Tamil Nadu - Is it me or is it hot in here?

Tamil Nadu Photos are HERE

After the blast furnace heat of Dubai we flew to Chennai, in the southern Indian state of Tamil Nadu where we encountered heat of the “bathroom door closed with the shower on full-blast” type of tropical heat.  Oh my god, it was hot.  The temperature only read 38C or so, but unlike Dubai, there was no air conditioned shopping malls, taxis or swish apartments to relax in. No one in their right mind comes to this part of India at this time of year.  So what were we doing here?

On this trip, what I’m calling The Big Trip II, we  knew that we wanted to come back to India.  Of all the countries that we had visited a couple of years ago, India was the one place that was the most challenging.  In many ways it’s the most horrible place that we had been, but at the same time, the most wonderful. The land of contradictions.  I was so happy to close the door on India when we left in August 2007, yet it was the place that I thought of  the most of when we returned home.  So now, almost exactly two years later, we decided to return, hopefully more prepared for India, having had time to process the many lessons we encountered here.

This time around we knew that we wanted to visit specific pockets of India. Places that we hadn’t been before, as well as those areas that we had experienced, but wanted to see more of.  We wanted to see more of the far north, in the Himalayan region, as well as Kerala, a place Michaela’s been dying to visit for years.  Our arrival into the country, in June is possibly the worst time to visit 90% of the country, as intense pre-monsoon heat make it unbearable to travel.  Almost all of the travellers in the country funnel their way into that mountainous bump in the north-west of India and hideaway in places like Manali, Dharamsala or Leh.  Not to mention the hordes of Indian tourists that get the same idea and head there as well.  Just to be different, we decided to go to the exact opposite corner of India, in the sticky extreme south instead.

Actually our visit to Tamil Nadu had a purpose.  My good friend Bharathi, whom I worked with in London, is a Tamil from the town of Pattukotai, near Thanjavur, in Tamil Nadu.  He got married earlier this year, and as much as we wanted to go to the wedding, our long walk on the Camino de Santiago in Spain clashed with his nuptials.  Now, a few months later, his sister was due to get married as well, so we thought that it would be nice to attend the wedding and to visit my friend in his native place that I had heard so much about from across our computer screens in West London.

To understand why anyone would get married in June  in south India (a bit like getting married in January in Alberta) involves some knowledge of the Hindu religion and astrology.  It’s a knowledge that I don’t have, so suffice to say that according to the astrological calendar it’s a very auspicious time to be married, despite what the weather is telling you.

Kodaikanal

We had a few days to kill before the wedding, and needed a break from the heat endured over the previous few days in Dubai, so before we made our way to Pattukotai, we decided to spend a few days in the hill station area of Kodaikanal.  Hill stations are so named because in the days of British rule, the officers would transfer operations to these mountain areas in order to escape from the heat of the plains.  Nowadays the hill stations are popular with Indian tourists, and the run-amok tourist industry that has sprung up to cater for them, making the stations not as idyllic as you might imagine.  Having been to Kodaikanal we knew what to expect, so shortly after arriving, we arranged to be driven about an hour away from the horns and pollution of main town to the wonderful hideaway of Karuna Farm.

Karuna farm is as near to paradise as you can get.  The farm isn’t a farm as such, with loads of animals or anything, unless you count a couple of cows, lots of wild birds, monkeys and geckos.  There are however banana and coffee plants, pear, mango and avocado trees and enough tropical foliage to make you think you were staying in the jungle.  The farm is spread over the side of a steep mountain, part of the Western Ghats range that splits southern India. The land here is terraced due to the steepness, and walking from say, the main house to the tiny restaurant or to your cabin involves walking up and down a lot of steps carved into the earth.  At nearly 1500m above sea level, the climate is pleasantly cool, even cold in the evenings. Looking down upon the plains far below us it was hard to imagine that the temperature there was around the 40 degree mark.  There isn’t a great deal to do here except enjoy the magnificent views, walk the surrounding hills, read, and to enjoy the extremely relaxing surroundings.  One of our morning highlights was watching a large black squirrel arrive every morning to feast on some of the avocados hanging in the trees in front of our cabin.  There’s not much electricity to speak of except for a few solar powered LED lights, so evenings are generally pretty uneventful. If peace and quiet is what you crave then it doesn’t get any better than this.

Because  Karuna Farm isn’t in any guidebooks and is somewhat of a minor secret, there aren’t many people here. It’s also far enough out of town, and down a thoroughly terrible road that few tourists want to make the trip out.  There’s no public transport out this way, so once you’re here, you’re stuck.  The owner, Neville, has leased out a few plots of land to foreigners who are building some interesting houses using natural or recycled material, but these houses are spaced out so thoroughly, and are interspersed with such dense vegetation that you rarely see these folks.  There are 4 or 5 small stone cabins with kitchens, where a few other people were staying, but again, things are far enough apart that if you don’t want to see anyone, then you don’t have to.  Having been here before, we knew to stock up on food before we arrived, and we showed up on the farm with bags of groceries and we thoroughly took advantage of our first kitchen in months.  Nothing tastes quite as good as your own cooking after eating restaurant food almost every day.

We did the equivalent of absolutely nothing during our stay on the farm.  Although we did have a couple of nice evenings with a Canadian computer programmer (who we had met on the train a couple of days earlier, and with whom we shared this little secret) and an Indian/British couple living in Bombay.  They were interesting for a couple of reasons.  She, the Bombayite, because she spoke English better than Hindi, and he because he was British, but choosing to work in India, on an Indian salary.  It’s always nice to meet people like this. People in odd situations that you wouldn’t normally meet at home.

Alas, it soon came time for us to leave Karuna Farm and to make our way back down into the steamy plains.

Life in an Indian Home

On the way down the mountain, with the front seat passenger vomiting out the window due to the curves in the road, we could feel the heat increase with each kilometre.  Finally, after a journey involving two taxis, three buses and about 9 hours, we arrived, tired and extremely sweaty to Bharathi’s family home in Pattukotai.

The family home lies down a blissfully quiet dead-end road surrounded by coconut trees, far enough away from the horns and traffic of the main streets.  It was really great to see Bharathi again, and from the start his family made us feel completely at home.  We were given our own room with a bed (after a night on the floor, Indian style, which Michaela’s back didn’t like very much) and more delicious food than we could possibly eat.  Succulent idlis and idyapam with fiery coconut chutneys.  Dosas and sambar.  Homemade chapatis and fish curries.  We love south Indian food, which is very different than the food in the north (which is what most Indian restaurants back home serve.)  South Indian fare is almost always rice based, with the rice being used in different varieties, such as fermented to make idlis or as rice flour to make dosas.  Fresh coconut is used in copious amounts as is fresh green chilly. The food is not as oily as in North India, and is very light in comparison.  Huge piles of rice and idlis make perfect finger food and it’s easy to eat the dishes with your hands which is how it’s done in these parts.  Even Michaela finally caved after a while and started eating with her hands, which is something she’s been loathe to do.

It was great to spend time in a real family home.  You get a different perspective on how life is lived in India.  Normally we only see things out the window of a bus or rickshaw. The only interaction we get with the locals is our dealings with the market traders, hotel receptionists, taxi drivers or people working in the tourist industry.  We eat in restaurants, but don’t know what people eat at home.  We don’t often get to meet real people.   Given that the wedding preparations were on, there was a steady stream of family and neighbours flowing through the house. We were a real attraction to most people, given that Pattukotai really isn’t on the tourist map and they probably don’t see too many white faces around here.  People were all incredibly welcoming, talking to us in what little English they knew, or most of the time simply talking to us in Tamil with us not having a clue as to what they were saying.  Luckily for us, as Bharathi was very busy with the wedding preparations, we had his small cousins to translate for us.  Three boys, the oldest being no more than 13, spoke excellent English and were our constant sidekicks over the week that we stay stayed.  They were more than happy to attend to us; everything from translation to fetching us tea was performed with enthusiasm.

Thanjavur

The house was a hive of activity almost every day, with the women of the family constantly preparing food and tea.  The men were running errands and making arrangements via their mobile phones. Most of the time we just tried to stay out of the way.  We did take one day out to visit the fabulous Brihadishwara Temple complex in the nearby city of Thanjavur.  The temple was built in the year 1010 by the monarch Rajaraja, who’s Hindu empire extended over much of south India and even into Southeast Asia.  When we visited the temple we were surprised to see much of the same design as we had seen years early at Angkor Wat in Cambodia.  Brihadishwara Temple was the influence for many of the world famous temples in Cambodia and works such as the big-breasted apsaras are visible on both building complexes.

The Wedding

Finally the time came for the first part of the wedding.  I’m not going to explain the intricacies of an Indian wedding, because I really have no idea what I’m talking about. And really, there is no such thing as an Indian wedding. If I’ve learned one thing in India it’s that the idea of one type of Indian anything doesn’t really exist.  Not only each state, but each region and each village has their own customs, language, food, and concepts of Hinduism.  For example, most people in Tamil Nadu don’t even speak Hindi, the national language. They instead speak Tamil with English as the common language of choice.

So, not having a clue as to what was going on, we simply went along for the ride and went off to attend the first part of the wedding, which was to take place in a temple in a nearby town.  Being a man, I could simply wear what I wanted, but Michaela being of course a woman, was to wear a sari to the wedding.  A sari is the traditional dress of most women in India and involves wearing a simple under-skirt and tight petticoat wrapped around with metres and metres of decorated cloth.  When we arrived at the temple the men went one way while the women went another to prepare themselves.  A small army of women had a ball getting Michaela ready for the wedding. She was loaned a beautiful green sari complete with aromatic jasmine flowers in her hair and even a necklace.  This was topped off with a tikka dot in the centre of her forehead, denoting her status as a married woman.  She looked great and all of the local women that we saw at the temple were very impressed by her outfit.  Michaela quickly made friends with a host of women, who stuck to her like glue for the entire day.

The wedding ceremony itself was overseen by a Brahmin priest, who wearing nothing more than a skirt or lungi and some paint on his head conducted the proper rituals.  An array of oils, coconuts, coloured rice, flowers and candles was arranged on the floor in front of the groom alone, then the bride alone and finally the couple together, all to the tune of horn and drum musicians.  There were plenty of intricate hand gestures being performed by the priest and many different people were involved in the ceremony.  A steady stream of people came up to put a garland of flowers around the necks of the couple or to place gold rings upon their fingers. Gold plays an important part in Indian wedding ceremonies and there was an absolute ton involved on this day.

From what I saw, this wedding was as different as you could get from a typical western wedding. At our weddings we tend to want everything to go like clockwork and for everything to be arranged in a crisp, clean and orderly manner.  Here, a typically Indian overtone of disorder held sway.  Dozens of people hovered around the ritual area, often trying to “help” the priest to conduct his duties.  The ceremonial items were arranged on the floor at the last minute and in a functional, rather than aesthetically pleasing manner in front of the couple.  There were no glowing speeches or wedding marches, no photogenic arrangements of the happy couple with their maids and men of honour.  The ceremony appeared to get done what had to get done.  That’s not to say that it wasn’t beautiful. It certainly was.  The bride looked amazing in her extravagant sari, intricate henna patterns on her hands, heavy gold jewellery and her hair decked out in bright flowers.  The groom wore a traditional doti of simple white skirt and white shirt.  Even the slightly chaotic (to my western mind) rituals were lovely.  The colours of the flowers, the oil flames, the bewildering movements and instructions of the priest were fascinating.  The image of the bride and groom washing the feet of their respective parents was very moving indeed.

While the men and women were seated separately, we were given seats in the front row along with respected elders and important people. We felt truly honoured to be there.

The next day, the reception took place back in Pattukotai.  Again, the reception was as different as it could be to any wedding that I’ve ever been to. The newly married couple, she in another beautiful sari and he in a smart English-style suit, sat on a stage as they posed with wave after wave of guests wanting photos.  I really felt for them as the heat outside was hot enough, but to top it off, the camera man had a huge, incredibly hot spotlight that he kept almost constantly shone upon them.  While the photos went on for literally hours, a band played and sang traditional religious Hindu songs.  We found out that that that shrill woman’s voice heard on most Hindi songs is real indeed and is not the result of some clever computer manipulation.  Unlike western weddings, and even Punjabi Indian weddings, there was no dancing, and most people hung around long enough to meet the couple and to enjoy some of the delicious food served.  The reception, I was told, was quite small.  A little over a thousand people were fed.

For the wedding reception Michaela was again dressed in a beautiful sari and this time I got in on the act, as I was presented with a traditional south Indian style all-white doti of crisp white shirt and long white wraparound skirt.  To top it off, I was given that accessory that every Indian man carries: a pen in the shirt pocket.  Have a look at any photo of an Indian man and you’ll see what I mean.  People were really impressed with my dress, saying I was wearing the white-on-white of a politician.

After the festivities were finished, and everyone could relax, we had a couple of days more to spend with Bharathi and his family. It was great just to relax in the peace and quiet of the front yard of their house.  Drinking tea, coffee and enjoying more delicious food.  I got quite used to wearing a simple cotton lungi around the house like all the other men, although I wasn’t quite so brave as to trust my lungi tying skills and to go commando underneath the skirt.

We had a fantastic time with the family, and are really grateful to have been invited to the wedding.  We were treated like gold during our stay.  It was a really fascinating insight into the life of a Tamil family, and just plain nice to be around a big group of relatives.  Our heartfelt thanks go out to Bharathi and his family for making us one of their own for a few days.

Off We Go Again

As much as we love Tamil Nadu with it’s intriguing temples, amazing food and friendly people, the heat made it impossible to travel and we made plans to head north.  We took a look at the train options and seeing that it would take an incredible three days to reach Delhi, we decided to splurge a bit and to take a plane instead.  It turned out to be a good choice as instead of three days we made it in just a few hours, including a small stopover in 42 degree Delhi on our way to Chandigargh in the state of Punjab.  Just a few more hours and we would finally, after weeks of heat, be in the cool air of the Himalayas.

The Un-Essentials

Politician in this part of India appear to spend tons of money on self-promotion.  Everywhere you look there are billboards with the smiling faces of politicians grinning down at you. The chief minister and his son, who is also his deputy, are seemingly quite popular in the state, but it’s hard not to be when you are spending millions of the public’s money on ensuring that your face is on every available wall surface.

Next up, Chandigargh, Shimla, Manali and the rest of Himachal Pradesh.

Because India is so huge, and the costs so different from region to region, I’m going to give some costs based on each area that we visit.

Average Costs to Travel in Tamil Nadu (INR = Indian Rupee)

£1 GDP = 71.52 INR
€1 EUR = 60.44 INR
$ USD = 46.73 INR

1 hour internet: 30 INR
1 thali (set meal) in a small restaurant: 40 INR – all you can eat!!
1 thali (set meal) in a hotel restaurant: 75 INR
1 tea at a tea stall: 10 INR
1L bottle of water: 18 INR
1 night in Karuna Farm: 400 INR
1 night in an A/C hotel: 1500 INR
20 minute rickshaw journey: 125 INR
train journey per hour in a 2nd class A/C carriage: 88 INR
1 hour bus journey in a local bus: 15 INR
night bus journey in a sleeper bus: 1500 INR

Tamil Nadu Photos are HERE