mahatma Gandhi was cremated. The park was very nicely maintained and was a peaceful place with a memorial in the middle which had a burning lamp above it. We bought some bright marigold flowers at the entrance and placed it at the samadhi. The road leading to RajGhat was lined with the resting places for each of the famous family members of India's leading family, starting with Nehru, Indira Gandhi and Rajiv Gandhi (Vir Bhoomi).

We passed a malai mandir (Murugan koyil) and our guide asked if we would like to visit it as it was a temple built by the Tamil society in Delhi but unfortunately, it was closed at that time of the day.

We concluded our tour for the day with an Indian mini-thali meal at Udupi Vegetarian Restaurant in Patparganj in New Delhi.

Do rupiah se kahani

2006-11-08T08:06:00.000-08:00

In the evening, after we were dropped back at our hotel on Asaf Ali Road, we decided to go for a short walk exploring the neighbourhood. We discovered that the Delhi gate bazaar was just next door and we started walking through the maze of tiny crowded and colourful street filled with bright-coloured clothes, sweet shops filled with fly-ridden sweets, food carts selling pani puri, odds and ends shops selling gifts and souvenirs etc. My mother asked me if I had any small change and I gave her the ten rupee note that I had on me.

My mother is usually the one who does the shopping or the spending at home but on this trip, as we were warned against pickpockets, I was the one carrying the loose change.

When I gave her the ten rupee note, she was like a child with her first ten - rupee note at her first carnival. She happily bought an incense stick box and a packet of chips (for 8 rupees) and was left with a 2 rupee coin, which she was determined to spend at the bazaar. We were walking further down the bazaar, when we saw an apple cart and she decided to spend her 2 rupee coin buying an apple. The apple-seller said that one apple was 3 rupees and she said 'nahi, do rupees'. She was looking at an apple, when she suddenly started taking apple after apple in one spot of the cart and putting it aside. The apple-cart owner was getting angry and he started grumbling about it and I was becoming really embarassed. I told her to take just one apple, when my mother simply ignored me and kept digging further into the cart. The only thing she would tell was "do rupees". When all of us had reached our patience end, she gleefully picked up her two rupee coin which had fallen into the cart when she had been about to choose an apple in the beginning. Because her command of hindi had been limited, she had not bothered to explain but had simply said 'do rupees' earlier. I was really mad with her for making a fuss over a two rupee coin and scolded her on our way back, which ended with her crying and me feeling miserable that I had been harsh with her.

Anyway, in retrospective, it was a funny moment and I am always amazed at my mother's ability to experience a child's delight in simple things.

Monkey business in Agra

2006-11-08T08:05:00.000-08:00

After breakfast at the hotel, where the breakfast was laid out on an antique red car, we set off around 8a.m. for Agra. We asked Dev to put on some music. He asked, "Indian Mujik or Western?" We said "Indian" and he put the cassette of Fanaa. When the song "Subhaanalla" came up, he said that it was his favourite song and during our week that was a song that was frequently played.

We passed by roads waking up to a fresh day. Barbers shaving heads of clients on chairs set up under trees, street food sellers cooking up breakfast at their mobile carts and serving busy local customers off to work who ate standing at the cart itself.

As we passed through Haryana, Dev proudly mentioned the fact that he was originally from Haryana and that it was mainly an industrial city, with lots of factories. He put for us some Haryali music and asked if we liked it.

The tour agent had originally suggested that we go directly to Agra to the Taj Mahal but I had specially requested a detour that took us via Vrindavan and Mathura. When I mentioned it to the driver, he said, "No. We go direct to Agra. Mathura, too long." I said that it was in the agreed upon itinerary. He then took out the itinerary given him and read through it and then he looked up and said, "Sorry. Mistake. You are right. We go to Vrindavan, then Mathura. Mathura is birthplace of Lord Krishna." He asked us who our main God was. This is a question that is often asked amongst Hindus and which I have difficulty answering but I decided to reply 'Shiva', as in Sri Lanka, most hindus were saivites - the branch that considers Lord Shiva as the supreme God. From then on, whenever we came across a Shiva temple, Dev would point it out for us.

As we approached the Uttar Pradesh border, Dev told us that he would be getting down to pay the state entrance tax and for us to keep our doors locked as there were very aggressive local touts. We kept his advice until a man with a cute baby monkey came by. He asked us if we would like to take a photo of the monkey. I hesitated and he said, "No money. You take photo." The baby monkey came onto the window and held out its hand. So, I took out my camera. Meantime, another man joined with a bigger monkey and they said, take a photo of them both together: mother and child. As the glass of the window was an obstacle, I slightly lowered the window and took the picture. As soon as I had clicked the picture, the man put his hand on the window, preventing me from closing the window and said '200 Rs. 2 monkeys - 100 one monkey'. I was about to say that he had said that it was free earlier but then I thought my best option was to close the window first. I said, 'okay, okay, take off your hand first' and took out a 10 rupee note and gave it to him. He grabbed it and I took the opportunity to close the window halfway. But, he was quick and put back his hand in the niche that I had not succeeded in completely closing. 'For other monkey?' he demanded. I took out another 10 rupee note and pushed it through while quickly closing the window completely.

It was a good lesson for us. We realised the value of Dev's advice and were glad that we had not opened our doors and gone out for stretching our legs. We saw that two girls had got out of the tourist car parked in front and were taking a photo of a parked decorated truck with the truck driver. They were also swarmed with demands of money at the end of the photo shoot.

Anyone going to India, but especially Uttar Pradesh and Agra, be warned, "Don't take photos of people and their pets or vehicles. You will be fleeced. Only take photos of what is naturally and freely there - monkeys roaming free in a park etc."

Krishna and Vrindavan

2006-11-08T08:04:00.000-08:00

We stopped at the Rajasthan Motel on the way and had some hot masala chai and butter naan, before moving on to Vrindavan. Passing Radhapuram, we came across lots of cows lazily sitting along the sides of the road. My mother was highly pleased as the Krishna myth entails him growing up as cowherder in Vrindavan.

We were close approaching Vrindavan, when Dev again warned us to keep our doors locked and not to open it for anything. The road was blocked and a small tax booth was set up and Dev lowered his window to pay the toll fee. Immediately, people swarmed the window and started offering us their services as guide around Vrindavan from 31 rupees upwards. Dev responded saying that we did not understand Hindi but they switched to broken English. It was frightening, especially, when some of the more aggressive ones tried to open the doors of the car on all sides. They refused to open the gates without taking one of their guides with us. Finally, Dev shouted back at them and asked whether they were going to accept the toll fee or not and one of them accepted the money and returned a ticket and another opened the gate for us to pass. As we passed through, we saw that one of the local guides was following us on his motorbike. Dev then gave instructions: he said he would stop at the entrance of the main Krishna temple and for us to go immediately inside, pray and come out in exactly 10 minutes to the opposite side of the road, where he would bring the car to pick us up again.

Thoroughly scared that our motorbike follower was going to harass us again, we quickly entered the temple. The temple was a lovely place and had a calm atmosphere, even though it was a festival day, a special puja for Krishna called Govardhan the day after Diwali. A very low door where we had to go through in a queue led to the main temple, inside which there was a courtyard in the middle with a landscape being created out of sweets in the middle. The area was cordoned off and we saw kids hanging out at the edge, looking longingly at the sweets, which would probably be given them at the end as prasadham.

We followed the line of devotees who were making their way towards the main shrine, where the puja was taking place. We could not stand long in one place as there was a massive crowd making their way in and we had to go out along with the moving queue. There were many devotees from the West, in Indian clothes and shaved heads.

We hurriedly went out at the end of our 15 minutes and saw our driver, waiting for us and we quickly got into the car, as a young boy - an upcoming local guide started to ask whether he could show us another famous temple in Vrindavan. We firmly refused and Dev started up the car. At the gates which led out of Vrindavan, we were again stopped by the local on the motorbike, who demanded our driver to give him his name and mobile number. Our driver confidently gave his name and number, to our surprise. The local was satisfied and let us pass through.

We asked Dev why he had done that and wouldn't he be troubled thereafter by that local. He smiled and said, 'Correct name, wrong number. He is happy, so no harm.'

Vrindavan was awash with temples for Lord Krishna and almost every place was called Krishna something. Krishna had become the business norm of today's world where the local residents depended on Krishna tourism for their living.

Next, we went to Mathura, to the place where Krishna was said to have been born. A prison cell, which was converted to a temple. Now, a mosque and a temple stood side by side. As we approached close to the place, we observed a long queue waiting to go in. There must have been more than 1000 in the queue. We did not have the time to wait in such a long queue to get inside so Dev suggested that he would drive around the place, so that we could have an outside view. We were a little disappointed but knew that we had to move on.

Sikandara

2006-11-08T08:03:00.000-08:00

We were to visit another site, before reaching Agra. The place was Sikandara, the resting place for Emperor Akbar. The mausoleum was a beautiful red sandstone architecture in the middle of a well-maintained lawn which had deers roaming in the park. We walked into the tomb, after removing our shoes at the entrance. It was a dark passage and we followed some other tourists going inside. The passage became darker and darker as we went further inside and we were a bit uncomfortable. We reached the inner tomb, where Akbar was buried and it was pitch black. I admit both of us felt scared. I don't know why but the place felt as if there was a lingering presence. We decided that we would turn back without going around the tomb. As we turned, a loud out-of-the earth voice called out 'Allah-u-akbar'. We stopped in our tracks, stunned. Though I reasoned out that there must be a recorded voice activated by someone stepping over some particular stone or touching a wall, it felt unearthly. There, we were fleeing the tomb of Akbar the Great, scared of ghosts and a voice tells us that 'God is great' and is omnipresent.

Our fear relieved, we took a nice walk around the premises. There certainly is an atmosphere of calm in that place and more importantly, the feeling of some being present in that tomb. I recalled from my history lessons as a child, that Akbar was renowned for his generosity and his just attitudes towards his subjects. I decided that I liked best Sikandara from all the places I had seen upto then in the two days we had been in North India.

Agra Fort

2006-11-08T08:02:00.000-08:00

We entered Agra and drove past some heavily wooded area, which was a nature reserve park. Low red walls were on either sides of the road and through the woods, we espied the river and a miniature monument on its banks. Dev told us that it was the Baby Taj, which was an earlier version of the more famous Taj Mahal.

After checking in at Hotel Amar, the local agent arranged by our tour operator introduced us to our guide for the afternoon. The guide took us first to the Agra Fort, which was started by Akbar and completed by Shah Jahan. Only 25% of the fort was open to the public, as the remaining was being used by the Indian army. We walked through a doorway into the courtyard, where the Emperor used to hear the public's grievances. In the middle of the courtyard, oddly, was an open tomb, unlike the usual closed tomb of the Mughal. The guide explained that it was a more recent tomb of a British General who had been killed during the mutiny and had been buried in the middle of the courtyard. Beyond the courtyard, over the walls, a mosque was visible but it was closed to the public.

We walked inside and entered the harem, where nearly 5000 women had resided in tiny cramped rooms. Though the living quarters were tiny, they opened onto a nice courtyard with a fountain in the middle. The courtyard had been used for growing grapes for wine. And, the dancers performed infront of the fountain, while Shah Jahan watched from his rooms at one end. On either side of his rooms, he had built two identical apartments for his eldest daughter and youngest daughter. The difference between the apartments was that the eldest daughter's rooms were built in pure marble whereas the youngest daughter's was not. Shah Jahan's rooms had a lovely view of River Yamuna and the Taj Mahal. It was in these rooms that he had been imprisoned till his death by his son Aurangzeb, during the latter part of his life.

We walked into the next section which was built by his father. Jehangir's section had a more South Indian influence to its architecture and he was more fond of red sandstone as his son was of marble. His harem opened into a courtyard with a pool in the middle. There were two identical rooms with a window opening onto the courtyard on either side. The guide told us they had been the rooms of his Hindu and Muslim wife and that it was built so that Jehangir could look at his wives, while he sat in the courtyard, enjoying the dances. The inner harem had two sets of apartments on either side. One side had windows, while the other didn't. They were supposed to be the summer and winter palaces respectively. For such a huge fort, it was amazing that the living quarters were so cramped and most ironically, each set of apartments had a name ending with a 'mahal' or palace.

Doing the Taj?

2006-11-08T08:00:00.000-08:00

We were allowed to drive only upto the parking area. As the Taj Mahal was a considerable distance away, the guide arranged for a horse-cart/ tonga to take us closer. It was funny sitting at the back of a small horse cart and going past really stinking roads. We still had to walk some 500 m or so, as the horse cart was not allowed beyond that point.

We walked along the dirty road, on either side of which stalls selling food or souvenirs were lined up. I saw a board announcing 'Hotel Sheela'. I recalled that this was the name of the only hotel recommended by a guide-book from the eateries in the Taj East Ganj. I wondered how anyone would feel like eating anywhere along that road.

The guide went to pay our entrance fees and he came back with the free bottles of water and shoe covers, as inside the tomb, shoes were not allowed. We refused the water as we were being strict about buying our own bottles of Bisleri or Aqua Fina water from shops, as we had read so much about the negative effects that people had drinking water from public areas. Then, we went through the security checks at the entrance. I had also read travel reviews where visitors had been forced to leave behind their bags at the entrance. So, we had taken the precaution of only taking our camera with us. Passing the security, we entered the Taj through the Eastern Gate into a courtyard where four gates faced each other. Each Gate in the days of old were used as an entrance for different purposes. One for the Emperor and Royal Dignitaries, the other for the public etc. All had to enter the Taj through the main North Gate.

As I approached the Northern Gate, my anticipation of a treat increased but our guide decided to stop at a point and explain the intricacies of the construction of the doorway, the marble used, the colours and text inscribed etc. As soon as he was done, men with photo albums swarmed us and began talking with the guide. Finally, he requested us to speak to one of them. As it was his request, we agreed. The man offered to take one photo of us with the Taj for 100 Rs. After our experience in Vrindavan, we were careful about speaking to sellers at tourist sites but as the guide had referred him, I thought the photographer must be really good and as I didn't know whether I could rely on my unpredictable camera for a good shot, I nodded. Our guide suddenly spoke up and said it was '1,200 rupees' and as we looked surprised, he explained that the photos came at a package price - 12 photos for 1,200. We firmly refused and proceeded onward, with all the photographers swarming us and offering various packages and going down on the number of photos they were willing to consider as a package. Now, that we had refused, the guide supported us by firmly telling the touts to leave us alone. He said that these people were charging a lot for photos we could take ourselves. We were annoyed with him and asked him why he had referred a photographer to us if he knew this. He replied that he could not know whether we would be interested in something or not and that as they approached him, he could only give them the chance of speaking to his clients and leave it to the clients to make their own decisions. Our mood spoilt, we walked fast through the doorway trying to leave behind all the various sellers. And, there we were at the famous spot where the Taj has been photographed a countless times and I did not feel anything. The crowds were distracting and I think it was more of a reaction to the environment that I had the feeling, 'okay, let's go quickly around and get this over with and return to our car'.

We started walking closer to the Taj and the guide stopped at different points and would narrate stories. One particularly long story was the meeting of Shah Jahan and Arjumand Banu Begum. I don't know to what extent it is true especially the ages quoted was unbelievable but the guide's version was that Arjumand Banu Begum was not a royal lady but a saleswoman in the royal bazaar, where the royal ladies came to shop. Shah Jahan, at the age of 13, had been curious about looking at what was going on in this bazaar and decided to wear a burqah and go to the bazaar. As he looked around, he was suddenly struck by a woman selling crystal sugar and had fallen instantaneously in love. When she noticed him, she ahd asked whether he wanted to buy anything and he had kept silent. After repeatedly asking, she had become angry and asked him to move on and then he had revealed that he was the future heir to the throne. He had gone back to his father, Jehangir and told him that he wanted to marry the woman in the bazaar. His father had not accepted it and Shah Jahan had rebelled by fasting for several days, until his father relented and agreed to accept the marriage but only after five years. By the time, Shah Jahan finally married Arjumand Banu Begum, he had already married two wives but she remained his favourite accompanying him on all his military campaigns, until her death at the age of 30 during the birth of their daughter, her 14th child.

As we walked closer to the humungous marble structure, I must admit there was a certain beauty about the whole architecture that was very appealing. The longer you looked at some face of Taj Mahal, the more likely you were going to find it attractive. Unfortunately, the rain clouds started drawing up and there was a strong draft. our guide said that we should hurry into the tomb, after wearing our shoe covers, so that we would escape the rains. We hurried up the steps and into the tomb, following a long queue. Inside the tomb, where we could barely see, the guide pointed out the design of the resting place of Arjumand Banu Begum (a slate considered feminine) and that of Shah Jahan, (pen-box, supposedly masculine), beside it. We came out and walked along the outer part of the tomb and came to the face overlooking River Yamuna. The guide pointed out the ruins of the foundations that had been laid by Shah Jahan, for his own mausoleum - the Black Taj but which his son had refused to build for him and instead squeezed him into his wife's tomb. I can imagine it must have been a scandal amongst the Mughals because they seemed to have been so concerned about symmetry and perfect alignment. The fountains were supposed to be perfectly aligned to the tomb of Mumtaz Mahal etc. We sat for a few minutes resting on the steps and then decided to turn back. As we neared the security gates, the rain poured. We took cover until the downpour stopped.

P.S: For an interesting article on Jahanara Begum, the daughter of Shah Jahan and Arjumand Banu Begum, please read here. This story mentions that Arjumand Banu Begum was the niece of Nur Jahan, Shah Jahan's step-mother and that the two had met at the Royal Bazaar, a nine-day festival amongst the royal members where the harem women would set up stalls and sell things. This was the rare occassions when the women of the harem were allowed to interact with men. In this article also, it mentions that Shah Jahan at the age of 20 met Arjumand Banu Begum, who was 14, and he married her as his third but favourite wife.

Shopping on tours

2006-11-08T07:59:00.000-08:00

In Delhi, our guide had asked us if we wanted to have a look at some good Indian clothes at the end of our tour and we had agreed, as we were interested in buying some casual-wear shalwar khameez suits. He took us to a three storey emporium that was affiliated with the tour company and the stuff there was too pricey. We left without buying anything and decided that we would refuse any shopping offers of the guides in the coming days.

In Agra, at the end of our Taj Mahal tour, we were asked by our Agra guide whether we wanted to go and see some marble inlay work. We immediately refused and said we only needed to make some phone calls, as the receptionist at Hotel Amar had said that it would be INR 95 per minute for a call to Sri Lanka. The guide took us to a ISD booth that his brother ran. The call was really cheap (approx. INR 50 for a 5 mins call to Sri Lanka). After making the calls, we returned to our hotel. The driver asked if we wanted to go to a good vegetarian restaurant for dinner. I had made a list of recommended vegetarian restaurants from the internet and I thought it would be good to make use of the list and see if any of it was as good as it was described. In Agra, I was interested in going to Zorba, the Buddha which was highly recommended for the hygienic maintenance. We agreed to come down at 7p.m.

At 7, when we got into the car, the driver informed us that he would be taking us to a great restaurant called Hotel Priya and on the way, he would stop at his best friend's newly opened marble store. He said we could just have a look, no need to buy anything until and unless we chose to. I found it amusing that we got caught to the trap that we had been trying to avoid. We could have firmly told him 'no' but I told my mother, we would just go in and breeze through the shop and come out. So, we went to the shop the driver took us to. The salespersons started with the huge marble-inlaid tables. We said we were not going to carry it back all the way to Colombo. He said, 'no problem. we can send it by DHL'. We said we were not interested in tables. After looking at smaller pieces of marble inlaid work, which were not really pretty, we said that we did not want to buy anything and left.

I didn't want to go to Priya for dinner but to Zorba but Dev said he didn't know where it was and he said there might be restaurants far off and that he had chosen Priya, as it was the closest to our hotel. So, we ended up going to the place that Dev wanted to take us to and ordered only stuffed parathas and hot coffee, so that we could be sure that the food we ate was properly cooked and would not cause us any after-effects. The stories of Agra tourists ending up in hospitals from food eaten at restaurants recommended by local guides was too close to memory to make us comfortable eating the food, which was anyway not remarkable. The place was a large room, filled with western tourists and not a single Indian to be seen. The service was slow that we decided not to give any tip.

When we returned to the car, Dev asked us 'good dinner?'. We said it was okay but didn't really feel like speaking to him as we strongly felt that we had been tricked. We had begun trusting him on his recommendations, as he had been showing some good sense and concern in advicing us against touts and only stopping at good restaurants for short breaks between travels. I think Dev knew how we felt because from then on he never suggested any dinner or shopping places for the remaining 5 days and left it to the guide to attempt to take us to tour company holdings.

The next morning, he gave me the Delhi mini-guide, as I got into the car. The booklet had a list of sites that could be visited in Delhi, Agra and Jaipur, as well as names of shops and restaurants, including their addresses. I went through it and made note of addresses in Jaipur.

Bhai Dooj

2006-11-08T07:58:00.000-08:00

The next day, we set off at 8.00a.m. for Fatehpur Sikri. Dev had placed some fresh marigold flowers before the tiny shrine of Lord Shiva, that he had on his dashboard. I observed that he had this habit of placing fresh flowers each day and also he always looked as if he had visited a temple in the morning, with the red tikka on his forehead, though I didn't know where he got them as I never observed any temples near the hotels we stayed at.

As we went along the road, we observed rural life, as opposed to the lack of life we saw on the Delhi-Agra highway. Dev suddenly brought our attention to the fact that there were motorbikes passing us on either side and which usually had a man driving a woman in a bright, festive coloured saree carrying a bag in her lap. He said that the women were going for the Bhai Dooj festival. This festival was celebrated two days after Diwali and it was a festival where married sisters visited their brothers on this day and gave him a coconut. Anything else, fruits, sweets etc. was optional and the brother would in return give some donation, according to Dev. He said all the women were going to their brother's houses. And, as we started observing the road more, we indeed found motorbike after motorbike with bright saree clad women carrying bags and sitting behind their husbands. We found it very amusing and would predict what the sister was taking with her and how many days she was going to stay at her childhood home. We were also surprised that all the husbands did not mind taking their wives to their brother's houses and we reasoned that apart from those who were genuinely concerned about the festival or had cordial relations with the in-laws, most in a land where dowry system prevailed, would probably be going for the donation expected from the brother-in-law. My mother was also wondering where the sisters of these husbands would go to but the interesting story found on the web explains that the festival is associated with married sisters visiting their unmarried brothers.

We asked Dev if he was not going to call his sister. He replied, "no, festival for brother. only sister call." He shrugged and added, "here, people celebrate. now modern cities, people don't care"

Honestly, till we reached Jaipur later that evening, we continued seeing brightly clad women on foot, motorbikes, mini-vans carrying bags and going with either their husband and/or children. As we did not stop, I could not take any good photo of the sight and I was also a bit wary of taking pictures of women with their husbands as I didn't know how they would react. At one busy bazaar road that we passed through, I managed to click a few shots from inside the car but they didn't come out well as the window cast a reflection. Anyway, it was one of the memorable moments of the holiday.

Tomb of Salim Chishti

2006-11-08T07:57:00.000-08:00

We reached the ghost city of Fatehpur Sikri and our guide, Lakhan, was waiting for us at the entrance. We had to remove our shoes at the entrance as we were entering the mosque area, open to all public. This public area was not a ghost place but teeming with people, both the local poor residents selling goods in tents set up around the courtyard as well as visiting tourists and pilgrims.

The guide asked us if we would like to stand under the sun or in the shades, while he took some minutes to narrate the story behind Fatehpur Sikri. As it was really hot, we opted for the cool of the building shadows.

The guide told us that a very famous Sufi saint called Salim Chishti was said to have lived here for nearly 350 years but Mohiuddin's and Khan's biographical data places Chisti in the period 1478 - 1572. The story behind Fatehpur Sikri, the city, though was that Emperor Akbar worried that he had no heir to the throne, after several years of marriage, and hearing of the powers of the saint to grant wishes, had visited Sikri and sought his blessings. He had vowed that if he were granted his wish of a child, he would build in Sikri, his second capital, even though he knew it was a desert and had severe water problems.

Soon after his visit, his Hindu wife Jodhabhai - the sister of the Maharaja of Jaipur, bore him a son, Jehangir. And, Akbar kept his promise and built the city where the royal family lived for a couple of years but vacated it soon as water turned out to be a major problem, as everything had to be transported from Agra.

The mosque complex of Fatehpur Sikri consists mainly of the tomb of Salim Chishti and beside it there are burial places of Sufi descendents. The tomb of Salim Chishti is now a famous pilgrimage point for people, irrespective of their faith. The Guide said that the saint was so powerful that any wish made to him at his tomb would be granted. He said we had to place a cloth offering over the tomb, sprinkle rose petals and tie threads for the three wishes allowed us. He warned us that there was a condition that we should not speak of what wish we made to anyone, until and after the wish was fulfilled. Intrigued, we agreed and we were taken to one of the many sellers in the courtyard, selling the cloth for the saint. The man took out some pieces of cloth. We asked the price and he said, "don't worry about price. your needs are important. this cloth is for general life, this beautiful, embroidered cloth is for marriage and children, this cloth has verses from the quran inscribed and is very appropriate for all aspects of life". We asked for the price again for the plainer cloth and he said '1100'. We anyway bought it, after a slight hesitation. The seller seeing that slight hesitation said, "you are only offering 1100 for your wish to be fulfilled, but this money goes for the poor's living. you do a good deed and you get back a good deed".

We got the cloth and bag of rose petals along with three red and yellow threads each and walked to the tomb. The guide said that Akbar had been personally involved in planning the tomb architecture and layout and his personality was seen everywhere. Akbar is said to be the most secular Emperor of India and even the lattices and pillars of the tomb expressed the confluence of all religions: the swastika of the Hindus, the cross of the Christians, the Star of David and so on.

We walked into the inner chamber, where pilgrims were placing their cloth and then went to the window to tie their threads of wishes. We did the same and then the person who was overlooking the tomb, said that we could place any donation for the mosque we felt like near the cloth we had placed, for the children of the area.

We walked out of the inner chamber and walked around the outer chamber. The guide pointed us to a half-door on the side of the tomb. He said that in the past, women had not been allowed to enter through the same front door as men as they were considered inferior and not considered to be of the same mental plane as men. In the tomb of this saint, he said they were allowed to visit but to differentiate their status, they had to come through the side door and they naturally had to bend to enter that purposefully built door so they would be humble when they entered the presence of the great being. They were also only allowed to sit in the outer chamber and not allowed to enter the inner chamber.

For all his secular views and broadmindedness on unity and equality, Akbar did not give women equal, non-discriminatory treatment.

We walked out into the courtyard and took a short walk around. The guide led us to a corner, where they were selling souvenirs made out of marble and other stone. We were shown a small marble work of an elephant inside an elephant and out of courtesy for the nice guide, we bought the elephant.

Akbar's palace

2006-11-08T07:56:00.000-08:00

Adjoining the mosque and the sufi saint's tomb was the palace complex. Akbar's palace was interesting. There were three main houses within the palace: one for each of his three main wives - Jodhabhai from Rajasthan, Mariam from Goa and his Muslim wife. One of Akbar's policy in unifying India was to marry a princess of different states so that he would have that particular region's allegiance. His three main recognized wives were the above mentioned and who were privileged enough to have their own quarters as opposed to the mass harem quarters. Jodhabhai's house had a traditional hindu architecture with places for lamps, worship and a traditional vegetarian kitchen etc. Mariam's house had a chapel and had lots of paintings. Each house though had some mark of all the religions to demonstrate that all religions was accepted, while giving special recognition to each one's particular religion.

A huge courtyard adjoining the harem was where the King entertained and was entertained or had important discussions regarding state issues. The legendary Tansen performed for the Emperor here, while the queen's watched from their specially designed windows in their part of the harem. The platform where Tansen performed is surrounded by water, and was said to have been filled with jasmine and surrounded by lighted lamps during his performance. Akbar was very fond of music and while having given patronage to musicians, Tansen was the only one considered to be one of the nine jewels of his court. The legend has it that fellow musicians jealous of his skill and favour that he had found in Emperor Akbar's court tried to oust him by asking the Emperor to make him sing the Deepak Raga, which if properly sung was thought to cause all things to burn, including the singer. Tansen is said to have sung it and while some stories say he died in the effort, others say that he survived the trial by asking a fellow singer to sing the raga that evoked rains simultaneously.

Across the musician's court, the Panch Mahal or the five storey place was built for the Emperor's pleasure where he could enjoy the moonlight and evening air. The Panchmahal opened onto a huge ludo board carved on the floor and dancing ladies were used as the pawns. Across this game board was located the secret chamber. The chamber, where Akbar gathered his top ministers for secret, urgent consultations on state emergencies. He would sit on the middle suspended in air and his ministers in each of the corners built around the center like a wheel.

This section led into the more public area, the hall of public audience and the courtyard where the public waited to meet the Emperor and state their grievances and where public hearing was held. An elephant was usually kept waiting at these hearings as the worst offenders were sentenced to trampling by an elephant. Emperor Akbar was keen about enforcing his vision of a secular, crime-free unified India.

As we walked out of the public hearing area and towards our car, children flocked us with knick knacks. While we had firmly told adults that we were not interested, we felt sorry for the kids. My mother always wanted to give money whenever any poor women or children approached her, whereas I didn't want to encourage begging or child labour. One of the girls showed a small piece of wire gimmick that we had seen offered at every place that we had visited, "Madam, beautiful piece of work. I made it myself. It can be turned into a basket, a lotus, a lantern etc." My mother asked the child how much it was. "200 rupees", she was quick to respond. We said, "sorry. we don't want it" and moved on. The child then asked, "how much can you give?" The guide then turned and asked us how many we were interested in buying. As there were two girls who had followed us without tiring, we said two. He then told them, "okay. two for twenty. okay?" They said,"okay" and took the twenty rupees given them. I felt both admiration and sadness for their street smartness.

Evening in Jaipur

2006-11-08T07:55:00.000-08:00

We left Fatehpur Sikri and as it was past noon, we stopped on our way for lunch at a restaurant. The place was quite full with travellers. As it was very hot outside and we were both having a headache, we ordered fresh lime and soda which was literally brought to us as such: some freshly squeezed lime and a soda bottle which we had to mix ourselves. For lunch, I had a Rajasthani thali (which had delicious kofta, paneer, cauliflower curry, spinach puree, dhal, curd which was served with some roti and little long-grained rajasthani rice and papadam). My mother decided to go for her favourite naan. Refreshed with the delicious but pricey fare - the thali itself was INR 250, we continued onto our next destination: Jaipur.

The entrance to Jaipur is very interesting. The ruins of the old city greets one and the traveller passes through the winding, narrow streets of deserted houses to enter a busy bazaar road. Our driver, who had a tendency to turn guide abruptly, announced, "Welcome to Jaipur, pink city. All buildings here are pink." We were passing through the bazaar area, where buildings were every colour but pink. We went past more modern roads, filled with various shops from international designer brands to local brands. We passed the famous Lassiwalla shop and I saw "Copper Chimney" and "Dasaprakash", two places which I had shortlisted in my Jaipur list of vegetarian restaurants. We had a good drive through the city and reached our hotel for two days, Hotel Maharani Plaza. From the outside, it looked seedier than the two hotels we had stayed so far and I remembered the original hotel that the tour agent had tried to book for us in Jaipur and Jodhpur had been fully booked and so they had to try other options. We checked in at the hotel and went up to our room, which was at the very end of a long corridor but had a view of a ruined temple next door and a fort in the distance. The room itself was all in maroon and the windows laced with dirt and dust. Surprisingly, however, the bathroom was clean and well-maintained. At Hotel Amar, the room had been tastefully furnished but the bathroom, though reasonably clean, had not been well-maintained. We ordered some hot coffee and the room service was quick but the man must not have had much experience serving, because he kept hovering over the pot and trying to pour us the tea and even when we said we would do it ourselves, poured a cup and gave it to my mother. I was about to have my tea, after sending the man out when the local agent phoned and said that he was waiting downstairs for us and that he would like to have a few minutes so he could discuss our itinerary for the evening and next day. The agent, Eric Williams, asked after our travel and health politely and asked which country I was from. Hearing that I was from Sri Lanka, he mentioned the cricket match that had just taken place in Jaipur and then apologetically added, "My apologies to you that your country lost". I shrugged and said, "well... the home country won, so it is okay", even though I had not followed the cricket match and had only known that Sri Lanka lost when he said it. He agreed enthusiastically and said that the next day would be a full day of sightseeing to the Amer fort and the City palace and Jantar Mantar. And that evening, he had arranged with the guide who would be taking us to take us for drive around the city that evening to drive through Johari Bazaar and also to see the remaining lights put up for the Diwali festival and to the Birla Mandir.

He took leave and I went back to the room, to have my now lukewarm tea. My mother did not want to go out for the evening, after our experience the previous day but I was interested in going out and convinced her, after we agreed to return to the hotel for dinner. We also decided that we would specify our urgent requirements (fruits for my mother, phone call and Ganpathi plaza - I picked out the name and address from the guide book that Dev gave me that morning, as it had a number of clothes shops in the same place) and insist that we were taken to these places first, before we went sightseeing anywhere. There was a knock on the door and the room-service man gave me the bill to sign on. As I turned to take my pen, he came in and went straight for the place where he had left the tray earlier. We got angry and my mother demanded, "what do you want?" He replied, "tray". He took the tray and the signed bill and left. I put all three locks that were on the door. We didn't like that guy one bit and I wouldn't recommend the hotel for lone women travellers. The next day, when we ordered room service, we made it a point to tell the man to put the tray on the little bedside table next to the door and also told that we would be leaving the tray outside the room, after we finished and not to disturb us.

Around 6-6.30p.m., the guide G2 (short for Jeetendra) greeted us at the lobby and upon our insistence that we first be taken to a fruit market, where my mother happily purchased apples and bananas for less than INR 50 and made phone calls home for INR 24. Appeased, we agreed to the guide's suggestion that we go to Birla Mandir first and then go to Ganpathi Plaza.

We drove past the Legislative Assembly and other Government buildings where the lights had not still been removed after the Diwali celebrations. Jaipur seemed a huge city with several well-developed areas. The Birla Mandir looked beautiful in the night. There was a huge traffic, loads of tourist buses were coming out of the mandir. We had to wait a while to get in. We walked past the milieu. It seemed a special night, as the place was packed with families. We left our shoes at the shoe counter and went up the marble stairs. G2 and Dev took us inside, after informing that photographs were prohibited inside the temple. The Krishna and Radha statue at the shrine was beautiful. We prayed and went around the shrine and received some sweet candy, as prasadham from the priest. We came out of the temple and G2 told us that he and Dev would be waiting for us at the entrance and for us to take our time in going around the temple on our own. Happily, my mother and I went around the temple. The place was a nice, happy family place, with lots of children's laughter and chatter of parents around. My mother suggested that I try to attempt to sit cross-legged on the floor. I hadn't done that in two years. I agreed and we sat down. I was happy that I didn't have any problems sitting on the floor, nor getting up.

Elated, we joined the other two after a couple of minutes. As we walked away from the Birla Mandir, three police jeeps pulled up and police got down. G2 informed that they came each evening to close the temple at 7p.m. Above the Mandir, there was a private fort nicely lighted up. At the entrance, close to where our car was parked, Dev happily pointed out to us the Shiva statue. We took a picture of the beautiful statue.

We were taken to Ganpathi plaza, as we had requested. G2 told us that we could have a good look around the plaza and look at the prices and he requested us not to buy anything there but to wait till we saw his shop, which he said had clothes for incredible prices. He said that if we still found the prices at the Plaza cheaper than at his shop, we could come back the next day to make our purchases. We agreed that we would return in half-an-hour. We didn't find the tie and dye Rajasthani shalwars that we were looking for though.

When we returned to the car, G2 and Dev asked if we wanted to have dinner at a restaurant or at the hotel, we replied, 'hotel'. We went to the Githanjali restaurant at Hotel Maharani Plaza. We ordered stuffed parathas with 'subzi jhal friezi' (spicy vegetables with lemon and coriander) and hot nescafe. The service was extremely slow and there was a mixed crowd of Indian diners: family parties, visitors to the city and young, noisy men out together for drinks, smoking and dinner. I really wouldn't recommend the restaurant either but after two days there, we finally felt that the hotel was tolerable.

Amer Fort

2006-11-08T07:54:00.000-08:00

We drove to the Amer Fort, which was the former capital of the Kachchawa clan and whose construction had been started in 1592 by Raja Man Singh (whose sister married Emperor Akbar and who was himself a Commanding General in the Emperor's army) and which was completed by Sawai Jai Singh I, who then proceeded to build his new capital which he built in pink in new Jaipur and re-located there in 1727.

The Amer Fort was on top of a hill of the Aravalli range. Our tour operators had included an elephant-ride up to the fort, as a highlight but our guide G2, asked us if we really wanted to go on the elephants. He said that as we were from Sri Lanka, where they would probably be many elephants, we might not be interested in going for elephant rides. Also, he said it took a long time as there was a huge queue. Alternatively he said we could drive up straight to the Fort entrance, through the narrow, old streets. It was very hot outside and we agreed to his suggestion and drove past the narrow, ancient streets, where life still continued in the form of odds and ends shops squeezed along the way. G2 pointed out some older ruins amongst the ruins we passed by. He said they were said to be the ruins of an ancient tribal clan, Meena tribes, who were said to have lived here for more than 1000 years and who were said to be descendents of Rama. They were driven out of the area by the Rajputs, who established their city of rule in Jaipur.

We entered the courtyard through the Chandrapol, or moon gate, and passed the elephant stand that has been operational since the ruling days of the Jaipur Maharajahs. The courtyard was in the days of yore used also as a training place for armies and servants, our guide informed us. It was a colourful sight now, elephants bringing tourists came and went out of the courtyard in a line, through the Suraj pol - the Sun gate. A girl approached us and asked if would like to have some henna done on our hands. The usual postcard sellers offered postcards for sale. A snake charmer sat languidly on the foot of the steps to the palace.

We walked up the steep incline and went through a narrow stairway, past a temple, and into a passage which led to a courtyard. This courtyard had the hall of public audience, a narrow open space for the private audience with the ministers. Windows of the Zenana overlooked this public courtyard, which allowed the royal ladies who were interested in the state happenings to listen to the ongoing political discourses or public grievances, without being seen.

Through the beautiful Ganpathi Gate, we passed into a grand but small entertaining place, in laid with beautiful mirror and marble work, for the royal dignitaries who were wined, dined and entertained there. After I took this shot of Ganpathi Gate, the film roll finished and we realised that the film rolls had been left behind in the bag in the car and so from that point till we went back to the car at the end of the Amer Fort tour, there are no photos.

There were so many dark tunnels, narrow passages and one odd aspect was that the floor was not even and not really made for walking, they had iron roads in laid as if it was a medieval rail road. I guessed that the royal family must have been pushed about the palace in trolleys or palanquins. Going through one of these passages, we entered the private quarters of the Maharajah - his zenana. He had 12 main wives and each of his wives were given a separate set of identical rooms. The zenana was designed such that 3 rooms were on each side of the square courtyard, with a recreational platform in the middle. The rooms for the numerous concubines, who did not have the same status as the Queens, were on the first floor.

G2 told us that, unlike in the Mughal rule, Rajput women had a better status though the veiling culture existed here as well. Especially in the time of war, the Maharajah would have to consult his queens separately and get their permission for them to release armies from their respective birthplaces to support the King in his war. Thus, the Rajput Queens had some power and the marriages were more political marriages, as the more wives the King had, the more powerful was his combined army.

At the top of the Fort, there was an open air dancing place, for performances during summer nights. Above the Fort, we saw another fort. G2 explained that Amer Fort was divided into the Upper and Lower Fort. The Lower Fort was the main place of residence for the ruling family but in times of security threats, they removed through secret passages to the Upper Fort, where they waited out the war. The entire Fort was itself surrounded by walls that spread across the Aravalli range. Watch towers installed at different places transmitted danger signals by the lighting of fire and beating of drums.

We went down and entered another section, which was the summer and winter palaces. The summer palace was interesting. It had the natural version of an aircondition. The walls were thick and in between, in some areas there were hollow places where pots of water were kept to cool the rooms and where the water was allowed to flow through and right across a small stream that was allowed to flow through the room and into the garden. The combined effect of the water behind the walls and the flowing water would have cooled the rooms.

Jaipur - the pink city

2006-11-08T07:37:00.000-08:00

Returning from Amer Fort and moving towards the City Palace, we passed a couple of interesting spots. First, we passed Jal Mahal, the water palace used by the royals during the summer time. Now, it was a dilapidated palace amidst a stinking lake. G2 said that the government was considering a project to renovate the area. I just managed to take a shot before fleeing the overpowering stench.

We passed some nice monuments and when we inquired about them, the guide disparagingly replied, "Oh, they are just the cenotaphs of the queens." I wanted to take a photo but the car had already sped past.

At the city palace, we first went to Jantar Mantar, the first of the five observatories built by Sawai Jai Singh who was a keen astronomist. There were several instruments and one of the ones that stand out in my mind is the sun-dial clock, which uses the sun to calculate the time, by the shadow that a nail cast on the concave marble arc, which had been constructed based on Jaipur's actual inclination towards the north pole. We calculated the time and found it to be precisely 10.47, which was the local Jaipur time and converting it to IST, it was 11.00, which was the time on our watches. It was fun. There were other instruments to calculate the current month, the zodiac sign etc. It is advisable however to visit Jantar Mantar a bit earlier in the day as the place seemed to attract all the heat towards the area and we felt we were getting a sun-stroke.

Then, we walked to the city palace museum entrance. While the guide went to get the entrance tickets, we sought the shade of a tree to rest a bit. We found a place near an old lady and were about to sit there, when she said, 'sirf ek'. We realized she was keeping the place for someone and surely enough soon, an old man came grinning with two kulfis in his hand and gave her one. She happily accepted it and the two sat enjoying their kulfis, in front of the city palace on their day out together. I found it touching that the old couple still had retained their interest in outings and having ice-creams together.

The museum basically showcased the different clothes worn by different Maharajahs and Maharanis at different periods for different occassions (coronation, wedding, playing polo etc). Going out of the museum and entering through another gate, we came to the courtyard where the hall of public audience was located. It was a well-maintained hall with two famous pots at the entrance.

The Maharajah had a habit of practicing yoga and praying with the water of Ganges each morning and when he was invited for the wedding of King Edward VII, he had two huge pots made and taken with him to England, filled with the water of Ganges, which he deemed sufficient for the duration of his voyage. The pots made into the Guiness book, for being the biggest pots and they now stand at either side of the entrance to the hall of public audience.

From the courtyard, one can see the private residence of the descendents of the Jaipur Maharajahs.

After the tour

2006-11-08T07:36:00.000-08:00

We were all ready to have our lunch as it was well past noon. The guide asked where we would like to have our meal and at that time, only the name 'Annapurna', from the list of places I had marked, came to my mind. I remembered that the travel guide had mentioned it as a place with great Gujarati vegetarian thalis. The guide shrugged but he agreed to take us there. When we went there, we discovered it to be a tiny canteen, along an alley and not really in hygienic conditions. There was a long queue waiting to be seated. My mother was angry with me for bringing them to a place, which seemed like an ashram offering free food. It was embarassing but anyway, now that I know, I would not advice anyone to go there. Until and unless, you specially seek the atmosphere of a worker's mess/ canteen.

I told the guide to take us to any good vegetarian restaurant of his choice. He took us to Santosh restaurant, which was located close to our hotel. The ground floor was more an ice-cream parlour and the first floor, the a/c family restaurant. It was filled with families celebrating their special occassions with a lunch out. The service was good, the prices reasonable and I highly recommend it to those visiting Jaipur. My mother ordered the Rajasthani thali (varieties of Rajasthani rotis and some jeera rice with a range of vegetarian curries and churma sweet), which she was highly fond of, and I - the chola bathure (huge puris with channa). The guide ordered the Madras thali, he said that they always had south indian food for special occassions. He asked us if we took garlic or onion with our meals. My mother was surprised and said, 'yes, lots of it'. I had come across the 'no onion, no garlic' principle of the supposedly high caste brahmins of Rajasthan, during my background reading so I knew where he was coming from. He added that his family did not take any garlic or onion, but that he, in his line of work, could not be so choosy in what he ate.

I found Rajasthan a caste-conscious state. While in Jaipur, it was subtly asked through the food habits, in Udaipur, the guide outrightly asked us what our caste was, after he had asked about our religion. We purposely responded that in Sri Lanka, the caste system did not exist. It does continue to exist, though not to the extent in India and is brought up, if at all during marriage match-making.

After a nice but heavy lunch, we returned to our hotel for a short rest. We had arranged with the driver that we were to be picked up at 5.30 to go to change some traveller's cheques and to our phone booth of the previous day and to buy some Indian sweets from Kanji Sweets, which was highly recommended by our guide as the best sweet shop in Jaipur.

At 5.30, the driver was waiting for us, punctual as usual. Dev took us to the M1 road, where the major shopping center is, and we changed the cheque at the forex shop next to the Lassiwalla shop and opposite Niro's restaurant. Opposite the road, there was a 'Book Corner' and I decided to have a look at the books there. We were driving towards our phoning place, when I asked about the Vishal Megamart that I had seen on the way to the Birla Mandir and also on the way to Amer Fort earlier that day but Dev said he didn't know. He replied, 'shopping with guide tomorrow in jodhpur'. Just as he said that I spotted the corner, where the Vishal megamart stood out. I immediately told him, "here, this is the place. Pls. stop here. We need to get some water and coca cola etc." He agreed but said that parking was difficult in that place. We said we would be back in 10 mins. We went inside and made a bee line for the clothes section. We were delighted to find a whole range of clothes cheaper than we had seen so far and not of inferior quality either. Vishal Megamart would be the ideal place for shopping for South Asians who are looking for small gifts for their numerous cousins, aunts and uncles. The first floor was for women and the the 2nd floor was the men's section and the ground floor had groceries and plastic-ware. I usually hate shopping but this was one shopping I truly enjoyed. More so, because shopping on our own seemed to be forbidden by the tour operators. We ended up shopping there for nearly an hour and emerged with a dozen bags or so, satisfied that we had met all the gift list and we could breathe free and forget about shopping. We couldn't find our car and I thought Dev had left us there because he was angry. Ten minutes later, Dev came around and picked us up. We got in without a word and Dev didn't say anything. He drove us to a phone booth and then took us to the sweet shop and then back to our hotel. We agreed on the time that we would meet the next morning.

I did understand that neither the guides nor the driver were necessarily trying to force us to buy things at expensive shops, but more that it was a measure of career performance, by which they would be evaluated by their company. Had they been successful in bringing customers to the company-affiliated shopping centers? I guessed it wouldn't harm us either to breeze through one shop in each city we visited and if it was going to be positive for their career, we might as well tolerate it, if afterwards we were taken to places where we wished to really go as well.

Jodhpur - the blue city

2006-11-08T07:35:00.000-08:00

We drove along the grand Bombay-Pune highway for some distance, on the way to Jodhpur. We passed Ajmer, which Dev said was famous for Muslim pilgrimage and then Makhrana, which was the marble place for India and whose marbles had contributed to the building of Taj Mahal. We also passed an interesting place called Sandhera, which was a scenic rocky area and an interesting Hanuman temple on a hill.

The sun was beating down on us as we moved further towards the Thar desert. The landscape being drier, though still not the sand dunes that would have been prevalent in Jaisalmer. We had difficulty keeping our eyes open and we were worried that Dev would also doze off too. I was keen on not getting into a road traffic accident second time around and tried to keep my eyes open and also to check in the mirror, whether Dev was awake as well. It is important to drink water and wear cooling glasses, otherwise one can easily fall ill. Even better if car windows are tinted or has shades to provide some relief from the desert heat.

We stopped at Midway Megha Malawhar restaurant for lunch, under a tent, and had some vegetable pilau and spinach and cheese curry with some cold 7UP.

Then, we moved on and reached Jodhpur around 3p.m. It was a long and tiring drive and we were not too keen on sightseeing immediately after. But, we were leaving for Udaipur the next morning and did not really have a choice, if we wanted to see anything in Jodhpur. We agreed with the local agent who phoned us that we would meet the guide at the Meharangarh fort at 4p.m.

Accordingly, we met our Rajput guide at the entrance of the fort, which was built in 1459. We had to make a steep climb to enter the fort and by the time we came to what looked like the entrance, the guide told us that we were on the 15th floor of the fort. Gasping for breath, we were thankful for the guide's lecture to give us a minute of rest. The Guide paused by a plaque and pointed to the opposite side of the fort, where it seemed that someone had patched up a square hole in the wall of the fort. The guide said that at the time that the fort was built, the King had been adviced that if the sacrifice of a man buried alive in the foundation of the fort was undertaken, the fort would withstand the test of time and onslaught of enemies. The King's Meharan (palanquin-bearer) had volunteered to be the sacrificial being and the patch was where he had been buried alive. Hence, the name Meharangarh fort. It was a ghastly tale of origin for such a magnificient fort that still stood strong and powerful.

Walking up the ramparts, we had the view of a part of the city below and we saw the reason why it was also known as the blue city. Most houses were painted in dark blue. My internet reading had informed me that the high-caste brahmins of Jodhpur had a particular liking for painting their houses blue. It was nice to see a sea of blue houses. Jaipur, though in name the pink city, could hardly be called pink. Even the old buildings like the city palace was a clay-brownish-red colour and was not really pink.

We passed two sections of the place: the marble one for the men and the sandstone one for the women, and went to the museum of palanquins. The palanquins that had been used over time. One stood out amongst all the palanquins: the one that was specially made for the royal grandmother, for her visit to England. As it was the time of the discovery of telephones, her palanquin was fashioned as a telephone booth. I can't imagine how she could have been comfortable travelling in that booth.

There was also an armoury, which I was not interested in but there was one painting in the middle of the room that stood out and grabbed one's attention. It was a painting by A.H.Muller of a story from the past. When the city was being attacked by the joint Mughal and Rajput forces of Akbar (evidence of the canons used against the fort can be found on the marks at the entrance gateway), the Maharajah had had to retreat. While they were retreating into the forest, with the invaders close behind, they had not time to make a fire and cook the King's meal. His bodyguard prepared the King's meal, by toasting the rotis over the fire of a funeral pyre in the forest. This story arrested the painter's imagination, as it did mine and he had focused on the bodyguard (who is in the forefront in white) in the painting. The King is the one in the background, who is cutting the branches of a tree.

The next section was the royal cradle museum, in the former women's section of the palace, which had some of the cradles that had been used in the royal family. A latest contraption was the electric cradle that was gifted by the Department of Public Health to the newborn Maharajah in 1948. The cradle was designed such that it would automatically swing, when it was switched on. It was also from this room that the married women, who still had living husbands, threw rose petals at the Maharajah, when he left for or returned successfully from a war. Women whose husbands had passed away were considered inauspicious.

In the museum, where some of the tools and utensils of the royal families were exhibited, there was an interesting exhibit. The guide mentioned that they were the dumbells that the Maharajah had given to the royal women to exercise and keep fit, as they were confined to their zenana. There was also a painting of the women exercising with the dumbells.

We visited a couple of apartments open to the public: the Phool Mahal, or the entertainment hall of the Maharajah; the Maharajah's apartment and the hall of public audience. The artist who had designed Phool Mahal had died midway and the King had left the hall unfinished as it was, in memory of the artist.

From the fort, we saw a smaller monument a slight distance away, which we were told was Jaswant Thada or the crematorium of the royal family. As we left the fort, we saw at the entrance gateway, small hands imprinted into the wall. The guide said that they were the hands of the women who had committed sati and that sati originated in Rajasthan, during the Mughal invasion era, as the women were treated badly by the invading armies, once the King was killed. He said that it was to avoid abuse that the women initially committed suicide, of their own volition. In subsequent eras, the practice became part of the culture but has been banned in India, since 1952. It was horrible to think of the women, who had placed their hands on the wall and then suicided by burning themselves on the funeral pyre of their dead husbands. I couldn't bring myself to snap a picture of the 36 imprints (acc: to guide) on the wall.

Mandore Guesthouse and Gardens

2006-11-08T07:34:00.000-08:00

The tour operator had booked Mandore Guesthouse in Jodhpur, which was on my original list of requested places to stay, as the ones on their list was all completely booked. I was interested in Mandore guesthouse for two reasons: that it offered a traditional rajasthani hut-style accommodation at a family-run guesthouse and secondly, because the guesthouse owners did community service and ran a volunteer programme in the nearby Bishnoi village.

Mandore, the former Marwar capital, is about half-an-hour away from the city area. Myth has it that it is the birthplace of Princess Mandodri, the wife of King Ravana of Sri Lanka, in the Ramayana. Dev had suggested that if we wished, he would take us to the nearby Mandore gardens, where the Maharanis cenotaphs were. As the gardens were just at the entrance of the road where the guesthouse was, we had decided to walk there. In front of the entrance to the garden, there were many stalls set up. It being the day after Eid and the festivities were still continuing in the Muslim neighbourhood. The gardens seemed a popular hang-out place for the locals as much as it was for the langurs.

My mother was uneasy that we were walking among the resting place of the queens in the evening and said that we should turn back. We made a wrong turn and ended up right amongst a group of cenotaphs themselves. Dev, sensing our uneasiness, made fun of us suggesting that we should go into one of the cenotaphs and explore the place.

Anyway, we made our way out of the monuments and headed back to the entrance. A boy was playing on a traditional Rajasthani musical instrument, which my mother was keen on buying. We asked the boy where we would get one and how much the cost would be. The boy replied that it was 500 rupees but he wouldn't sell it as it was his living. We tried to communicate that we did not wish to buy it from him but at the place where it was manufactured or sold but as he didn't understand, we gave up and returned to the guesthouse.

We had requested dinner at the guesthouse around 7-7.30p.m., so after resting in our room, we went out to the garden, where dinner was served. The food was not yet laid on the table and so we decided to sit in the garden till it was ready. A man came out of the house and introduced himself as the proprietor of the house and gave me a nice history of the place. He first mentioned the environment he grew up in, as a poor boy in the same village and dreaming of speaking english and wearing trendy clothes, the jokes he had to endure going to college from his village in a bike. He said that his batch-mates had considered him backward but now, no-one could say that any longer.

The idea for the guesthouse and tourism venture, he said, sprung from his strong feeling that the palaces and forts though a great testament to the past were not where life was and that India, the current, living India was found elsewhere amongst the rural communities. It was with this opinion that he had founded his tour firm, which offered tours to rural villages. He added that he felt that tourism should be a two-way process, not just tourists coming and enjoying sites and going off but to contribute meaningfully to the communities they visit. He felt that his venture provided that by combining short volunteer programmes in surrounding villages, which enabled the volunteer/tourist to experience village life first hand and get to know the residents. He said that to make it more attractive for the volunteer, he incorporated special interest themes, like learning puppet-making or henna designs or cooking into the volunteer programme, to enable a cultural learning as well.

When he had initially started the place, his concept did not get much coverage and he had difficulty selling the idea to major travel operators in Delhi. He said that he finally allowed things to take its course and got more and more involved in his volunteering programmes, such as tackling drug addiction, providing better facilities for schools etc. Over the years, he said the place had built its own name from the volunteering programme and had been specially mentioned in a French travel guide, which increased visitors from France and even a mention in Lonely Planet 2005. He said that he usually found that most people who visited the place usually came because of recommendations by others who had come earlier and was interested in knowing how I came to know about the place as he was sure that the Delhi travel firm would not of their own volition have chosen the place. He said that he would appreciate it if I gave my feedback to the travel operator who had arranged the travel, so that they would consider future bookings with them. I promised to give my feedback on the place.

He also added that he had been selected by ILO and UNCDF to attend a conference in Bangkok on responsible tourism and that it had been his first time on a plane. It was nice to hear the man speak so humbly of himself, yet having achieved so much. He said that his next project was to focus on empowerment of women through literacy programmes, awareness on hygiene etc.

Dinner was announced and he invited us to the table for two that had been set up for us in the garden. His lovely daughter-in-law served us the home-cooked dinner which did not taste Rajasthani, but very much Sri Lankan (rice with dhal, ladies finger curry, potatoes, pappadam). His brother and manager of the guesthouse came and asked if we were comfortable, whether we liked the food and what we would like for breakfast the next day. The garden was lovely but full of mosquitoes and we were slightly worried with all the dengue news going about in India.

Finishing our dinner, we went back to our cottage. The accommodation was as described in the webpage, but the only drawback was that in the middle of the night, the a/c stopped working and it became extremely uncomfortable, as there was no window. I guess the material used in building the walls was also not the real cooling material used in old homes, but the cheaper limestone variety, which absorbed heat and released it.

This would have been a totally positive review for the guesthouse but for the a/c due to which I cannot really recommend the accommodation to anyone as I spent the most uncomfortable night there on my holiday week. Wonderful hospitality, however from the family and a great, responsible tourism venture.

Jodhpur to Udaipur

2006-11-08T07:27:00.000-08:00

The best part of the trip was the scenic drive from Jodhpur to Udaipur. I highly recommend this drive to all visitors to Rajasthan.

We stopped at a durry weaver's cottage to buy a small hand-woven carpet for INR 600, though we had never planned to buy one nor even heard of a durry weaver before visiting that cottage. We didn't bother to haggle over the price quoted as it was genuine hardwork from a dying tradition in that state. We then stopped at a small restaurant, which promoted buffet lunches but we opted for a light lunch of chappathis and marwari vadi.

We drove past breathtaking wooded hills, past natural reserves, at one time the adivasi settlement area. We visited an old Jain temple. It was slightly strange seeing people walking about with pieces of white cloth tied over their mouth. I think the Jains had a policy of not talking to anyone in their temple.

There were numerous picturesque villages along the way, which fired one's imagination and I wish we had spent more time in some of those villages. At one point, Dev stopped the car and said, 'old way of irrigation. you take picture'. So, I got down to take a photo of a cow turning the wheel, which drew water out of a well. A couple of children attracted by the car gathered in front.

By the time we reached Hotel Rajdharshan in Udaipur, it was evening and we arranged with the local agent that we would go on the tour the next day and instead go on the boat ride on Lake Pichola that evening. It was the best hotel in the 5 hotels that we had stayed during the week. The boat bookings was however full that evening and we were forced to return to our hotel. The hotel was a nice place by the lake and we reached it by driving past the bazaars. On the way back, we got down on the bazaar street and explored the place. We were happy to discover the place for tie and dye shawls and lovely hand-worked bags that we had been looking for. In my opinion, Udaipur is the best place for shopping amongst the three states in Rajasthan that I visited.

Udaipur - the lake city

2006-11-08T07:26:00.000-08:00

Around 9 the next morning, we drove to the City Palace. We entered through the Sun door and came across a board hung at the entrance with the names of the different rulers of Udaipur and their reigning period. A line had been drawn under the name of the Maharana who had started the most recent line of rulers, who had been responsible for building the palace. In the art gallery, there was a painting of this baby and how his life was saved by his nurse. Bhimvir, who had planned to usurp the throne had killed his father and was going to kill him as well but the nurse had replaced the royal baby with her own baby, Chandan, in the royal cradle thereby saving the future King at the sacrifice of her child. This child grew up among the tribes, Bhils, and was called Gohil, thus his line was known as Gohilotes.

We were informed that different Maharanas at different periods had contributed to building extensions of the palace. Some of the nicest sections was said to have been built by Maharana Karan Singh, during his brief 8 year reign. I liked the courtyard that had been used to hear religious discourses by the Maharana. The Peacock palace was also a lovely section. The city palace is considered the 2nd biggest palace in India, after the Mysore Palace.

Another memorable painting in the palace was that of the valiant Maharana Pratap Singh on his favourite, lucky horse, Chetak, and which had saved the King's life on more than 20 occassions. During war, an elephant mask was put on the horse's face, to confuse the elephants of the attacking Mughal forces.

The Maharana of Udaipur was the first ruler to have handed over his property to the Indian Government at the time of Independence. He also became the first Chief of State of Rajasthan. The last Maharana was also an invalid so he had an elevator imported from England, to move from his chambers to the public area. As they were fanatic about symmetry in those days, another door was built alongside the elevator door, but which was a dummy. He was also actively involved in the politics of the time and a room was maintained as it was during the times of the pre and post Independence, when Nehru and others gathered at the Udaipur palace to discuss political issues of India.

After the city palace tour, we visited Sahelion Ki Bari, the fountain/ pool for the royal women during summer days.

As we had to check out of our hotel at noon, we rushed back to the hotel, got our bags and went to the little airport, for our flight back to Delhi on Jet Airways.

Dev, our driver

2006-11-08T07:24:00.000-08:00

I must say we were lucky in our driver. It is purely a matter of chance when you organize a tour through the internet that you end up getting a well-coordinated travel. And, it is even more of a chance that you end up getting a good driver.

With Dev, it was more than careful and smooth driving, it was also duty conscience that was remarkable. Punctual and responsible, he also kept a good lookout for us that we crossed busy roads safely or did not leave our doors unlocked, when travelling through crowded areas. He also followed the itinerary to a word but if we wanted to go anywhere specific, we should have mentioned during our travel arrangements so we didn't mind. He also had a personal policy of not eating with us. Each time, we had a meal, we would invite him as he would also have been tired and hungry at that time but he always refused and said, 'outside' and then smile and tell us, 'you go and enjoy meal'. After a long and tiring drive like the one from Jaipur to Jodhpur, if we asked if he was tired of driving, he would say, "no, it is my job". And, he was sincere.

We were impressed by his commitment to his job. We promised him that if we returned for another trip in North India, we would request his services. We also promised that we would recommend him to all our friends who were thinking of travelling to India for a holiday. So, if any of you are travelling to North India: the Golden Triangle area, Uttaranchal or Punjab and if you decide to organize your travel through Flexi tours, do request Dev as your driver.

Delhi revisited

2006-11-08T07:22:00.000-08:00

Our flight from Udaipur was delayed by an hour, due to heavy traffic congestion in Delhi. We had decided to fly back from Udaipur to save some time. The Flexi tours representative and new driver dropped us at the hotel and I inquired about the time that we would be picked up the next day, he said around 9 - 9.30.

The next morning, we were ready from 8a.m, as we got accustomed to the routine of the week. We went down to the lobby around 9.15, so that we could leave as soon as the car came. We waited for an hour and then I decided that I better call the tour operator. I called the customer relations executive who had been corresponding with me over the tour who said, "well, your car should have been there by now. I'll check with the driver and get back to you." After some minutes, she called back and said, "Maam, there is no tour for today on your itinerary and that is why there was no car sent." I said, "why not, we had requested a half-day tour of Delhi to Qutb Minar and Birla Temple on our last day as well". "Haven't you visited Qutb Minar on your first day?" she asked. "No, Qutb Minar was supposed to be part of the last day tour. You were the one who organized the itinerary." "Yes, but it was supposed to be yesterday and you arrived late but it is okay, maam, we have sen't you a car and driver now." I wasn't going to let that pass because it was a pure misrepresentation of what had happened. I told her, "We were late because you booked our flight for the afternoon. Remember, you were the one who did the booking and informed me that you had to shift our planned morning flight on to the afternoon." "Well, maam, it is really okay. The car will be there in 15 minutes and you can go for the Qutb Minar tour. Sorry for any inconvenience."

I guess if we had driven back with Dev, this confusion would not have occured. They were not used to switching from one car to another.

Finally, when the car did arrive, it was around noon and we went to pick up the guide on our way to the Lotus Temple. Our guide greeted us in a mechanized voice, "Good morning, ladies. Welcome to Delhi. Today, for your tour, _________ at your service. As Delhi is not a place for ladies to travel alone, I have been specially arranged to not only be your tour guide but also your security service. Delhi is the capital city of India, with ........." I initially found it funny but then soon, I found my concentration wandering off.

When we arrived at the temple, he said that we were not allowed to speak in the temple, therefore we could explore the place on our own and then come back to our car, where he would be waiting. So, we walked towards the lotus-shaped temple, with 27 petals as '9' was considered a special number by those of Bahai faith. There were many people going towards and coming away from the temple. Two girls at the entrance of the temple were instructing everyone to go in a queue into the temple and also not to speak to anyone, until we came out. There was another one inside the doorway, shushing everyone noiselessly, who made the slightest noise walking indoors. The interior was a large space, filled with chairs where you went and sat quietly. Despite the crowd, there was a sense of calmness inside the Lotus temple. It was remarkable how that atmosphere quietened everyone who came indoors.

We went next to the Qutb Minar, which was located quite close to the Lotus temple. The guide's story was the Prithviraj Chauhan, the ruler of Delhi had started building the structure for his wife, so that she could pray to the sun and also have a view of the River Yamuna, but he had only reached the first floor, before the invading army took over and their dynasty collapsed. The remaining structure was then completed by Qutb-ud-din. The UNESCO website on the other hand mentions in their brief description about the place that Qutb-ud-din only finished construction up to the first floor, before he passed away and that it was subsequently built by others.

An incomplete structure stands opposite the Qutb Minar, known as the Alai Minar and our guide mentioned that Alai-ud-din had been jealous of the Qutb Minar and had wanted to build his own bigger and better minar and had started the construction but had passed away, by the time he reached the first floor. Odd, all three people I have mentioned here seems to have died after the construction up to the first floor.

UNESCO mentions that the site was completed from the stones of 20 Brahman temples. The evidence lies in the pillars of the ruins and the stones at the site. Our guide put forth an argument for the Hindu origins of the site by pointing at the hindu bells carved on the pillars, the sanskrit inscriptions, the main gate facing the north as opposed to Muslim practice of constructing doors facing Mecca.

An interesting iron rod stood in the middle of the ruins, tall and upright and looking strong. The guide said that it had been part of the older Hindu temples in the place and that no-one had been able to remove it. He said that whoever tried to take it out, died in the effort. This had finally led to people giving up and letting the rod be.

We walked amongst the ruins and came to the Alai Darwaza, a doorway built by Alai-uddin so that he could have a royal passage to visit the mosque. It was a nice doorway and we passed through it to go to the gardens at the back. The old dome had been hit by lightning and a dome was constructed by a British engineer during the British rule. This newly constructed dome of the Minar, however was considered unsightly and removed and placed on the lawn.

The Qutb Minar is a place for good filming experiments as each angle would give an exquisite shot of the same place.

Finishing our tour and returning to our hotel, we stopped on the way at a roadside book stall. I bought a second-hand book on Development Economics for INR 100. The guide said that the best and cheapest place to buy second-hand books was the Sunday bazaar near our hotel. We regretted that we had missed it the previous sunday.

Rushing back to the hotel, we hurriedly packed while having a quick lunch of garlic naan and achaar and then went to the airport for our flight home.