Mad? U'r right
INDIA | Friday, 20 August 2010 | Views [464]
A comfortable (even by 1st world standards) train brought us to Madurai for a flying visit en route to Thiravananthapuram. Stumbling out of the station into the hot night air was interesting, the small town feeling much more alive than the metropolis of Madras. Beggars were plentiful by the station but not yet a great deal more than we've seen the whole way along. When we eventually managed to locate the hotel we eschewed the unappetizing fare we'd seen along the way, patronising the hotel restaurant instead. They really were wonderful little people and we were joined by a sparky young Brit. We agreed to meet in the morning for ele-brekkie. We didn't know it then, but Nuala would be an important part of our Southern Sojourn.
Ele-brekkie was surreal - the temple our room overlooked sent their elephant to receive breakfast every morning, so 6.30am saw us and Nuala sipping coffee and rubbing the sleep out of our eyes while just metres away, a real life elephant guzzled loads of pitas and rice and had milk emptied down its throat. We had a more leisurely (and moderate) breakfast before exploring what little there was to see in Madurai. First stop was the temple next door, arguably more enjoyable, less afflicted by foreign tourists and wonderfully untamed. The various worshippers scurried around, lighting insence, making offerings and praying, nobody bothered us as we sat on the floor in the darkened prayer hall, watching both people and bats flitter around. Hindi temples seem much less formal than the Christian affairs with their pews and service times, here people sat in circles on the floor, praying to certain statues or placing flowers in key places.
The temple of Meenakshmi was much more built up and undeniably more monumental. The halls were most impressive, with vast, bright-ceilinged corridors in dusty sullen silence leading off from the clamour of the shrine-chambers, filled as they were with drumming and shouting. We wandered until tired, bemused and befuddled by the imagery and ritual. A banana-leaf thali picked us up - more rice than we could eat plus a variety of watery curries for less than a pound. The little palace in the south of the town was more of interest for the exuburant schoolchildren that swarmed us to say hello how are you what's your name where do you come form my name is... thrusting dozens of little hands our way for a handshake before their teachers shooed them away and back to their studies.
We were getting on well with Nuala who decided to join us on our overnight train, so we all went to the station and saw the Station Supervisor who had no glasses or pointy hat but could weave magic and put her on the same train and carriage as us. It still took four forms to be filled out of course, this is India. We celebrated with chai in the British Bakery along with two lads Nuala had met earlier. They were interesting too - floods in the north had cancelled their plans so they'd come South at short notice instead. It felt like a goldfish bowl as every passing dometic tourist stopped to gawp at us gawping at them through the huge window. Finally, we headed back to the hotel to change and shower before the journey. What? At dinner-o'clock? Yes - Indian hotels often offer 24hr checkin/checkout and as we'd cleverly arrived late the previous day we still had time on the clock to use the amenities. Feeling clean, we settled down with cards to await our train...
Going? Braingain this:
Temples are big but restricted for non-Hindus and can be done quite quickly
