In The Style to Which We Are (un)Accustomed

Chettinad. We had heard so much about it’s spicy cuisine, it riches and its palaces… ok, ok, it is actually not in the Lonely Planet (the backpacker’s bible) or the Rough Guide, but we read good things about it on internet forums, and after all, we are here to explore the unknown and to report back to you folks back home about places which are off the beaten track.

The Chettinad region was home to rich trading tycoons who made their fortunes abroad in places like Burma, Sri Lanka and China, while the rest of their extensive extended families lived in the lap of luxury in this dry dusty region poorly suited to agriculture and pretty much most else. They turned the little village of Kannadukatan, among other places, into a “modern” town, with wide, paved streets set in a grid pattern, and built large, stately mansions that seem to take up entire blocks (which may explain the grid pattern). Every mansion has several large courtyards, each with a different purpose. The first one is for receiving important guests (such as ourselves…) the second for banquets, the third for the women to hang out during the banquets (it goes without saying that they were not really invited otherwise) the last one or two were for cooking all the food for the aforementioned banquets. Needless to say, it was these last ones we found the most interesting. They have sunny places for drying food (like pappadums or chilies) and shady places where you can do more physical work like grinding masalas on a huge stone slab or in a gigantic, deep mortar and pestle. Because of their weight, they are mostly still in their original places, although for those who enjoy browsing at flea markets, they are also available there and make excellent, easy to transport gifts. All you need is a small truck or an elephant to get it home.

Most of these houses (and there are about 50 of them in village alone) are nowadays empty and in need of some repair. The trading tycoons did not survive World War Two after trade was severely limited, and their riches dwindled, living their coffers and stately homes emptied of wealth. Nowadays, the owners are either away at their other house in Chennai, or their 60 odd offspring cannot agree what to do with the place and its 120 rooms. Sometimes part of the house is rented out to prevent squatters, and people will only use the front porch (which is still big enough to house 10 college students, as we saw).

Another possibility is to turn it into a fancy “boutique” hotel, which is exactly what the owners of the Chettinadu Mansion, where we stayed, have done. They refurbished seven out of the 100 or so rooms in the house, added a western style bathroom, and are doing a booming business. There is still not too much tourism here, which is actually quite nice, but also means that you have to depend on the hotel staff organizing tours for you.

On the first day we got a guided tour of the village, including a very interesting visit to another “palace” that was even bigger than the one we were staying at. The guard let us in because our guide was his cousin, but we had to quietly wait locked inside while a group of tourists were denied entry. The palace was still furnished, and included hunting trophies (an elephant’s leg vase and tusked mirrors- poor elephants!), elegant European furniture and a series of bigger-than-life sized portraits of the former matriarchs and patriarchs. Time seems to be frozen here and one is transported back to the glorious days of the Raj.

Yesterday, we were driven around in an A/C car for the better part of the day and were taken to see an interesting tile “factory” – where they make the kind of lovely painted tails one can still find in old houses in Chettinad and in Jaffa (as well as at least one in Ra’anana). Then we were whisked away to see how they make handloom saris (and had to exercise extreme restraint in not purchasing the entire stock) and then we were taken to “Antique Alley” where many of the former riches can be found today. I think it was the most interesting flea market we have been to, we would have been happy to purchase almost everything we saw: cupboards, hanging cradles (remember the two rupees we left at the Shiva temple…), carved hope chests, doorframes, and original teak wood pillars. However, practicality reigned, and we only ended up with a couple of wooden bowls and a half meter long ornately carved wooden coconut scraper. Then we finished the day off by shopping for Chettinad saris for those who requested them. Can you imagine what our first thing to do in the next town we get to? Yes, we will find a post office and make a very large parcel to send home.

But, getting back to our Mansion. We have entitled this post “In the Style to Which We Are (un) Accustomed” because we usually stay in 200 rupee cockroach motels, with suspiciously stained walls and bed sheets, and eat in truck stop cafes with people who think nothing of washing their hands by pouring a glass of water on to their hands over the floor (usually dirt, so it isn’t a problem). But this was a whole different affair. The room which was decorated with eggwash paint in tromp d’oeuil style, popular in Europe of the 1880s, had A/C that actually worked, shining crisp white bedsheets we didn’t think twice about actually sleeping on (we usually use our own), complimentary sweets, soap, shampoo and razor and for the first time on this trip, TOWELS were not only provided but were also changed daily.

The food was nice, and served in the amazing grand entrance hall, but it took us a couple of meals to get them to understand that we wanted SPICY, original Chettinad cuisine, not some sort of a bland watered-down version meant for delicate French tourists (which seem to make up most of their western clientele). Needless to say, this was the splurging two days of our vacation, costing about 20 times what we usually spend, but it was worth every moment. Candle-lit dinners in the open air courtyard, a nice swim after a long, hot day, and, did we mention the clean bedsheets? It was an unforgettable experience living like wealthy people for a few days. There were too many nice photos to fit on the blog so go to the picasa Chettinad album if you would like to see more.

BARFI: Another quiz to see if you can

answer something we couldn’t figure out. We saw a lot of women who had put turmeric paste on their faces, giving them a strange ghostly yellow glow. We tried to discreetly ask one woman we were talking to about this, and the answer was “it is yellow.” We weren’t sure if that was actually the answer or if the question was misunderstood. Perhaps there is an ayurvedic explanation? Does anyone know or can google this?

Monsoon Activities - a Rainy Sunday in Bangalore

First of all, for all of you who have heard about recent events in India: we are both fine, and although we were in the city last Friday when a series of low intensity explosions went off, we were not in the vicinity.

We came to Bangalore originally because we were a bit behind schedule and needed to axe a few other places from our overly-optimistic itinerary, and while we only planned to stay for two days, we forgot how much we love this city and have now been here 5 days. don't ask what we have done - somehow the days just went flying by. Staying at home and having a nice home cooked meal was one of the things we were really looking forward to after a couple of weeks on the road. We were very lucky in this respect, as we managed to get TWO home cooked meals, one from Gayatri's Aunt Keerti, and the other from Keerti's friend, Vidyullala. Both were "normal everyday meals" according to the claim of the hostesses, but to us they were an elaborate affairs that involved lots of veggies and other tasty tidbits. We wish our "everyday meals" back home tasted like this! Kim got some of the recipes, so we are looking forward to re-creating it back at home.

This also the first place were we really noticed that we are in the Monsoon season: there have been many power cuts (up to 8 hours a day) due to a lack of rain and to the fact that the state mostly runs on hydro-electric power. Then there was diesel shortage, because everyone runs a private generator, and then, finally, the rains finally started to come, solving some of these problems.

So, what does one do in the Monsoon? There are many things to do, and we did many of the typical ones yesterday. To start with, as the weather was still dry, we headed to the Lalbagh, or local botanical gardens, for a bit of fresh air and a light breakfast al fresco. We walked around the gardens and observed many families doing the same thing. It seemed to be just the thing for people to do with their elderly relatives. Unfortunately, the weather didn't hold up, and it began to intermittently shower, so we decided to look for shelter. A good opportunity presented itself in the form for the Marvalli Tiffin Rooms, also apparently just the thing to do with those elderly relatives of yours. The MTR as it is commonly known, is a local institution - a "restaurant" would be too humble of a word to describe this phenomena. It is literally a series of "rooms" - about four of them, each seating about 50 people. They have got quite the system going at the MTR: first you pay for your "meal" (there is nothing else on the menu between noon and two) then you head upstairs, to find out that all of the people you have seen in the Lalbagh gardens have made it there before you, and are all sitting on benches in a waiting room. From the photo below, you can think that this is a local doctor's office, or a waiting area at the train station, but no, this is the "waiting area" of the MTR. The system: you wait for about one hour, exchanging pleasantries and personal details with everyone else in the room, until one of the four dining rooms is completely empty. Then they call out the numbers of about 50 people and everyone files into that room. Following this, everyone is served exactly the same thing at the same time, by a gaggle of waiters, carrying the food in large buckets. The woman who waited next to us promised that there will be 25 items in the meal but we counted about 22: grape juice, water, coconut chutney, kosimbari salad, cabbage bhaji, potato curry, puris, gulab jamum, rice pudding, deep fried snacks, tomato rice with cashews, regular rice with sambar and rasam, raita, mini-pappadums, yoghurt rice, fruit with ice cream, and of course, paan to digest everything well. This was an amazing meal, all the more so, because it was eaten in under 20 minutes. Everyone had to "stay with the tour", and there could be no lingering and chatting, as the next shift was waiting in the wings. Thus satisfied, we headed back for a nap at the hotel and a bit of recovering before our evening's activities. (below: making enough coconut chutney to feed a small hoard of elephants at the MTR)


Originally we bought tickets to a special concert dedicated to Monsoon Ragas. A Raga is like a mode in Western music, only there are many more of them, and they are dedicated to various times of the day and seasons in the year. We thought this concert sounded very special, and prolonged our stay by two days so we could hear it, and we were therefore very disappointed when we read in the paper that it had been postponed by two weeks because of the situation here. However, we still managed to hear a different concert of Karnatic music, and with all the windows open and the scent of rain floating through the auditorium it certainly qualified as an excellent monsoon activity.

No evening was complete without walking home in the rain. There are always lots of puddles to splash through on the way home, and while it is one thing to walk in the rain and have wet feet, it is quite another to have wet feet when you walk through a place reeking of pee or sewer....your imagination starts to work overtime, and I think we are the first people to alco-gel their feet!

BARFI: You don't get a new BARFI because you haven't solved the last one yet. However, tgber(Boaz's parents) were the ones came the closest. Obviously, a "Takla teli nupolo" is Tagliatelle Napoli. Don't ask us what this gourmet rendition entails in touristic Hampi, but we suspect it is pasta with canned tomato sauce.

The Road MORE travelled- Hampi

When we planned our trip last year, we eventually decided not to go to Hampi because it seemed like one big tourist trap. This year, after seeing many pictures and hearing many accounts of how magical and wonderful it is, we decided that perhaps we had been unduly harsh. We were both right and wrong on both accounts, it is a HUGE tourist trap, but it is also very special and wonderful (if you can hold yourself back from accidentally killing the 2 millionth person who starts grabbing at you and saying "postcards, postcards, postcards").

Arriving in Hampi three days ago, we were shocked to find out that there were OTHER western people in town. We have been traveling for more then two weeks now, and apart from Colaba in Mumbai we haven't seen any other western peoplethe whole time. We found that we developed a natural Indian instinct towards them, we simply stare... and rightly so... the girls - they don't wear anything! These little tank tops are smaller than cholis, and those shorts are really shocking. There is a whole culture of people who migrate for 6 months on end across India from one of these tourist traps to the next, and they have developed a certain style of dressing. Several things we have seen that qualify as "please try this only when you have left India" include wearing a lunghi (men's skirt) as a scarf and wearing a sari petticoat as a skirt(with no sari on top) .... and you wonder why people stare at you.

The second shock was the food. We randomly chose a place down in Hampi Bazaar that looked like it had a nice flow of people, and were very surprised at the menu: first that there was one, and then to find out that it had Italian, Chinese, Israeli, Mexican, "Continental" (where the hell is that?) and faux- Indian. We really didn't know what to chose, and eventually decided that "Dal Roti" was probably the safest way to go. What we got, after waiting for half an hour, was a strange flying saucer shaped disk....like a flattened empanada or calzone. Normally, Dal Roti is dal with roti, but this was dal inside the roti - and there were no spices whatsoever.


Putting aside all the touts, touristy restaurants and cheesy guest houses, Hampi is truly a magnificent place. Hampi, or Vijayanagar, as it was once called, was the capital city of a vast empire that included most of south India from the 14th to the 16th centuries. It is a true "lost city" in a sense, as all of its 30 square kilometers of temple complexes, palaces and markets are now lying ruins. The city was sacked in the sixteenth century a coalition of Muslim rulers, headed by the Adil Shahs dynasty. Remember them? they are the ones that used all of the riches of Vijayanagar to build their capital - Bijapur, which we have visited last week. It is fascinating to see how one city's victory is an other's ruin. The city's remains, and there are many of those, are scattered over the whole site, between hills that look like a pile of rocks that some unknown giant has left there, and a little flowing river that has to be crossed by coracle. A coracle is a little reed basket that can hold up to ten people and is paddled by a greedy, lazy, temperamental boatman, who is never there when you need him or asks a ridiculous price for a two moment's crossing.

Hampi also has special significance as the location of Kishkinda, the kingdom of the monkeys as told in the Ramayana. For those of you not familiar with the story, you will be pleased to know that I broke down, admitted I would never get through the original book, and bought a version for children with pictures. Even then it was nearly 100 pages and the pictures weren't that big. And indeed, this is the kingdom of the monkies! We climbed the hill to the Hanuman temple, where the priest let us feed his favourite monkey. We were then harassed all the way back down the hill by rest of the clan, who probably smelled bananas on our breath....they were far worse than the postcard sellers, rickshaw drivers and shoe minders!

Another huge attraction of this place is Lakshmi, the Elephant that belongs to the local temple. She is a bit of a local mascot, and is trained to give people a blessing in exchange for a rupee coin. She is bathed every morning at 7:30, about 10 meter upstream from where everyone does their laundry and morning washing. I guess she is good luck.

After 3 days of wandering through the sites, both the main ones and the "off the beaten track kim and boaz special" sites we are ready to move on. We will be going to Bangalore, which was not on our itinerary, but is a nice place to break our long trip south towards land's end. We have also been promised a home cooked meal by Gayatri's aunt and we are especially excited.

BARFI: Many are the mysterious and funny signs that you see around town. For example, this one (below) from our guesthouse.

What does it mean? We will beat the "heckout " of you if you are not gone by 10 was the best interpretation we came up with. We are leaving tomorrow at 8 so I guess we don't get to find out. So the purpose of this BARFI is to offer a prize to the person who is able to answer the following riddle: what is Takli Teli Nupolo (clue: it is something you eat....or something one eats, but we certainly didn't) The winner will receive an exciting prize of our choice!

The road less traveled - cycling to Mahakoota

There are many ways to explore the area around Badami - the cradle of Hindu temple architecture. Obviously, if you are a tourist, you don't really want to be walking, or cycling or doing anything hard like that - you'd want to sit in a little auto rickshaw and be bumped to deathdeath around the different sites as fast as possible for an outrageous amount of money that could probably feed the entire village for the next week or so. But, if you like to see things the slow way, you might be able to get them to rent you a pair of bicycles for the day, along with some very general instructions on where you might want to go.

So, we set out one fine morning after many warnings from the man at the hotel...."you should buy food to eat along the way, bananas and biscuits, because there will be no food at all where you are going..." Now, being seasoned Indian travellers, we have difficulty thinking of any village so small it doesn't have some little snack stall with tasty things for us. "Well," he said "there will be only INDIAN food, and it might be SPICY".... ooooh now we are really worried. Only Indian food, how terrible for us! (we should have kept this in mind when he did recommend the hotel restaurant which served bland and unpalatable "pseudo-Indian" food).

After about one hour of fiddling with the bike (including a trip down to the local bike repairmen) we finally headed out along the beautiful country road that connects Badami with Banashankari, a little temple dedicated to the goddess. Once we managed to get out of the busy traffic of the dusty downtown the road became much quieter, with graceful trees arching over is, and with only the occasional bullock cart or herd of goats sharing the road with us.

The most beautiful thing about this temple was a 1500 year old water tank, about a kilometer square, surrounded by stairs and guarded by rows of ancient stone pillars. The tank is still full, and although its original intention was to provide a place for people to bathe before going to the the temple, it now also functions as a local Laundromat and a swimming pool.

From there, we headed out to Mahakoot, a sacred pilgrimage site dedicated to lord Shiva. Upon entering the little temple courtyard we ran into a young priest who volunteered to show us around the place and tell us all about it. Back in the Chalukiyan era you had to make a choice: you could either be a follower of Vishnu or of Shiva. This, as the priest explained, is like the difference between Sunni and Shiite, and "Roman or Catholic"... well, apparently the dudes here were all Shaivites (followers of Shiva), judging by the hundred of lingams scattered around the place. A lingam (see right) is a phallic-looking pillar that represents lord Shiva, and is usually the main icon found in Shiva temples. Across from the Shivalinga, you will always find Nandi, Shiva's loyal bull vehicle, of whom Kim is rather fond (see below)

Apart from all of the above, one of the main highlights of going to this temple is the beautiful little spring water pool in the middle of the courtyard. It's meant to have curing and purifying powers, or, in other words, people don't use it for their laundry. Boaz hopped in for a short swim, Kim came along more reluctantly, being expected, out of modesty, to swim fully clothed and didn't have anything else to change into.

The place is well known for its powers of fertility (possibly because of all the lingams lying around), and our priest decided that we were obviously in need of help. He took us through the temple, and explained to us how when a couple wants children they come to the temple, and put a rupee coin in a little silver crib hanging next to the main lingam, and they rock it together. I am sure many of you will be happy to know that we followed all the rituals - you never know when you might need a bit of help in the future, and since we didn't think that we'd be able to come back any time soon we , and put a TWO rupee coin in the crib. The good news is that this fertility treatment is really affordable. The bad news is that you are expected to come back with your offspring and shower the lingam with many thousands of rupees. (Our first family vacation?)

The priest also invited us home for lunch. He pulled a mobile phone from somewhere under his dhoti, and called his wife back home in the village to say that company was coming. We rested a bit and then headed to the little village on his shiny, spiffy, bright red motorcycle. He lived in a two-room mud house, along with his wife, two children, and their cow. His wife had prepared a typical humble village repast, composed of jowar roti - a local flat bread made of sorghum, or as our friend called it, a "hungry", some dal, fiery red chilly paste to mix into it, and very tasty peanut chutney accompanied by curd from the cow sitting in the same room with us. It was probably one of the best meals we have had here, simple, yet tasty. After an extra helping of "hungry" and an an other soak at the temple pool, we headed back to our mosquito-ridden hotel in Badami, were we watched the the sun go down over the palm trees.

Barfi: You may not have realized it, but our blog also awards prizes to the best participants. Dorothea, for all of her excellent information on the Lambani women, is going to be (in the distant future) the proud recipient of a pair of original Lambani anklets with red embroidery, antique 2 paisa coins and lots of jingly jangly things! Congratulations Dorothea!

Madam is India Culture...yes!?

Indeed, there have been so many requests for updates on the "Sari Situation" that we decided to dedicate an entire post to it (and maybe more in the future for the hardcore sari affecionados). Obviously, when we got off the plane in Mumbai, the first thing we did, before finding the hotel, was to find a starting point for the Sari shopping, I mean, you have got to get your priorities straight... so, Fabindia and a small shop, conviniently located right under our guest house were chosen. The first sari that Kim saw was a beautiful cotton sari from Orissa (where we will not be going, so she did feel momentarily guilty about getting it). Kim managed to wait an entire day, while constantly annoying Boaz by talking about it and worrying that some other evil person may have bought it. As a (slightly more practical) consolation prize, Kim went to Fabindia and bought a simple yet elegant bordeaux cotton sari at a reasonable price (for Mumbai). The next morning, we exchanged a stash of travellers cheques and happily bought the first sari as well.

However, we would like to say that buying clothes in India is not about instant gratification, but rather double gratification- once when you buy the cloth and the next time when you get it back from the tailor. For a sari, you need a choli, which is a VERY SMALL tiny little blouse that has to be very expertly tailored, otherwise it either bags unattractively or binds your arms to your torso. We had a bit of trouble finding a good tailor, and that's what put us a week behind.

In the meanwhile, Kim was attempting to learn the ins and outs of sari tying both alone in the privacy of our room and with the help of a nice homeless old lady that Boaz had befriended the
night before. She taught Kim the Gujarati wrap, which fits all of the Kim criteria: unlikely to fall off or get caught on things and looks ok with a backpack. Normally, a nice Indian girl will drape her sari with the pallu (the beautiful ornamented end part) over her shoulder and cascading down her back elegantly. This does not work with a knapsack. More practical working women (the ones who use their pallu for things like covering their heads, carrying babies, blowing their noses and wiping their hands) usually keep it tucked in. This is why Kim's photos might not look exactly like you may have seen saris worn before....apart from the fact that she isn't Indian, that is!

Fast forward: Bijapur, where Kim has found a choli tailor and after many alterations, finally took it home to test it. Now, a choli is something neither of us had ever seen in it's entirety before, since the front is always covered by the sari. When Kim put it on for the first time, it was rather ...um... surprising. A choli can also function as a bra and had strange circular seams that made Kim look astonishingly like some of the statues in the temples (see left).

Never the less, the front firmly covered by the sari, Kim spent 3 hours perfecting the drape, and then ventured out into the dusty streets of Bijapur. We had a long photo session (for posterity, and this blog's sake), which managed, as usual, to attract a significant crowd of onlookers - it seemed like the best show in town! This accomplished, we went on to do some sightseeing and took some more photos of Kim posing as a Bollywood star. People's reactions are generally very positive. A lot of people come up to us and say "Madam is India culture, yes!?" (I'm sorry, was that a question?) It is also a great conversation starter and large groups of women constantly approach Kim to ask about her sari, her jewellery, her marital status and plans for enlarging the family. Today we walked through the narrow old streets of Badami, where a hoard of women decended on Kim and dragged her into an alley, in order to undrape her and get her wrap right (it looked perfectly good to us before the 10 women got at it). Many women were compelled to give her bangles, little purses for hanging inside the sari, and in many cases, felt free to get Boaz to put tilak marks on her forehead.

Kim's taste for simple, locally produced, hand woven cotton Saris is apparently horribly out of style with the younger generation, or to put it in plain words: she has the fashion taste of an old lady from the village. Every time we "people watch" all the women under 60 have horrible synthetic saris that look (to us) like tablecloths or something you would find in a hotel room masquerading as curtains. To each their own! However, Kim's fashion taste is extremely appealing to septagenarian gentlemen, who feel the need to come up to Boaz and commend his wife on her excellent choice of sari, Indian culture, and upstanding morals. We were joking that she probably reminds them of some lovely creature they set eyes on in the 1930's.


Wearing a sari is great fun, much appreciated by everyone, looks elegant on every figure, can be used as a tablecloth and baby carrier, and we are taking orders (please specify if you will need a choli and send measurements). The only drawback, is (Boaz says) is that if your wife gets a Sari, it means she spends about one hour longer getting ready in the morning, but this means you also have more time to finish reading the paper, do a bit of Yoga, choose pictures for your blog, go outside to take even more photos and mess with your camera equipment... but to be honest, it does get faster every day, and Kim looks great!

Bijapur - the Agra of the south?

Hi everyone, we are back online after a few daily power outages that always seem to start just when we want to write. Today we have decided to eat first, and hope to have avoided the daily black out of town - but more importantly of this little one-stop Internet cafe cum photo studio cum social club. Actually it's just a dusty room with one computer in it and a lot of Indian guys hanging around.

But back to Bijapur. According to the Lonely Planet, this little town has some "air quality issues", which surprised us, as most Indian cities seem to have this "issue", and it is not worth a special mention. However, with this city "issue" might be a bit of an understatement, as chunks of pollution fly into your eyes every time you take the auto rickshaw up and down the main street. It is even worse when you are trying to walk down the aforementioned main street (no sidewalk), and avoid: a) open sewers, b) oncoming traffic, c) little kids asking for a "school pen" or d) the hoards of "stray" pigs that fill the function of a garbage removal team. We couldn't figure out how there came to be so many of them until we thought that in a city that is partially Hindu and partially Muslim, they obviously have no natural predators....we thought that if we could introduce a few Spaniards into the city they could make it famous for it's free range "jamon bijapuro".

But seriously, we weren't there for the famous "air quality" but for the city's gorgeous Muslim monuments, all dating back to a particularly rich period in the city's history: the rule of a dynasty called the Adil Shahs. For a brief 200 years they ruled the city and the surrounding area, and have managed to leave quite an impact on the city, in the form of a series of amazingly large-scale monuments, such as the "Golgumbaz" (right) and the inevitable "Jami Masjid" (below). We LOVE Muslim architecture, but hey, we live in Jaffa so we are not really what you can call objective, yet there is something beautiful about the simple lines, the lovely arches, and the geometric patterns that make those buildings a little piece of paradise on earth.

Other highlights on our visit to the city were the super fast, ultra modern Internet cafe (complete with keyboards still in their original plastic wrapping), a very nice local market, and a visit to some tailors - one for men, one for women's Salwar Kameez (see left), and one for women's Choli (a little tiny blouse that you wear with you sari). Yes, as you can probably tell, we are working on Kim's Saris, but we have decided to dedicate a whole post to that in the very near future. Boaz got a bit sick (the usual stomach stuff, much better now, thank you) which was a BIG mistake, however, as Kim was let loose into town and came back with two new cotton saris... one of them, she claims is for Brenda, but I think I will try to stay with her from now on.

An other exciting thing about this town, is that on Sunday the market was full of Gypsy women, all dressed in blindingly colorful attires, covered with mirrors. We later learned that they come from a Lambani tribe/caste and if anyone has wikipedia and a little faster internet then what we have here, we would love to hear more about who they are.

We are now in Badami (we are lagging behind on our reports...) for a few days now, and will be leaving to Hampi on a day or two.

We have to wrap up, but before we do we would like to thank you all for all the great comments. It was really nice to hear from you, so don't be shy and keep on commenting!

10 Lakh Pilgrims...and 1 Western Couple

On the night train in the direction to Bijapur we had some very nice people sitting with us. They happened to mention that there was a HUGE festival/pilgrimage to Pandarpur, quite close to where the train was heading. We decided to check it out! The "mela" or pilgrimage is done once a year by about one and a half million devout hindus who walk for 20 days (about 400 km) and end up in Pandarpur for the final festivities, which is tomorrow. This is particularily amazing when you consider that most of the people doing the pilgrimage are well past middle age and seem to be either barefoot or in extremely impractical footwear. If you just want to see all the pretty pictures, we made a picasa album with some of the hits (also it takes a long time to upload photos to the blog, and power cuts are frequent...)

As with any good festival, many sorts of entertainment are to be had. There were people selling every conceivable thing, bangles, blankets, toys, clothes, large religious statues made of stone etc. etc. There were however, two main attractions that were especially crowd pleasing. One was the devotional song and dance videos blasted at loud volume, and the other one was a pair of western tourists who showed up and took everyone's pictures. According to police accounts, there were 8 lakh people (a lakh is 100,000) present when we were there, and of these people, 4 lakh wanted to shake our hands and 2 lakh wanted us to take their photo....with their children, with their friends, with the holy cow, with the hanuman statue, but mostly with Kim. The rest of them were content to watch us - in the photo here you can see what happened when we stopped for a cup of Chai. We are serious, all of these people surrounded us and took pictures of us with their mobiles (those who had them).

Here's what the life of a pilgrim seems to be like: After walking for 20 days, you arrive in Pandarpur where you can bathe in the river (with 7 lakh, 99,999 other people and some cows) and then, with the help of a friend, to wash your sari and dry it by holding it up in the air for about half an hour. This may seem silly, but is extremely photogenic. Unfortunately we don't speak any Hindi, because everyone wanted to tell us all about it. Then, when you are all clean, you can either offer a small prayer in one of the 20 minor temples in town, or you can spend 7 hours in line (and we are talking about a line that curled around the town about 3 times, going through abandoned buildings, and over special walkways) to do the special darshan (deity viewing) that you originally came for. Everyone was very eager to know if we had done the special darshan, and we felt bad saying "Are you crazy! 7 hours in a line to see a statue?" so we politely said we were planning on doing it the next day. The food (you knew there would be a gastronomic element to the pilgrimage, didn't you...) was very nice and simple. We have gone from riches to rags. Instead of the 250 rupee tali with 8 uniformed waiters, we are now having a chapatti and dal (watery) accompanied by a lot of chopped raw onion and some spicy chilis for 7 rupees served by a dude in a grubby undershirt whose mother is sitting on the sidewalk outside making the chapattis. And it sure is tasty! Already the 8 lakh people was getting a bit crowded for us, so we didn't wait for the other 7 lakh to arrive over the weekend, but came instead to Bijapur, where we are now.

Before we wrap it up for tonight, (and it has taken us a long time because there have been 2 half hour power failures) we just wanted to say that we Looooooove comments, so please keep writing them, we will respond if we have time or electricity.

We also wanted to introduce a new concept on the blog, the BARFI. Normally, a barfi is a type of dessert eaten by Indian people all over the country. We wanted it to be a small postscript about an unrelated topic that we found funny or amusing. The BARFI of the day is "chicken"....what do you think it means when 10 childen come running towards you holding out their sweaty hands and yelling "chicken, chicken!"? It took us a while to figure it out, but it actually means..."shake hands"!