On the Other Side of the Fence

 

Something I discovered since being here is that it is easiest to stay somewhere centrally located in the cities, in order to easily access restaurants, stores,  sights, and activities I can do on my own, and then utilize day trips/tours to see the attractions and the sights outside of what I can easily reach by rickshaw or walking. Tours here are incredibly cheap, and the state of Karnataka, where Mysore and Bangaluru are, provides a whole variety of great tours to incentivize the natives to actually see what their own country has to offer.

 

Given all of this, and my decision to write less, and focus more on the interesting stuff, I will write a blog for each of the destinations I stay in, as I will be at each place for several days.....probably. However, in the spirit of keeping everyone updated on what all I have seen and done, I will also provide a brief laundry list for each day, beginning right meow. 

 

Day 5 

 

Laundry List:

- Wake up and pack up to train to Mysore. (After having sleekly maneuvered India's backwards regulations on train travel the night before. SUCESS!)

- Take a rick (as in rickshaw) to train station. (Rickshaws are great, I love them--no rhyme or reason)

- Navigate my way through the train station, which surprising was not too difficult, and board train.

- Write more in my blog on train and enjoy India's scenic rural areas.

- Arrive in Mysore around 2pm, and walk to hotel, which to my delight had two english speaking channels!

- Sign up for a couple of tours and head out into the streets of Mysore to explore

- Make new local friend in one of Mysore's markets

- Explore the back streets and non-touristy areas with new friend (much more on this later)

- Go to bed

 

Story-Time and Reflection:

I wake up excited to head off to a new place to explore. Bangaluru is fun, but unless you live there and speak some Kannada (the regional language spoken there), you might as well be in a maze in which you can't even see the walls, and thus keep bumping into dead-ends and wrong-ways. 

 

I leave my hotel 2 hours before my train to ensure I have plenty of time to get there and find where to board, given that both not-having-traffic and organization are not always India's strong suites. 

 

I walk outside to hail a rick to take me to the train station. As mentioned above, I have grown to love ricks.....there are so many of them, and they are so cheap (given the cost of living relative to the States), that they are a great asset to any tourist who doesn't know where they are going and need to get somewhere by a certain time. HOWEVER, every rick driver wants to set their own price for where you are going. At first I thought that this was just how it worked, and that the meters were just old relicts that just didn't function, but again, I was wrong, they work perfectly fine.

 

The trick to dealing with a rick driver, or any working class person in India, is being assertive. It is all a dual of wills here. Never be afraid to offend or challenge, because otherwise you will be taken every time.

 

Once I hail a rick I tell him where I am going, and that I will only pay what the meter says, no pre-set price, no meter and a half, just the meter price. "Sorry sir, meter is broken." Yeah right. I tell him, not a problem, I will use the rick directly behind you. "OOOOHHH, meter sir, yes meter only." Funny how the meters suddenly work when you threaten to use another rick with a working one.

 

I get to the train station and find the platform where I board my train fairly easily. Once I get to the platform, a plain clothes man comes up and asks if  I need help figuring out my train/ticket, thus presume he is an employee there. I hand him my ticket, and in his poor english he seems to be conveying that my car will be further up, and sticks his hand out. He is looking for a tip. A young man close by over hears my attempt to confirm that this is my train. He steeps in and presumably tell the man to scram in Kannada. 

 

This is another weird thing in India. People who don't work at hotels, travel hubs, parks, and stores will just show up, ask if you need help wit something, and if you accept any advice what so ever, they expect a tip. The first clue too picking them out is they are plain clothes, but this is not a dead give away, as many people here where plain clothes to work at their service jobs, such as the security check point people at the Bangaluru airport. 

 

Once the non-train station employee bounced, the young man who stepped in explained this to me and invited me to sit and wait  with him as we were both waiting for the same train. Ends up, the guy was only 17 and a college student coming home for Diwali, a Hindu holiday, during which many students and places of work get a few days off. His father works for the US military and while he had never been to the States himself, he knew enough about our differences to give me a lot of great advice about I should or should not do in India, such as not taking food from fellow passengers while traveling, beware of working class people  who are being particularly friendly and helpful, and what an appropriate tip is when a tip is actually warranted. 

 

As a young man he was interested to here more about how young people in the States live, and I was more than happy to answer all of his questions, which were mostly about nightlife and romance for a young person in the States. By the end his eyes were all lit up and he expressed to me that he wished he could have that sort of american-college-wild-life for a few years. Which is not an uncommon theme I have found.  Several young Indians I have met seem to have this romanticized ideal of what being  a young american is all about, and they pretty much think we live in Girls Gone Wild commercials all the time. 

 

The train arrives, we head to our separate cars, and before I know it, I am in Mysore. 

 

As I walk to my hotel, I stop for a quick sugar cane juice. I don't remember if I already talked out this, but sugar cane juice is the bomb. It's sweet, it's fruity, it's  just simply amazing. As the vendor continuously pushes and pulls a long stalk of sugar cane through his pressing machine, I look around and soak in my new environment. I can already tell I will like it more than Bangaluru.

 

Bangaluru seems to have an identity crisis. It has all the old cement buildings, as well more modern but rundown buildings, and then big new skyscrapers too. And the are all intermingled, which just comes across as unnatural. Mysore on the other hand, while granted being smaller and not really a center of business, flows more naturally. It is still a bustling city with a lot of people out and about, and plenty of stores an shops, but it has kept it's style. No skyscrapers, the tallest buildings are maybe 6 stories,  and pretty much everything is pastel colored cement. Basically, if you were to think of a stereotypical Indian city, you'd have a good idea of what Mysore is like. 

 

I get to my hotel, drop my things off, sign up for a couple tours at the travel desk, and head out to explore the streets. 

 

I walk down one road and grab a bowl of fruit from a vendor, with LOTS of salt and pepper please, and continue on toward one of the markets. Now at this point,  had yet to see a real Indian market, so I wasn't quite sure what I was looking for. I knew I was on the right road,  in the general area according to the map, and there were lots of shops and people selling things of the side walk, so I presumed this was it, again, I was wrong, but I at that point, I still didn't realize.

 

I walk up and down the street, checking out what all was being sold. Which was literally everything from produce, fresh flowers, toiletries, kitchen ware, crafts, clothes, luggage, bags, purses, basically everything you could get in Wal-Mart, and then more. I come across a little puzzle wooden jewelry box that only opens up if you remove the pieces in the correct order, and  I began to haggle. It must be because I am white, and thus mostly likely a tourist, but as soon as I show interest in purchasing something off the street, others flock to to me to show off what they have to sell, drawing plenty of attention. 

 

I ended up getting the little puzzle box, and soon after I was approach by a guy on the street. "How much did you pay for the puzzle box friend." I tell him 300 rupees, and he expresses to me that I paid too much. He begins to tell me about his friends factory, where they make many of the trinkets that one finds out here on the streets, and insists they are cheaper. He says they have it all, but mostly talks about incense and oils. He tells me Mysore is well know for its oils and but that the stuff at the market is diluted with alcohol. "I'm not telling you this for the money my friend, I have a job at a jeweler, I just saw you out here and thought I would build some good karma and help you out." He insists on leading me off to the "factory." I tell him I want to finish looking around and he suggests this is not a problem and follows me around, chatting me up. 

 

He seems friendly enough, and wants to take me through a part of town that only the locals see, so I figured, what the hell, and go with him. We begin winding through the side streets off the factory, and as we get further and further away, I keep asking how far is it, to which he replies, just up here. After a bit, I ask, why are you doing this. He says for good Karma. I help you, then you help someone else. Fair enough, I think, but still not fully convinced. 

 

Eventually we come to not a building with no sign and enter through what seems to be the back. I see a young lady sitting on the floor rolling out sticks of incense, and Elou, my new "friend," introduces me to his friend. While I was mildly suspicious before, now I'm half freaking out inside. $&!#! This is like the one thing that every single guide book and travel sight tell you not to do! I'm continuously looking over my shoulder at the door, half expecting it to close and be hit over the head at any moment. But nothing happened. He invited me to have a seat in an adjacent room filled with bottles of oil and hands me a sheet listing the various oils, their properties, and uses. He begins going through various ones, having me smell them and dabbing others on my hands and wrists. I'm still half thinking that this is the end, that I really messed up, and I'm definitely going to die, but as the demonstration goes on, I begin to feel more comfortable. 

 

Eventually, I did purchase several bottles of oils as gifts, and we move into another room for tea. At this point, the thought of, is this tea safe, crossed my mind, but II figured if they were going to hurt me, they would have done it a while ago. We hung out, chatted, drank some tea, and then....another pitch. "Marijuana is legal in Mysore, you know." Hmmmm.......for some reason Indian cities making their own rules regarding the legality of marijuana doesn't seem like a thing that would be permissible in India. "Have you smoked before?" And they pull out a jar of the stuff. Sure, a lot of kids my age have at least tried it, but I'm not about to make two bad decisions in one night, especially in a different country. I tell them I am perfectly fine with just the tea. They don't push, but Elou let's me know if I change my mind to let him know. 

 

Shortly after Elou and I head out and he returns me to my hotel. He suggests we meet  up tomorrow and he will show me a silk museum. I tell him sure, but I have a tour that won't get back till 9pm or so. "Not a problem. I will wait in the chia shop across the street." 

 

I head up and get ready for bed. Kind of happy I did go wit Elou, because I definitely did see parts of the city I wouldn't have otherwise as a tourist, but also realizing that I need to be a little more careful about following people I just met. As in most instances across the world, most strangers do no mean to cause you harm, but you do open yourself up to the risk when you allow a person who is basically a stranger to tour you around town like that. It was cool, but from here on out, better safe than sorry. 

 

Day 6 

 

- Wake up bright and early to catch the Ooty Sight Seeing Bus Tour

- Take Otty tour, which includes Bandipur Wild Life Sanctuary, Madhumiai Wild Life Sanctuary, Nilgiri Hills, Kallahatti Water Falls, Tea Eastate, Ooty Lake, Ooty City Shopping, and Ooty Botanial Gardens (as well as write more for my blog along the way)

- Return to the Hotel, and meet up with Elo to see "Silk Museum"

- Sleepy-Town Time

 

Story-Time and Reflection:

So day 6 is definitely a day that happened, but honestly, I feel like not that much happened. Yes, there are stories, but far fewer than just the second half of day 5, but anyways, here we go.

 

On day 6 I wake up and realize, I never received my ticket for that days tour. (Insert four letter word here)! I run downstairs too the lobby of my hotel and find a couple of employees sleeping by the front desk on the floor. And while this might be surprising at first, this has actually been standard practice at every hotel I have stayed at so far (I am writing this on day 9), and this hotel was even one of the nicest in town. If you asked, I'd say it seems that many of the people at these hotels work far more than 8 hour days, and handling the night shift is just part of the territory. 

 

Anyways, I wake them up and tell them my situation: I bought a ticket for today's Otty tour from the travel desk guy at this hotel yesterday, he said he'd get me the ticket by that evening, but I never received the ticket......did I mention the tour is today? They tell me he will be in at 9am and roll back over, pulling the covers over their head. Great! However, I explain, the tour is suppose to pick up at 7:30. They look with a confused stare......clearly between their morning grogginess and their incomplete mastery of english, the full message is not being understood. I try again, "Voucher. Ooty bus tour voucher." He gets up, goes through some drawers, and hands me the Otty tour itinerary. Excellent, I have this already. I try again, he says not to worry, the bus won't actually get here till 8, and he will call the guy before then. Alright, at least I have gotten something out of all this.

 

I get ready and return downstairs around 7:30. "No ticket needed sir, just wait in your room and we will call when the bus is here." A tad annoyed with the lack of efficient communication and organization, I'm mostly relieved to know that I will indeed be able to get on the tour. 

 

Bus shows up. This is what I paid for? It's pretty rickety compared to the bus that the Karnataka state tours run on......and I paid more for this somehow? I accept the fact that I got cheated, but hey, again, the cost of living is so much cheaper, its really just the matter of a few bucks. The bus makes a few more stops and we are ready to go. At this point the bus is entirely filled and lucky for me, I'm sitting next to  a big ol' fat indian guy, in seats that don't even really accommodate my own shoulder-width. But again, this is India, this is what I came for, for something new and......um......different. I slide open the window, put my elbow out the window, and start poking away at my iPad keyboard and write more for  my blog. SUCESS.

 

A couple hours in, we stop, and the tour guide rattles something off in presumably Kanada. The tour guy didn't really speak english, so I asked a nice Indian couple I had met when I first boarded the bus to give me the run down. "30 minutes break for breakfast." 

 

I exit the bus with the couple, and given that we had already chatted a bit on the bus early, I asked if I could join them for breakfast. They obliged. We plop down in the "Family Restaurant" (there seem to be a lot of "Family Restaurants" in India, but I haven't quite figured out what that means) next to the convenience store that the bus stopped at, and order up. The young couple is a delight. Super friendly, very interested in myself and where I am from, and in general, very engaging. We wrap up breakfast and back on the bus.

 

We eventually get to the first "stop," but don't actually stop. We just kind of fly through the wild life sanctuary, and the next 4 stops. It was a nice drive, but between being squished, my suspicion that I paid more than everyone else, and the lack of actually stopping at stops, I was getting irritated. Once we were up in the mountains, however, I was feeling much better. Something about being in the mountains always calms me. The views were beautiful, the air rushing through the open windows was cool and refreshing, all was fine. 

 

We arrive in Ooty, which is a quaint little town high in the mountains. As we drove through, I was surprised with how big the community was up there, with regards to the number of buildings as well as the number of people. It was a big small town, I guess you can say. 

 

We reach Lake Ooty, and actually stop! Lake Ooty is a little lake up in the mountains, as you might have guessed, and seems to be quite the attraction. There were food vendors around, a pleasant little park and garden, a paddle boat area, a miniature train ride, a motor boat cruise around the lake, and some other unique and peculiar things that I can't even begin to describe, because honestly I have no idea what they were and have never seen anything like them before. Overall, it very much had a fair-like atmosphere.....definitely a place people to go to have fun. 

 

Myself and the young couple take a cruise around the lake in one of the motor boats, which was stunning, peaceful, calm. Absolutely serene. As I we exit the boat ride, the large Indian gentleman who I was seated next to on the bus walks over and asks the young couple to snap a photo of me and him together......and so it begins. We snap a photos and all of a sudden it's time to continue on. 

 

The young couple were staying up in Ooty for a few days, and thus this is where we departed in our separate ways. This was an option the travel desk guy at my hotel forgot to mention, strike number three. As we drove through Ooty, stopping here and there, I wish I had more time to explore around this quaint little bustling mountain city. I wish I could have spent at least one night before heading back, but thanks too the most untrustworthy and incompetent travel desk guy in the world, this was just not a option as I didn't have my belongings, had already paid for my stay at the hotel in Mysore, as well as booked and paid for another tour the next day.

 

Last stop before heading home was at the Ooty Botanical Gardens, which again, very much had a fair-like atmosphere. Tons of vendors outside selling chocolate (which you don't find in most places in India), sweets, street foods, trinkets, brightly colored fuzzy hats and scarves (which a large number of people seemed to be wearing), and other random fun fair-like stuff. The gardens themselves were magnificent. I was only able to scratch the surface with the hour we had to roam around. 

 

Everyone is taking pictures in the garden, which is hilarious to watch because it seems that India's love posing and having their picture taken. Not long after I entered, some one comes up to me and is making the "take picture" gesture with her camera. I presume she is asking me to take a group photo of her and her friends and I nod yes. As I reach for the camera, she turns and passes it off to someone else, and positions herself next to me. Oh, so this is happening again now. I smile, put my arm around her, and they take a couple quick shots.....and all of a sudden the flood gates open. Other Indians see people taking photos with the white guy and they too want one. Group after group,  hop in front off  me, make the camera gesture, and I oblige. 

 

It's not long until a mid-30's to early 40-something year old man comes up to me with the same request in broken english. Again, why not. After all, I find it amusing that they find it amusing to take a photo with a white guy. His friend takes a picture, but then he turns to me and says with a questioning inflection in his voice, "Titanic?" I look at him confused. He again asks, "You, Titanic, movie?" Awesome, this guy is seriously questioning whether or not I am Leo DiCaprio. Clearly he's probably only seen a boot-legged copy of Titanic and none of Leo's more recent films. I smile and shake my head no. He smiles, turns, and walks away. 

 

I finish strolling around the garden and it's time to load back up on the bus for the several hour journey back to Mysore. 

 

I get back, and as promised, Elou is awaiting my arrival. He waves to me from across the street and I go over to greet him. "Ready for the silks museum?" I say yes and we are on our way. A we walk there he talks and talks about how well known Mysore is for it's fine silk, cashmere, and sandalwood, mentioning how they make great gifts. And with just a hop, skip, and a jump. We arrive at the "silk museum." Which, if you haven't guessed already, is not at all a museum. 

 

We walk in, the people working there greet us and sit me down in front of a counter. The whole wall behind the counter is literally filled with shelves of stacked up silks and cashmere, and they begin to just pull things off the shelf, unfold them and lay them out in front of me. I'm already thinking to myself, I'm not buying silk, but I touch the  cashmere and it does indeed feel quite soft. I like it. I ask how much and begin to bargain. I give him my final price, and he says no, I get up and begin to leave when he calls me back over......all of a sudden my final price is sufficient (Thank you Dad for teaching me that sometimes you have to walk away from the negotiating table to get the price you want). I do end up with one cashmere shawl. They move me to a room with jewelry, again same story, they just pull stuff out and start showing me. "I'm all set, thanks though." They tell me how keep jewelry is here, and after a while of saying no thank you, I give a firm NO. They don't push anymore and I begin to make my way out.

 

Elou is waiting by the front, and we walk back to my hotel. He suggests we meet up again tomorrow. At this point, however, I've figured it out. He just wants to take me from shop to shop in hopes that I buy something, on which he probably gets a commission. I tell him I'll be busy all day again and have plans for the next evening. He continues to talk up the local products and at this point I just give him a friendly, but firm, "NO, I'm not buying anything else. Im all set, and I need nothing else." We part ways on friendly terms, but everyone knows the gig is up. 

 

Later, I was reading other blogs about people's experiences in Mysore, and what happen to me, seems to happen to a lot of people. They are engaged by someone around the market areas, or even a rick driver, and are told about Mysore's signature products. This "new friend", who has no concern for money, tells them about the better deals at the "factories," how their "uncle" or "cousin" will cut them a good deal, how they'd like to take them to the "silk museum," and how marijuana is "legal" in Mysore (I checked, it most certainly is not). These "new friends" receive commission on the people they bring to purchase. So, for anyone going to Mysore, or probably India in general, here is my advice. A lot of times these local specialty products are truly regional signature products, however, you can find them EVERYWHERE, and EVERYONE will tell you they are giving you the "friends price," and that other places are lying about their quality. So shop around, bid people against each other, and if they are insistent that you're price  is not good enough, then walk away....they will usually call you back, willing to settle for your price, or something reasonably close. I will say, I have probably been taken a few times since being here, but I've also paid fractions  of the original asking price too. 

 

Day 7 

 

Laundry List:

- Wake up and have breakfast as I wait for the Mysore Sight Seeing Bus

- Go on Mysore Sight Seeing Tour including, Jaganmohan Palace, Mysore Zoo, Chamundi Hill, Statue of Mahishasura, Big Bull Temple, Maharaja Main Palace, St. Philomena's Church, Sriangapatna Fort, Tippu's Death Place, Rangantha Swamy Temple, Krishnaraja Sagar Dam, and Brindavan Garden.

- Dinner and Sleep

 

Story-Time and Reflection:

Day 7 was a fine, but perhaps fewer interesting stories, and I realize I said that about day 6 but this time I'm not lying. 

 

On day 7 I was picked up by a car rather than a bus, and my first thought is that this is great! Instead of a tiny old bus, I get a nicely cushioned seat in car with A/C and all! However, soon we have picked up several more people than seats in the car, such that no single person has their own seat, excellent. They drop us off at our first stop and say something in not-english, realizing I only speak english, they turn to me and merely say a time, which I understood to be the time I needed to meet back at the car.

 

The first stop was fine, although nothing too interesting to really speak about in length. It was an old palace, pretty run down, with a bunch of old art, furniture, and knick-knacks from the olden days. As I make my way outside to find my ride, the car is nowhere in sight. (Insert four letter word)! I continue to look around in hopes that they moved the car, or that a bus is hiding it. No such luck. Great, first stop of the day, and I already lost my tour. Money well spent. I begin to look around for people from the car, in hopes that they know something I do not. Again, no luck. All of a sudden, someone calls me over to their bus. "Time to go!" I don't recognize him, but apparently he recognizes me. I discover something that was lost in the translation of simply telling me the time to meet up. Namely, that we were meeting several other cars stuffed full of people and all moving into one bus from here on out. 

 

I get on the bus and grab a seat. A couple of the guys from the car I show'd up in are sitting close by, and they look fairly affluent. I figured they spoke english, so at the next stop I asked them to help translate the important parts of the message to me. Again, much of the tour, while not boring, doesn't really warrant me discussing much about it, but for the rest of the tour I tagged along with them to explore the various stops. They were young men, like myself so we had plenty to chat about. 

 

One interesting stop was Big Bull Temple, at the top of Chamundi Hill. Our visit happened to be during the holiday Diwali, during which many people come to make offerings and receive blessings at the temple. It was packed, and I don't mean full, I mean as you entered and walked through the temple, you literally were touching everyone around you, and everyone was pushing. It was intense, and quite the experience. I thought it was a it ironic at first, given my western sensitivities and what we consider to be civilized, but again, India is a different place, and there is a much larger tolerance for other's behavior here. While everyone pushed each other, it was not aggressive, nor violent, it was just accepted that everyone wanted to get in as quick as possible and pushing was thus natural. 

 

Another note worthy stop was the Maharaja Main Palace. This place, unlike many of the other historical attractions in India, was very well maintained. It was absolutely stunning inside and out. It is a massive palace, that has housed a sorts of royalty and rulers throughout the years. They don't allow pictures to be taken inside, and honestly it's so detailed, flamboyant, and decadent to describe. One simply must see it to have any just idea about it. It is India's second most visited sight/attraction, and it is magnificent. 

 

We finished off our day at a garden. India seems to be full of gardens. Often time they seem to generate a festival or fair type of environment with food vendors and random trinkets, and this on was no different. After trying a giant battered and deep-fried pepper, which was delicious, by the way, I entered in to the garden and began wandering around. It was night, and the garden, and its various waters, were illuminated with different colored lights. Again, many people taking photos and asking to take, or simply taking, photos with me. If I charged 20 rupees per person, per photo they wanted to take with me, I could probably finance half my trip. 

 

I met a nice group of young men who were truly fascinated with me. They didn't just ask where I was from, take a photo, and bounce. They had all sorts of questions about my life, why I was there, what I thought so far, and even about American politics and my position on them. Their english wasn't the best, so our conversation as far as politics went was limited and at times confused, but I enjoyed their forwardness in terms of the topics we discussed. 

 

Eventually, it was time to go. We loaded back up and headed back. It was later by the time I arrived at my hotel, so I just grabbed some dinner and went to bed.   

 

One thing I did think about that day was how frequently people remove their shoes before entering an establishment. Not just hindu temples, but homes, at least some churches and mosques, buddhist temples, some major historical sights, pretty much any really important place, or so it seems. We had to take our shoes off and both St. Phillomena's Church, and at the Maharaja Main Palace, which I wasn't anticipating. At most temples, there are shoe minders, who kinda of watch over the shoes for a small tip. But at the Palace, there was no such person. Literally, tons of shoes, everywhere, and no thinks twice about leaving them unattended. 

 

At the Palace, I was a bit nervous to leave my boots in such an unsupervised and crowded place. I'm not big into brands, but I have a pair of really nice, good quality Merrell boats. They are leather, they are waterproof, they have taken me through snow, forest, and mud. But it almost seems like here in India, you just don't steal someone else's shoes. It's almost  as if even criminals recognize the importance of removing one's shoes before enter certain places, and they respect this importance by not stealing shoes. It's new and a little weird coming from a country where it is not unusual that your shoes cost more than the rest of that days out-fit combined. So feel free to bring your insanely expensive shoes to India, and take comfort in that shoe theft at important places is off limits.

 

Day 8

 

Laundry List:

- Woke up, had breakfast

- Finalized plans for the next week or so

- Wandered around Mysore (soon to be officially spelled, Mysuru, according to the man on the bus reading over my shoulder) , and generally taking it easy while soaking it all in

-Sleepy-town time

 

Story-Time and Reflection:

Day 8 ended up being absolutely wonderful. No real plan other than to bum around and get my ducks in arrow. This lack of having plans did make me a tad anxious at first, but once I was out in the streets of Mysore, it was a wonderful and glorious day, filled with random conversation, and leisurely strolling around.