Beyond the city

We’d booked ourselves on a long day tour involving an early start, so that long train delay coupled with the usual, multiple checks on passports and travel documents was a little frustrating.  We were eager to make progress before the heat of the day built but as always, a modicum of patience was needed.

We drove out through the busy Chennai streets, enjoying the spectacle of everyday life as we did.  Grand buildings with lengthy “official” titles revealing a little of the British heritage, signs and gateways like the one above, to “St Georges Anglo-Indian Higher Secondary School and Orphanage”.

This is India going to work, to school, opening up for the day and here we were, part of it.

We passed people waiting for buses, for lifts in cars and on motorbikes.  The ability of a saree-clad woman able to hop elegantly and sit sideways on the pillion of a motorbike is remarkable – and the sheer numbers of people moving through the city overwhelming.

The drive out was noisy and erratic.  Each vehicle which passes another toots their horn and the rules of the road are, let’s say, relaxed.  But each driver shows respect for the others, and we enjoy watching the colourful passing lorries with mixed cargoes on board, some with people sleeping amongst it.  Eventually we reach the toll booth which is a fine example of more Indian bureaucracy – no tossing coins into a bucket here.  Though it’s fairly modern, it’s a bit dusty and grubby, the road surface broken and there were a couple of families with children just standing watching the cars go by.

The rice harvest was being brought in and we passed through several villages where carts laden with heavy sacks were being hauled by tractor or by oxen.

Later in the day, we saw the process of drying the rice taking place – it was laid out in the sun and men raked it over every so often.  I see why rice needs washing before cooking!

Eventually, we reached the first stop of the day: Kanchipuram, city of a thousand temples.  I’ll continue the story in the next post.

Chennai and beyond

Let’s see.  We were about to go out to dinner, weren’t we?

We enjoyed a delicious “Southern Spice” meal at the Dakshin Restaurant at the Sheraton Hotel here in Chennai.  Of course, we eat far too well here on the ship and have way too many choices of venue to enjoy dinner. But, we thought that the opportunity to eat delicious and authentic Southern Indian food in a top class restaurant was not to be missed, so along we went.

We were not disappointed!

Our meal was served on an elegant silver platter, lined with a banana leaf.  A selection of pickles were served to one side, leaving plenty of room for the succession of small, tasty dishes which were brought to us by our efficient waiter KK and his assistant Pravin.  During service, we were entertained by a couple of beautiful young women, performing traditional Indian dances. These were truly remarkable for highlighting every part of the body, most especially the eyes and facial expressions, which could have been taken from any classical Indian painting.  Atmospheric?  you bet.

The food was delicious and later, enquiring of our guide about the authenticity of the dishes served, we were assured that they were absolutely authentic in every way, except for perhaps being about 80% of normal spice level.  Considering we all left feeling pretty hot around the taste buds, I think that this was a wise move on the part of the chef!

Surprisingly, considering the quantity of food consumed and the level of spiciness, we slept wonderfully and woke to the most beautiful sunrise this morning over the marginally less poetic scenery of a Chennai dock.

Through the soft focus lens (really, the steamed up lens of my camera in shock from being taken from the cool air-con atmosphere of our suite to the sticky Chennai early morning air), 6am on a Wednesday morning overlooking the dockside really didn’t look too bad!

For further tales of how the day progressed, then the same patience is required as was needed when this train was passing the level crossing at walking speed.  We are in India, it’s hot and sticky and things happen – well, when they happen.

To be continued …

India-aaah

We woke to a bright morning and went out on deck to watch the Captain carefully manoeuvre his ship into a rather tight parking space.  Seeing him later and congratulating him on a job well done, he winked and said that in such situations, closing his eyes and hoping for the best usually works.

Good man!

Anyway, having gone through the lengthy visa process at home, completed the immigration papers and customs dockets, it might have been reasonable to assume that we’d have a swift transit when we arrived around 11am this morning. 

Not a bit of it.  After all, this is India.

We presented ourselves for our face-to-face immigration process.  We presented ourselves with customs form complete for rubber stamping and signing.  We sat back and waited for the ship to receive clearance and for all the shuttle buses to be sorted, because we planned to go it alone today.

We watched the trains come and go at the station opposite, teeming with passengers.  We watched the various port officials come on board, buses arrive and, because this is India, people just standing and staring, watching the goings on, as they do.

At long last, we were free to go, but not to walk through the port harbour area.  We had to be on the shuttle bus to the gate, where once again, passports were checked, names ticked off the ships muster and further checks made.  Oh my.

All the time we were lingering for a variety of reasons, the drivers of the yellow tuktuks came alongside, waving and asking if we wanted to ride with them.  Quite why they thought that it would be sensible to get off our (free, air conditioned) bus and jump into their tuktuk for an extra charge, I have no idea.  They persisted with good humour however and when we finally reached the Spencer Mall on Mount Road, they greeted us like old friends and offered to take us on, to some destination unknown.

Our first time here in Chennai and without really having an overview of the city, we decided we’d keep it simple and stick to the immediate area around the Mall.  The traffic was noisy, the pace of everything overwhelming after a calm couple of days at sea and we felt we needed to just get a little acclimatised before tackling anything too adventurous.

The inside of the Mall was clean and cool, the atmosphere somewhere between a covered market and an old-style shopping centre.  We pottered in and around the shops, responding to the invitations to come inside and see what beautiful things were on offer with a smile and a gentle “perhaps later…”, being caught out once or twice when we found ourselves on the same alley; “Oh hello, you came back!” 

Of course, there were lovely things on display and sometimes it was hard to resist.

I mean, which pair should I choose?

(go on, you know the answer to that one, don’t you?)

We love the signs here and there, having already scribbled down one which stated “Be careful – your family is looking forward to seeing you safely at home”, we spotted this little gem on the shopping centre wall.

Stepping outside to walk down the street, we wondered how we were going to get across the road.

Simple.  We stood by this young woman and followed her lead!

The sugar cane crushing machines were on every street corner, as usual.  This one had no customers though and the operator was asleep around the corner, in the shade.

We’d got crossing the road to a fine art by now – yes, we made it across here and into a bookstore

Higginbothams bookstore appeared to have been there forever and stepping inside we loved the small tribute to the founders, who looked very stern indeed.  I bought a children’s cartoon book of the story of Draupadi (“The Dusky Firebrand”), whose saree was undone by the evil Duhshasana  but replaced by Krishna to save her modesty.

Buying the book was another Indian experience – one man scanned and quoted the price, referring me to the next one who took my money, passing the book to the man who was wrapping the purchases as he held my tatty rupee note to the light, consulted his colleague as regards the authenticity of said note before giving me my change.  Another printed out the receipt – about A4 size (the book cost 40 rupees, about 60p)  and handed it back to the first man, who stamped it “paid” and passed it to the wrapping man to enclose in the parcel.  Finally I received my parcel and off we went.

Amazing.

A very poor photo indeed but standing by the roadside was a traffic policeman with a speed gun…and a whole host of onlookers looking over his shoulder.  No-one is alone in this country of bystanders!

As we waited for our shuttle bus to take us back to the port, one of the tuktuk drivers reappeared, hedging his bets in the hope of a customer even though we explained that he would not be allowed to take us into the port area.

Matthew insisted I take his phone number and give it to all my friends!

One last sign for today – in case you need a “bike puncher” repair…

We’re now showered and changed and about to go out once again to our “Southern Spice Dinner” evening.  It should be fun!

India doesn’t change and is always full of surprises.  We are happy about that.

Changing seas

We were up early this morning with the intention of doing our seven laps before breakfast.  However, either it had rained heavily during the night or they’d been out with those hoses, because the deck was treacherously slippery and I called it a day after just two.

The interesting thing is that the sea has changed in character from yesterday.  It’s smooth and glassy with larger ripples.

The colour is indescribable.

In places, it looks like an Impressionist painting, with large splodges of colour reflecting from the clouds.

It’s also very, very hot out there and we were pleased to have a few good reasons to stay indoors in the cool.  First, this morning, was an interesting lecture about India, this afternoon a more fascinating talk about fabrics and textiles of the region, including fashion and jewellery.  As the speaker described the various styles and outlined the development of the garments, I simply wrote down the vocabulary.

muslin :: calico :: chintz :: pashmina :: shatoosh :: banjara :: shisha :: silk :: trefoil pattern :: uttariya :: antariya :: kayabandha :: shiwani :: lehanga :: choli :: shalwar :: kameez :: dupata :: kurta :: pyjama :: dhoti :: saree :: lunghi :: Mahabharata :: palu :: bangles :: sindar :: chooda :: mehindi :: tikka :: bindi :: nath :: khol

For once she was speaking about things I am familiar with.

Later in the day, with yet a different sea outside our door, I went to finish painting my fan, which seems to have a bit of an Art Deco flavour to it.

Once it’s dry, we’ll reassemble it and glue the paper in place.

As for this afternoon’s Trivia, well, we were the bridesmaids yet again, losing the tie break to the better team.  Ho hum!

We arrive in Chennai (Madras) tomorrow lunchtime and having secured our Indian visas last month didn’t really expect to have quite as much paperwork to complete once again.  Still, we’ve listed the serial numbers of our cameras and suchlike, given all our details once more and hope that when the Indian Immigration people come on board tomorrow morning, all will be in order for a swift disembarkation.  We’ve not been to Chennai before and have a free afternoon ahead of us, so are thinking that a little online research might be needed tonight.

Oooh, there’s porpoises/dolphins/whatever to see…must go!

Blue skies, blue sea

It’s hot.

We’re at sea for a couple of days and it’s good to have a chance to catch up again.  I spent the first part of the morning sorting through the ephemera of the last few days and getting it into some kind of order, filling the waste bin as I went.

At 11 o’clock, I went to watch Chef Sain Pratap demonstrate a couple of Indian dishes – Raita, Prawn Masala and Naan bread.

In no time at all, we were served samples

The prawn masala was so simply made and utterly delicious. I can’t understand why I don’t make such things at home (probably the local Indian restaurant has something to do with it?!)

As always on a sea day, there was plenty going on – I wandered through the reception area to find a game of “Baggo” taking place.  People were standing at the top of the stairs lobbing bean bags into the small target on the floor below and a huge cheer went up as someone hit bullseye.  Good fun (unless like me, you were an innocent bystander amidst the flying beanbags!)

This afternoon, I went to my craft class again and we progressed from developing our chinese brush painting repertoire to actually starting work on our fans.  Maybe tomorrow, there’ll be another masterpiece to share?

Trivia was another near miss, losing a point by being 9 months out when answering the question “How long was Nelson Mandela imprisoned?” amongst other things.  Better luck tomorrow, we hope.

For now, we’re cruising right along through a still and empty ocean.  Even so, we have brightly clad security guards on deck and are on “pirate watch”. 

How did we know?

The water jets are ready.