Magical South India: Temples and Nature

It's December 23rd, still dark, and we've landed in Chennai. We handle the ever more complex customs procedures, collect our luggage, and at the exit our driver Rajiv is waiting with a sign that says Giovanni and Lucia. He welcomes and greets us with his smile and with the classic head wobble that I have learned to love and recognize so much in India; we load the luggage into the car and head directly to Mamallapuram, immediately leaving chaotic Chennai behind. The car ride isn't long, but we fall asleep; the tiredness and jet lag take their toll. We are awakened by Rajiv, who points out the sunrise breaking over Mamallapuram... a marvelous spectacle of colors with the sun seeming to rise from the water and gradually climb to kiss the land with its temples.

We spend the morning at our wonderful accommodation just outside Mamallapuram, resting and relaxing a bit, with Giovanni who wouldn't want to leave the place anymore... he has literally unplugged, he's fine, and it's understandable; we left our jackets and scarves at the airport and we're in flip-flops and short sleeves. In the afternoon, we start getting to know Mamallapuram... from the Five Raths, a series of rocks carved to create temples, continuing towards the Shore Temple, a small temple by the sea, a wonderful example of Pallava architecture, with the sunlight fading and giving the temple a special aura... but we don't want to start visiting right away; we just want to get a first feel of the town, leaving the visit for tomorrow with the guide.

We stroll along the beach and through the streets of the small fishing town, "a sort of Goa from a few decades ago," as the guide says, full of shops selling their wares, little restaurants, and charming guesthouses... and in the evening, we decide to dine here just a few meters from the sea.

The next day we wake up early; our Rajiv, with a local guide, is waiting and takes us to visit the Five Raths, the rock-cut sculptures of Mamallapuram. We stop to observe Arjuna's Penance, the huge majestic bas-relief, an inevitable photo at Krishna's Butter Ball, the enormous balancing stone that seems on the verge of falling. Here and there we meet some child or Indian who offers us their service or their merchandise; we politely decline, and they don't insist much... the guide is very courteous and kind, and besides explaining what we are seeing, he tells us about Indian customs and traditions.

On the third day, we are in Kanchipuram; this morning our driver Rajiv was waiting with a garland of flowers and the usual huge smile. The road is decent; in the villages we encounter some traffic, and Rajiv drives with confidence and calm. Kanchipuram was once the capital of the Pallava dynasty, and this is our first real encounter with the temples of Tamil Nadu, and perhaps they are also the ones that will remain most impressed on us for their grandeur. Enormous is the spirituality they manage to convey even to us Christians, and we are struck and left open-mouthed by the rituals of the faithful, by the simple gestures, by the ritual repetition of the usual actions. We can't grasp everything at once, and even now, after some time, we haven't fully understood, but the scenes unfolding before us were unique and completely new to us.

The Sri Ekambareswarar temple, dedicated to Shiva, is imposing, rising upward with its enormous gopuram; the columns of Sri Vaikunta are marvelous, while throngs of devotees arrive from every part of South India on pilgrimage... especially men and young boys. In the afternoon, we return to Mamallapuram and rest a bit inside the hotel... and celebrate Christmas with an exquisite Indian dinner in a hall decorated with lights and ornaments, and nothing is missing, from the nativity scene to the Christmas trees... For the occasion, we treat ourselves to a bottle of red wine, and in the room, from the suitcase, I pull out a small pandoro to savor again the sweetness of pandoro.

On the fourth day, we're headed to Pondicherry, which was once a French colony and, as the guide says, "still retains its French charm today, as can be seen from the local architecture of the palaces, the streets, and the large community of French people who reside here." But Pondicherry is also and above all famous for the philosopher Aurobindo, who founded his ashram here. Before arriving in Pondicherry, we stop at Auroville... Giovanni, leafing through the guide and reading some notes, is more than ever skeptical and far from this way of thinking... he reproaches me for what we're going to do there. Auroville is a project of an international community that has brought together people from everywhere and every faith. Here, people have decided to live in their own world in harmony and peace with each other.

Upon arrival, we are not at all impressed by the order and cleanliness of the place, we watch the film they show us, and we walk to see the Matrimandir, a golden sphere—rather kitschy—covered in mirrors in the middle of a green lawn, not visitable except by the adepts... which in our opinion clashes with the message the community claims to convey. Our visit ends here, and frankly our skepticism becomes even more convinced because it all seems like the construction of something, rather than a natural arrival towards something. On the road that leads from Auroville to the road for Pondicherry, one encounters some European restaurants opened and run by foreigners who left their homeland and moved here... by a stroke of luck and without wanting or seeking it, we stop at a pizzeria "Da Angelo"... where we will eat an authentic pizza, with Italian dough and products, the best of our trip.

Before arriving in central Pondicherry, we also treat ourselves to a stroll on the beach; the sea is rough, but the beach is nice and lively, yet not at all chaotic; it's easy to walk and we're not disturbed at all by vendors or others. In the evening, we're in Pondicherry, in a hotel that is a true delight, an oasis of peace and tranquility... if I remember correctly, only nine rooms for a unique and reserved atmosphere... even the staff, when addressing us, uses the most courteous and hushed manners, and sometimes we almost have to ask what they said. The place, as I said, is wonderful; all the rooms have been booked for months, but it's more than understandable given the magical atmosphere the place has.

We spend the following day in Pondicherry as well; we visit Aurobindo's Ashram, stroll through the center of Pondicherry, visiting here and there a church, a palace, the French consulate, the town hall, and then stop at one of the numerous cafés to sip a tea or a coffee... a delightful city by the sea, quiet and reserved, where the local Indians seem more "French" and therefore more closed and less sociable or expansive... or perhaps it's we who see them that way there. The sandy beaches are outside the city; the beach here is rocky, but we prefer to stroll along the seafront at sunset while another day in India slips away.

The sixth day is a day renamed by Giovanni as "temple indigestion"... in the morning we're in Chidambaram, where we visit the Nataraja temple dedicated to Lord Shiva. Apart from the architecture and the enormous 4 gopurams at the four entrances to the gate, what strikes us is the number of foreign Hindus who participate in the fire ritual inside the temple. They're not passing travelers improvising as Hindus, but Western Hindus who are very active in this area, perhaps also due to the proximity to Pondicherry and Auroville. In the afternoon, we're in Kumbakonam, famous for its numerous Chola temples that correspond to the solar system... the temples are numerous, and we don't visit them all; we prefer to visit the ones recommended by Giordana and then wander a bit through the small center.

Kumbakonam is also famous for its metalwork, and you find several artisan workshops that willingly open their doors and allow you to visit and see the different stages of the work... we also decide to buy a small metal piece, a dancing Shiva... we negotiate the price, and between a chai, a photo, and some exchange of addresses, everyone is happy: we with our Shiva to display at home, and they with the deal closed. In the evening, we arrive and stay at a place near a river; we're taken by a buffalo-drawn cart to our room in small independent bungalows, very well-kept and personal... in short, we're staying in the Indian countryside with the local animals living around us.

The next morning we're awakened by the sounds of nature... I get up first, then Giovanni, and on the little terrace we observe the life of the Indian countryside. Men, women, and animals in a ritual that we admire attentively... we have breakfast and then head towards Thanjavur... once there, there's time to visit the Royal Palace, nothing exceptional; we eat a little something, wander through the fruit and vegetable market, drawing the curiosity and gazes of the locals, who become animated in a sort of competition to attract their attention and to want a photo... when they then see themselves on the LCD screen of my small camera, they immediately smile and call their friends and acquaintances over to look. The people are very cordial and kind, the women a bit more shy, but not by choice—perhaps it's more a rule of behavior and custom...

but when I, as a woman, meet their gazes, they let themselves go into wonderful smiles of complicity that only we women can understand. In the late afternoon, heading towards sunset, we visit the Brihadeeswarar Temple, better known as the Big Temple. We're not architecture experts, more used to visiting churches and castles, but this temple is very beautiful, majestic, and has a strong personality of its own. It's different, and the people, as outside, are fun and joyful. Here too we meet groups of pilgrims with a sort of uniform—the dhoti of the same color—who walk inside in a disorderly but cheerful and noisy group. In the evening, we arrive in Trichy. We're tired from the hours in the car—a bit too many, but we knew that—yet still satisfied, we treat ourselves to an Indian dinner, and Giovanni, after a week in India, starts using his hands to eat...

it's not like him; usually he's someone who observes a lot but always maintains a certain demeanor, but even he is relaxing and letting go... savoring India in all its forms and shades.

In the morning, we climb the Rock Temple, from where we admire the whole city, and then we visit the largest temple complex in South India, the Sri Ranganathaswami Temple, a sort of city with a continual coming and going of devotees and pilgrims... we're a bit tired of temples and decide, after a brief visit, to leave for Madurai. Along the way, we cross the Indian countryside, admiring palaces, fortresses, and temples scattered here and there, asking Rajiv for some information or detail... along the route, we stop for lunch in Chettinadu. A village that had been recommended to us by Giordana but which, due to time constraints, we preferred to skip... a shame. The atmosphere of peace and tranquility is palpable, the noises are distant, and everything that is rural India is easily palpable. In the afternoon, we have to leave again; we still have about eighty kilometers to reach Madurai.

In the evening, we arrive in Madurai and go up a hill where our accommodation is... an enchanting place, from where you can see all of Madurai... the place is elegant, silent... we eat in an outdoor garden with some music in the background.

It's December 31st, we're in Madurai, the weather is nice, we're in short sleeves, happy and content... for today we plan to visit the Madurai temple, the symbol of the city and of Tamil, and then rest by the pool between a swim, a read, and a nap. The Sri Meenakshi temple, the symbol of Madurai, is not a single temple, but a walled complex of courtyards and richly decorated halls that takes the form of a sacred little city within the city, devoted to religious rites and always crowded with devotees, while merchants selling religious items are found at the entrance. It's one of the most important and visited temples in India... the crowd of Hindu devotees lining up to enter the most sacred part of the temple—forbidden to non-Hindus—increases as the hours pass. We had been advised to be there early, and despite our reluctance to get out of bed, we must admit it was the right decision.

Before the crowd increases further, we leave the temple, stroll along the street, dive into the Indian crowd in a chaos we can't understand, but it doesn't matter—this is India... we buy some souvenirs, some bags, fabrics to distribute at home upon our return. In the early afternoon, we're at the hotel to rest; I treat myself to a massage, and we prepare to spend yet another New Year's Eve away from Italy. The evening is decidedly themed; there are many French and English guests, and we're the only Italians, but we don't mind; we sip an aperitif on the terrace with a view of Madurai, while a peacock rises above the railing as if wanting all the attention on itself, and in the end it succeeds. In a corner, some Indians are playing traditional instruments, and to remember the evening, we decide to buy their CD too...

dinner is simple and good, a mix of Indian and Western flavors, until the stroke of midnight when some fireworks go off. New Year's Eve is not an Indian holiday; the small fireworks display was organized by the hotel for its guests.

On January 1st, a long transfer awaits us... mid-morning, a bit later than usual, Rajiv is waiting with his car perfectly tidy and clean, destination Munnar. We leave Tamil Nadu and enter Kerala for the final part of our trip. The journey is long, but the landscape from the windows is marvelous; if we had more time, we'd stop to observe better, to understand, to listen to the locals. When we start climbing the Ghats—the mountain range that crosses Kerala—we encounter some haze, sometimes fog, but then suddenly the sky clears, the sun shines, and what gradually appears around us is a fairy-tale landscape... climbing along hairpin turns, we flank hills covered with tea plantations, all arranged in meticulous order that makes the landscape soft and sweet...

we stop several times to get out of the car to look better at the tea hills and to photograph the beautiful landscape; it's a pleasant surprise. When Shambhoo proposed this destination to us, we were skeptical, partly because of the long car transfer and we preferred to avoid it with a domestic flight, and partly because the idea of climbing these mountains didn't seem so exciting to us, but Giordana convinced us, even with some photos... and despite the beauty of those photos, they still don't do justice to the beauty of this landscape. In the early afternoon, we arrive at our accommodation, literally hidden among the hills; the air is cooler, but the light is stronger, and sipping the tea with which the owners welcome us is a true luxury and relief for our bones.

The night is cool; for the first time we sleep with a blanket and an electric heater warming the old rooms; we're still at 1500 meters, and after ten days of sleeping with just a sheet and the fan on, it feels strange.

We wake up struck by an extraordinary light. We're lucky, the owner tells us; in the morning there's often a bit of mist that clears only toward mid-morning, but today that's not the case. We tour the surroundings of Munnar, going up and down hills covered with tea plantations, we visit a tea factory, we watch up close the women who, climbing steep hills, pick tea leaves... while not far away we hear the sound of the rushing water of one of the many waterfalls to be found. We visit some spice plantations, Kundala Lake, we drink and taste tea accompanied by the local chocolate that we're crazy about. In the evening a little dinner awaits us at our lodging—simple dishes but with an extraordinary spiced soup—not too much—that warms us and brightens the evening.

Early in the morning we get up and head toward Cochin. We leave the mountains and the cool to head to the sea, to the heat. This morning there's mist and we drive along a road full of curves that will take us toward the sea. Rajiv, the driver, is good and doesn't take any risks; all the overtaking happens with the utmost safety and throughout the whole trip there was never any reason to complain or worry. Mid-morning we arrive in Cochin, specifically in Ernakulam, but we're headed to Fort Cochin, the quietest area of Cochin, which stands on a peninsula... getting there by mid-morning isn't easy because of the usual chaotic traffic you encounter when entering Indian cities. We're a bit uneasy in the car, we can't figure out where we're going, but the driver reassures us that Fort Cochin is a quiet area. Indeed, half an hour later we arrive and our worries are already a memory.

On one side the seafront with the characteristic Chinese fishing nets and on the other, neatly arranged, streets, buildings and hotels that face directly onto the sea. The place is truly quiet; we leave the hotel on foot and wander aimlessly around the surroundings, watching the locals with curiosity. Fishermen laying out fresh fish, farther on small groups of 6-8 people working to mechanically raise and lower the Chinese nets, so ancient yet so fascinating that they catch the attention of many curious onlookers... but our appetite makes itself felt—perhaps it's the presence of the fish—and in an instant we're in a restaurant eating fresh fish that we were able to choose ourselves in person. We ask for a simple plain fish without spices with some vegetables and potatoes, and they accompany it all with a cold beer... a real delight...

we still have the dust of the journey on us but we wouldn't want to get up from here anymore. Instead we get up at 3 and the afternoon passes strolling through the streets of Cochin, devoting part of the day to shopping... a few photographic books, some incense, spices, yet another CD of Hindi music, and more. In the evening we're tired and after dinner and a short walk along the seafront where children run and play until late at night.

The next day we spend visiting Cochin and we have the brilliant idea: we rent bicycles... Fort Cochin is very easy to get around by bicycle, the place isn't very big, we have a map the hotel gave us and when we get lost we ask people with a bit of English and with gestures we don't get lost. We visit St. Francis Church, very beautiful, while on the field next to it cricket and football matches are underway. We visit the other sites the guidebook points out to us, all the way to the Jewish quarter... here we park the bicycle and walk around a bit among the spice market, the antique market—beautiful but with expensive prices for non-experts—we visit the synagogue and... in this way we spend our last day in Kerala.

On the morning of January 5, Rajiv accompanies us to Cochin airport. We've become friends; Rajiv wasn't just a driver but also a guide, sometimes he accompanied us to the market, gave us some tips, and told us what the right price was, a person like few we had met so far and above all with me he was a true gentleman and his constant "madame" will be greatly missed. We say goodbye, we exchange hugs, addresses, and we leave Rajiv a little something for him and his wife and he keeps lavishing a thousand bows and thank-yous, while Giovanni promises that when he returns to Chennai for work he'll ask to have him as his driver again. After two hours we're in Mumbai and we stay at a hotel near the airport where at night we have our return flight to Italy.

We still have half a day and we don't feel like staying shut up in the hotel, we have a driver at our disposal and we decide to go down to Colaba, in the most touristy part of Mumbai, and to celebrate the last day in India we decide to have a brunch at the Taj Hotel in Mumbai, sadly also known for the attack a year and a half ago. The hotel and the restaurant area are beautiful, we're treated and pampered like maharajas even though our clothing after two weeks is a bit worn and scruffy... Once the meal is over we go out for a walk in the Colaba area, we have ourselves immortalized under the Gateway of India, we make one last stop at the Colaba market for the last few things, and then in the evening we head up toward the airport.

Our trip is over; the stretch from Colaba to the hotel near the airport is terribly silent and melancholy and is interrupted by a phone call from Giordana who calls to find out for the umpteenth time how we are and if everything is fine. We confirm that everything is fine and tell her about our sadness... and she, like the perfect businesswoman she is, tells us "But you shouldn't be sad, India is always here waiting for you, always ready to welcome anyone who wants to visit it." She's right, India welcomes you with open arms, it strikes you and stuns you and then it never lets you go...

In the night we're flying toward Italy, happy about the beautiful trip but a bit sad because the trip is over. The weather was good, indeed excellent; we had some overcast skies in Tamil Nadu with a few brief showers. In Kerala the weather was always excellent, hot and sunny. We were never afraid nor did we ever feel threatened by anyone or anything... I say this because before, during and after the trip many people asked me if there were problems or anything else... maybe we should pay less attention to television and to what we read and let ourselves go more. After all, going to India isn't any less risky than going around Italy; problems and bad people can be encountered anywhere. Thanks to Shambhoo Travels, to Giordana and to Manish, without whose organization the trip wouldn't have been like this. Finally, a special greeting to Rajiv even though we know he'll hardly read this.