TravelVision by Mary Altier

Rapa Nui Rap, a Visit to Easter Island

2009-10-24T12:40:00.000-07:00

Rapa Nui, or Easter Island, is one of the most remote locations on earth. It is about the same distance from the coast of Chile (which designated it a “special territory” sometime after annexing the island in 1888) as Hawaii is from the coast of California. That would be 2,300 miles, about a five-hour flight on LAN from the continent, the only airline to fly there from Santiago, Chile, or Papeete, Tahiti.

The people, who are Polynesian, apparently arrived by boat between 450 and 800 A.D. Some time after that, and experts vary in their opinion as to why, they began to carve giant heads, called moai, from the side of one of the volcanoes. Today there are close to 900 of them, from 15 to 70 feet tall and weighing from 10 to 270 tons.

Once the moai were moved to their permanent location (and how they did that still remains a matter of speculation) the massive statues were placed on ceremonial platforms, called ahu. One of the most dramatic sites on the island is the quarry where the moai were carved (Rano Raraku) where you can see several hundred of them in various positions.

Sometime in the turbulent history of clan warfare, the moai were all toppled. The ones that are standing today have been repositioned. Ahu Tangariki is the largest platform on the island with 15 moai, all of which were put back in their original position nearly 50 years ago.

Many moai are wearing their topknots or hats (pukao,) which were carved of red rock from a different quarry at Puna Pau.

The major landforms of the small island (approximately 15 miles at the longest point and 8 miles at the widest) are the three extinct volcanoes that form a triangle. The only town is Hanga Roa, where the Catholic Church is the dominant institution. We got to attend a lively mass and join in the singing of hymns in the language of Rapa Nui, which lives today.

One of the highlights of our visit to Rapa Nui was the cultural performance by the award winning group, Matato'a. This energetic and professional troop of musicians and dancers puts on one of the most spirited shows I have ever experienced.
None of the impressive sights of the island are far from the center Hanga Roa. They may be accessed by foot, organized tours, rental cars or motorbikes, or by arranging to ride some of the chestnut colored horses which graze all over the verdant island.

Revisiting Australia with Bill Bryson

2009-09-14T15:22:00.000-07:00

Last month I recommended Bill Bryson's funny yet educational book on Australia, "In a Sunburned Country," to my wonderful book group. I had first read it seven years ago when my husband John and I drove down the east coast of Australia, from north of Cairns to Sydney. There we had turned in the rental car and taken buses and ferries around this magnificent city while John worked there for two weeks. We both thought Australia was nearly perfect, much like we had found California when we settled there in the 1970s. We were surprised to find that Bryson had similar feelings to ours about this iconoclastic island country/continent.
Recommending the book to my book group last month, I figured, would nudge me to focus on what Bryson wrote about the parts of this vast country that I had not visited in 2002, but which I did visit in March and April of 2009, when I succumbed to Quantas' inexpensive airfares. My friend Annette and I planned a month's trip which involved landing in Melbourne after a non-stop flight from Los Angeles, then flying to Perth, Uluru, Darwin, and Sydney, our departure city.

Melbourne inspired us as the country's cultural capital, a place where art and the buildings that house it are held in high esteem. The National Gallery of Victoria, the Melbourne Museum, and the Ian Potter Museum are all well maintained and full of excellent work. I was amazed at the number of theaters with their big productions, including a fantastic version of Billy Elliot I caught one evening.

The effiicient tourist information office in Federation Square offers tours of just about any place anyone would want to see and learn more about. On the tour of Victoria Market we not only saw some of the most beautiful food I could imagine, we got to taste it as well. We sampled enough we were able to skip lunch.
Our bus trip down the Great Ocean Road yielded spectacular coastal views but involved too much driving for one day. It would have been better divided into a two-day trip.
Flying internally with Quantas was always a pleasure, with a far more relaxed feel in the Australian airports than we find in the United States. Our flight to Perth, on Australia's west coast, was over five hours long, but very pleasant.
The region actually includes two cities, Perth and Freemantle. I fell in love with the area's casual feel and beautiful beaches. We stayed in a time share I had traded ours for in the Swan River Valley, north of the urban areas. Kangaroos entertained us daily as we ate our breakfasts, romping on the golf course outside the glass doors to our condo.
The area's highlight was an excursion by local ferry to Rottnest Island (aka Rotto) where we rented bikes and rode around the approximately 11 by 5 kilometer island. Another transportation option, since visitors aren't allowed to bring cars, is to take the bus which circumnavigates the island, stopping at all of the beaches. (One is pictured above.)
We also visited the famous wine growing region near the town of Margaret River, about 150 miles south of Perth. It is lovely and tranquil, known for producing many of the country's premium wines. There were some pretty nice beaches in that area too, like the one above.

Our next flight took us to Uluru, formerly known as Ayres Rock. I had wanted to visit this mythical region for years, so for me this was a dream come true. It is a sandstone rock formation that stands 1,142 feet high and changes colors in various lighting conditions. According to tradition, the best way to see it is at dawn, when there are a whole lot of other folks there. It's also the coolest time of the day, and the heat in the region is legendary.
Uluru is in Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park along with another impressive rock formation, Kata Tjuta (aka The Olgas) about 16 miles from Uluru. I found these rocks to be a pleasant surprise, since most of what we read about the region focuses on Uluru, often used as the symbol of Australia. Both sites are very important to the culture of the local Aboriginal people.
On an early morning bus ride to Kings Canyon, part of the Watarrka National Park, we saw wild horses (brumbies), wild camels (introduced from Afghanistan to help build the railroads,) kangaroos, rabbits, and even the illusive echidna, which, along with the platypus, are the world's only egg-laying mammals. When we got there, we took the 3-4 hour Kings Canyon Rim Walk which traces the top of the canyon. There we saw spectacular views of the gorge below and of the surrounding landscape.

The shortest flight we took was to Darwin, in the far reaches of the Northern Territory. Darwin struck us as a place for independent-minded folks due to the remote location and the inclement climate. It seems to be hot year round, during both the "wet" and the "dry" and have a plethora of dangerous critters like the mythical salt water crocodiles. The city had to be rebuilt twice: after Japanese attacks during WWII and after Cyclone Tracy in 1974.

The highlignt of our visit was an overnight stay at Kakadu National Park, where we saw a lot of wildlife and a brilliant array of aboriginal rock art.

Another long flight took us to Sydney. Although it had been seven years since my last visit (a beautifully orchestrated Olympics had taken place since then) I felt completely at home there. My choice of public transportation is the ferries, which get you where you want to go while giving you fantastic photo opportunities along the way. The photos above and below this paragraph were both taken from the ferry on the night before our departure on a comfortable Quantas non-stop flight to California.

We had a fantastic month exploring Australia. And thanks to my book group and Bill Bryson's account of his travels there, I was able to live it all over again last month when I reread his "In a Sunburned Country."

Back to Sea Level: Peru's Jungle and its Capital, Lima

2009-08-10T13:56:00.001-07:00

After a short flight (or a very long bus ride) from the chilly arid city of Cuzco, you can be in the hot and humid jungle, part of the Amazon Basin. About half an hour after our departure from Cuzco's airport, we arrived in the frontier town of Puerto Maldonado, at the confluence of the Tambopata and the Madre de Dios Rivers. The Madre de Dios is a tributary of the Amazon. The town is only about 30 miles from Bolivia and should soon be linked to Brazil through the Trans-oceanic highway, now under construction, and a new bridge. The town is known for eco-tourism and the collection of delicious Brazil Nuts.

We shed outer layers of clothes and settled in for the relaxing one and a half hour motorized canoe ride to our lodge, the EcoAmazonia. When we arrived we were shown to our airy, spacious screened-in cabins with private baths, and ceiling fans, functional only in the evening hours when the generator was operating.

After a tasty lunch in the large dining room, we donned ill-fitting rubber boots for a short boat ride to a place called Monkey Island where monkeys who need to be reacquainted with the wild had been sent. We soon found that the rehabilitation process had been less than complete. Despite the guide's warning that all water bottles should be stowed, one of the young women in our group had hers visible. In what seemed to be a split second, a large black monkey swooped down, wrapped his arms around her legs, grabbed her bottle and draining it. The young woman shrieked in terror, and developed a migraine headache that lasted the rest of the day.

Another afternoon we fished with bamboo poles from the side of the boat, and some of us (not me!) went flying through the air, Tarzan-like, at the end of a robe overhanging the muddy river. During a night outing we spotted the glaring eyes of caiman (the same as alligators) and the brilliance and clarity of stars only that clearly visible in an environment with so little ambient light. After a short hike to a small pool during the day, several caiman surfaced, drawn by bait furnished by our guide.

After being in Puerto Maldonado, we had to reeducate ourselves once we arrived in Lima, about the dangers of traffic. The chaos was enhanced by the fact that it was raining. This might not seem so strange to most of us, but Lima averages just 7.5 inches of rain a year, so it was quite an event.

One of our Lima stops was a visit to Larco Mar, a modern shopping center actually in the trendy suburb of Miraflores. Most of the merchandise in the expensive tourist shops was from the Cuzco area, as were two indigenous weavers doing a demonstration in this iconoclastic setting.

At the coast below the shopping center, we noticed the prestigious restaurant, La Rosa Nautica. We ate there many years ago, just before it got blown up by the Sendero Luminoso (the Shining Path) during one of Peru's turbulent periods.

At the Museo de la Nacion, in fact, we saw a remarkable photography exhibit commemorating that period of Peru's history. "Yuyanapaq To remember 1980 to 2000" was dramatic, and really huge. We highly recommend it to anyone interested in the history of Latin America.

The museum had many other components to interest the visitor. We spent several hours there, and enjoyed a guided tour with a university student giving us a lot of insights into the history, art, and culture of Peru.

Striking Images of Peru: Inca Terraces, Salt Pans, and Traditional Dance

2009-07-30T10:32:00.000-07:00

Three of the best Photo Ops I found in the Cuzco area were the dance performances at El Centro Qosqo de Arte Nativo, the agricultural terraces at Moray and the nearby salt pans of Salinas.

Centro Qosqo de Arte Nativo, founded in 1924, was the first institution dedicated to preserving and cultivating the folkloric music and dance of the region. Seventy artists perform fifty different original dances. A live orchestra of local musicians playing traditional instruments accompanies the dancers with more than 100 melodies collected in the high land communities of Perú.

The artistry of the musicians and dancers is excellent, the costumes colorful and professional. The audience is usually made up of tourists and locals alike, a real tribute to the continuing popularity of the Andean traditional arts. The show is included on the Cuzco-area tourist ticket which is the best buy for admission to many of the regional sites, including Sacsahuayman, Corichancha, Pisac, Ollantytambo, and many other "must-see" attractions.

The experimental agricultural terraces at Moray (3 km. from the village of Maras) are interesting for their design element and much more. The various levels of terraces are carved into a huge naturally-occurring (but further excavated by the Incas) bowl. Experts think the Incas used these terraces to determine the best conditions for their crops.

Just a few km. away is the seldom-visited site of Salinas, also one of the most photogenic places I found in this area of the Andes. These salt pans have been used for salt extraction since Inca times. A hot spring at the top of the valley releases a stream of salty water which is diverted to the salt pans below. The salt, worked for very little money by a members of a cooperative, has been used for salt licks for cattle, although there is a movement afoot to begin an industry to provide it as a designer salt for cooking. For about $.80 each I bought baggies of the stuff to use in my own California kitchen, and to share with my foodie friends.

The Mysteries of Peru: Machu Picchu and the Sacred Valley

2009-07-26T10:33:00.000-07:00

The access to Machu Picchu, often called "Lost City of the Incas," has definitely gotten easier since I was first there nearly 40 years ago, but the feeling of mystery it evokes has not changed. When we arrived in the early morning, Huayna Picchu (the mountain peak rising sharply behind the ruins) wasn't visible and the entire site was dripping from that night's precipitaton.

As we trudged up and down the steep steps listening to our guide's explanation, clouds and fog wafted in and out, until we finally got the view we had been waiting for. At that moment, a llama raced frantically over to the precipice near where we were standing, as though compelled to do so, and posed elegantly for several photos.

On the route from Machu Picchu 60 km. away from Cuzco, the train stops at one of my other favorite destinations, the Sacred Valley town of Ollantytambo. Here a dramatic archaeological site nestles up against a tidy Andean town. The site was built by an Inca emperor as a ceremonial center. The town dates from the late 15th century and has some of the oldest continuously occupied dwellings in South America. Colonial and republican buildings surround The Plaza de Armas.

Not far away, another Inca site (Inca Pisac) towers above the sprawling town of Pisac, on the Urubamba River. The hillside is lined with agricultural terraces constructed by the Inca and still in use today. It was distroyed by Pizarro and the Conquistadores in the early 1530s. The modern town of Pisac was built by Viceroy Toledo the 1570s.

While in Pisac, we attended two days of the Catholic festival of Our Lady of Carmel which goes on for several days. The processions we saw began outside of town and culminated in the town's main plaza. The exuberant energy of the brightly costumed dancers was amazing. I couldn't restrain myself from shooting hundreds of images of the diverse material displayed before me.

Rocking and Rolling in Cuzco, Peru

2009-07-11T14:56:00.000-07:00

After a brief stay in Lima, Peru, John and I arrived in Cuzco, where the massive Inca-built stones can be found all around the vibrant city. The center of it all is the Plaza de Armas, flanked by La Catedral and La Compania, both magnificent colonial edifices. Other plazas and colonial churches dot the landscape, all of it surrounded by the ever-changing earth tones of the Andes.

One of my favorite sites is Corichanca, once the Inca empire's richest temple, over which was built the colonial church of Santa Domingo. This site is the city's most dramatic example of both types of architecture and of the colonial dominance over the indigenous civilization.

A short drive (or a long hard walk) away are four other archaeological sites. Sacsayhuaman is the most dramatic, with huge beautifully fused Inca stones, one of which weighs 300 tons. Although extremely large, only a small portion of the site remains.

Back at Work With a Story on the Bibliotheca Alexandrina, Egypt

2009-06-05T14:29:00.000-07:00

Nearly a year ago I left Bangalore, India, where my husband and I had been living for three months, and abruptly stopped blogging. Last week I decided to get back to it, and coincidently just happened to read an article about a group of experienced journalists who were laid off from their jobs at the New Jersey Star Ledger (//www.mediapost.com/publications/?fa=Articles.showArticle&art_aid=104999) They were going to try an experiment: producing an line news site (www.newjerseynewsroom.com) with the idea that eventually they could come up with a model to generate some income. In the meantime, they were working harder than ever but receiving no pay.

I emailed them and asked if they would like me to write for them. They were not only receptive to the idea, but enthusiastic. My first story, about Egypt, appeared today, the day after Barack Obama made his ground-breaking speech in Cairo. I am thrilled to be working with such a professional and prestigious group of journalists. Her are some pictures; to read the story go to: http://www.newjerseynewsroom.com/style/from-ancient-to-modern-alexandrias-bibliotheca-alexandrina

To see more of Mary's images from Egypt, go to:

Archaeological Sites - http://maryaltier.com/EgyptArchSitesWeb/

Alexandria - http://maryaltier.com/AlexandriaWebGallery

The ABC’s of Indian Women’s Fashion (Adornment, Bling, and Color!)

2008-07-16T22:10:00.000-07:00

Most Indian women, no matter what their station or profession, love to adorn themselves in brightly colored clothes accented by plenty of jewelry and kicky sandals. Although there has been a recent shift to more modern, yet traditional fashions, the silk sari is still the status garment, to be worn on special occasions by most and on a daily basis by some. It is one of the preferred gifts (along with gold) if you want to give someone something really special.
A sari (or saree) is a strip of unstitched cloth, ranging from four to nine meters long that is draped over the body in a choice of styles. Most commonly the sari is wrapped around the waist, with one end draped over the shoulder baring the midriff. The sari is usually worn with a blouse known as a choli or ravika. This cropped form-fitting garment has short sleeves and a low neck. Once a sari is selected, the choli fabric is chosen to compliment it, and a tailor custom sews the garment to the wearer’s measurements.

There seems to be no end of gorgeous saris in the shops. The textile industry constantly rises to the occasion in providing new patterns and colors to women who always want something new. New isn’t really necessary, of course. With this garment, style is constant and it easily compensates for the wearer’s size changes, no matter how extreme they may be (with the exception of the form-fitting choli.)

The garment that is replacing the sari for everyday wear is the salwar kameez (also spelled shalwar kameez or shalwar qameez.) Traditionally it is a dress worn by both women and men. Salvars or shalvars are loose pajama-like trousers. The legs are wide at the top, and narrow at the bottom. The kameez is a long shirt or tunic with the side seams left open below the waist. This outfit was originally confined to the North India.

Today, however, it has become the garment of choice for those who want to make a fashion statement. The fabrics are often colorful and the entire ensemble, including the long scarf or shawl called a dupatta worn draped around the head or neck, color coordinated perfectly.

It is a modest alternative to a sari, and one that flatters practically any body-type. By varying the fabric, color and the level of embroidery and decoration, the salwar kameez can be formal, casual or dressy and it can be made to suit practically all climates.

Many women also mix traditional and modern styles, often wearing tunic-like tops called kurta (originally these fell below the knees but now they are available in all lengths) with jeans or cropped pants. When they throw a shawl over that, (borrowed from the salwar kameez ensemble) the look is stunning: comfortable, casual, modest, modern, and traditional all at the same time.

Majestic Mysore

2008-07-15T20:42:00.000-07:00

Mysore is less than 150 kilometers (under 90 miles) from Banglore, but with the difficult traffic in both cities (especially Bangalore) getting there and getting around can be tough. Although Mysore is a natural weekend getaway, we decided to get a car and driver and go for just one day. It was fun, even if we did have to spend over 3 hours in the car in each direction!

Our first stop was Srirangapatnam, an island in the Kaveri River a few miles east of Mysore, where there is a lovely old mosque (Jumma Masjid) and a famous Hindu temple. (Sultan Tipu’s Summer Palace is there too but, since we had visited it on a previous trip, we skipped that.)

Ranganathaswamy temple is dedicated to Sri Ranganathaswamy, a form of Lord Vishnu. This temple makes Srirangapatnam one of the most important Vaishnavite centers of pilgrimage in south India. It was built in the 9th century and improved some three centuries later. It includes several styles of temple architecture. There were lots of visitors when we were there, and the usual assortment of touts, sellers, beggars, and guides. (The guides often describe themselves as “not guides but students,” although by the look of most of them, they have been studying for many years.)

Every bit as exciting for me was finding the town’s Saturday market, where I not only took photos, but was able to buy all of my week’s fresh organic veggies for just a few ruppees.

Once in Mysore, we stopped for a quick look at Saint Philomena’s Catholic Church, and were impressed with its size and majesty. It was constructed in 1956 using a Neo Gothic style, its architecture inspired by the Cologne Cathedral in Germany.

After driving up to the Chamundi Hills, we visited the Chamundi Temple and the large black bull statue called the Nandi. (Nandi was the vehicle ridden by Lord Shiva in Hindu mythology.)

But the real reason most tourists visit Mysore is to tour the famous Palace of Mysore. It was the official residence of the former royal family of Mysore, and housed the durbar (ceremonial meeting hall of the royal court).

The palace was commissioned in 1897, and its construction was completed in 1912. It is a three-storied stone structure, with marble domes and a 14-foot, five-storied tower. The palace is surrounded by a large garden. Cameras are not allowed inside but visitors can photograph the grounds. There were several elephants available to take tourists on rides, but this lone ranger looked like going to work was the last thing on his weekend agenda.
Here are a couple of other images taken in and around Mysore.

BDA (sounds like bidet) Complex and More Upscale Shopping Options

2008-07-10T00:23:00.000-07:00

Soon after I arrived in Bangalore, I discovered an alternative to the trendy shopping malls that I shun in the U.S. The BDA (Bangalore Development Authority which “oversees the development of infrastructure, provision of development-related sites and services and the housing needs of underprivileged citizens”) has small shopping areas all over Bangalore. The one I go to is in Koramangala, near where we live. Our favorite driver calls the BDA Complex "Madam's Favorite Place!"
This is old-fashioned personalized shopping. If you need an envelope of a certain size, a young apprentice in the stationary store searches the back room, then brings several types to the counter for you to choose from. To have photo prints made, you go into a hot little hovel filled with computers and a technician goes over each image until you are completely satisfied. And the prices are incredibly cheap by our standards.

Both John and I got prescription glasses made overnight (at Shruti Optical,) his readers for $15 and my bifocals for $40. I priced a USB hub at a trendy place called EZone (picture young salesmen standing around watching Indian version MTV on really big screen TVs) at $40, and got it for less than $5 at a funky electronics store at BDA.
Every week, for under $2, I have a floral bouquet put together, wrapped in cellophane with a red bow attached, and bring it home to adorn, and perfume, our apartment. John got a haircut at BDA for $1.50 and, although with two computers we haven’t needed their services, a retinue of typists at typewriters is always available.

I find the aptly named Commercial Street, which most Bangaloreans love, to be far too chaotic, so my other Bangalore shopping passions are a bit more upscale. I love shops that sell slightly ethnic but somewhat westernized clothes. These are made of light Indian cottons (perfect for the climate here) in Indian tie-dye, block prints, and other traditional textile techniques. While expensive by Indian standards, I find the $12 to $15 a piece to be completely reasonable for the excellent quality.

Fab India is one such store (which can also be accessed on line at http://www.fabindia.com/) that not only sells clothes but items for the household as well. I was pleased to read that their mission is “to support the craft traditions of India by providing a market and thereby encourage and sustain rural employment.” They have retail outlets in all major cities of India, 86 at last count, in addition to some international stores.

Anokhi (http://www.anokhi.com/) seems to have shops in 13 Indian cities. Their designs and use of fabric are excellent. From their site: “the company is well known as an alternative role model for good business practices, and the ongoing revival of traditional textile skills.” They maintain a museum on hand printing in Jaipur, Rajasthan that looks great on their web site:
(http://www.anokhi.com/anokhi/anokhi-museum.html)
Anokhi is located in Bangalore in the Leela Palace Gallery where another one of my discoveries is housed. Hidesign (http://www.hidesignleathers.com/) has beautiful handbags for a small percentage of the price you would have to pay for the same quality bag in the U.S. I read recently in a NY Times article on Pondicherry, where the bags are manufactured, that the company is partially owned by LVMH, the parent company of Louis Vuitton.
Although this isn’t a plug for a particular establishment, if you are coming to India, I advise buying your books here rather than bringing them from home. Many current best sellers, some of which are only available in the U.S. in expensive hardback editions, are sold much cheaper as publications that can only be marketed in India. Since it is an English speaking country with an excellent educational and literary tradition and an emerging middle class, the range of literature sold in the many bookshops is astounding.
Finally, while not exactly a product, I advise going to the movies, especially if you are in Bangalore. The multiplex theaters are the nicest I have ever seen, and the system the most organized. You can buy tickets on line (in fact it is nearly a requirement if you are trying to attend a film on a weekend,) and specific seats are assigned. This comes at a cost however, nearly $10 for prime time weekend viewing. There are only a few English films, but you can always try one of these options: Hindi, Kannada, Tamil, Telegu, or Malayalam.

That’s the extent of my Bangalore shopping tips except to say that you can get Indian cricketer shirts at KidsKemp on MG Road in all sizes, and can even get them personalized. I got John one for his birthday. Speaking of John’s birthday, we had a small party for him at a wonderful neighborhood Punjabi restaurant called Umerkot. Everything was terrific, even if they did spell John wrong on his cake!

Hanging Out in Historic Hyderabad

2008-07-07T19:34:00.000-07:00

One recent Friday night, John and I took an overnight train to Hyderabad, the capital of the state of Andhra Pradesh. The plan was for John to spend weekend and for me to stay an extra four days, visiting friends who were raised there, and their families. We stayed at a local Brahmin-owned hotel where I happened to notice that one of the rules posted on the door was that no meat products were allowed in the rooms. I chuckled about it then, but a few days later returned from a day of sightseeing with half my uneaten lunch, and had to prove that it was “veg” (a paneer, aka cheese, and vegetable kabob wrapped in a rhoti, or Indian flatbread) before they would stash it in the kitchen refrigerator.

With a population of ten million people, Hyderabad is one of India’s biggest cities and is plagued with the same infrastructure issues we are accustomed to in Bangalore. Like Bangalore, it is a center for IT companies (called Cyberabad) most of which are located outside the city center in an area called Hi-Tec City. The difference is that Hyderabad has a much richer cultural history than Bangalore, with some outstanding monuments, which had drawn us there.

Our first stop was the Charminar, its four graceful minarets making it the building most identified with the city. Muhammad Quli Qutab Shah, the fifth sultan of the Qutb Shahi dynasty of Golconda from which they fled water shortages, built the Charminar in 1591. The sultan modeled the well-planned city of Hyderabad on the city of Esfahan in Persia. (The enormous Golconda Fort eight kilometers away was the highlight of out trip, but more on that later.)

Near the Charminar in the historic Old City stand the Mecca Masjid (mosque,) the Charkaman (Four Arches,) and the Salar Jung Museum, all to the south of the River Musi. As impressive to me as the monuments were the twisting lanes and warrens that make up the bazaars.

The major products sold there are textiles (most of the vendors seemed to be primarily wholesalers who would also sell retail) and pearls. Pearls have in fact given Hyderabad one of its names: The City of Pearls. (The other name is the City of Nizams reflecting the dynasty that ruled Hyderabad from 1722 until Indian independence.)

We enjoyed the Salar Jung Museum that houses the largest one-man collection of antiques in the world. Salar Jung, a prime minister of the Nizam, amassed the eclectic collection. The work, which I wasn’t allowed to photograph, is diverse and includes art objects from the East and West. A small canteen-like cafeteria provided an economical lunch without to leave the building.
The next day we got a car and driver and set out for Golconda Fort, with its outermost wall’s circumference of about 7 kilometers, one of the most impressive monuments of its time that I have seen anywhere. Golconda was rebuilt for defense from invading Mughals from the north. Its builders designed a perfect acoustical system by which a hand clap sounded at the fort's main gates, the grand portico, could be heard at the top of the citadel, situated on a 300 foot (91 meter) high granite hill.

We found a small celebration going on at a Hindu temple tucked in the bowels of the fort. We spent most of an afternoon exploring the fort by day, and I returned a few days later for the impressive evening Sound and Light Show.

The tombs of the Qutb Shahi sultans lie about one kilometer north of Golconda's outer wall. These 82 structures are made of beautifully carved stonework, and surrounded by landscaped gardens. All but two kings of the dynasty are entombed there, plus relatives, dancers, singers, and doctors who served the kings.

After John left, my friends and I spent a day in an activity that was a complete departure from Hyderabad’s historic monuments: a visit to the Ramoji Film City, an integrated film studio cum theme park. Its nearly 3,000 acres earned a designation in the Guinness Book of World Records for being the largest film studio in the world. The shows, including a wild west stunt show, were professional, and the rides fun for the children I was with.

But the most interesting aspect was the bus tour through movie sets that represent locations throughout the world. These include a Japanese garden, artificial waterfalls, airport terminal, hospital, railway station, churches, mosques, temples, shopping plazas, palace interiors, chateaus, rural complexes, and urban dwellings. 80 films in several languages such as Hindi, Telugu, Tamil, Kannada, Marathi and Bangali have been produced there in the twelve years of its existence.

Other attractions I enjoyed in Hyderabad:

1. The boat ride that takes visitors across the lake in Lumbini Park to see a large Buddha on a small island.

2. Birla Mandir: a Hindu temple made of white marble located on top of a hill overlooking the city.

3. Birla Planetarium with shows that unveil the mysteries of the cosmos and the origins of the universe, in various languages.

Hindu Rituals at Baby Birthday Party

2008-06-23T22:37:00.000-07:00

Last weekend we were invited to a birthday party for a one-year-old baby at our residence hotel. It was a lot of fun and really interesting. I’m not sure the birthday girl knew what was going on but she definitely knew she was the center of attention. She grinned from ear to ear whenever she saw one of the many still or video cameras.

The guests were mostly young families of India American software engineers who have recently been relocated from places like Sunnyvale, San Jose, and Sacramento by companies like Intel, Cisco, and IBM. Before that they had acquired advanced degrees at such universities as Michigan, Cal Berkeley, and Louisiana State. Many had done their undergraduate work at prestigious Indian universities like IIT, reputed to be even more selective than Harvard.
The conversation was about cashing out of houses in California with the tough real estate market there, waiting for sea freight to arrive in India, and struggling to get houses and apartments up graded and furnished while they reside in temporary housing here at the Halcyon. The big shock is that an equivalent house to what they sold would cost more than the California selling price (sometimes over a million U.S. dollars) in Whitefield’s luxury sub divisions like Palm Meadows or Ozone. (See my blog post, “Bangalore Lifestyles” from May 29, 2008 for photos of Ozone: http://maryaltier.blogspot.com/2008_05_01_archive.html)

Much of the party was familiar, with face painting, games for children of all ages (and even one for the adults,) decorations, party favors and a piñata! These are all things you would be likely to see at many kids’ party in California. The young woman hennaing hands offered we women a special treat. I got one of my hands painted beautifully, and it remains vivid today.

The most interesting thing was a ritual that the baby’s grandmother and some of the other women performed. As one of the women sang a traditional song, the baby’s grandmother, who was holding a flame, moved the smoke toward the child, being held by her mother. Then many of the guests took their turn performing the same motion, one by one.

The grandmother also laid out some hand made sweets and held the baby’s feet over them as though the child were walking on them. I looked on line to see if these were traditional South Indian rituals and found the following account by a father about his son’s traditional birthday celebrations, which sounded very similar to what I had seen:

“My mother would conduct a little ceremony called the aarti, which requires the birthday boy to sit on a chair or a low stool while she holds an oil lamp before him. He would cup his hands at a safe distance over the flames to receive its warmth and energy and then join them in salute to the flame. Fire, as you might know, is symbolic of the sacred sun for Hindus, which in turn represents life. Therefore, Hindus do not snuff out the flame but keep it alive to symbolize longevity….. She would then complete the ceremony by wishing him life's sweetness with a piece of candy popped into his mouth.”

As I watched this baby being transferred from guest to guest, I realized that her family and friends adore this child. I had seen this same love projected by families in every strata of Indian society. Those who can’t afford a party like this one still find ways to make children feel valued and appreciated.

Here are some other photos I have taken of children with loving family members during my stay in South India.

Viewing Big Game at Two Indian National Parks

2008-06-20T02:44:00.000-07:00

Bannerghatta National Park, less than 25 kilometers from Bangalore, has got to be one of the best attractions of that city. I went with my friends the Raos. It was a lot of fun to experience the joy in the faces of Ramya, 8 and Shreya, 4 as the two of them, their mother and myself, all enjoyed the exceptional animal viewing.

The part of Bannerghatta that is unexceptional is the zoo-like area, where animals live in cages. What sets the park, and the experience apart is how they have used the 25,000 acres of space to allow visitors to see animals in a natural setting.

For under $4 U.S. visitors climb on a specially modified bus for a nearly one hour safari tour of the park. The glass windows may be opened but are screened for safety, except for holes just big enough to point a camera lens through. Security is obviously not taken lightly.

These are among the wildlife we saw at close range without bars or fences:

Tigers
Himalayan Black Bears
White Tigers
Lions

Kazeranga National Park, which I visited a few months ago, is in the far northeast region of Assam on the banks of the Brahmaputra River. Kazeranga, with 430 square kilometers (166 square miles) is a World Heritage Site. It has two thirds of the world’s Great One-horned Rhinoceroses and the highest number of tigers in a protected area anywhere.

We weren’t lucky enough to see a tiger, but we did see many rhino at close range, both on a jeep safari the afternoon of our arrival, and an elephant safari early the next morning.

During the jeep safari we asked our guide to query our seasoned driver if a rhino had ever attacked his vehicle. He told us that he had been driving for 38 years and yes, it had happened once.
“When did that happen?” our guide asked.
“Yesterday,” the driver answered.
Our guide asked again to make sure he wasn’t misinterpreting the response, because the two men spoke different native languages. It turned out to be true, confirmed later by the manager of the wilderness camp we were staying in.

The rhino had attacked and turned over the vehicle (which was still in the shop for repairs as we were asking the hard questions) and had injured the occupants. The family of four tourists from another region of India had all ended up in the hospital with, thankfully, only minor injuries.

Hindu Worship in High Tech World of Whitefield

2008-06-20T01:46:00.000-07:00

Last week I was lucky enough to accompany devotees of Sathya Sai Baba to an event described as a darshan (vision of a deity or saint) at Brindavan in Kadugodi, Whitefield, This is a suburb of Bangalore that is also known as a high tech center. It was an amazing experience, attended by thousands of people, many of them from all over the world.

As with the ISKCON Temple (see my post from Monday, May 26, 2008 “India’s Religious Tapestry: Bangalore’s Krishna Temple and Beyond”) shoes first have to be removed before entering the compound, and all bags and cameras have to be left behind. Women are expected to wear a shawl. Since I wasn’t, the lady at the bag check window loaned me one.

We women went to one side of the giant open-sided enclosure, which was decorated with tinsel and what looked like Christmas balls, and the men went to the other. Efficient women wearing yellow and red-orange saris showed us to a place on the hard marble floor. (Those unable to sit on the floor had the option of sitting in folding chairs at the back of the space.)

For a long time we sat in silence, contemplating the larger than life sized photos of the wild haired guru (wearing his signature long red robe) that decorated the stage. Then the musicians began to play and sing Hindu devotional songs (bhajan.) After they sing and play a refrain, the crowd repeats it, the pace accelerating rapidly throughout the session. I could not see the men’s side, but in my area women of all ages, most dressed in their best silk saris, adorned by gold bangles and earrings, clapped wildly to the beat of the repeated refrain.

When the music had reached a near fever pitch, several men wearing all white wheeled the octogenarian’s wheelchair onto the stage. At this point the women whose job it was to keep order had their work cut out for them due to the nearly universal attempt by the group to move forward. The music continued for some time, as Sathya Sai Baba sat looking beatifically into the hugely enthusiastic crowd.

Shortly thereafter more men in white appeared with large pots, which they handed to other volunteers. These contained individually-wrapped sweets, which were distributed to the groping hands of the women surrounding me.

The darshan take place both morning and evening in this place when Sathya Sai Baba is in attendance, during the hot summer months. The rest time he is usually in his primary residence at Prashanthi Nilayam (abode of highest peace,) Puttaparthy, Andhra Pradesh.

Originally a small village, the town now has an extensive university complex, two museums, a planetarium, a railway station, a hill-view stadium, an administrative building, an airport, and an indoor sports stadium, all due to the popularity of the spiritual leader. He is considered by his followers to be an avatar and the reincarnation of the saint Sai Baba of Shirdi.

According to the Sathya Sai Organization, (http://www.sathyasai.org/) there are an estimated 1,200 Sathya Sai Baba Centers in 114 countries worldwide. The number of adherents is estimated by experts at around six million, but sometimes quoted by followers as up to 100 million. A site you can visit for more visuals of the darshan is:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1fs1OBY82b0

By Special Request: More on Nagaland

2008-06-16T01:41:00.000-07:00

I have been asked by some of John’s Indian colleagues to talk about my visit, four months ago, to Nagaland. Sitting at the computer in the comfort of our lovely serviced apartment in Bangalore, it is hard to remember that, even though both places are part of India, these two locations are worlds apart.

To start the discussion, I recommend going to my first blog of May 23, 2008: “Incredible India: Entrances Compared” to read about the difficulties my photographer friend Terri and I had in entering the restricted Nagaland, even with the required permits, and to look at a few photos. I’ll continue from there by quoting some excerpts from my daily journal: February, 2008.

We spent our first chilly night in Kohima, Nagaland’s main city, and then were off on a two-hour bumpy and windy ride to the small village of Tuophema for the festival of Sekrenyi. Before we left, our guide Jimmy called a friend of his, Tonlo, a stylish veterinarian with recently tinted red hair, and invited him to join us. He is a well connected member of the tribe we were visiting, the Angami, one of the 14 major tribal groups of Nagaland.

When we arrived, some women in traditional dress were singing the mournful chant that we heard everywhere. Tonlo introduced us to a lovely well-dressed lady who invited us to a VIP reception at her village home, a big house that that was rivaled only in size by the Christian church at the top of a nearby hill. (The vast majority of Nagas are Christian, having been converted by missionaries who began arriving there in the 50s.)

We later found out that this was the home of Neiphiu Rio who had been Chief Minister until President’s Rule was imposed on Nagaland in January 2008, and was running again. He is a member of the Nagaland People’s Front, which joined other Naga regionalist parties and the state branch of the BJP to form the Democratic Alliance of Nagaland, a coalition that in 2003 brought the 10-year-long rule of the Indian National Congress to an end. (Note: a few days after we left in March 2008, he again beat the Congress Party in an election that was not without controversy or violence.)

We were treated as honored guests by the Rio family and friends and invited to partake of bottled beer, hard liquor and snacks. These included deep fried bugs, liver, pig intestines, and hard salty dried beef, the only thing I was brave enough to try. Later we were invited to a buffet lunch of rice, dahl, and boiled meat (apparently the favorite dish of the Nagas; everywhere we went during festival and election celebrations we saw men sitting on the ground cutting up meat and cooking it in huge pots over wood fires.) After lunch, because we were the only foreigners present, a handsome young TV anchorman from Delhi who was there to cover the election interviewed us on camera.

The festival was disappointing because so much effort was going into the election, but we did see processions of men in local traditional dress who, after arriving at the tribal gathering place, loudly shot off their rifles one by one. The women, in their simple outfits and lovely beads, took part in competitions for spinning and throwing pots. There was alos a basket weaving competition.

My favorite activity was a unique game. Several rats were staked with numbers attached to the stakes. The same numbers were propped up in front of rocks quite a distance from the rats. For a few rupees, participants purchased a few stones to be thrown at the numbers. When they hit a number, they got the appropriate rat, considered a culinary delicacy. A couple of the winners turned their prizes over to their pre-school sons who carried them, squirming, by their tails.

Much of our time in Nagaland was spent visiting villages, hanging out with the tribal people, and learning about their traditions. We were always accepted warmly and offered rice beer and often boiled meat served on leaves. One of our most interesting visits was to Shangyu Village. Along the route we found several old men with facial tattoos indicating that they had been headhunters. That practice was outlawed in the 50s but probably continued in the remote regions for another 20 years. The old men wear necklaces with brass heads to indicate how many actual heads they took back in the day.

Because on that particular day the Congress Party was staging a political rally, we were lucky that we not only got to meet the Angh of the village (headman) but all of the elders. When pick up trucks of spirited young men began arriving at the hilltop village, they suggested we leave because they thought the scene might turn ugly. This was only one example of how the impending election affected our visit to Nagaland. The enhanced military presence plethora of election advisors made travel extremely uncomfortable and difficult. But it could have been more difficult without these groups, since there probably would have been more factional incidents.

For travelers who are interested in tribal cultures and can tolerate the inconvenience of the lack of comforts and infrastructure (especially if there is no election in progress) I recommend making this trip. I can’t think of too many other places in the world today where you can see relatively unadulterated tribal cultures at such close range.

French Quiche Meets Indian Massala

2008-06-12T02:55:00.000-07:00

On Monday we got a car and driver and rode two hours through the beautiful countryside south of Mamallapuram to Pondicherry (aka Puducherry, nicknamed Pondy.) The French ruled the region for 300 years, but it became part of India over 50 years ago. The layout of the town (including a giant park called Government Place) and much of the architecture are French influenced and many street names are in French.

But the overall feel is predominantly Indian. We drove along the waterfront, stopping for a closer look at the dramatic Gandhi Memorial, before having a French-influenced lunch of quiche, tomato salad with olive oil, and fresh shrimp cocktail in a rooftop restaurant called Le Rendezvous.

The area is home to two famous ashrams, the Sri Aurobindo Ashram downtown (http://www.sriaurobindosociety.org.in/index.htm,) and its offshoot, Auroville (http://www.auroville.org,) a few kilometers north of town. The first was founded by one of India's most renowned freedom fighters and spiritualists, Sri Aurobindo.

Born in 1872, he was one of the leaders of the early movement for the freedom of India from British rule. After a period in prison for sedition, he settled in Pondicherry where the British had no political influence. He subsequently turned to the development and practice of a new spiritual path he called integral yoga.

A woman who was born in 1878 in Paris to Turkish and Egyptian parents founded Auroville. Known as The Mother, she was a devotee and collaborator of Sri Aurobindo’s to whom he entrusted his work when he retired into seclusion in 1926.

In the mid 1960s she started Auroville, a place "where men and women of all countries are able to live in peace and progressive harmony above all creeds, all politics and all nationalities." Inaugurated in 1968, Auroville continues to develop and currently has approximately 1,700 members from over 40 countries. The plethora of westerners plying the chaotic bicycle-choked town streets on motorbikes is one of the dominant characteristics of Pondicherry.

At Auroville, after we viewed a 5-minute video we received free tickets to make the one-kilometer walk to the Matrimandir, a large round gold structure where followers meditate. (If we would have requested tickets two days in advance we could have entered the building, but alas we had not.)

We returned to Mammalapuram to spend the night. The next day we went by car to Chenai, and then continued on to Bangalore by train. Even though it was 11:00 at night when we arrived, there was still a lot of traffic. The intersection near the Spar was grid locked and completely chaotic because the traffic signal was not working. “Aren’t there any cops,” I asked the driver naively. “No, Madam,” he responded. “There are no police. It is nighttime.”

Traveling Back in Time

2008-06-11T23:04:00.000-07:00

Early last Saturday morning we hopped the Lalbagh Express train at Bangalore City Junction and headed east to Chenai (formerly called Madras.) We had spent a couple of weeks there eight years ago when John was working in Cisco’s Chenai office. This time our destination was Mamallapuram (Mahabalipuram,) a fishing village 60 kilometers to the south.

The car and driver we had arranged to pick us up at the railroad station in Chenai were nowhere to be found when we arrived. We carefully navigated through the folks eating and sleeping on the station’s floor then waited impatiently in the tropical noonday sun. Eventually we made contact and piled into the barely air conned old Ambassador for the ride to Mamallapuram.

Besides the sea, most visitors come to visit the stone carvings created when the region was the capital of the Pallava kings of Kanchipuram. That would make them about 1,400 years old. Because of the influx of international tourists, many of them backpackers, there is one street dedicated to Kashmiri shops, cobblers, western-style restaurants, and tailors creating western garments from sari silks.

We explored the town and rested, but decided to leave the major sight seeing until the next day. We had been unimpressed with the hotel (Sterling Mahabalipuram) that had been touted as a beach resort. The beach was a long way off and the pool we had been promised did exist but had no water in it. At over $100 a night it didn’t seem like much of a bargain. It got worse, however, when we tried the shower and no water came out. We begged them for a bucket of water so we could at least sluice water over us Balinese-style and they weren’t able to comply.

The next day we rolled our bag down the street to a $40 a night hotel, the Mamalla Heritage (http://www.hotelmamallaheritage.com/index.html.) For that price we got a better room, a nice breakfast, a swimming pool filled with clean water, and an accommodating staff. Now we were ready to explore the archaeological sites:
Arjuna's Penance - a giant bas-relief filled with detailed carvings, including a family of elephants and monkeys. (Our guide told us it was the second biggest after Angkor Wat in Cambodia, but that is unsubstantiated.)

An old lighthouse providing views across to the sea.

The most fun attraction, Krishna's Butterball, a giant natural rock perched precariously. On hot afternoons, the kids pour water on the hillside and slide down.

Separate from the rest of the remains and arguably the most dramatic is the Shore Temple, carved from a single piece of stone. Rocks which had been piled around to protect it from a cyclone in the seventies probably kept it from being damaged by the December, 2004, tsunami which affected the entire coastal region.

That night we discovered a fantastic restaurant where we had the regional specialty, tiger prawns. The Moonrakers prepares them with a rich, cooked down for hours mélange of tomatoes, garlic and onions.

Another favorite place in Mamallapuram is a shoe shop owned by Mr. Kumar, a third generation cobbler. I had two lovely pairs of sandals made to order (he drew around both of my feet and archived them in his order book) for under $10. (Professional Cobblers Shoe Shop near Sea Shore Restaurant.)

The next day we continued down the coast to Pondicherry, the subject of the next blog.

Two Visits: A Modern Wellness Center and an Antiquated Post Office

2008-06-05T09:07:00.000-07:00

I stood outside of a spanking new medical clinic just a few blocks from our residence hotel and took a photo of the modern exterior. Suddenly, one of the Manipal Cure and Care Center’s marketing executives was at my side inviting me to take a tour of the 3-month-old facility. From the modern reception desk to the pediatric clinic, the place is glistening, modern, and high tech. All of the doctors and technicians are attractive, smiling, and friendly.

And the prices are shockingly inexpensive considering what we are used to in the U.S. The Mother’s Day special, available throughout the month of May, offered 13 tests, including a mammogram, Pap smear, ultrasound, and EKG for $25 US (normal price: $112 US.) Although many other services are available, the center is clearly geared for India’s medical tourism. The facility has strong departments for patients seeking cosmetic surgery, dentistry, and eye care.

A web site I found on medical tourism describes it as a worldwide, multibillion-dollar industry. An intriguing possibility comes from South Africa, specializing in medical safaris. Patients visit the country for a safari, with a stopover for plastic surgery, a nose job and a chance to see lions and elephants.

From the same site: “India is considered the leading country promoting medical tourism-and now it is moving into a new area of ‘medical outsourcing,’ where subcontractors provide services to the overburdened medical care systems in western countries." http://www.indiamedicaltourism.net/medical_tourism_india_medical_tourism/index.html

"Government and private sector studies in India estimate that medical tourism could bring between $1 billion and $2 billion US into the country by 2012. The reports estimate that medical tourism to India is growing by 30 per cent a year. Western patients usually get a package deal that includes flights, transfers, hotels, treatment and often a post-operative vacation.”

A visit to an Indian post office showed the opposite side of the coin. Indian postage stamps still do not have sticky backs so customers have to wipe messy glue from little pots on the back of the stamps with dead ball point pens. There is always a queue and only one or two people doing any work. A supervisor consistently sits a distance from the counter, surveying the entire operation but not lifting a finger to help.

I needed to send some books to the United States and, to her credit, the one person who was actually doing something helped me redo the package so it could be sent book rate. String was needed to make the change. She told me I could get some in the back room, dark and cavernous, with two bored looking postal employees who seemed shocked at my entering their inner sanctum. One of them pointed to a couple of pieces of used string sitting on a counter and my mission was accomplished. Though not easy, I had successfully survived a visit to an Indian post office. The experience was not much different from my first encounter, 22 years ago.

Mango Madness and Other Tasty Treats

2008-06-02T21:32:00.000-07:00

Nearly 70% of the mangoes produced in the world come from India, the world's largest producer of that juicy fruit. By some accounts, India has about 1500 varieties of mangos, including 1000 commercial ones. The names that surface most frequently are Langada, Neelam, Chausa, Rajapuri, Bainganpally, Daseri, Mallika, Ritual, Langra, Kesar, Bangarapalli and Lalbaug. But the legendary one seems to be the Alphonso, described in poetic terms by one writer as: “the tubby golden ones (which) arrive in late May.” I am lucky to be in India at this time of year, so I can slurp the nectar of this succulent fruit, the best I have tasted anywhere.

Vegetables are excellent here as well, with a wide variety and an abundant supply. While not as beautiful as they are in other parts of the world, such as Italy, the taste of everything I have eaten has been terrific. I can barely carry home my purchases from a trip to the local market.

It ‘s filled with several types of gourds (bitter, ridge gourd and just plan gourd) cucumbers and pumpkin. Root vegetables include beets, turnips, and carrots. Green peas, green beans, long beans, Brussels sprouts, sweet corn, cabbage, mushrooms, and cauliflower (India is one of the world’s biggest producers) make for a colorful array.

Flavor is enhanced in many Indian recipes with ginger, onions, garlic, shallots, tomatoes, and several types of green and red chilies. The potato is found in many popular dishes as are eggplant (called brinjal) and okra (called lady’s fingers.) Indian cooks use greens that look limp and unrecognizable to us for taste as well as nutrition.

For those on Western salaries, the prices are incredibly reasonable. I am sure it is difficult for many Indians to buy enough rice, lentils and veggies (mainstays of the Indian vegetarian diet) to feed families on what they earn with the current inflation rate of approximately 7%.

But 10 rupees (25 cents) for a kilo of bright red, tree ripened, locally-grown tomatoes is a dream come true for a Slow Food advocate like me. Here are some more images from a recent trip to my local street market.

Third Weekend in Bangalore

2008-06-01T08:44:00.000-07:00

Our weekend started on Friday night when we went out for Italian food at a highly recommended, trendy (and pricey) Italian restaurant called Fiorano. While the food was mediocre, the fresh mozzarella in the Caprese salad (fresh tomatoes and basil layered with the cheese and drizzled with olive oil) was really good. Amazingly, they make it from milk they get from a local supplier and manufacture it right there. They sell it, along with their signature breads, for a reasonable price, much less than a comparable imported Italian cheese would be.

On Saturday, John had to connect with a colleague for a lunch meeting at his hotel. Instead of getting a car and driver from our hotel, we decided to hop onto an auto rickshaw and save some money. As usual, we got caught in traffic, which took more time that we had anticipated. When we arrived at the hotel, John called his colleague from the lobby to tell him he had arrived. Ten minutes later, the colleague called asking where John was. It seems we were waiting in the wrong lobby, in a hotel that is a member of the same group so that it had a similar name, which had confused the driver. A second auto rickshaw finally got us to the correct destination and John hurried off to the hotel restaurant for a late working lunch. I found a small café where I could get a quick bowl of what the menu called Mexican soup (chicken hot dogs in a tomato base with a few vegetables.)

Nearby I found a liquor store selling Sula, an Indian wine some friends had recommended two days earlier. Until then, I didn’t know such a thing existed. The eight-year-old winery is “committed to placing India firmly on the global wine map as we continue to produce wines of outstanding quality and superb value.” The approximately US $10.00 price made me yearn for Trader Joe’s selection and low prices.

This second quote from their website made me want to make the long trip from Bangalore to the state of Maharashtra between Mumbai (Bombay) and Pune to “learn more about our terroir, or discover how green our thumbs really are in sustainable agriculture. If reading about all this isn't enough, come on over and experience our vineyards yourself.”

Still with a couple of hours to kill, I found a promising beauty salon called Lakme. Later, using an on-line “Salon Locator,” I found that they are part of a chain (115 locations in 36 Indian cities) and that the salons can be found all over India. There are 20 in Bangalore alone.

I got a manicure and pedicure at the same time ($10.00 for both plus tip; ironically the same price as the wine!) by two competent young women. One of them was from Pondicherry, formerly a French colony on India’s east coast. The other was from Manipur, a state that is part of the Northeast, where I traveled a few months ago. Several of her colleagues at the salon were also from there. Many people have migrated from this region to do all kinds of work in Bangalore. Since my visit to the Northeast, I have learned to recognize them by their lovely looks and quiet charming manner. Here are some other faces of Northeast India.

When I was finished and John’s meeting was over, it started to pour a very hard monsoon rain. This brings us to one of Bangalore’s quirks: a taxi system allowing you to hail a cab on the street does not exist. The choices are to arrange a car and driver from your hotel or from a transportation service and have that driver drop you or wait for you, or to call for a car from a taxi service. That option can take a lot of time before they arrive; in this case the hotel doorman told us it would be a half an hour. (But this being India in the monsoon, it could have been a lot more.)

So we had no choice but to try a third option, to find an auto rickshaw. I crouched under an overpass where some young Indian men made a place for me, as John (trying to protect himself with the one umbrella we had brought with us) tried to find an empty auto rickshaw and get it to stop. He did that, agreeing to pay much more than double the usual price ($4.00; I would have paid a lot more at that point. The ride back to the Halcyon John described as something Disney should try to replicate as an amusement ride. Up to a foot of water had accumulated on the streets by that time and adjacent cars splashed huge amounts of the wet stuff on our feet.

That was in addition to what was coming down on us, since the sides of this particular vehicle did not close off as some do. (The driver suggested the low-tech solution of placing the umbrella vertically to block the rain driving in on the worst side.) Some rickshaws with their low clearance were unable to negotiate the depth of the water and they fell by the wayside. Ours made it, however, and our being extremely wet was the only inconvenience. (I have no photos of this little adventure for obvious reasons.)

After we dried off and changed clothes, we finished the evening with an excellent Indian dinner and Kingfisher beer at a neighboring condo. I had met Gheeta and her mother when they helped me bargain for some fruits out on the street near our place. They normally live in San Jose, California, not far from where we live in the U.S. They are here, as we are, for a several month stay. John and her husband, Ramana, also a high tech guy, enjoy talking Geek Talk together. Gheeta’s parents, who are visiting from Hyderabad, and the couple’s two beautiful young daughters make up the family.

Indian Infrastructure: Traffic, Electrical Power, and Garbage

2008-05-30T23:12:00.000-07:00

The three things that everyone seems to complain about in Indian cities (and Bangalore is no exception) are the congested streets and roads, power outages, and garbage that accumulates nearly everywhere.

The streets are clogged. Not long ago, the classic Ambassador (which you can still see in the old Bollywood movies on TV here) was the only car available. Now compact cars, especially hatchbacks, predominate with Maruti, Hyundai and Tata Motors the most popular brands. Utility vehicles and SUVs are also available. Buses, trucks, auto rickshaws, bicycles, and two wheelers (scooters, small capacity motorcycles and mopeds) add to the chaos. In 2002, more than 50,000 new cars were bought in Delhi alone. And the growth is just beginning. In January, 2008, Tata Motors introduced their Nano, billed as a “one lakh car.”($2,000.)

India reportedly has one of the highest accident rates in the world. Bangalore’s local newspaper, The Deccan Herald, reported yesterday that there were 5,091 non- fatal accidents in 2007 and 667 involving fatalities. Crossing the street can be a dangerous undertaking. The other day as we were walking near our place, we turned quickly when we heard tires screeching. A scooter driver was under the front of a small pick up truck, his helmet thrown off. I was sure he was dead, but seconds later his head popped out, he grabbed his helmet, put it back on, and rode off. The truck left the scene just as quickly before the onslaught of a crowd (inevitable whenever there is an accident) had time to form or the police had time to get there.

On a previous visit to Bangalore the three-wheeler I was riding in was forced into the median strip by a car driven by a professional driver and carrying some businessmen. For a terrifying second we both saw it coming but my driver, in a much smaller and lighter vehicle, was powerless to do anything about the situation. By the time the car driver realized what was happening, the auto rickshaw was crushed against the concrete median. I felt so sorry for my woeful looking driver, who probably had to make reparations to the vehicle’s owner, that I left him some extra money before leaving the scene.

Power outages are so frequent that all companies, hotels, and shopping malls have generators that kick in whenever the power goes off. When I was in New Delhi a couple of months ago, my friend Terri and I were captivated by the clumps of cables draped across the exterior of buildings everywhere.

The apparent lack of a system for trash collection is the toughest thing for me to accept. Even a nice neighborhood will have a vacant lot contaminated by all types of garbage, often with a lone cow nibbling away at it. I have seen trucks picking up garbage from some of these lots, so there must be a system, obviously one that the western mind can’t comprehend. The good news is that quite a bit of recycling seems to come out of those pick ups. I was impressed to find a family operated recycling center where bales of magazines and newspapers were waiting for collection in my neighborhood.

On a TV news spot the other day they reported that the garbage pickers are so unhappy with their jobs (for good reason) that they resort to drinking alcohol daily, a pretty desperate solution for folks who are forbidden to imbibe.

There may be efforts afoot to solve the waste problem but we don’t see much evidence of them. Plastic bags are given most places, although some upscale shops are now using lovely paper handled carry bags that can be used practically and aesthetically. When we entered the supermarket the other day with a big shopping bag we planned to pack our groceries in, the security guard required that we leave it behind in the bag check.

In contrast, in parts of the “primitive” state of Arunachal Pradesh in India’s Northeast, plastic bags have been outlawed and market purchases are wrapped in newspaper. The big difference is population density. Arunachal Pradesh has 13 people per square kilometer while in a large city like Delhi it is over 9,000. Indian’s cities will have to work hard to solve this and its other infrastructure problems as the train called progress has roared out of the station and is rapidly picking up speed.

Bangalore Lifestyles

2008-05-29T09:08:00.000-07:00

Much of Bangalore looks like our neighborhood in Koramangala. The streets of this, Indian’s Garden City, are lined with lacy and often lushly flowering trees. Children and dogs reign freely, and street sellers, fruit and vegetable carts, and mom and pop markets are commonplace.

For a 21st century feel, however, Bangalore has upscale shopping malls and supermarkets as well as several 5 star deluxe hotels like the Oberoi Bangalore, Taj West End, Windsor Sheraton and Towers, and Leela Palace Hotel.

Part of the Leela Kempinski Palaces, Hotels, and Resorts chain, it offers “panoramic views of the inner courtyard with lush gardens and the mist covered waterfalls.”

Long-term ex-pats and local professionals in Bangalore can find housing in a number of western style residential developments. Two of these are Palm Meadows, “a 95-acre integrated gated community with its luxury villas dotting the exquisite landscape,” and Ozone: “beyond-the-edge solutions in homes, offices, shopping, hospitality and leisure spaces.”

Bangalore: Life in the Hood

2008-05-29T08:47:00.000-07:00

A friend sent me an email asking if Bangalore now looked and felt just like the Silicon Valley in California. My response was that, even with the infusion of high tech companies, their influence is definitely strong but not all encompassing.

I like our neighborhood in Koramangala because, even though there are trendy cafes with wireless Internet access (including a very expensive Italian one called Barista LavAzza), it has retained its Indian flavor. It has crowded food stalls, fruit carts, unpaved streets, small businesses like beauty shops and travel agents, and wandering through it all, an occasional cow. The building boom means lots of construction sites with women doing much of the work, mostly carrying heavy loads of rocks in baskets on their heads. Their children often dangle from their backs or cling to their skirts.

The big surprise was finding a herd of a dozen or more water buffalo wallowing in mud created by the recent rains about a block from our comfortable condo. Their caregivers seemed to be a family that included several young children. They scurried inside their corrugated metal roofed lean to when they spotted my camera. It was all just a few doors down from the Men’s American Beauty Parlour and next to a little cart where a beautiful young mother ironed her clients’ garments with a coal iron. As I took her picture, a tractor lumbered past.

India’s Religious Tapestry: Bangalore’s Krishna Temple and Beyond

2008-05-26T08:29:00.000-07:00

During my first week in Bangalore, I wanted to experience a piece of Hindu India. What better place to do that than a visit to the ISKCON Temple (International Society for Krishna Consciousness, also known as the Hare Krishna movement.) It is one of 40 temples that have been built by the organization, founded in 1966 in New York City by A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada. Devotees worship Krishna as the highest form of God.

The temple visit is free, unless you choose to take the paid route that separates you from the majority of the pilgrims. I chose to take the mainstream path where I saw no other westerners. The first thing everyone must do is leave behind all large bags (cameras are forbidden) and shoes. Part of the procedure involves giving the men in charge your name and cell phone number, both of which go on a flimsy pink receipt which must be returned, along with a numbered token, at the end of the visit in order to retrieve your belongings.

The path leads to viewings of gold encrusted, flower-bedecked statues, to the recorded background chant of “Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna, Krishna, Hare Hare, Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Rama Rama, Hare Hare” Since I couldn’t photograph inside the temple, you can get a feel for what it was like (complete with chanting) by going to the web site: http://www.iskconbangalore.org/

After passing through the temple, I entered the commercial area where I bought some beads, a hand made cell phone case, and t shirts with stylized drawings of Krishna on the front and “I Lost My heart in Vrindavana” on the back. I also got some delicious spiced (masala) cashews.

I understand that the temple promotes the protection of cows, seen as important for a prosperous and healthy society. The milk of 40 cows (maintained by the community) is used in the making of the sweet delicacies sold here. The large kitchen producing the snacks has the capacity to provide food for two thousand visitors per hour.

Preparation and distribution of vegetarian foods offered to Lord Krishna (prasadam) have always been an essential part of the Vedic culture. In over 40 years, ISKCON has served over 150 million nourishing free dinners, opened over thirty vegetarian restaurants, and widely publicized the value of a spiritual vegetarian diet through printed materials and films. To commemorate this philosophy, each temple visitor is offered a bowl of Kichri (a combination of rice and other ingredients) at the end of the tour.

Here are some photos of other places of worship or religious symbols I took in Northeast India and Delhi.

It May Not be Nagaland but It’s Not Kansas Either

2008-05-24T22:02:00.000-07:00

I had requested a residence hotel with a functional kitchen and the Halcyon had that. So our next task was to buy something to cook. The first supermarket we found was completely “veg.” While we don’t eat red meat, I was hoping for chicken, fish, or even canned tuna. They had none of the above. We bought some things anyway including 1-liter bottles of Italian olive oil and red wine vinegar that set us back $20. U.S. (Imported items have huge duties in India. While these two items aren’t available in an Indian version, things like pasta are available at about a quarter the import prices.)

We asked the driver if he knew any place to buy chicken. He searched and inquired and soon stopped by the side of the road, telling me the nearby shop was the place. It was filled with chickens all right, live and in cages. He told me in halting English that they would kill one for me. I thanked him but said that I would look for it all wrapped in plastic like I was used to.

The next market, a brand new branch of a European chain, Spar, was the place we had been looking for. We found almost everything on our list including reasonably priced spoons, spatulas, hot pads, a can opener and grater. The one thing we couldn’t find was laundry bleach. When I asked for it, a female employee started to lead me to the cosmetics section. I told her I didn’t think it would be there, that I wasn’t talking about hair bleach. “Oh,” she said, “I thought you wanted bleaching cream.” I told her we didn’t use that too much and she said, “Yes, because you don’t have to. Your skin is good.”

Terri and I often found this mentality in remote Northeast India where the locals had seen very few foreigners. As we visited their villages of palm or bamboo thatched huts, women often inquired about our white skin. One asked our guide if she had been born in our country would she be white. It makes me sad to photograph these lovely women whose rich skin tones I admire and realize that the western standard of beauty has colored their view of themselves. Here are some photos of beautiful women I have photographed throughout India.

You Gotta Have a Cell Phone With a Bollywood Ringtone

2008-05-24T21:45:00.000-07:00

After a good night’s sleep at the Halcyon, our comfortable residence hotel in Bangalore’s suburb called Koramangala. we arranged a car and driver and headed for the Forum Shopping Center. Our mission: to try to get a local cell phone with Sim card. The Halcyon gave John a letter of residence, which he carried with a passport sized photo and photocopies of his passport and Indian visa. (Don’t leave home without them!)

Our first stop was MacDonalds, where I never set foot in the U.S. However, when in New Delhi in February I had acquired a fondness for two tasty dishes; Paneer and Chicken Tikka wraps. We fought our way through the huge lines of folks, mostly young student types, ate our hybrid snacks, then set out to find a mobile.

Like we always do at Verizon offices in California, we waited a long time in the Vodaphone office across from the mall. After a half an hour we gave up in frustration when our name didn’t seem any closer to the top of the list than when we arrived. Our energetic driver, Amil, referred us to a shop inside the mall selling a variety of telecommunications products and services. We asked for the cheapest phone available and chose a small Nokia. The young clerk (they are ALL young!) requested signatures across John’s photos and multiple other spots on the required forms. As we crowded onto the down escalator of the upscale mall we felt like we had become one with the Indian masses in a very small way. We now had an Indian cell phone!

Incredible India: Entrances Compared

2008-05-23T23:48:00.000-07:00

My husband John and I approached the immigration official at the airport in Bangalore side by side. “Are you traveling together?” he asked. “Yes,” I said, then added. “We’re married.” His response in clipped British-style English: “I never make any assumptions about that.”

With that, we entered the world of Bangalore, the high tech capital of India, where John would be on assignment for Cisco Systems for the next 2-1/2 months. It was my second time entering India in the past 3 months.

In February and March I traveled with fellow photographer and friend Terri Gold photographing the tribes in Northeast India. It used to be called the Northeast Frontier or the Seven Sister States. Our entrance to the restricted region of Nagaland (http://www.mapsofindia.com/maps/nagaland/nagalandlocation.htm), former home to fierce headhunters, was not that sophisticated.

Besides an Indian visa, a special permit is required to enter Nagaland. These are only issued for couples (meaning a man and a woman) or groups numbering four or more. The tour company in New Delhi had put two extra women on our permit, one from France and another from Japan. They were mysteriously “not able to travel when it came time to get on their planes,” explained the Bhutanese Nepali managers of the company that had been founded by a Buddhist Rinpoche. Even though deceased, the holy man still had a dedicated office in their small complex, complete with a dusty outdated computer.

After we had landed in Jorhat, Assam, we crossed the border into Nagaland. Here a soldier stopped us to confiscate our Tata jeep-like vehicle for government work. The state election was only a few days away and they were short on wheels, he explained. Jimmy, our able Naga guide, was able to persuade them that it was not a good idea to leave paying guests without transport. (We later found out that if the only occupants were locals, the vehicle would have been taken for sure.) This lone soldier didn’t check our document for missing tourists so we thought we were out of the woods.

A few kilometers down the road we encountered the officer in charge who said we were not going anywhere in a group of two women. Jimmy got on his cell phone and called all of his contacts in the nearby regional capital, Kohima. He talked a friend of a friend into leaving his home late on a Sunday evening to try to get us into the mysterious region. The kind man was also a police captain who ranked the guy on duty, but unfortunately it wasn’t his watch.

After long negotiations they struck a deal. If we would back track to the police headquarters and redo the documents, it would be Open Sesame. By breakfast the next day our problem had been solved using some ingenuity and a little oldfashioned document manipulation with white out. The multiple photocopies of our documents listed only Mary Altier and Terry Gold. The French and Japanese women had become MIA.