After 5 days and nights roaming the tribal territories of Orissa, we arrived at our last stop before Calcutta - the holy city of Puri. The place is famous primarily for the Jagannath Mandir, a massive temple complex dedicated to Lord Vishnu in his incarnation as Krishna (Jagannath means 'universal lord'). The temple, once a year, builds and sends out a massive, multi-story high chariot to take the idol from the temple grounds out to a smaller shrine in the middle of a man-made lake and back again over the course of a 10 day holiday, one day per incarnation. This massive chariot is the origin of the English word 'juggernaut' - the pictures make clear that this is no exaggeration.
Our hotel was lovely, located on the outskirts of the city, with a pool, and overpriced beers, and wifi, and laundry service - exactly what we needed after our time in the lack of aircon. Our first order of business is to be taken on Tuk-Tuks to see the sights, including the aforementioned temple, as well as a monastery, dedicated to a Hindu sadhu known for his 8-foot-long dreadlocks, where Emma was stung four times by a particularly territorial wasp. I am, and have been, terrified of wasps since I was stung as an 8 year old in Florida. At the time, it was the worst pain I'd ever experienced, and nothing since then has really measured up, so I've had that fear lurking in the back of my mind ever since - Emma, of course, was mildly annoyed by the stings, and her ability to shrug them off makes me think I'm maybe exaggerating the dangers.
After the monastery, we went to see the temple in the lake, which contained replicas of the idols of Krishna, his brother Balarama and his wife, Lakshmi, located in the Jagannath.
This was as close as we would ever get to the things themselves, since the temple is off-limits to non-hindus, but we did go to see the outside of it in the middle of a major market street. We were taken to the top of a library building across the street, from which we could see all three entrance gates, as well as the awesome Kalinga-style spire on top, as well as the massive kitchen complex, off limits even to the Brahmans of the Temple, where the offertory food known as Prasad is made before it is laid before the gods and then given out to the faithful. It was the wrong time of year to see the chariot, sadly, but it was an interesting experience nonetheless, and we felt well touristed by the time we went back to the hotel.
Our second day was given over to a day trip to Lake Chilika, where, after a 90 minute drive, we boarded a longboat and cruised out to an island community where we toured the area, smiled at children, and tried not to be converted to the worship of Kali by a very enthusiastic fisherman. We also saw a man giving another man a haircut in the middle of the street - it would have been very poignant and indicative of the problems of rural poverty, except that the men on the island had seriously well-styled hair, so apparently the lack of a brick and mortar shop is no bar to fashion.
Afterwards, we had lunch at a beautiful beach-front campsite on another island, where I was astounded to realise that I knew ALL of the trees from my childhood in South Florida. Seriously, there were seeds I remember playing with, banyans a-plenty, and the shocking realisation of just how constructed a physical environment I grew up in. Also, there were big, black, lovely ants crawling all around us and getting swept around by the strong cool breeze - they were utterly uninterested in attacking us, so they totally had our sympathies against the ravens flapping about and looking for their next meal. On the ride back to the jeeps, we saw not one, not two but around 7 Irrawaddy dolphins swimming through the shallow, brackish waters of the lake; we had been told by a very informative but not necessarily well-informed American that this was the wrong time of year to see any, so either we were very lucky, or Global Warming is a bit more immediate than I had thought.
We ate that night at the Honey Bee bakery, where the food is as outstanding as the service is dire. Seriously. When we ate there the day before for lunch we waited 90 minutes in an empty restaurant for pizza. The fact the we went back the next night as a group tells you how bad service generally is in India, and just how good that pizza was. Sometimes, late at night, I still miss that pizza. Also, Emma found a sign on the roof terrace that pretty much ensured her loyalty forevermore: someone had stenciled in the logo for the show Alias, a spy show by J J Abrams starring Jennifer Garner, next to the security camera. It was as if the place was meant for us. Except for the service. The service was terrible.
For our last day in town, we all went out for a group bike ride through the surrounding villages of Puri. Well, most of us did. Caroline took one look at the bikes and decided to do literally anything other than ride the delapidated and rusty Dutch bikes through Indian traffic. After an awkward start, we all toddled off down the road to see the villages and enjoy a little much-needed physical exercise. Of course, Emma took the lead - she cycles 16 miles a day to and from work, while I do so less often, while I decided to take the rear, in order to make sure we didn't lose any stragglers. This brilliant division of labour did have one drawback; my chain snapped in half just after I had been held up by some traffic. Everyone else, other than Jonny, was already out of sight ahead of me, so there was nothing for us to do but walk our bikes and hope that someone, my wife perhaps, would eventually notice that we were missing.
We walked along for a good 20 minutes before that happened.
At a chai stop, Niranjan phoned ahead for jeeps, who arrived to take Jonny to meet Caroline and Laura at the end of the bike ride, while I took Jonny's bike for the final leg of the tour. Only then did I realise why Jonny had been quite so eager to surrender his machine - the handlebars hit my knees anytime I tried to turn, and the brakes were basically nonexistent. When we all arrived, safe and sound and remarkably incident-free, we walked to a craft village where we had the opportunity to purchase some legitimately lovely silk work (we got some small things for presents) and then came back to Puri. For the afternoon, we went on one last trip, this time to see the Sun Temple at Konark.
This massive building was built in the 1200s by the king of Puri in honour of the sun god, Surya. While today, Hinduism tends to focus on Vishnu and Shiva and their related gods and goddesses, Surya is an older, Vedic deity (like Indra, the king of gods) who has fallen mostly out of fashion. The temple is an odd mix of ruin and astounding preservation, thanks to the soft soil in the area: while the Sanctum Sanctorum collapsed in 1823, the audience hall still stands in its impressive bulk, complete with carvings of Kings, Gods and acrobatic copulations. Our guide, greater for his enthusiasm than his English skills, was particularly keen on showing me the latter, and in teaching me tantric philosophy and making wild claims about how all of scientific progress is really just proof of tantric philosophy. I, meanwhile, was mainly interested in dying inside. It truly was a situation where we got more out of just being there and looking at it than we got from our guide.
The temple is built to represent a massive chariot, with 12' wheels carved onto the base of the building, with each wheel acting as a sundial, while 7 horse statues at the front act to draw it forward. In the back, an astoundingly Egyptian looking frieze shows the influence that Alexander the Great had in linking the Mediterranean and subcontinental worlds. But the most impressive thing we saw wasn't even architectural. A gigantic wasp, the largest I have ever seen, attacked, killed, and (after considerable effort and a succession of false starts) flew away with the corpse of a preying mantis. It was odd to see the struggle of nature, red in tooth and claw, taking place amongst the hordes of tourists at an 800 year old temple, but it was also more engrossing than nodding and smiling at our guide's incoherent sex talk.
On the way back to the hotel for our final night, we stooped by at a charity school that Dragoman donates money to, set up to serve the children of the Telugu-speaking fishermen who ply the coasts. We were received by the entire school, all lined up to give us a good stare as we shuffled in front of them, sweaty, stained and feeling deeply foolish. We were introduced as benefactors, which we effectively were, and then stood in an uncomfortable silence, until someone had the idea of shaking hands with a five year old in front of them. At this, the dam broke, and we shook hands, exchanged names, and high fived literally hundreds of students until the principal let them leave school for the day. After that, we were given a tour of the premises, including the computer lab and library, before we fell back in the jeeps, tired but blissful, to grab an early night.
Our train to Calcutta would leave at 5:30 the next day.
Our hotel was lovely, located on the outskirts of the city, with a pool, and overpriced beers, and wifi, and laundry service - exactly what we needed after our time in the lack of aircon. Our first order of business is to be taken on Tuk-Tuks to see the sights, including the aforementioned temple, as well as a monastery, dedicated to a Hindu sadhu known for his 8-foot-long dreadlocks, where Emma was stung four times by a particularly territorial wasp. I am, and have been, terrified of wasps since I was stung as an 8 year old in Florida. At the time, it was the worst pain I'd ever experienced, and nothing since then has really measured up, so I've had that fear lurking in the back of my mind ever since - Emma, of course, was mildly annoyed by the stings, and her ability to shrug them off makes me think I'm maybe exaggerating the dangers.
After the monastery, we went to see the temple in the lake, which contained replicas of the idols of Krishna, his brother Balarama and his wife, Lakshmi, located in the Jagannath.
This was as close as we would ever get to the things themselves, since the temple is off-limits to non-hindus, but we did go to see the outside of it in the middle of a major market street. We were taken to the top of a library building across the street, from which we could see all three entrance gates, as well as the awesome Kalinga-style spire on top, as well as the massive kitchen complex, off limits even to the Brahmans of the Temple, where the offertory food known as Prasad is made before it is laid before the gods and then given out to the faithful. It was the wrong time of year to see the chariot, sadly, but it was an interesting experience nonetheless, and we felt well touristed by the time we went back to the hotel.
Our second day was given over to a day trip to Lake Chilika, where, after a 90 minute drive, we boarded a longboat and cruised out to an island community where we toured the area, smiled at children, and tried not to be converted to the worship of Kali by a very enthusiastic fisherman. We also saw a man giving another man a haircut in the middle of the street - it would have been very poignant and indicative of the problems of rural poverty, except that the men on the island had seriously well-styled hair, so apparently the lack of a brick and mortar shop is no bar to fashion.
Afterwards, we had lunch at a beautiful beach-front campsite on another island, where I was astounded to realise that I knew ALL of the trees from my childhood in South Florida. Seriously, there were seeds I remember playing with, banyans a-plenty, and the shocking realisation of just how constructed a physical environment I grew up in. Also, there were big, black, lovely ants crawling all around us and getting swept around by the strong cool breeze - they were utterly uninterested in attacking us, so they totally had our sympathies against the ravens flapping about and looking for their next meal. On the ride back to the jeeps, we saw not one, not two but around 7 Irrawaddy dolphins swimming through the shallow, brackish waters of the lake; we had been told by a very informative but not necessarily well-informed American that this was the wrong time of year to see any, so either we were very lucky, or Global Warming is a bit more immediate than I had thought.
We ate that night at the Honey Bee bakery, where the food is as outstanding as the service is dire. Seriously. When we ate there the day before for lunch we waited 90 minutes in an empty restaurant for pizza. The fact the we went back the next night as a group tells you how bad service generally is in India, and just how good that pizza was. Sometimes, late at night, I still miss that pizza. Also, Emma found a sign on the roof terrace that pretty much ensured her loyalty forevermore: someone had stenciled in the logo for the show Alias, a spy show by J J Abrams starring Jennifer Garner, next to the security camera. It was as if the place was meant for us. Except for the service. The service was terrible.
For our last day in town, we all went out for a group bike ride through the surrounding villages of Puri. Well, most of us did. Caroline took one look at the bikes and decided to do literally anything other than ride the delapidated and rusty Dutch bikes through Indian traffic. After an awkward start, we all toddled off down the road to see the villages and enjoy a little much-needed physical exercise. Of course, Emma took the lead - she cycles 16 miles a day to and from work, while I do so less often, while I decided to take the rear, in order to make sure we didn't lose any stragglers. This brilliant division of labour did have one drawback; my chain snapped in half just after I had been held up by some traffic. Everyone else, other than Jonny, was already out of sight ahead of me, so there was nothing for us to do but walk our bikes and hope that someone, my wife perhaps, would eventually notice that we were missing.
We walked along for a good 20 minutes before that happened.
At a chai stop, Niranjan phoned ahead for jeeps, who arrived to take Jonny to meet Caroline and Laura at the end of the bike ride, while I took Jonny's bike for the final leg of the tour. Only then did I realise why Jonny had been quite so eager to surrender his machine - the handlebars hit my knees anytime I tried to turn, and the brakes were basically nonexistent. When we all arrived, safe and sound and remarkably incident-free, we walked to a craft village where we had the opportunity to purchase some legitimately lovely silk work (we got some small things for presents) and then came back to Puri. For the afternoon, we went on one last trip, this time to see the Sun Temple at Konark.
This massive building was built in the 1200s by the king of Puri in honour of the sun god, Surya. While today, Hinduism tends to focus on Vishnu and Shiva and their related gods and goddesses, Surya is an older, Vedic deity (like Indra, the king of gods) who has fallen mostly out of fashion. The temple is an odd mix of ruin and astounding preservation, thanks to the soft soil in the area: while the Sanctum Sanctorum collapsed in 1823, the audience hall still stands in its impressive bulk, complete with carvings of Kings, Gods and acrobatic copulations. Our guide, greater for his enthusiasm than his English skills, was particularly keen on showing me the latter, and in teaching me tantric philosophy and making wild claims about how all of scientific progress is really just proof of tantric philosophy. I, meanwhile, was mainly interested in dying inside. It truly was a situation where we got more out of just being there and looking at it than we got from our guide.
The temple is built to represent a massive chariot, with 12' wheels carved onto the base of the building, with each wheel acting as a sundial, while 7 horse statues at the front act to draw it forward. In the back, an astoundingly Egyptian looking frieze shows the influence that Alexander the Great had in linking the Mediterranean and subcontinental worlds. But the most impressive thing we saw wasn't even architectural. A gigantic wasp, the largest I have ever seen, attacked, killed, and (after considerable effort and a succession of false starts) flew away with the corpse of a preying mantis. It was odd to see the struggle of nature, red in tooth and claw, taking place amongst the hordes of tourists at an 800 year old temple, but it was also more engrossing than nodding and smiling at our guide's incoherent sex talk.
On the way back to the hotel for our final night, we stooped by at a charity school that Dragoman donates money to, set up to serve the children of the Telugu-speaking fishermen who ply the coasts. We were received by the entire school, all lined up to give us a good stare as we shuffled in front of them, sweaty, stained and feeling deeply foolish. We were introduced as benefactors, which we effectively were, and then stood in an uncomfortable silence, until someone had the idea of shaking hands with a five year old in front of them. At this, the dam broke, and we shook hands, exchanged names, and high fived literally hundreds of students until the principal let them leave school for the day. After that, we were given a tour of the premises, including the computer lab and library, before we fell back in the jeeps, tired but blissful, to grab an early night.
Our train to Calcutta would leave at 5:30 the next day.
Gotta love those Indian gods, may the Lord bless their sex-obsessed selves. I am astounded by the chariot design and trying to wrap my mind around 12' wheels carved into the base of the temple! What has been your favorite so far, if that is a question answerable? I am thinking of checking out Dragoman for our Europe trip (if we ever get to take it!). The company seems to organize really fun activities, if your photos on horseback, at beaches, climbing mountains, hiking trails. The pix are gorgeous and the activities seem like exactly the sort of thing I would want to do. If I have already told you the following, please ignore it and rejoice with me again: And now Mom's big news: I no longer need a walker or cane. I am MOBILE under my own power!!! I will tell all in an email or call. Meanwhile, I love you madly, truly, deeply and parentally.
ReplyDeleteRemember to use my active email: marmshaw@comcast.net. Tx???
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