We return to our regularly scheduled blogging with our heroes chilling out in the beach city of Visakhapatnam, in the northern part of Andhra Pradesh. This is our last night with internet for the next 6 days, so please don't panic when our slipshod, poorly-constructed and increasingly erratic posting schedule is interrupted - we will just be sweating to death in Orissa.
We left Chennai heading towards Tirupathi, a town famous for its location at the foot of the Tirumala hill. So why is the hill famous? It's one of the four holiest hills in Hinduism, with a massive temple on top dedicated to Venkatishwara, aka Lord Vishnu. The monastery boasts no less than 5000 visitors at any given moment, and often far more, for daily crowds of 40-100,000 people. More people visit here than Mecca, possibly. Pilgrims wait for hours, slowly twisting through labyrinths in the heat, past endless security checks and up and down stairs to file, en masse, past a doorway through which can be seen, in the Sanctus Sanctorum (which cannot be entered by anyone other than Brahmans) the idol of the god.
How do I know this? Because that's precisely what we did. :D
First of all, we didn't do it entirely properly. We didn't walk up the thousands of steps for 40km up the hill, like you're supposed to, to even get to the start of the line. And we didn't stay in the vast set of guest houses maintained for pilgrims (who have just walked 40km uphill in the heat). And we had posh passes that let us avoid some of the queue. But we did wind for 2.5 hours through the maze, got swept along with the mass of pilgrims (many of them pressing, poking and knuckling our backs), and ate prasad (free temple-blessed food given out to everyone who makes it through the gruelling process) with the best of 'em.
It was ... an experience never to be forgotten. Also never to be repeated. There were no grand religious epiphanies, no instant conversions, no sudden moments of peace and tranquility. But there was the brute fact of being part of a wave of genial, friendly, and excited people all swelling towards the same destination. Conversations sprang up with other pilgrims, babies would be recognised as their parents moved past you, or away from you, and reappeared suddenly in a different section of the queue, and lessons were learned about keeping your attention on when to expect a step or ramp from what happens to the people ahead of you. It was a lot like Disney World in that way. :)
The driver was kind enough to stop on the way backdown the hill at one of the stations along the pilgrimage walk - a gigantic statue of Hanuman, the monkey god. Because there is a monkey god. And his name is Hanuman. He's actually the semi-main character of the Ramayana; he aids Rama (an incarnation of Vishnu) in rescuing his wife from Ravena, the demon-king of Sri Lanka, and already you're getting confused, so let's just leave it at 'Monkey God.' That awesome enough.
The heat was actually pretty bearable, both because Emma and I have been acclimating like champs, and because the altitude meant that it was in the high 20s (mid 80s, Fahrenheit). Back on the plains, though, it was ugly. And so it would remain the next day during our insane day of driving (420km, and about 10 hours). By midday, the heat was so high that the breeze coming in through the windows of the truck didn't cool us off - it was like living in a convection oven. We stayed that night in Vijayawada, in a hotel with aircon (praise Vishnu), and that's the most interesting thing about Vijayawada.
That not entirely true. Let me tell you about our dinner. Lovely meal, Manchurian Mushrooms for me and Dal Palak for Emma, but nothing to write home (or indeed, blog posts) about. What was interesting was the service. You may have noticed that the absurdity of the waitstaff at Indian restaurants has been a running theme here - even at the amazing truck stop here we had lunch (in a building stretching across the highway with ultramodern decor and lovely food), the waiters were clueless and the food came out at odd intervals. Vijayawada, however, took the cake. The waiters (there were at least five for our one table) brought food on one plate, scooped a portion onto another plate (which we are off), moved our plates around to accompany more plates, and did everything but work our forks for us. I honestly believe they did this because they had literally nothing else to do - when we tried to do things for ourselves, I swear to you they looked disappointed.
They still brought out the lime soda 1.5 hours late.
The next day was another long drive, this time to Visakhapatnam, where I write this now. Emma and I took a long (3 hours) walk around the joint, up the entirety of the beach and through neighbourhoods, revelling in the cool (low 30s) afternoon - Vijayawada was upper 30s (nearing 100 Fahrenheit) yesterday - and looking for a place to buy sunscreen. Being near the sea makes all the difference, a thought that scares the crap out of me, since we leave tomorrow for tribal Orissa, which is decidedly inland.
For dinner, we, Vincent, Steve, and the new Liverpudlian Johnny, went out to some Italian restaurant Vincent found on trip adviser. It was called 'the Flying Spagetti Monster'. I'm not kidding, there's a libertarian-owned Italian restaurant in Visakhapatnam named after an American satirical internet joke, and the food is AMAZING!!!! This was, quite simply, the best Italian meal we've had, outside of St Petersburg, Russia. And we've been to Rome and Venice, so this is not for nothing. I had farfalle Milazzo, Emma had spinach ravioli con funghi porcini, and we split a spectacular chocolate pudding called 'the bomb' for desert. And it certainly was.
But the biggest shock was the waitstaff. They were good. I mean damn good. They were polite, efficient, swift and personable. Not obsequious, not humble, just competent and professional. They did my old waiter's heart proud, and we tipped accordingly. There has to be a reason for the difference between FSM and literally every other restaurant in the country - maybe they pay well enough to attract good waiters, maybe they train the waitstaff, maybe Visakhapatnam is just that cool. Whatever it was, we are very happy travellers right now.
Of course, we get up tomorrow at 5:30 to head off into the malaria infested rival regions of Orissa. We're on anti-malarial meds, were still packing at 11:00 at night, and we've got six nights without ac to look forward to. But we had a good night tonight, and that's what counts.
We left Chennai heading towards Tirupathi, a town famous for its location at the foot of the Tirumala hill. So why is the hill famous? It's one of the four holiest hills in Hinduism, with a massive temple on top dedicated to Venkatishwara, aka Lord Vishnu. The monastery boasts no less than 5000 visitors at any given moment, and often far more, for daily crowds of 40-100,000 people. More people visit here than Mecca, possibly. Pilgrims wait for hours, slowly twisting through labyrinths in the heat, past endless security checks and up and down stairs to file, en masse, past a doorway through which can be seen, in the Sanctus Sanctorum (which cannot be entered by anyone other than Brahmans) the idol of the god.
How do I know this? Because that's precisely what we did. :D
First of all, we didn't do it entirely properly. We didn't walk up the thousands of steps for 40km up the hill, like you're supposed to, to even get to the start of the line. And we didn't stay in the vast set of guest houses maintained for pilgrims (who have just walked 40km uphill in the heat). And we had posh passes that let us avoid some of the queue. But we did wind for 2.5 hours through the maze, got swept along with the mass of pilgrims (many of them pressing, poking and knuckling our backs), and ate prasad (free temple-blessed food given out to everyone who makes it through the gruelling process) with the best of 'em.
It was ... an experience never to be forgotten. Also never to be repeated. There were no grand religious epiphanies, no instant conversions, no sudden moments of peace and tranquility. But there was the brute fact of being part of a wave of genial, friendly, and excited people all swelling towards the same destination. Conversations sprang up with other pilgrims, babies would be recognised as their parents moved past you, or away from you, and reappeared suddenly in a different section of the queue, and lessons were learned about keeping your attention on when to expect a step or ramp from what happens to the people ahead of you. It was a lot like Disney World in that way. :)
The driver was kind enough to stop on the way backdown the hill at one of the stations along the pilgrimage walk - a gigantic statue of Hanuman, the monkey god. Because there is a monkey god. And his name is Hanuman. He's actually the semi-main character of the Ramayana; he aids Rama (an incarnation of Vishnu) in rescuing his wife from Ravena, the demon-king of Sri Lanka, and already you're getting confused, so let's just leave it at 'Monkey God.' That awesome enough.
The heat was actually pretty bearable, both because Emma and I have been acclimating like champs, and because the altitude meant that it was in the high 20s (mid 80s, Fahrenheit). Back on the plains, though, it was ugly. And so it would remain the next day during our insane day of driving (420km, and about 10 hours). By midday, the heat was so high that the breeze coming in through the windows of the truck didn't cool us off - it was like living in a convection oven. We stayed that night in Vijayawada, in a hotel with aircon (praise Vishnu), and that's the most interesting thing about Vijayawada.
That not entirely true. Let me tell you about our dinner. Lovely meal, Manchurian Mushrooms for me and Dal Palak for Emma, but nothing to write home (or indeed, blog posts) about. What was interesting was the service. You may have noticed that the absurdity of the waitstaff at Indian restaurants has been a running theme here - even at the amazing truck stop here we had lunch (in a building stretching across the highway with ultramodern decor and lovely food), the waiters were clueless and the food came out at odd intervals. Vijayawada, however, took the cake. The waiters (there were at least five for our one table) brought food on one plate, scooped a portion onto another plate (which we are off), moved our plates around to accompany more plates, and did everything but work our forks for us. I honestly believe they did this because they had literally nothing else to do - when we tried to do things for ourselves, I swear to you they looked disappointed.
They still brought out the lime soda 1.5 hours late.
The next day was another long drive, this time to Visakhapatnam, where I write this now. Emma and I took a long (3 hours) walk around the joint, up the entirety of the beach and through neighbourhoods, revelling in the cool (low 30s) afternoon - Vijayawada was upper 30s (nearing 100 Fahrenheit) yesterday - and looking for a place to buy sunscreen. Being near the sea makes all the difference, a thought that scares the crap out of me, since we leave tomorrow for tribal Orissa, which is decidedly inland.
For dinner, we, Vincent, Steve, and the new Liverpudlian Johnny, went out to some Italian restaurant Vincent found on trip adviser. It was called 'the Flying Spagetti Monster'. I'm not kidding, there's a libertarian-owned Italian restaurant in Visakhapatnam named after an American satirical internet joke, and the food is AMAZING!!!! This was, quite simply, the best Italian meal we've had, outside of St Petersburg, Russia. And we've been to Rome and Venice, so this is not for nothing. I had farfalle Milazzo, Emma had spinach ravioli con funghi porcini, and we split a spectacular chocolate pudding called 'the bomb' for desert. And it certainly was.
But the biggest shock was the waitstaff. They were good. I mean damn good. They were polite, efficient, swift and personable. Not obsequious, not humble, just competent and professional. They did my old waiter's heart proud, and we tipped accordingly. There has to be a reason for the difference between FSM and literally every other restaurant in the country - maybe they pay well enough to attract good waiters, maybe they train the waitstaff, maybe Visakhapatnam is just that cool. Whatever it was, we are very happy travellers right now.
Of course, we get up tomorrow at 5:30 to head off into the malaria infested rival regions of Orissa. We're on anti-malarial meds, were still packing at 11:00 at night, and we've got six nights without ac to look forward to. But we had a good night tonight, and that's what counts.
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