Saturday, 5 March 2016

Kanyakumari and the Deep South's Deep South: India's Deep South Part 11

Kanyakumari, Suchindram, Padmanabhapuram and Nagarcoil

Beyond the End of India: The Vivekananda Rock Memorial, Kanyakumari

India

Tamil Nadu

Kanyakumari, at the very tip of the Indian subcontinent, is a seaside resort, but, as so often in India, it is also a place of pilgrimage. It had been busy yesterday, but today was Saturday and from early morning the pilgrims/day trippers poured in. They arrived in their thousands from the cities up the coast, Nagercoil, Thiruvananthapuram (formerly Trivandrum), Kollam and even further afield, the line of parked coaches stretching from the town centre to our hotel and far beyond.

Two rocky islets lie 500m off the coast. On the western island is an outsize statue of Thiravalluvar a Tamil poet of the 2nd century BC (give or take a hundred years). Unveiled on the first day of the present millennium, it has provoked some controversy; our local guide expressed admiration for Thiravalluvar but said that he, and many others, had preferred the island in its natural rocky state.

The two rocky islets off the coast at Kanyakumari

Catching the Ferry

The Vivekananda Rock Memorial on the eastern island is an irresistible attraction to the idly curious (us) and Hindu pilgrims (everybody else) alike. Our local guide (let’s call him Mr Fussy) turned up bright and early, but even so we reached the dock to find the queue for the ferry was already formidable. We joined the end and Mr Fussy tutted and fretted as he tried to calculate how many boat-loads were ahead of us.

Making a decision, he marched us out of the queue, round the barriers and approached the ticket office from the other side. There was no one at the first class ticket window, which was hardly surprising as the fare was 189 Rupees. I was appalled, but 189Rps is around £2, so maybe I was looking at it through Indian eyes.

Our first class ticket took us straight out onto the quay at the head of a queue of people with second class tickets. We had just missed one boat, but another arrived as the first left and the passengers poured off, dumping their life jackets in a pile on the quay. We and the couple of hundred behind us picked up a jacket each and filed onto the boat. Our first class tickets entitled us to sit by the door, so once everybody had pushed past us and crammed themselves into the interior we were the ones with the cooling sea breeze and the knowledge that, in the event of a disaster, we alone had a sporting chance of survival.

One ferry leaves as the next one arrives, Kanyakumari

The trip was short and disaster free. We were at the front of the queue as the boat docked and the gangplank was lowered, but the urgency of pilgrimage is such that we were beaten to dry land by half a dozen eager men in saffron robes.

We leave the ferry while the next boatload queues to board, Vivekananda Rock, Kanyakumari

Vivekananda and his Memorial Rock

The Vivekananda Rock Memorial was built in 1974, though it had been planned since 1962, the centenary of the birth of Narendranath Datta in Calcutta. Datta studied religion and philosophy, both eastern and western, took monastic vows and between 1888 and 1893 travelled the length and breadth of India, reaching Kanyakumari in December 1892. Swimming out to the rock (he could not afford to hire a boat), he meditated for three days and achieved enlightenment.

Now calling himself Swami Vivekananda (The Bliss of Discerning Wisdom) he spent the next ten years on lecture tours around India, Europe, America and Japan meeting many of the great thinkers of the time. He died of a brain haemorrhage in 1902 aged just 39.

Swami Vivekananda, July 1899 (thank you Wikipedia)

Building the memorial was controversial. The largely Christian local fisherman, who called the rock St Xavier’s Island, objected to the idea and planted a large cross. An enquiry was held.

Hindus believe that on this rock the young Devi Kanya (an avatar of Pavarti) waited overnight for the Lord Shiva to come and make her his bride. Unfortunately Bana, the local ruler, had felt free to ‘wreak havoc on all the world’ since Lord Brahma told him he could only die at the hand of an adolescent virgin. Believing that Devi Kanya was that adolescent, the locals plotted to keep her a virgin. Making their cocks crow early they convinced Lord Shiva that he was too late for his wedding and with a heavy heart the wedding procession turned and went home.

The Vivekananda Memorial Hall, Kanyakumari

Devi Kanya was distraught, but survived to become the goddess who removes the rigidity of our minds. In the fullness of time she did kill Bana and, I suppose, can be comforted by the thought that both as Meenakshi (in Madurai) and as Parvati herself (in Kanchipuram) she did marry Lord Shiva. Hinduism is not simple! The story and the status of Swami Vivekananda were enough to persuade the authorities that the memorial should be built.

Us and the statue of Thiravalluvar on the adjacent island, Kanyakumari
Mr Fussy thought it important to photograph us with every available background

Apart from the Memorial Hall and another for meditation there are few facilities, so after a good look round we returned to the mainland.

Facilities, Vivekananda Rock

Kanyakumari and the 2004 Tsunami

The 2004 Boxing Day Tsunami swept round, and to a certain extent over the rock, but the 500 people marooned were later helicoptered to safety. A 15 minute You Tube video shows the water being sucked back out of the harbour, first leaving the fishing boats high and dry and then the ferries until it is almost possible to walk to Vivekananda Rock. At first the fisherman, who cannot see what is happening, are reluctant to leave their boats, but by the time the water sweeps back they have gone. 250 died in Kanyakumari district; though terrible, that was few compared with the worst hit locations.

Kanyakumari harbour which was emptied of water immediately before the Tsunami struck
The fishermen are largely Christian and their church is on the headland behind.

Suchindram and its Temple

It was still mid-morning so we had plenty of time to head north to Suchindram where we stopped to see the 17th century temple.

Many religious buildings have a dress code. Usually they demand that women cover more than really necessary citing their own particular idiosyncratic definition of 'modesty'. Conversely the 'sky-clad' Jains and some northern fakirs believe that ‘naked we were born so naked we should approach God’ – though this applies only to men.

Suchindram Temple

Suchindram Temple is not so extreme, but they do believe that men should approach God wearing only a dhoti (though a lunghi or trousers were acceptable) so shirts must come off. Cameras are banned inside the temple so there are no pictures of my pale and flabby frame, a slab of lard floating in a rich brown Tamil gravy.

It is an unusual temple starting with Shiva and finishing with Ganesh (most are the other way round) and has a rare shrine to the trinity of Brahma, Shiva and Vishnu. To aficionados of Hindu temples these are striking oddities, others may be nonplussed.

Padmanabhapuram Palace

Continuing north we passed through the city of Nagercoil before reaching the barely pronounceable Padmanabhapuram. The Kingdom of Travancore ruled what is now central and southern Kerala and the Kanyakumari district of Tamil Nadu from 1729 to 1949, at first independently but from the early 19th century as a Princely State subject to the British Empire. From 1729 to 1796 Padmanabhapuram was the capital of Travancore and we had come to see the royal palace.

Padmanabhapuram Palace entrance

Most of the current buildings were constructed by the first King of Travancore around 1750 though some are two hundred years older. Although it was Saturday the palace was hosting a number of school parties, some of them waiting in the courtyard. All in immaculate uniform, we remarked, not for the first time, how exceptionally smart groups of Indian schoolchildren always look.

School parties wait in the courtyard, Padmanabhapuram Palace

As we toured the complex, Mr Fussy continually reminded us of the steepness of the stairs or slipperiness of the polished surfaces as though stairs and polish were unknown to us.

Padmanabhapuram Palace

We saw the King’s Council chamber,...

King's Council Chamber, Padmanabhapuram Palace

...the Ceremonial Hall where over a thousand guests could be entertained at once,...

Ceremonial Hall, Padmanabhapuram Palace
If it wasn't for those cross beams it would make a good indoor cricket net

....various bedrooms, and much more besides.

Bedroom, Padmanabhapuram Palace

The most remarkable feature of the palace was the way traditional Keralan architecture (although we were still just in Tamil Nadu) keeps a building cool. The shady corridors with their slatted windows are unbelievably effective.

Shady corridors, Padmanabhapuram Palace

Lunch in Nagercoil

After the palace, Mr Fussy left by bus for his home in Trivandrum and we headed back towards Kanyakumari pausing in Nagercoil for lunch at a restaurant called Red Safron (sic). Thomas spotted it as we drove past and judged it suitable. It was very small; one table downstairs and a larger room upstairs with two tables. The menu was equally limited; we ordered chicken curry, chicken fry and chicken 65 (don’t ask). We over-ordered, but it was cheap and the quality, if not the variety, was surprisingly impressive.

Back in Kanyakumari, The Ghandi Mandapam and Iced Lemon Tea

Back in Kanyakumari, we let the heat abate before walking to the bazaar to purchase gifts to take home. En route we passed the Gandhi Memorial Mandapam. After his cremation Gandhi’s ashes were divided up and sent to locations throughout India. The country’s southernmost tip was an obvious choice and the Mandapam was built on the shore to house his ashes before scattering them in the sea.

The Gandhi Mandapam, Kanyakumari

Shopping done, we pausing for an iced lemon tea at a snack bar which also offered 'delicious pizzaas, depart from Napoli'.

Iced lemon tea, Kanyakumari

Sunset at Kanyakumari

At dusk Thomas drove us a little way up the Arabian Gulf to Sunset Point. Beyond the car park and Christian cemetery is a statute of ‘Mysterious Mother Mary’; a great place to stand to see the sun set a few minutes after everybody else.

'Mysterious Mother Mayr', Sunset Point, Kanyakumari

Vendors of things nobody really needed lurked along the shore. We bought a map of India, though there is nowhere easier to locate than Kanyakumari in the whole of the subcontinent.

The sun eases its way towards the horizon, Sunset Point, Kanyakumari

We waited as the sun eased itself towards the horizon and then, just like yesterday, watched it disappear into the haze before its journey was complete.

The sun disappears into the haze, Sunset Point, Kanyakumari

Back in the hotel we decided to eschew dinner after our excellent but filling lunch. Instead we reported to the hotel bar for a couple of bottles of Kingfisher beer and a portion of chips - hardly keeping it real, but comforting none the less.

India's Deep South

Part 1: Bangalore to Mysore
Part 2: Mysore, Somnathpur and Srirangapatnam
Part 3: Kabini and the Nagarhole National Park
Part 4: The Road to Ooty
Part 5: The Nilgiri Blue Train to Coonoor
Part 6: Across the Palakkad Gap and up to Munnar
Part 7: Munnar - Tea, Dams and Elephants
Part 8: Madurai
Part 9: Rameswaram
Part 10: To the Very Tip of India
Part 11: The End of India and Beyond
Part 12: North to Trivandrum (Thiruvananthapuram) and Kollam
Part 13: Ants, Mollywood and Varkala
Part 14: The Backwaters of Kerala (and some Coir)
Part 15: Marari Beach, Rest, Recreation and Refuse
Part 16: Kochi, a Second Visit

THE END

Friday, 4 March 2016

To the Very Tip of India: India's Deep South Part 10

Going South Until There is no More South to Go

Cross-Country to the NH-44

Tamil Nadu

India

We left Rameswaram in the morning, crossed the Indira Gandhi Bridge back to the mainland and turned southwest.

Kanyakumari, at the southernmost tip of India, was 300km away and Thomas warned that the journey along minor roads across the coastal plain could take 5 or 6 hours. He had not travelled this way before and was not entirely convinced his satnav knew or cared about the roads of this poor, rural and remote region.

Today's journey, Rameswaram to Kanyakumari

Toddy Tapping

We caught occasional glimpses of the sea, but everywhere the flat land with its sandy soil clearly announced that this was where India petered out into the ocean.

We paused to watch a man tapping an Asian Palmyra Palm, generally known as a ‘toddy’ palm. The white cloudy liquid obtained ferments naturally to form the mildly alcoholic toddy or palm wine. It can also be fermented to make feni (as it is known in Goa, arrack in Sri Lanka) or boiled down to produce palm sugar as we saw on the Road to Mandalay in 2012.

Toddy tapping beside the road to Kanyakumari

The roads were better than expected and the traffic light so we made good progress, pausing for a cup of tea at the Happy Hotel shortly after 10. The word ‘hotel’ in India does not necessarily mean the same as in English; there was little possibility of booking a room at this roadside shack. They did, though, make a refreshing cup of tea in the local style, strong, milky, very sweet and frothy after being repeatedly poured from a great height.

A cup of tea at the Happy Hotel beside the road to Kanyakumari

Fetching Water, Herding Goats and Tidying the Roadside

Few rural Indians are blessed with running water in their homes and must daily fetch water from a well, spring or tank. Lightweight plastic water jars have made this task much easier, but it remains arduous and time consuming ….

Fetching the daily water, the road to Kanyakumari

…though sometimes it looks like a social occasion…

Companionable water carrying, the road to Kanyakumari

… unlike the more solitary life of a goatherd.

Goatherd on the road to Kanyakumari

Further along, we saw a group of women carrying sickles and other small gardening implements. The state will employ any woman with no other means of support (largely widows whose children are too young to work) to tidy the roadside. They pay 200 Rupees (£2.10) a day, a pittance, maybe, but enough for basic survival. The idea is good - though I wish they would (or could) pay more - but it would be even better if the workers concentrated on litter rather than weeds; India is drowning in a sea of discarded plastic bags.

Salt Pans

Near the ocean we passed an area of salt pans….

Salt pan beside the sea on the road to Kanyakumari

NH-44 The Longest Highway in India

…and as the coast swung further south we kept straight on to join National Highway 44. NH-44, the longest highway in India, links Kanyakumari in the south with Srinagar, 3,745Km away in Kashmir.

We made a fuel stop at a garage which doubled as a retirement home for petrol pumps.

Retired petrol pumps beside NH-44

The NH-44 has tolls….

Toll booth on the NH-44

…and the little truck carrying rice straw seen from behind in the photo above looked even more dramatic from the side.

Rice straw on the move, NH-44

We passed the last outbreak of the Western Ghats, the mountain range that runs down India’s western flank, and then a sizeable wind farm before arriving in Kanyakumari after only 4 hours driving.

The southernmost outbreak of the Western Ghats

Kanyakumari, India's Southernmost Town

Kanyakumari is a triangular town crammed into India’s triangular tip. Our hotel was on the northwest coast road a couple of hundred metres from the town centre. We checked in to our sea view room, had a light lunch (paneer pakora and a chicken 'cutlet') and hid for an hour from the heat of the sun.

Along the Prom, Kanyakumari

Later we strolled into town along a sort of promenade.

The Promenade, Kanyakumari

There was a seaside atmosphere with stop-me-and-buy-one ice-cream vendors on bicycles and rows of stalls selling tee shirts, souvenirs and snacks to the day trippers who arrive by bus in huge numbers from the cities up the coast. Lynne was negotiating for some cinnamon when the popcorn salesman arrived.

Popcorn salesman at a food stall in Kanyakumari

At the end of the road we stood with the Indian Ocean in front of us, the Bay of Bengal to our left and the Arabian Sea to the right. Off-shore were two islands, one with a temple, the other a statue. They will feature in the next post, so I will say no more here.

Two islands off the end of India

Visiting the 'Wine' Shop

I had broached the subject of our depleted supply of duty free with Thomas and he had promised to ask around among the drivers and locate the nearest ‘wine shop’. He was as good as his word and after our walk drove us to Kanyakumari’s one and only offie. It was just beyond the other end of the town, as though the city fathers did not want such a den of iniquity on their land. There was a small sign in Tamil and a heavy metal grid over a dark hole in a scruffy wall; no one would find it unless they knew it was there. Anyone would look furtive here, but in my shorts I look like a schoolboy (albeit a balding schoolboy) who knows he is misbehaving.

Looking guilty outside the 'Wine Shop', Kanyakumari

From the front, though, I think Thomas looked and felt more embarrassed. A brief negotiation produced a bottle of Old Monk Indian rum at a reasonable price. There was little choice, certainly no beer, and definitely no wine and it looked a place for people with a problem not social drinkers. Maybe the man who crept up beside us, wordlessly pushed 100 rupees through the bars and equally wordlessly received a half bottle of something brown was indeed a man with a problem.

I think Thomas looks slightly the more embarrassed.
'Wine Shop', Kanyakumari

A Failed Sunset, but a Good Dinner, Kanyakumari

Later we crossed the road from the hotel. Over the prom was a small park and we sat alone among the litter and watched the sun set in the sea, only it didn’t. As always seems to happen, it slid behind a bank of cloud several diameters above the horizon.

The sun fails to make it to the horizon, Kanyakumari

Back in the hotel we shared a biryani, prawn varuval (pepper fry), chana masala and rotis. It was all good, but the prawn varuval stood out, the heat and spices subtly enhancing the prawns’ flavour rather than obliterating it.

Thursday, 3 March 2016

Rameswaram: India's Deep South Part 9

A Sacred Island which a Pivotal Role in The Ramayana

Madurai to the Annai Indira Gandhi Bridge

India

Tamil Nadu

It took a while to disentangle ourselves from Madurai's urban sprawl. Once free, we drove southwest along a straight, flat road through palm fringed farmland with golden straw stacked in the harvested rice fields.

Lynne slept for a while, but woke at coconut time.

Lynne and Thoams and their refreshing morning coconuts, south of Madurai

Nothing is more refreshing than coconut water on a hot day but Indian coconut vendors can be frightening. In Sri Lanka they sensibly hold the coconut on a chopping block or tree stump and whack it with a machete, in India they hold the nut in their left hand, knife in their right and strike with all the vigour of their Sri Lankan neighbours. I habitually count the fingers of Indian coconut vendors; so far they have all had ten, but there must be some with fewer, and I really do not want to be the person who scrabbles in the dust to reclaim a severed digit or two.

Please mind those fingers

We continued through Paramakudi and Ramanathapuram.The scrub became more stunted and the palms more windblown as we headed out onto a sandy peninsula which eventually tapered to a point just beyond the small town of Mandapam.

Ramanathapuram, Tamil Nadu

Crossing the Annia Indira Gandhi Bridge to Pamban Island (Rameswaram)

The 2km Annai Indira Gandhi Bridge seems almost a natural extension of the land. Built in 1988 it crosses the Pamban Channel to Pamban Island, often called Rameswaram after its main town.

The start of the Annai Indira Gandhi Bridge to Pamban Island

From Pamban, Adams’s Bridge, a 50km string of limestone shoals leads to the Sri Lankan island of Mannar which is connected to its mainland by a causeway. Some of the shoals are above water, others a metre or two below. Temple records suggest it was possible to walk from India to Sri Lanka as recently as the fifteenth century but storms gradually deepened the channel and the reef was finally broken by a cyclone in 1480. The India-Sri Lanka border follows the median line through the strait, reputedly crossing an exposed part of the shoal. Those few metres form the world's shortest land border between two countries.

The name Adam's Bridge, which appears on most maps, is presumably of Muslim origin though it first appeared in print on a British naval chart of 1805. Hindus, the overwhelming majority in Rameswaram, call it Rama’s Bridge.

Our journey so far. Today We drive from Madurai to Rameswaram

Signs suggest drivers should not stop on the bridge but in India human nature always trumps official signs. A dozens cars and buses were parked at the windy spot where the view was best; the police hovered around, not moving anyone on, just ensuring everyone behaved.

A windy spot on the Annai Indira Gandhi Bridge to Pamdan Island

Some fishing boats bobbed at anchor off Pamban Island, which gave a good impression of a tropical paradise,…;

Fishing boats off the tip of Pamban Island

…while others fished beside the bridge.

Fishing beside the Annai Indira Gandhi Bridge to Pamdan Island

Alongside the road bridge is The Pamban Railway Bridge, built by the British and opened in 1914. From above it looks alarmingly close to the water, but although it is actually 12.5m above sea level a storm surge in 1964 did overturn a train killing all 150 passengers.

The Pamban Rail Bridge

Rameswaram town is in the far side of the island, but low density urban sprawl starts from the end of the bridge. Rameswaram is a holy place and a Hindu pilgrimage centre, but receives few western visitors – we saw no other Europeans on the island - and our accommodation on the town’s edge was not an international class hotel. The welcome, though, was warm and the room clean and comfortable so we forgave the television for working just long enough to prove it had no channels in any language we understood, and the WiFi for declining to connect.

Thali Lunch, Rameswarem

The hotel restaurant was the only lunch option; it described itself as 'Pure Veg' but in a temple town we expected to go without meat (and beer). Most Hindus are vegetarians; ‘non-veg’ food is available in international hotels and establishments run by Muslims or Christians - in practice Muslims, as few Christians own restaurants. We had not had a thali on this trip yet so that was what we ordered. A thali consists of a number, in this case 9, dishes of curried vegetables or condiments, a poppadum and unlimited rice. They served a particularly fine thali, though you cannot tell the quality by looking at it, nor by the price – that varies mainly with the restaurant décor. The vegetables themselves are secondary; a thali maker’s skill is in the spicing. Each bowl should be different but all should be complementary producing a tinkling arpeggio of spices, the whole being greater than the sum of the parts.

Lynne and a vegetarian thali, Rameswaram

The Ramanathaswamy Temple, Rameswaram

After lunch Thomas drove us to the Ramanathaswamy (or Ramalingeshwara) Temple, in the heart of the town.

The car park was some way from the temple. Leaving bags and cameras in the car, we walked with Thomas through the narrow streets, dropped our shoes off with a minder and finished the journey barefoot – not a particularly comfortable experience.

Rameswaram, rivals Varanasi as the most important pilgrimage site in India, partly because it features in the Sanskrit allegorical epic, the Ramayana. Rama, (an avatar of Vishnu) was married to Sita (an avatar of Lakshmi). Sita was kidnapped by the demon king Ravana and taken to the island of Lanka. Rama followed Ravana and with the aid of the monkey god Hanuman and his simian army built the Rama Bridge, crossed to Lanka, killed Ravana and rescued Sita.

On their way home Rama and Sita visited Rameswaram to worship Lord Shiva and seek forgiveness for killing a Brahmin during their battles with Ravana.

Unlike the Madurai gopuram those at Rameswaram are not gaudily painted.

One of the gopuram, Ramanathaswamy Temple, Rameswaram

European faces are so unusual here we soon attracted the attention of a white robed Brahmin who introduced himself as the Temple Secretary and offered to show us round.

The temple’s 16-18th century outer section - all that is officially open to non-Hindus – consist of 'a spacious closed ambulatory flanked… by continuous platforms with massive pillars’ (Rough Guide to South India). The corridors are 205m long and there are 1212 pillars all brightly painted and topped with yalis (mythical beasts). I was not allowed my camara inside, but later, in the streets, we found a stall selling laminated photographs of the ambulatory.

The ambulatory, Ramanathaswamy Temple, Rameswaram (commercial photograph)

As guests of the Temple Secretary we found ourselves ushered into the much older Hindus-only section. After visiting the shrine of Ganesh where the priest smeared ash on our foreheads we approached the first of the temple’s two most sacred Shiva lingams. People were queuing with their offerings by a lingam allegedly brought from the Himalayas by Hanuman. The priest held up the holy flame and, for a donation, devotees could pass their hands through it and take the blessing upon themselves. Nobody seemed to mind our presence though we were careful not to intrude.

The second lingam was fashioned from sand by Sita herself as Rama could not wait for Hanuman’s return from the north, and we saw it being bathed with milk in the inner sanctum. Lynne was given a piece of coconut as a blessing from Lord Shiva.

At another shrine a priest marked our foreheads with a red tilak and after being purified with a splash of holy water we were allowed to touch the base of the main gopura.

Outside we paid off the Temple Secretary. His fee was steep and he was reluctant to bargain - whether or not he donated the money to the temple I have no idea.

Rameswaram Town, Pilgrims and Seasiders

Thomas returned to the car to fetch bags and cameras while we watched two men building a temple chariot for a forthcoming procession.

Building a temple chariot, Rameswaram

Thomas is a devout Christian, like a quarter of all Keralans he is a member of a church that claims to have been founded in the first century by the apostle St Thomas. We felt privileged and honoured to have been allowed into the very heart of the temple, but Thomas was less comfortable inside the inner sanctum. No great fan of the way Hinduism is practised, he dislikes seeing poor people giving money to priests that would be better spent feeding their families. People rely too much on the gods, he said, and make too little effort to help themselves. He might describe himself as a 'Catholic' but he has a robust understanding of the ‘protestant work ethic’.

When he returned we strolled towards the sea following a distinctive group of brightly clad pilgrims.

Pilgrims, Rameswaram

The beach is marked by a decorative archway populated by the usual array of calves and goats.

Archway by the beach, Rameswaram

By now our group of pilgrims might have been thinking we were stalking them.

Are we stalking them? Rameswaram

We watched people bathing – the women as always inching carefully into the water while fully dressed…

Bathing, Rameswaram

…photographed a cute kid….

Cute kid, Rameswaram

…and had a paddle in the luke warm sea…

Paddling in the warm water, Rameswaram

…by which time the saffron robed pilgrim was stalking us.

Now is he stalking us? Rameswaram

The Footprints of Rama, Rameswaram

The Gandhamadana Parvatam, 2km north of the temple and just outside the town, was built around the footprint Rama made when he landed on his return from Lanka.

It sits on a low sandy hill, the approach surrounded by stalls. The stallholders might be cheerfully optimistic….

The approach to the Gandhamadana Parvatam, Rameswaram

…but the shrine itself looked sad and neglected.

Gandhamadana Parvatam, Rameswaram

We climbing the stairs….

Gandhamadana Parvatam, Rameswaram

…and then onto the roof to look down onto the footprint. No photos were permitted, but I can report it was as convincing as Buddha’s footprint at Wat Phabat Phonsan in Laos, which was not at all. The temple gopuram looked good from here, though…

Looking back at the Ramanathaswamy Temple from Gandhamadana Parvatam

….as did the north end of Pamban Island so here are pictures of them instead.

The north end of Pamban Island from the Gandhamadana Parvatam

Rama's Resting Place on the Way to Lanka

Driving back towards our hotel we stopped at the temple and tank of Rama Tirtham Gandamadana. Tanks, as they are always called, are important to Hindus, providing both spiritual and physical cleansing. It was here that Rama rested on his journey to Lanka and it looked particularly attractive in the rays of a sun that was beginning to set.

The Tank at Rama Tirtham Gandamadana

Back at the hotel Lynne ordered vegetable soup and rotis claiming she did not really want to eat, but that did not stop her sharing my vegetable biryani and aloo gobi.

Later we had a nightcap from our diminishing stock of Dubai airport duty free. We will need to seek replenishment tomorrow, or at least before we return to semi-dry Kerala.

We would leave Rameswaram in the morning, it may have been a short stay but it had undoubtedly been a highlight.

Tourism Kills the Things it Loves, Some Reflections

I have enjoyed visiting places like the Taj Mahal and Angkor Wat, but you know that on the day you will be one of several thousand tourists.

But there are places still within the ‘tourist envelope’ where you are not one of thousands. In a post on Kashgar, the city, nearer to Beirut than Beijing at China’s extreme western tip I wrote ‘Surrounded by Uigher buildings and several hundred people, none of whom were in western dress, we felt that we had finally arrived somewhere foreign and very alien to our normal experience.’ and elsewhere ‘any European who can stand in Kashgar’s Id Kah Square and not feel the thrill of being somewhere totally foreign and utterly remote should probably have stayed at home.’

Madurai, whilst not as remote as Kashgar, provided the same thrill. Rameswaram, however, is a step beyond, an island outside the tourist envelope and it was spine-tingling just to be there.

I felt the same in the market at Upal a village 50km outside Kashgar, but it is bittersweet tingle. Of that experience I wrote ‘Tourism is forever doomed to kill the things it loves: the fishing village in a secluded cove becomes a five mile stretch of high rise hotels as slices of paradise are packaged, denatured and sanitised to suit the tastes of the rich. Kashgar is hardly Benidorm, but we were not the only foreigners at the Sunday market and it sits inside the horizon of tourism. At Upal we had slipped over that horizon, but human beings, like sub-atomic particles, are changed merely by being observed. Mixed with the exhilaration of just being there was the fear that we were the latest link in a chain of foreigners relentlessly widening that horizon as we drag it behind us.’

Madurai is in much the same category as Kashgar and Rameswaram is like Upal.

My apologies for the preachy bit (and for quoting my own stuff), but thank you for reading to the end.