Galle–or not

There’s always a degree of uncertainty when travelling.  Sometimes changes need to be made due to “unforeseen circumstances” and today was one of those days.

We’d woken during the night to hear rain on the windows, had felt more movement of the sea and had been gently rocked back to sleep again.

This morning, things didn’t look good.  However, we weren’t due to arrive at Galle until 10am and though we were due to anchor offshore and use the tenders, we weren’t too worried about getting wet.

But at 10am, it was clear that things were too rough to attempt any launch of the tenders and the Captain announced that sadly, we would not be making a stop here after all.  We would be sailing directly to Colombo, where he’s trying to secure a berth earlier than planned, sometime later today.

A revised schedule for the day has been put together.  The Kings Speech will be showing in the theatre this afternoon and there will be the usual programme of quizzes, games and shows.  Our trivia team has convened and will meet twice today, hoping for a repeat of our win on Friday.  In the meantime, I’m catching up with uploading my photos, my journal and writing blog posts – except there is no internet service because of the weather and some interference from the shore nearby.  I’ll save as drafts and post when I can.

A bientot!

Polonnaruwa

Kerching!  Our first visit to Sri Lanka and another country ticked off.

We love the skies here, especially first thing in the morning as the sun rises.  this morning was no exception and as we sailed into Trincomalee we caught our first sight of land.

We’d planned a long day today, driving with ten of our fellow passengers to Polonnaruwa, the ruined medieval city.  Our guide, Ranjit, made it clear from the start that we would need to stick to time.  He begged us to be prompt when returning to the minibus and outlined the timetable for the day.  However, though he’d allowed for the time to drive to the first stop, the calculation had been somewhat optimistic – the roads were terribly bumpy and it took us over an hour and a half to drive the first 20 miles, from where there was a “lovely carpeted stretch road” (Ranjit’s words, not mine!)

Upon leaving the port area, we formed a convoy with police escort – our first surprise of the day being the level of (armed) military and police presence.  Every mile or so along the road was a checkpoint, manned by two young officers bearing what looked like serious weapons. Thinking it not a good idea to photograph these officers, a picture of their small shelter will have to do!

The contrasts between India and Sri Lanka were immediately apparent.  Lacking the same density of population and being altogether greener and more lush, the conversation around us was one of relief.  Certainly we saw little of the absolute and abject poverty we witnessed in Chennai.

But as in India, the predominant advertising is for cellphone companies, which is a little inconsistent with the very basic commercial properties they adorn!

It being Good Friday (and a holiday here), we passed several community events taking place.  One cycle race was progressing nicely, with spectators standing by the roadside with buckets of water to throw at the riders as they passed!  All very reminiscent of Song Kran in Thailand.

Ranjit talked about the wildlife here and sure enough, as the day progressed, we found ourselves recording a little safari-like list of creatures.  The one which eluded us however was the national animal – the giant squirrel of Sri Lanka, described by Ranjit in such a way that had we seen one we would have been surely disappointed!  We made do with a few monkeys, a couple of jackals and a mongoose to be going on with.  Oh, not counting the hundreds and hundreds of stray and mangy looking dogs which were everywhere.

A herd of water buffalo were enjoying the cool lake – or “tank” as Ranjit describes these manmade reservoirs, and we kept an eye out for wild elephants, as well as that giant squirrel!

We drove through teak forests, palmyra plantations and paddy fields as he told us about the airforce who now offer tourist flights over the island and the navy, who offer whale watching expeditions.

We passed a few games of cricket going on too and after a brief stop to use the facilities at a smart hotel, we found ourselves in Polonnaruwa, entering via the museum (no photographs).  We passed through at breakneck speed, just long enough to catch a glimpse of the background to the place and enabling us to put the individual ruins into perspective.  This is a large archaeological site and we’d see just a small part of it today.

I scribbled and drew, filled several pages with jots that made sense to me then but will probably be meaningless unless I clarify them sooner rather than later.

Out into the heat again, and we began our walk through the principal area of the site.  The Kings Palace had been a magnificent seven storey structure, the top five floors made of wood, the bottom two (which survive in part) built of brick. Square in shape, we’d seen the model of the original structure in the museum recently enough to be able to imagine how it was.

I loved the elephant frieze at the base of this temple structure.

The Moonstone at the entry to the temple was also spectacular.  In fact, we saw several of these stones on this site and I jotted down a reminder to myself to investigate further.

Stepping over the moonstone and up the steps to the elevated structure above, there were finely carved columns standing absolutely straight and forming a lovely regular pattern.

Returning promptly to our minibus (would we have dared do otherwise?) we were relieved to see that it was the local tourists who were the focus of attention from lottery ticket salesmen, snack vendors and so on.

We drove to another area of the ruins, this time to see reconstructed temples marked with the archaeologists references and put back – more or less – as they had been.  This was fascinating, because though these pieces were clearly correctly placed, they were just not quite right giving a peculiarly offset and abstracted appearance to the whole structure.

This is a place where I would have enjoyed a while longer, to draw and absorb more of the shapes and patterns around me.  But no time, no time…

I stepped out of my shoes, took my hat off and dived inside a small temple where offerings to a small buddha had been made in the form of a shape made out of flowerbuds on a stone tablet.  The light was streaming in through a couple of slits in the wall and a few devotional candles were burning – the atmosphere was damp and murky, the air fragrant from the blossoms offset with the smell of burning tallow.  It was a relief to step outside again.

A bunch of schoolchildren were waiting to greet me – they were doing a project interviewing foreigners and though time was tight, I couldn’t refuse their charming approach.  We went through the usual details – what was my name, where did I come from, what was my job (when I replied “teacher” they giggled and feigned fear!) what was my impression of Sri Lanka and finally, would I return?    Such friendliness was apparent throughout the day and the answer would be a definite yes.

A few more temples, a few more ruins which once again give the impression we were the only ones there.  Not true!

Some beautiful layered views through archways and windows.  Some of these buildings (but not necessarily all of those in the pictures) had been built by successive kings to house the holy relic of the Buddha’s tooth – now housed in Kandy, we are informed.

Finally, we reached the impressive coliseum-like structure of which we’d seen a model in the museum – but of course, we had to hurry hurry hurry, time to go.

Walking past the monkeys on the way to the carved stone buddhas, I remembered that Ranjit had promised to tell us the difference between a reclining buddha (resting) and a reclining buddha (passed away) – but it was too late.

I think this is a reclining buddha (passed away) but can’t be sure and simply add this one to the list of “things to find out more about”.  Rules here: no shoes, no hats, no photographs to be taken with one’s back facing the buddha. 

Three figures all carved from one stretch of rockface.  Exquisite.

Back on the minibus, we were given the choice – should we ride an elephant first or have lunch?  We chose to eat first, ride later, but in the meantime enjoyed the “beware iguanas crossing” signs (and later, an iguana who safely negotiated the traffic) and another rather charming fellow standing by the side of the road, posing for photos

Isn’t he great?  Though Ranjit had told us there were wild elephants around here, we didn’t really think we’d see any quite so close.

Anyway, lunchtime, which took the form of a delicious hot buffet of traditional Sri Lankan food served by the lake (tank!) on lotus leaf plates

and dessert

However, no sooner had I said “you know, I think it feels a bit like rain”, there was the unmistakeable “plop plop” of penny sized raindrops, soon followed by a downpour of tropical proportions.

We ran for cover but still got soaked through and appreciated the towels which were quickly brought for us.  As we stood in the shelter of the hotel reception, the bedraggled group of elephant riders came in – it appeared we’d made the best choice to eat first.

Still, the rain was beginning to ease off a bit, the skies were brightening and we said we’d go ahead and do the elephant thing regardless.

But we ought to have known better and learned from previous elephant-riding outings – sitting ten feet from the ground on a wet and dirty howdah which is slipping all over the place because it wasn’t loaded properly in the haste of the afternoon is not the most comfortable way to ride an elephant (even if it does make for good dinner party conversation later in the day)

Fortunately the ride was short and the rain held off until the very last minute.  But we were already soaked, had gone through an ersatz car-wash in the form of a few trees along the way and by the time we got back on the bus, we were filthy, wet and tired.  Were we ready for two and a half hours bumpy ride home?  I guess so.  Ranjit put on a video of Sri Lanka for us to watch, and several more elephants, peacocks and monkeys came out of the greenery along the way, too.  We simply sat and (literally) steamed.

Turning the last corner, we spotted we were “home” – five minutes before the “all on board” signal.  We ran upstairs and straight out onto our verandah for our sailaway.

Waving to the families who had come to wish us goodbye, we were under way again.

Next stop, Galle, tomorrow lunchtime.  Bye Trincomalee!

(A shower never felt so good)

Mahabalipuram

Second World Heritage site of the day was Mahabalipuram, another Pallavan treasure, this time on the coast south of Chennai.  Once again, we had no idea what to expect, but enjoyed seeing daily life along the way.

This port of call has been much discussed here on board ship, where the pale coloured carpets have needed protection from the sooty air and tarry residues brought in on the soles of our shoes.  Chennai, like much of India, lacks a great deal in terms of what we in the privileged part of the world have come to take for granted, and I think it is a good thing to be reminded of how fortunate we are to be able to travel and see these things in a great deal of comfort.

During this afternoon’s journey, we were able to see the rice harvest above.  As we passed by in the comfort of an air conditioned vehicle, we watched men and women labour in the stifling temperatures, bringing in the harvest to make a meagre living.

It was from this same privileged position that I could observe the brickmakers, making what they could from this clay soil, working hard in what would, by our standards, be unsatisfactory conditions in every way.

These sellers of tyres, a vital part of this economy, must scrape by on what little they can make from selling part used goods.  For sure, it’s not the stuff that tourists want to see but I think it’s right to recognise that not everyone lives as we do; that a great deal of the world’s population exist in a totally different and in altogether less palatable conditions than we do, too.

Passing through this small community during the mid afternoon, I wondered what the “National Hair Style” could be?  Answers please!

Whilst I’m working that one out, have a look at another national monument, this time the rock which defies gravity and balances on a pivot.  Families were visiting this park and invitations to try to push the rock over the edge gladly taken, but clearly unsuccessful so far.

Just along the way lay the wondrous stone carving of the Pallavan dynasty, here at Mahabalipuram.   We stood for a while in the company of many local people, admiring the fine craftsmanship of this marvellously well-preserved work.

The trouble was, as we the privileged few, gazed on, the multitudinous poor chose to persist in their efforts to sell us carvings, beadwork, postcards and anything else they could think of. 

The local tourists were themselves besieged by these people, doing what they could to eke out some kind of a living from whatever source they could.

The same at the Shore Temple, where for twelve centuries, this masonry has withstood the battering of sea waves and the treachery of drifting sands.  Once inside the National Monument site, we were relieved of the pressure to buy things – anything – and the peace to look and simply observe in quiet awe was an overwhelming relief.

The situation of this temple was stunning, alongside a blue sky and sandy beach, it was remarkably different from anything we’ve seen in India on previous visits.

The sea breeze was a welcome relief from the heat, too.

As if we needed any reminder of our place in the “privileged few”, we stopped by the nearby Taj “Fishermans Cove” hotel for a late lunch.  Though we’d brought our swimming things, we chose to linger over a delicious lunch and savour the day so far.

Driving back along Beach Road Chennai, the people of the city were enjoying their after-work time at leisure with their friends and families on the beach.  Groups stood around, there were carousels on the ridge of the beach and this would go on until well after dark.

We, the privileged few, might have the material goods but don’t necessarily have the total monopoly on fun and pleasure, thank goodness!

Silk

Leaving the market square behind, we drove on through the small town, past stalls selling all kinds of colourful wares.

I can imagine the scent from this one being particularly fragrant – possibly as well, since right next to it, someone was in marginally less fragrant surroundings.

However beautiful the sights, the “real” India is never far away.

As the old women pick their way through the detritus of life, people are riding bikes and mopeds whilst talking on the cellphones. 

We soon find ourselves heartily welcomed at the Silk Weaving Centre and having been ushered in via the cowsheds and the lavatories, we go upstairs to find work being done.

I think these chaps are here for the show really, but for a demonstration, it’s pretty good and the work they are doing is beautiful.

The Jacquard looms are hand powered and the designs are traditional.

But no-one lingers up here, because of course, downstairs is the shop!

I’m not a fan of European women wearing sarees and wouldn’t consider the style for myself, but that doesn’t stop me being completely enchanted by the colour, the pattern, the texture.

For sure, there are ready made garments here too, but these are cut for the slight, Asian build and those who try on are disappointed in the fit.

Silk is pulled from these luscious piles of loveliness, thrown out by the assistants to show us the beauty

there’s gold and embroidery galore, elaborate patterns and fine weaving.

and sooner or later, there’s one with my name on it.  You’d have guessed that one spoke to me, wouldn’t you?

Until I saw the price – 9720 rupees….that’s over £130 and a little more than I wanted to pay, however beautiful the silk.

By the time we’d finished, the shop was looking like a plague of locusts had passed through.  I imagine that some considerable folding practice was done to return the displays to normal, but business had been brisk and there were plenty of smiles.

We stepped outside, narrowly avoiding the fuel supply, drying in the sun and were offered a snack to keep us going till lunchtime, which wouldn’t be till 3pm or thereabouts.

We were each given a packet of biscuits (rather like Ritz crackers) and a can of Fanta, having been advised that even the bottled water doesn’t meet safety standards here.

Finally, I imagine you’d like to see what I brought out in that shopping bag?

It’s a saree, similar to the one I rejected on price grounds – this one was less than a quarter of the price, isn’t quite the same quality as the previous saree but the colours are softer and I rather preferred it.  When I get home, I’ll decide what I’m going to do with it!

Kanchipuram

I took a couple of hundred photographs yesterday and it’s going to take quite some time to go through them!  Visiting such photogenic places is when a digital camera really comes into its own.

We arrived in a small marketplace which was rather different from the dusty, ruins we expected.  Our arrival signalled the attention of every seller in town to come and offer all kinds of good things from sandals to jewellery but of course, our eyes were on the main feature

The Ekambaranathar Temple towered over the square and approaching the entrance, we were able to see the fine details in the 200ft high gopuram.

 

Time to remove shoes and put on thick socks as advised – the sand/stone was hot and walking barefoot uncomfortable.

Hema, our charming guide began to tell us about this magnificent place and led us through into the Temple, stopping first at a colourful panel illustrating the story of Shiva.

We followed, listening intently to the wealth of information she had to share whilst trying to absorb the atmosphere and visual feast which surrounded us.

The temple has a hundred richly carved pillars, featuring craftsmanship of the highest order.  Here in the natural light of the entrance it was fairly easy to take reasonable photos

 

though sadly, much of the interior spaces were lit with fluorescent tubes and these made the process a whole deal more tricky.

Every corner we turned, every nook and cranny revealed a different delight.

Here, in a quiet spot, a young couple were gazing into each others eyes, sharing a peaceful moment (until some pesky tourist briefly stumbled in on their privacy)Their presence added a human scale to this amazing place, however.

Some corners were small shrines with tallow candles burning in front of them.

In other corners, there were colourful platforms used to carry the holy statues in processions.

Elsewhere there were monks, sitting quietly by a holy object, inviting us to take their photographs, to come closer and talk to them.  Sadly, there was not enough time to linger, to take everything in and to really absorb this fascinating place.

Under our feet were paintings on the stone floor, painted using rice paint, Hema told us.  These served a dual purpose in beautifying the temple but also feeding the small creatures who share the place with everyone.

Here and there, there was a splash of colour, of human interaction with this place.

In particular, by the ancient mango tree by this small temple where childless couples hang small cradles in the branches in the hope of an offspring.  Unmarried women walk around the temple an odd number of times in the hope of finding a husband, too, making this little courtyard the focus of much attention.

Moving right along, then, taking a last look at this beautiful structure, we were back out into the heat, running the gauntlet of the gift stalls and the marketplace sellers.

 

Hema led the way at a cracking pace, for there was more to see, to do and time was tight.

The clue to the next stop lay in the fabrics hanging outside one of the stores.  Kanchipuram is renowned for silk weaving and Kanjeevaram Silk Sarees and we were heading for one of the workshops.