Mysore

Went to Mysore primarily to see the famous Mysore Palace, but it turned out there were other interesting attractions.
I stayed at the "Green Hotel" , purported to be an eco friendly hotel - a rare thing in India. The main building is an old palace which was used by the Mysore princesses as a holiday retreat. It's very well preserved and maintained. There are eight bedrooms, accessed from light and airy breezeways/galleries that surround the building on three sides. (see breezeway to left)
Unfortunately I stayed in one of the sweatboxes in the "new wing" down the back, oh well, I didn't stay in the room much.

Mysore Palace, where incidentally the maharaja and maharani still live, occupies a full city block right in the middle of town. Access is gained from the ornate, southern gate. On entering, you pass a booth for checking your camera, than another for your shoes, then another to hire a guide, then you're in. The palace is stunning, if a little over the top, but then, how can anything be too much when it comes to an Indian palace?? It has, of course, the best and most expensive of everything: Belgian glass chandeliers, highly ornate iron columns from Scotland, mozaic tiles from England, lovely panels of marbel inlaid with semi-precious stones, like in the Taj Mahal and many beautifully carved wooden doors. The main colour scheme is aqua and red, with multiple splashes and dashes of every other colour of the rainbow. As I said - OTT, but it seems to work.
You get to see the main reception halls, would have loved to see the private living quarters but didn't score an invite "-(
Outside the palace, but still inside the grounds was a kind of amusement park, wih the full complement of essential Indian amusements; food stalls, souvenir shops, fortune tellers, and camel joy rides" on not very happy looking camels.
Later that day I popped in to Government House, the former British Residency. To the left is an overexposed shot of the interior courtyard/open air living reception room. Three chaps appeared out of nowhere and started showing me around on an impromptu tour, pointing out this painting and that plaque etc. They were lots of fun, and very enthousiastic, (I don't think many tourists get there).

Here they are to the left.



Here's some of the antique furniture I liked a lot, particularly these two single four poster beds



Later on I was kind of adopted by this lady, whos name I didn't catch. She showed me over the domestic part of the house, offered tea and we had a lot of laughs trying to understand one another. Here she is in her her marble kitchen.




Next stop - Chamundi Hill, for the views over Mysore and to see the famous temples.

Here's a view of the temple tower (gopuram) looking back as I descended the steps down to the lesser Bull Temple" , Here's the bull!
In the main temple I was accosted by the resident priest who dabbed a splodge of yellow paste, a tikka, on my forehead. He wanted 300 rupees. I gave him five and he seemed not in the least bothered - probably zapped me with a karmic curse on the way out.

Decided to walk down the hill (I'd taken a cab to the top). 1000 steps, whew.

Here's a snap of the finish line, looking back up the hill.

Now I'm in Calcuta 26/3/2006. More about that soon................

Bangalore..Cont'd

Arrived from Goa about a week ago on Kingfisher Airways, a new discount airline owned by the folk at Kingfisher Breweries. Ironically you can't get a beer on the plane! Against the law to serve booze on board in India. (imagine trying to pass a law like that in Oz LOL!)
Not a whole lot to see in Bangalore. Used to be called "The Garden City" but clearly the gardens have been massively encroached upon by the recent expansions of the city. Went out to see Mother Theresa's Orphanage (for Angelo). Found the suburb ok, then went onto holding pattern as we were (mis) directed to several churches, schools and other catholic institutions. The nun in charge was friendly enough and took the time to show me around. (Sorry, no photos allowed) The orphanage is home to about 50 kids aged between, I'd say 3 months and five years. Most appear to have cerebral plasy of some kind or another. They were very sweet and came up and held my hand or wrapped themselves around an arm or leg. Many of the helpers had grown up in the orphanage and are now paid to work there, so they are relatively self sufficient. I'll pop into the Mother House in Calcutta when I get there later this week.

The night before I left for Mysore, I had dinner at the Oberoi hotel. On hearing that I was to take the train, she said "Who is your chaperone?" I told her I was going alone....."Aren't you scared? says she aghast!!
The station was like any generic Indian train station - read: jam packed with passengers, porters, staff, hangers on, rats and the odd dog. Hot, filthy and chaotic. Engaged a porter to carry my ridiculously heavy bag (more about that later) up the overpass and down to the relevant platform. The going rate for porterage is 25 rupees per bag. I gave him 50. He wanted 100. I told him politely to bugger off and that for 100 rupees I'd carry his bag. Irony is lost on the average Indian porter.

Next post: Mysore.
(Photo on top is of Mysore Palace)

Bangalore

Just a few shots to test out the blogger picture upload facility - its a bit fercoctah, but works if tweaked (hard)

Here we have, L to R two images of the interior of the Taj mahal hotel in Bombay, built by the Tata family (who seem to own most of the industries in India) in 1903, I think for the visit of the Prince of Wales. Any, fabulous hotel with lovely antiques, wrought iron ceiling mouldings, stained glass etc. Next is the Gateway to India, taken from the Hotel. This was built for the arrival of GeorgeV and Queen Mary not long after the hotel was opened. The last picture is ofthe garden/pool area taken from my room.

OK, lets see if it worked....publishing, uploading...........

To the Airport!

Yep, I thought it was too good to be true. "The New India" they all keep saying. India comes of age, consumer society, trickle down effect benefits all........Hmmm.
Certainly there were noticeably fewer beggers in central Bombay, the footpaths were in better shape, traffic lights worked, there was less garbage on the streets....
From the window of the taxi I noticed clutches of beggers here and there. As we approached the airport, there were more and more. We slowed for a red light. (The traffic was bumper to bumper.) They saw their chance. The driver locked the doors. I frantically searched for change - I had zilch, nothing to do but wait it out. A flurry of orange, magenta, lime and indigo fled the kerb and within seconds they were upon us. Like "Indians" circling a wagon train, they hammered on the doors and windows, they bashed on the roof and slapped the bonnet. It was sort of surreal (a word used a lot in describing India) Five wizened old kaleidoscope crones shrieking through mouths livid and red from chewing betel. A kind of ghastly, rainbow cavalcade. The lights finally turned red and we turned into the airport.
"New India" Pffftt!

Anjuna

Sleepy Hollow with curry flavour. Not much happens around here. Most people spend the days catching rays and deciding where to go for dinner. Some readers may know that I am not a devotee of the sun and sand, so apart from Yoga, there's not much to do around here. Staying at the Tamarind Hotel, about 2 miles from Anjuna village. Its run by a 60 something Aussie guy called Ron and his Indian defacto. Most of their trade comes from the Thomas Cook packaged tour business. Which means Pommie tourists - lots of them. Place is like a Butler's holiday camp, just needs the bingo hall. So.....I've booked a flight to Bangalore on Friday 16th.

Bombay Arrival

I arrived at Bombay International Airport at 11 pm on Frday 3 rd Mrch. The familiar smell of cheap disinfectant hit the nose like a wall (they must sluice the place down with it, it's so overpowering) Mixed in with this was a whiff of something more organic that I suspect had something to do with the crud underneath, and the close proximity to the slums ringing the airport. We were all rounded up and herded through immigration - so far so good. And then out into a long, long, narrow corridor that seemed to disappear into infinity way up ahead. It's someone's law of physics that the narrower the conduit, the faster the contents move. Not to deny a force of nature, the crowd surged forth, rapidly gaining speed. The momentum picked us up and carried us on. We hurtled down the corridor, the old and infirm falling by the wayside, others slipping on the floor, still slick with disinfectant, or tripping on the shards of broken tiles which were littered around. On we tumbled/stumbled until suddenly we spilled out into the cavernous arrivals hall. Naturally there were no signs to guide us to the appropriate baggage belt, so we all congregated around one particular belt (why?) waiting for some baggage action. We kept waiting for 30 minutes or so. Much grumbling and moaning, babies crying etc etc. People started yelling "give us our bags". Nothing........ Finally an airline representative miraculously appeared; "Bags in next arrivals hall!" As one we got up and charged into the next hall, where the bags were waiting on the now silent carousel. Waived through customs, we streamed past the "welcome to India" sign and out into the Bombay night.

India Fun

Anjuna, Goa Thursday 9th March

Well, yesterday they thought something was up, but today, my bowels are sure they are in India. This afternoon I got that old familiar feeling deep down inside; a rumbling bubbling warning that I had less than five minutes to curtain call. Fortunately I managed to find a friendly guest house owner who grinned widely and pointed me in the direction of his disgustingly filthy ablution block. Not a moment to spare. Managing a squat toilet in the dark is an art with which I'm a little rusty, but we'll get there. Now I have to manage the 30 minute walk through the fields back to the hotel, gulp.