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Other entries in Madurai

Beach bums

Beach bums. As such we were christened by my Mum on her hearing how long we were staying at Varkala, and a fitting description it was too I must admit. Eight days of sun and relaxation. It’s easy to describe our time there as we were able to adopt a daily routine (very unusual for this trip), which we stuck to, more or less, every day. The routine went something like this.

Wake around 8am, hit the beach between 9-9.30am, swim, attempt to bodysurf the huge rippers, sunbathe (or more accurately avoid catching too much of the sun in my case) and read a bit before heading for a large brunch sometime shortly after 11am.
Between 12.30-3pm hide from the heat of the day usually in our room, reading, using the computer, listening to music or watching a bit of TV.
After 3.30pm it’s back to the beach for more of the above until sunset at 6.30pm. Then retire to our room for a breather and freshener then change for dinner, which comes sometimes with a film included at the restaurant.
Return to our room no later than 9.30pm (it’s such a chilled out scene and with all the sun, fresh air and water activity, we’d be dropping off at our table if we tried to stay out longer!!).
Sometime after 11.30pm try and get to sleep within a 2 hour period – a big difficulty for me with no air-con!!

Varkala is ideal for such an itinerary. The beach is large, backed by imposing sandstone cliffs, which the sun seems to bake throughout the day, causing their colour to deepen from orange to a smouldering rouge. The sea is crystal clear despite the turbulence of the perfectly formed breakers crashing in (I didn’t think I’d be describing the sea in such friendly terms so soon after the Tsunami, but we’ve been in such close proximity to it for such a long time since the tragedy, that inevitably we’ve become more than comfortable with it again). There aren’t too many groups of local men strolling along the line of female sunbathers and so it’s been one of the beaches where we’ve felt most comfortable. The view from on top of the cliffs looking out to the ocean takes your breath away (as always with perfect ocean views), so sparkling is the big blue. The majority of shops and restaurants sit right on the edge of the cliffs, providing shoppers and most diners with such views, and the thing for the restaurants to do here (unlike other beach resorts in India, but typical in most of SE Asia) is to display the huge catches of day outside in preparation for a good grilling in the Tandoori oven – lovely!!

The only break to this idyllic routine would be a visit (20 min walk) to the village to check out the holy tank or use the internet. The feeling of being at home in this place was enhanced by our home-stay. A large newly built house set back from the cliff-top amid groves of coconut, palm and banana trees; it was an extremely peaceful place to retire to. We had a large homely room and full use of the entertainment system in the lounge. And this was for the cheapest rates we’ve paid in India so far!! Perfect.


30.01.2005 – Pondicherry, Tamil Nadu

A 3am train from Varkala (yes, that is in the middle of the night!) for eight hours, down to the southern tip of India then doubling back up to Madurai (a wonderful, relaxing journey through Southern Tamil Nadu’s fertile plains with the Western Ghat Mountains visible to the west), and whoooosh, we’re firmly back in ‘India’!! Gone were the lazy beach days of relaxation and routine and we’re back into a large, dusty Indian town rich in culture and colour, a feast for the senses and do you know, it’s great to be back!!

Madurai is home to southern India’s largest and most important temple complex. The Sri Meenakshi Temple is as vast as it is popular, with pilgrims arriving in huge numbers every day from a wide area. There seem to be important festivals and ceremonies held every day – we arrived to find an all female lantern service taking place. It’s a temple complex in the same sense as ‘the Golden Temple’ in Amritsar, but this is even more impressive. It’s labyrinth-like in its layout, as we discovered by almost getting lost on our first visit (it didn’t help that it was at night so very gloomy inside), and retains an ancient feel. There are tons of shrines and various temples within the ‘temple’. The numerous towers are as colourful and they are tall, decorated with thousands of day-glo images of Shiva, Krishna and friends. Elephants appear round various corners (blessing pilgrims with their trunks once they’ve made an offering), pilgrims lie prostrate in front of alters, and the scent of incense and freshly picked marigolds mingles to contribute to this wonderful atmosphere. It’s possibly the most interesting temple we’ve visited in all of India.

Madurai itself felt like India welcoming us back. The cows had returned, as had the bazaars along with the ‘street sounds’ we’ve got used to hearing. This noise did make sleeping a little difficult though. We visited the temple twice (that time at night, then early the next morning) and discovered how different it feels at various times of the day. Then, after our second night, it was another (not quite so) early train journey, this time up and across to the east coast of India and to the former French enclave of Pondicherry.

The east coast is that of the Indian Ocean, and Pondicherry and its adjacent coastline was affected by the Tsunami. So too was the area around Varkala in southern Kerala. In both of these places there’s little sign of the wave’s impact. Indeed, ask a local how bad each place was affected and they’ll say ‘not much at all, oh no, further along the coast was worse hit’. So either both places were very lucky, or the local population doesn’t want any negative news to go around tourist circles, in case it affects business. It‘s difficult to know what the case actually is, though the apparent lack of damage suggests the former to be more likely.

As the train approaches Pondicherry from the west it passes through village after village as poor and typical as any in India, and you get no indication whatsoever that there’s a neatly organised ‘French’ town beyond the fields. The first sign is the distant steeple of a Christian church and then everything changes. The centrepiece is the town square, with its miniature ‘Arc de Triumph’ and, instead of roads, pathways leading away under trees and through the lush grass of the park. To the east of the square is the costal walkway, replete with statue of Ghandi in pride of place and the old lighthouse. Surrounding the rest of the square is block after block of uniform streets straight out of any town in ‘la Provence’. Unlike in France, these streets have the usual street sleepers and beggars which accompany most Indian towns, and I imagine life isn’t as genteel as it once was.

‘Pondi’, as its known locally, is small enough to walk around and has (yet another) important temple, plus an interesting ashram (spiritual community) at which its founders (an Indian man and his French disciple – nicknamed ‘the Mother’) have become virtual deities. Lines of followers file past their shrine/tomb to pay their respects, and the ashram is at the forefront of the town’s cultural programme. These typically Indian spiritual centres seem almost out of place in such European backstreets, lined with trees.

Our guest house was located overlooking Pondi bazaar, an area which really comes to life in the evening. We explored the makeshift stalls and found some unbelievable bargains (a pair of Lee jeans for a pound for example). Earlier the same evening I finally managed to find a home for my guitar. I’ve had the old thing since 1999 and it’s been all over the world with me, not causing too much trouble on the road on this particular trip, so I was a little saddened to bid it farewell, but had always had the intention of leaving it in India. A German bloke at our guest house is currently working for a voluntary organisation which aids the local community in various ways, including providing a home for Pondi’s young ‘homeless’. They have a small music centre for the kids which doesn’t possess a guitar. This was just the place I’d been looking for!!

Leaving Pondi, we encountered the least friendly bus conductor we’ve come across in India. He just didn’t wasn’t us (for whatever reason) on his bus and used every excuse he could think of to prevent us from sitting down – wrong destination, no bags allowed, wrong time – all of which were untrue. Fortunately we persisted and thanks to the help of fellow passengers were able to reach our destination and connect with our train with minutes to spare!!

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