Anyway, too bad we couldn’t meet up for a drink when you were there, but it sounds like you had a wonderful time, and I have to say it’s been a pleasure to read about your journey over the past few months.

It was still dark in the “holy city” of Varanasi (f/k/a Benares) when Peggy and I left the hotel for our dawn boatride along the ghats (sets of stairs) running down into the Ganges. Descending one of the ghats to the north, we climbed into our small rowboat. By then it had gotten somewhat light, though the sun had yet to break the horizon, and we could see people bathing and performing puja (prayers) and yoga – an extremely colorful scene. And every so often we’d come across a floating candle – or a group of them. At the southern end, as the sun was rising, we came to one of the few “burning” ghats where a cremation was in its final stages (and thus looked like nothing more than a large campfire).

A bit further on and we did a U-turn and rowed back to Rana Ghat in search of the mandolin and bag of stuff Andrew had stored with Keshava, the proprietor of the International Music Centre Ashram. Andrew had told me the Ashram was centrally located (true) and would be easy to find (well). This last might have been more true had we not been approaching it from the east – i.e., up from the Ganges via a ghat. We soon found ourselves in a labyrinth of narrow, twisting lanes encountering many people who had never heard of the Ashram but, thankfully, a few who were able to keep us on track. After a while, we began to see the Ashram’s posters, so we knew we were getting warm, and then, lo and behold, arrows pointing the way!

Eventually, we arrived at a narrow door no more than five feet high. I was concerned we might be too early for the household, but fortunately we weren’t. Keshava welcomed us warmly and led us up a steep, narrow stairway to the second floor. There he sat us down, promptly produced the mandolin and bag and called for tea (which was lemon-flavored and the best I’d had, then or since, in India). A bit later he introduced us to the sitar teacher Andrew had had, a personable young fellow who is writing a book on South Asian music. Tea finished, it was back to the ghat (much easier this time because at least we knew where the Ganges was). I must say I was very pleasantly surprised that we had managed to accomplish our Mission!

I had been intrigued by the floating candles, and we found a Hindu priest (not a difficult matter on the ghats), who gave Peggy and me each a small tinfoil dish filled with yellow flowers except that in the center was a blob of wax with a lighted wick in it. We followed him down to the water’s edge where he gave us each a flower garland and two colors of ash in the middle of our foreheads and asked me about children and their names. I told him “one, Andrew”, and he broke into a loud, authoritative and lengthy chant. Then he indicated that we should float our candles out onto the Ganges. While we did so, he produced another loud, authoritative and lengthy chant, and when he finished I took a picture of the two little lights floating away. As we thanked him for his services (with, of course, some rupees), I told Peggy that Andrew had been fixed up for good!

Down from Kumily in the Cardomom Hills through verdant green hillside tea plantations in a bus that took the hair-pin switchbacks with aplomb at hair-raising, nail-biting speed, Andrew and I arrived (safely!) in Kottayam, our jumping-off place for the Kerala Backwaters. (Kottayam, on the southwest coast, is also the town featured in “The God of Small Things”; and the Backwaters is a network of inland waterways.) Next morning, we took a lengthy ferry ride to Alappuzha (f/k/a Alleppey), a slow and scenic treat of small villages with people bathing, washing clothes and cooking at the shore. (See Andrew 756, 764 & 767 at http://www.flickr.com/photos/30498771@N02/.)

The plan was to rent a houseboat for an overnight trip on the Backwaters. The guidebooks said to “choose your boat with care”, as it would be a big expense, albeit a very worthwhile one. As it turned out, we were able to make a favorable (mutually) deal with the folks in the first office we came to, the manager of which was shrewd enough to use not just a low-pressure but a no-pressure approach. We gave him a deposit, and then he asked how many bottles of beer we wanted. We responded “four” (knowing he was referring to the huge India-sized bottle), and it was settled that we would return to the office at 5:30. Andrew headed for a cyber cafe, and I went off on a successful(!) search for Scotch via auto rickshaw, the ubiquitous three-wheeled “tuk-tuk”. (The Scotch turned out to be “McDowell’s No. 1 Reserve Whisky [sic] blended with Scotch and select Indian Malts”.)

Upon returning to the office at the appointed time, we were dismayed to find it was closed; and, of course, dire thoughts about a lost deposit crossed our minds. After a short wait, Andrew went across the street to phone the numbers he had copied down from the sign outside, but almost immediately the proprietor showed up on the back of a motorcycle with the four bottles of ice-cold Kingfisher Strong – oh we of little faith! So we all piled into a tuk-tuk and off to the dock.

Our boat was just the right size for two guests – some houseboats are much larger – having an enclosed cabin with bathroom “en suite”, a dining table in the open bow area and a galley aft. So we settled in with our crew of three, and the last thing the arranging guy saw was two very happy-looking fellows in the dining chairs facing forward chasing sips of Scotch with gulps of beer. (Andrew 774.)

We didn’t sail far – distance was not the point – before we tied up on a bank. Before long up came an older gent in a canoe offering to take us “where our big boat couldn’t go”; and our captain said that’d be fine, as dinner would be ready when we got back. So we looked at each other with an in-for-a-dime-in-for-a-dollar look and said “sure”. As it turned out, that was another good bet, as we spent sunset and dusk in quiet paddling in and around, here and there, having a good chew about life-in-general. (Andrew 776.)

When we arrived back at the houseboat, dinner was ready to be served, and a sumptuous feast it was! (Andrew 777.) When we finally could eat no more, we broke out our traveling chess set intending to have one of our frequent games. Before we could get set up, however, the captain allowed as how he had a full-sized set and somehow the next thing we knew he and I were beginning a game. (Andrew 782.) (Meanwhile Andrew lit up the Cuban cigar he’d bought in Pondicherry for 450 rupees – a bit north of $9!, but we’d agreed he was “entitled” to at least one Cuban cigar this lifetime – and had been carrying in its metal case for an Occasion.)

Pretty soon I was somehow down my queen. I rallied valiantly and clawed my way back to a rook and a bishop vs. The Boatman’s two rooks (and a couple extra pawns). Eventually, however, I had to do the honorable thing and topple my king. Meanwhile Andrew and the helmsman had been sharing the cigar, and all of us had been sharing the Scotch and the one remaining BIG bottle of beer – a real Guy Moment!

Knowing Andrew’s competitive streak, I’m sure he couldn’t wait to play The Boatman, as beating a guy who’d beaten me would have been the source of considerable satisfaction. In the event, however, Andrew succumbed even a bit faster than I had, proving, of course, the superiority of a Harvard education over one obtained at Reed – but the inferiority of both to the skills of a guy who eventually disclosed that he played every day. Andrew said the Genius Juice we’d been imbibing might have been a factor, but I refuse to believe that. And so to bed – defeated but happy anyway – on the Backwaters.

On the bus in Pondicherry late yesterday morning for what turned out to be a 2-1/4 hour ride WNW to the town of Gingee (“Shinjee”). We were among the first to board; and I thought “well, it’s really short on legroom, but it isn’t going to be too bad. But by the time we actually started moving we had acquired a seat-mate, and it was shoulder-to-shoulder in a seat meant for two people (with very short upper legs!). Anyway, I had plenty of time to read the extensive history-of-South-India section in the Rough Guide to South India – quite interesting.

We were let off in the center of town – absolute Bedlam – and our first task was to find a place for lunch. We picked what seemed our best option – a hot griddle in front frying parothas (a nice kind of bread) and a narrow passageway back to some 6-8 small tables. A bit “sketchy”, as Andrew is fond of saying, but not too off-putting on the whole.

Had banana leaves placed before us (looking like good-sized placemats), which were then sprinkled with water – not out of a bottle, I’m afraid – and then received a generous load of brown rice containing a chicken leg (me) and thigh (Andrew). Plus ladles of several different cooked vegetable preparations and spicy sauces. Andrew advised against eating the chicken – which we hadn’t ordered – the guy just assumed – and I followed his advice.

Anyhow, it wasn’t exactly like a French restaurant in Pondicherry (“Pondy”), but it was tasty and filling and had no unfortunate after-effects.

Then, time to set out for the Fort, 2 km. west of town. Andrew scored an auto-rickshaw (1 front wheel, handlebars, semi-enclosed – pretty powerful motor – we rode one, with our gear, 58 km. from Chennai to Mamallapuram, where we stayed Sat. night). As usual, I was in awe of his bargaining prowess!

At the entrance to the Fort (ruins – built in 15th century) Andrew was issued a stick for use in fending off monkeys. (As it turned out, we only saw a couple of them, but I made GOOD use of the stick as a climbing aid.) Our ultimate destination was Rajagiri, “Gingee’s loftiest citadel; at 165m above the surrounding plain it’s a very stiff climb in the heat, but the views are well worth the effort” (Rough Guide).

Actually, the heat was no problem – being early Jan., it’s been an extremely pleasant 75-85 (maybe not even 85) every day. But RG wasn’t kidding about the “very stiff climb” (or about the great views from the top). I was very proud of myself for making it all the way at 68 and with a relatively sedentary lifestyle! (Thank God for the monkey stick!)

On the way we got seriously blessed, as we turned a corner and found ourselves being accosted (nicely) by an elderly gentleman who was either a Brahmin (priest) or a guy making his living by impersonating one. Next thing you know, we were having white and red ash smeared on our foreheads and throats and being led to a very small temple with a small shrine a bit to the side. The guy lit incense and showed us that we were to wave the smoke into our faces. (I guess I over-complied – just now getting rid of the cough!) He rang his bell and had us walk around the temple – in bare feet – ouch! – and then walk around the shrine. We each gave him several Rupee coins – and each took pictures of him and the other – and resumed the climb. It was actually a welcome respite from the path up, and I told Andrew I felt I had received the spiritual fortitude to make it to the top!

Anyhow, EVENTUALLY we made it to the top and took pictures of a real panorama. Then back down again (“The bear went over the mountain….”) Even tho we got back by the 5:00 closing time (just), the guards asked for baksheesh for “waiting” for us, but we politely declined (did turn in the stick, tho).

So we’re ready to go back to town – and thence back to Pondy – and there are no auto-rickshaws. This is where the good luck starts happening – due, no doubt, to the blessing on the trail. Andrew goes over to a car we’d noticed; and it turns out to contain an older gentleman in the backseat with his driver nearby, and he says he’ll take us to town shortly. So, after 10-15 minutes, off we go with Andrew and me in the front seat with the driver (as we shortly picked up the guy’s wife who’d been walking and got into the backseat).

We were dropped off at the bus area (Bedlam), and the guy says “thank you for giving me the opportunity to help you” – exact quote and completely sincere. So far so good, but we had no idea when a bus would leave for Pondy or how we would know that was the right bus, as the bus area was just a wide spot in the road in the center of town. But a nice gentleman, noticing our obvious cluelessness, inquired where we were trying to go. Turned out he was going to Pondy also – and it further turned out that, altho he didn’t know when a bus there would be along, it was only about 5 mins. Talk about living right! (Tho again, I figure it was all due to the blessing-guy.)

Most of the way back it was just the two of us in the seat (same lack of legroom, tho), and I finished the history. We rewarded ourselves with an ab-fab dinner at the roof-top restaurant Le Rendezvous, where Andrew had the lobster and avocado salad – a real deal at Rs400 (a bit over $8) – and I had a wonderful paneer/vegetable kebab with rice (paneer being a cottage-cheese preparation with a consistency approximately of grilled tofu) at Rs175. Also the house wine, which appeared to be a kind of rose; I thought it had a very strange taste, but Andrew liked it and polished mine off.

And so to bed after a fun day.

Tonight we take the overnight sleeper (!) bus SW to Kumily and the Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary. I can hardly wait to see the overnight sleeper bus!

Best to all – blessings too!

George

P.S. Glad to hear that you’re feeling more upbeat these days!

-Brenna

GREAT pix too!

Can’t wait to get there and see you.

Love,

Dad