Traveling Back in Time

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

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

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

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.