Friday – Rubbish, Rubble, Refuse and Bollywood Dancing
In a bid to mop up the errors of last night we spent the best part of Friday morning getting the bits we missed out last night ‘cause he was running late (‘cause his mum was being a right royal cow, quite apt seeing as we’re in India). We hired a taxi, here you arrange by the hour and agree price up front. Once again we had the White Austin Ambassadour, but the drivers English wasn’t any better. He had trouble finding the bling store, but between the three of us it was OK. Then he took us to Pondy Markets so I could buy blouses for under my sari’s. As they were pre-made, I could only get cotton ones and the silk ones will be made while I’m over the other side in Kochi.
After a bit of shopping we made a stop at a tourist spot. The Valluvar Kottam is a 101foot (31 metre) tall temple chariot. It’s moohoosive! It was in its own grounds proudly created and maintained by India Bank, but Hubby and I could see very evidence of maintenance. The grass was over grown, there was litter all over the place and walls were falling over. The Chariot itself was spotless, but that may have been because of its religious significance. To me it seems that the only things looked after are temples, little temple things by the side of the road (shrines) and overseas big brand name shops. It’s sad really, but the people of Chennai seem to have take Gandhi literally when he said ‘Pride leads to destruction’, unfortunately, if they don’t start having some pride, the town will fall down around their ears…I think it’s already started.
Lots of pictures were taken at the Chariot, and I couldn’t resist being a bit silly and pretending to run over by the wheels. On the way out of the gardens, we spotted a fruit seller and brought a Mango. Usually they sell slices, but having been warned about not knowing how clean the knife is, how long its been cut etc, we just brought a whole one. The lady looked most pleased when I handed over Rs10 without blinking. I’m fairly sure it had the stoopid white tourist tax in there somewhere but ten rupees is only about 30c it’s a bargain!
Back at the hotel we had a shower (temp today 38degrees with over 80% humidity) then dressed in some of our new local clothing. I’m sorry, but Hubby just looked daft in a pair of cotton pants and a kaftan (Pete, I know this isn’t right, but I can’t remember everything). On the other hand, my arse looked huge in my amazing expanding drawstring pants and didn’t really look much better no matter how much bling I put on.
The Mehendi party was being held across town near Sara's house and when we arrived (2 hours later thanks to PST, Pete Standard Time) everything was in full swing. The guava juice was following like…guava juice, but the dancing was going off and the henna girls were working like machines in the corner. I suppose applying henna is a bit like icing a cake and with plenty of skill and heaps of practice you get quick. But these girls would do a hand in less than five minutes. It’s amazing to watch, but try standing from a sitting position without bending your wrists or smudging the freshly done work of art.
I danced, not a lot, but I got a little in between having my hands done. Then it was time for dinner. Guess what we had…yeap, curry! It’s was lovely and everyone was kind enough not to expect us to eat with our hands like the locals. A spoon and fork was provided. They had even cooked mild dishes, afraid we wouldn’t be able to handle the true local fare. Hubby was saying it wasn’t hot enough but my lips had that nice curry tingle by the end.
First Night - Sari Shopping
We met up with Peteat about five and he took us to Pondy Bazaar. Both Hubby and I had to buy our outfits for the weekend and we got a chance to take a walk in the shopping area. Our first stop was Jhillmill, a shop on four floors for women only. It’s a bling store! I was greeted by pete’s Mother-in-Law who insisted on showing me around. Consequently, I didn’t have that much time to browse and therefore didn’t get what I would have really liked. But I did get stuff I liked, so it’s all good.
After buying bling, we walked to the sari shop. On the way we stopped at a jasmine seller and brought a string. All day I have been seeing ladies with these beautiful creamy white flowers in their hair. Now I had some. Only I have short hair and no where to pin it, so I’m wearing it like a scarf and really look like a tourist. Ohh hang –on…I could look more like a tourist, Hubby and I are the only western faces I’ve seen all day!
Before we came here, pete was warning us about all the things that would be overwhelming. Traffic, heat, pick pockets, amount of people etc…what he didn’t warn us about and by far the most overwhelming thing so far is the shop assistants. In a shop were everything is price it’s slightly different from a street stall (in so much as no hard selling) but as soon as you pay special attention to one item they grab it from you and put it to one side for review later. In the jewellery shop this meant I ended up leaving with a bangle I have no hope of getting over my massive white knuckles, which is a shame, ‘cause it’s very pretty.
The Sari shop was called RmKV. I saw it a few weeks ago on telly because they have the longest wedding sari in the world, 250metres or something. I remembered the shop from seeing the marble stair cases and walls and walls of neatly folded saris. I was in colour heaven. I desperately wanted to take pictures, but again the not wanting to like a tourist thing got the better of me. I wanted to get close to the silks and breathe them in. I wanted to get close pictures of the swatches of colours, but most of all I wanted the 50,000 colour sari that cost Rs44,000. I figured I just wouldn’t get enough wear out of it. Instead I picked three, a turquoise and mint green, an orange and red and a gold and forest green. I also had to get a salwar kameez (trousers and matching long top) for the Mehendi (henna/hen party) on Friday. I ended up in burgundy raw silk with beading and braid work for a snip at A$75.
Pete was a great help and as usual had impeccable taste. We rolled in late and didn’t waste time falling asleep.
Morning One – Damp Patches
Our Five Star hotel in the heart of Chennai offered us the accommodation that the Road house in Karuah would have rivalled. I know I sound ungrateful, but it’s all so run down. There are huge damp patches on the walls and the whole smells like my grandma pad. The Lobby has that whole 80’s decadence thing going for it, then you step into the lift and it’s like being on the set of Mission Impossible where behind the doors it’s really a warehouse.
We woke up after a fairly restless night sleep on our bed of nails and had a shower without getting any water in our mouths. We cleaned our teeth with bottled water and locked absolutely anything worth over $5 in the safe before leaving for our morning of being driven around. The taxi we were in was a 1950 Austin Ambassador, from the outside it was immaculate, on the inside, its age was beginning show.
We started at the Kapaleswarar Temple, a magnificent structure dating back over 1300 years with over 900 sculptures in all colours of the rainbow. We had to walk from the taxi with bare feet and were welcomed by one of the temple ‘pujari’ (the equivalent of a verger, I think). He gave us a whistle-wind, leaving little time for me to take photos, but I did get a few.
Left - Right : Ganesh _ the elephant god – always carried by mighty mouse, Lakshmi _ goddess of wealth – she just stands there and looks pretty, Brahma _ the creator – well, he just creates and Saraswathi _ goddess of learning – she travels on a lion
The Wishing Tree - where people make wishes!
On to a bit of shopping. We started in a Kashmir carpet place. We were given cardamom tea and shown many yummy hand knotted carpets in a multitude of colours and designs. I had my eye on a red/orange diamond design made of cashmere but at US$1900 it was a little out of my holiday spending budget. I settled on a cashmere pashmina from the Spenser Plaza instead. The price sounded a lot in rupees, but when converted into A$ it was hard to resist for only 50bucks.
Food wise we’re okay. I managed to have curry for breakfast, while Hubby stuck to bread and jam. For lunch we went all out and went to Pizza Hut. Bit odd I know, go all that way and have pizza, but…have you ever had a Malai Seekh Kebab pizza? I have now ;-)
Off to buy Sari’s later…
The First 7 Hours of my Holiday
3hrs and 55 minutes into the flight and I’m bored. And I’ve already slept for 90 minets. This is why I hate flying. I know, I know I could watch the movies, or listen to the music provided, but somehow when on a plane I just can’t get into them. I’ve taken some nice photos out of the window (they don’t call it the Red Centre for no reason) and had a wicked dream. I know that the retelling of dreams can be boring, but …
On a plane, when terrorists jump out of their seats in various parts of the plane with guns (how did they get them on board, they took my hairgel!) so I sit there for a while much girlie screaming and gun waving goes on. After everything has settled down I jump from my seat, and charge the rough looking sort closest to me while his back is turned. Hubby is still in his seat shouting for me to stop and behave. I knock the guy down and use the butt of his gun to break his nose. Crouched low I move forward into the galley and prepare to take on the next. This one sees me coming and raises his gun. I kick it from his hands just before he pulls the trigger, then smashed the heel of my hand into his nose, cracking his nose and snapping his head back. He recovers, but I strike him in the shin with the side of my foot, taking him down. The bloke sat in the seat behind the bad guy grabs him by the throat and flashes an air marshal badge at me. ‘Ma’am you really should do as they say, you know?’
‘stuff that, the bastards at the airport thought it was me with my amazing exploding hairgel, I going to prove them wrong.’
As I make my way forward I can’t see any more bad guys, but I know they’re there, at least two more. In the next galley I change sides of the plane and move forward slowly. There is a young family sat in the seats, cowering and I realise that they are looking at the bad guy. He’s hiding behind the wall, waiting for me to make a mistake. I stop in the galley and look around, I find the coffee pot. Slowly I move forward and swing the coffee pot around the corner in front of me. He screams and jumps out at me. He has me held by the wrists, all I can think of is to bring my knee up and flatten the family jewels. He releases my right hand, I reach behind me a pick up one of the child’s colouring pencils and bring it down into his eye socket. He screams and falls backwards, I jumped onto him and plunged the pencil into his heart….
At that point Hubby woke me up saying we were over the Olga and I realized that I watch far to much Buffy, Alias and Blade!
But to be honest, I like that I can kick arse in my dreams.
Ohh…and the sticky date pudding at Nick’s was devine.
Afterwards while I queued for over priced miniature t-shirts and a program, Edna sat on the steps and contemplated how P!nk was hot. After the six girls who hd been behind us had been repeatedly telling us all night. I think they were trying to tell the star on stage she was hot, but seeing as we were about a mile away, I don’t think P!nk could hear them.
In Kumarakom there is only green. Ohh and the lake. You can hear crickets, birds, the laughter of children (read screaming in the pool) and the constant (but pleasant) drumming of what turns out to be boat builders next door. From our room you can see Cormorants fishing next to the fishermen in their long punt boats and the rain as it comes across the lake. We are here in Monsoon season. It’s 25degrees with 90% humidity and perfect.
I’m going to try and describe what happened now, based on the snippets that relatives told me in broken English and from what I gathered by watching.
The blessings are done in front of fire, as the fire is God, therefore any promises made before fire cannot be broken. The whole ceremony was beautiful and towards the end, once again, both fathers had to invite us to eat breakfast ‘cause we didn’t want to miss anything. 
After breakfast we were cleared for a few hours, so we returned to the room and crashed! ‘Cause I was wearing a sari I propped a pillow behind my back and sleep in a chair, Hubby took advantage of the lovely hard bed. It was 0730 and we slept til 9. Then returned downstairs as instructed. Nothing was happening til lunch, and it was to be casual. So back upstairs, sari off and bed til lunch.
There was food and a change of clothes before the formal reception and this involved both fathers and an uncle inviting us to eat. The vegetarian curry was served on a banana leaf and was yummy. We even did as the locals do and ate with our fingers (right hand only, the left is considered dirty), thank Ganesh for poppadums and chapatti. Hubby got told off by the waiter when he tried to eat the lime pickle and of course they felt sorry for us and brought spoon and forks. We struggled, but prevailed in the end.
There was music provided by a pair of saxaphone playing, sari wearing ladies who were backed up by drums. They played all the tunes you know, if you live in India, if you don’t they all sound the same after the first three, so you’d better like them. We did.
I don't think my other 'brother' Percy is that impressed. 'Cause Freddy keeps chasing him and trying to bite his tail. Boy will be boys and cats and dogs will fight.
