highs and lows

Nothing much here is 'average'. it is either sublime or ridicuous,  expensive or cheap, easy or impossible, beautiful or ugly.....
Today was what is rapidly becoming normal; i.e.all of the above.
Post breakfast (the rice balls and riaita are getting boring now-the exotic has rapidly become  mundane and I'd actually like a nice piece of toast and a cuppa really) I set off to find my missing temple from yesterday, the Kapaleeshwar, the most anciet and active of Chennai's numerous temples.
It is indeed spectacular, striking colourful pillars looming to the skies. The pavements are lined with coloured drawings for blessings-I liked the elephant design and also couldn't resist a quick 'selfie' with an elephant statue.

Pavement Drawing

Me and the Elephant Statue

Obviously photos of the actual deities are prohibited and as a non Hindu I'm not allowed into the inner sanctums, but its fine to snap away from the outside.I'm a great fan of the Sacred Cows looking down from every corner and of the sacred trees decorated with prayers.

Temple Information board

Various outside views of the Temple

The journey here was the India 'mix' in essence. I leapt on what I had been told was the right bus only to find myself in the wrong place. Not the SanTome I intended as the bus dropped me at the tamil church not the RC one. But serendipitiously I was now in the right place for this temple! Which explains why I couldn't  find it yesterday. Cutural misunderstandings but the fates decided I would find it today, as people will say here.
It is truly beautiful but alongside the sublime sacred sensory high of the temple also come the lows. Beggars. Lots of them. And I stand out so attract my very own line of followers. Getting away eventually becomes a priority ............getting angy here is a no no so to save my sanity I have to keep on the move.
A restorative siesa and onto another adventurous afternoon. The bus to Besant Nagur dropped me in the middle of nowhere. A very busy city suburb middle of nowhere. Instead of the temple i intended to visit. Luckily a passing couple spotted my plight within minutes and came to my rescue, hailing the right bus and making it stop in the middle of the intersection just for me.
The Ashtalakshmi Temple sits on the beach outside Chennai and provided a fascinating, if confusing, hour of mysterious shrines and towers-here I was welcomed in for a price regardless of my non Hindu status-blessings bestowed for a reasonable donation...
A walk along the picturesque Elliots beach brought me to the upmarket corner of KFC and Costa. Standing out in neon glory against the shacks and tea stalls.  And I was craving not so much the coffee but a western loo.
It was worth every penny (70 rupees-that's about 70p) to treat myself toan enormous chocolate brownie sundae with a free drinking water and the use of a western toilet with seat and soap. Oh joy. Real high!
Home on the bus in the reddening skies. Chennai is not a tourist city but I have  found it an absorbing one. I am learning the city ways, the districts, the vast gaps between rich and poor, the multinational firms and shopping malls and local alleys/slums , I am getting to grips with the social and cultural norms here, and rediscovering South Indian food and drinks.
Final purchase of the day-after my expense in KFC I paid 8 rupees (8p) for a Tamil spicy sweet boiling hot chai in a paper cup from a bike vendor. High end/low end both equally delicious.

a day of surprises

A day which typifies India-nothing is as expected, but the unexpected is the experience.
This morning a frustrating search to hastily replace a ripped suitcase-thanks, Emirates-I saw so many caught on the ancient baggage carousel at arrivals in Chennai without realising at the time one of them was mine.
Taken for  ride (literally) by a auto rickshaw driver to the impossible to find shop my hosts recommended, I ended up in the shop literally around the corner called Bag Zone and yes, it looks like every one in every city. Huh. Ah well, I have a bag, though how long this will last is anyone's guess.
And with wifi down I felt low, out of touch and out of spirits.
So as in England, when down, I set off for a walk. And discovered an afternoon full of amazing surprises.
First to San Thom cathedral, by far more spectacular then I had imagined, and built on the tomb of St Thomas, one of only three cathedrals, one of the others being The Basilica in Rome, to share the honour. This city houses as many churches as temples. mainly Catholic, but there are many many other churches of all denominations.

San Thom Cathedral

Revived by a restful shady quiet time -and a mango ice cream and sweet coffee-I set off to join the followers of the holy man swami Vivekananda for free 'birthday' celebrations at the spectacular pink building on the seafront where  he once stayed centuries ago. Complete with 20 min 3 D fim-where, somewhat embarrassingly, I was given a private showing in English whilst locals waited patiently outside-plus historical artefacts and photos of his life and teachings, rather bizarely this odd place captured my imagination.

Two more surprises lay in wait. The first was to stumble unexpectedly upon the stunning beautiful Sri Parathasparethy Temple. The white stone images line the pyramid to the skies behind the waters of the ghat. and as the sun was setting white clad disciples stepped out to a fanfare of drums to perform the evening blessings ceremony, giving and receiving alms from the faithful.

Sri Parathasparethy Temple

And as I slowly retraced my steps  home I found that where early had been a square of market stalls and traffic bedlam was now reincarnated as a stage embellished with a mulititude of flowers, where dancers were performing ancient south Indian music and acts amidst a blaze of floodlights and an appreciative audience.
That's the thing about India-for all the dust, dirt, poverty,smells, etc etc, it is also full of joyful,  glorious surprises!

The Kindness of Strangers

Day 4.

a day of surprises, especially the surprising friendliness of strangers. Post breakfast I dodged the lurking rickshaw driver to locate a bus to my chosen destination of Fort George...which I had merrily trudged past on my long walk through the city on my earlier route march. A young man not only showed me the way but insisted on walking with me and waiting until said bus, although he had been heading the other way. I fully appreciate the need to  keep my wits about me here but it also continually surprises me how genuinely helpful people are.

Local Bus - Today's mode of transport

The fort -one of the first bastions of the British in Madras-is still an army barracks but there is a charming church and a musty, dusty museum full of relics of colonial Britain.

Outside The Fort

Glories of the past give way outside to  the tangled alleys of George Town(the fort was once known as white town and this area outside the wall as black town). It being Sunday, the heaving mass of humanity was quieter than usual and I was able to find the very cafe where my fab malai (buttermilk) lassi awaited.

My favouite Lassi Parlour

Revived I set off for a walk, only to stumble on a shanty/slum town of mud huts, beggars and dire poverty.
to my amazement there was no animosity, just curious smiles and waves. Not even a request for money-the constant background noise to my presence normally in the city.
Still I did not linger!
Back to the bus, and yet again helpful pointings and smiles. I decided, as it was Sunday, to do what literally everyone in Chennai does on Sunday, and go to the beach.
Despite the warnings, it does appear many do swim-spectacularly dangerous looking surf but then the sands come with hawkers, horses, beggars, stalls, motorbikes -so that's not easy either!
But it is all good natured, a festival for the senses.

Assorted Beach stalls

And the Funfair

The warm red of the evening sunset glows on the gold statues to local and national heros,monuments, ancient and modern buildings and colourful temples.

adventures by bus

day 3: I had a plan.Which is not a good idea in India.
Post the communal breakfast (which today turned out to be spicy rice, always served minus utensils around the common table by the lovely chef who speaks no English but gives large portions followed by sweet coffee and a sweet smile) I ventured out to find a auto rickshaw (tuk tuk) for a ride to St Thomas Mount.
A holy sacred place at the top of a hill overlooking the city ...the very large city....

Chennai from St Thomas' Mount

After bartering a price my driver then proceeded to a) get lost, repeatedly and b) argue for more money continuously and c) drive with intent to throw me out into the teeming masses of Indian streets.
The Mount was a blessed relief, high up with cooling winds quiet shady spaces and the oddest prayer park I have ever seen, with statues of every animal plus santa's grotto. The site is treated with genuine reverence, the signs everywhere followed by one and all.

Then to Little Mount, the cave where St Thomas took refuge before martydom.And I decided that the perils of the Indian public bus were less than the rickshaw drivers, and at 3 rupees as opposed to 200, a whole lot cheaper!!
My dint of asking at chai stands and buying many tiffin I found the right stop, whee a friendly lady with excellent English got me on the right bus, insisted on buying my ticket (getting the inspectors attention is an art form but if you don't the fine is massive) and found a young man to help me get off again once she's gone. Which he did. Sublime to the ridiculous, people are either just lovely or, um not.
Little Mount is the most bizarre mix of giant plastic statues alongside a very moving tiny cave full of worshipping families.  Surprisingly emotional if rather surreal .
Back to the tea stop for more bus enquiries. Armed with two enormous cakes and fueled by sweet chai, I jumped on the instructed bus.
Alas, this time the bus took me not to the beach I had asked for, where I would know where I was, but to another one-Elliots beach, miles away
Eliots beach was actually lovely; and I was able to walk along the sands and recuperate (and eat all my cakes, hehe)

Eliots Beach

Back on the bus and this time after 30 mins of the most crowded smelly bus yet -the missing windows do not help as the day wears on and a mass of sweaty bodies cram on and hang on to get on-I made it to Lighthouse beach at which point I could walk back.
Sunset fell over the Lighthouse as the Chennai crowds enjoy the  tradtional seaside pastimes. I limped home exhausted to relish a long hot (yes, hurrah, its hit and miss but today it was hot)  shower and nurse my blisters, mossie bites and sunburn. And look back over a day of adventures and experiences so a day well spent. ...

footsore and sunburnt....

day 2.....and the lesson for today is not explore a city without pavements (in fairness, the 'roads' are more hole than surface and ankle deep in dirt, grime and much much more too bad to describe) in sandals and in 30 degree heat.

Road outside my Guest House

Seemed like a good idea at the time.....
That was after a wonderfully refreshing 12 hour sleep and a superb freshly cooked south indian dosa (s) for breakfast courtesy of host family.
Off I set along 'roads' where the crowds of rickshaws, tuk tuks, cars, bikes, people, give way to  nothing but the sacred cow.
Down to the 'beach'-the sea is so far out it can barely be seen but provides a wind and the usual mass of hawkers.  That's about 40 minutes walk (stumble) in the evening and 90 mins in the heat. Another hour and I reach the splendid monuments to,  um, a respected person. where the ever smiling locals ripped me off for ice cream and wafer. (yes I had ice cream-food poisoning alert)

The Beach - if you can find the sea....

...dont be tempted to take a dip

I made a retrospecively very foolish decision to walk up to George Town, the notoriously hectic  tangle of alleys and markets. It was a mit further tha i eexpected, turns out to be 8 kms along past the port and poor slums I shouldn't have been in.
Think I was too busy trying to avoid sunstroke to feel scared but i was very glad to arrive -courtesy of a fellow tourist who had the sense to carry a guide book !
An indian tea stall provided much much needed chai. And another provided the most glorious buttermilk lassi-just what was needed to reunite mind, body and spirit.
I jumped in a tuk tuk to return half way and wended my way home with the evening promenades along the front.
Currently sporting enormous blisters, enormous mosquito bites and arms resembling the colour of my purple rucksack (yes, I had 50 sunscreen but English skin is no match for Indian sun).
Chennai is chaotic, colourful, weird Indian mix of genuine friendly and cheats, and within 48 hours life of leaving England life couldn't be more different.

Respected Guru

welcome to India!

Oh yes, I  remember it well...that distinctive smell, the myriad mix of splendid and squalor. The charming sight of green parrots peering in my window grid, the glorious riot of flowers in fullnbloom...the inning sewers, the slums, the beggars...
India is, um, India, impossible to describe, overwhelming in every way, good and bad.
Chennai is, as I expected, noisy, dirty...yep, I had forgot just how the dust and grit gets into every where immediately, amazing how the mind forgets...completely chaotic.
On the plus side, i am here. Via the shortest stopover in Dubai possible ,(25 minutes) thanks to a delayed flight and an hour circulating Dubai. I survived the lengthy queues and forms at immigration, got past the ebola screening despite sweating in the 30 degree heat, and am ensconced in a basic but friendly b and b with WiFi and, amazingly, hot water.
I am exhausted, missed a whole nights sleep but am typing this early in the evening prior to hopefully a long rest...ear plugs going in to block out scooter noise and the multi generational family here having their evening chat...my mosquito bites may be a problem tho...welcome to India!

Counting down to D-eparture Day

OMG that week whistled past. Less than 48 hours to go and I am not ready, not at all.
But the Indian visa is in my passport, my tickets are printed and my open rucksack lies gaping on the floor awaiting the usual struggle to fit ten weeks worth of necessities in a bag the size of a large cushion. Um. .
Watch this space.............