Saturday, Saturday, Saturday, Saturday ....

To quote Elton John that is ... so, surprise surprise, Saturday did not disappoint. There is nothing I like more when in "strange" lands than wandering into the burbs. I love passing through all the little hamlets on my way to wherever I may be going. It is so fascinating seeing the stalls and the hoards of people wandering around these settlements and, again no surprose, one thing was NOT lacking in what I saw today ... people, people, and more people. The few trips I took out of Addis with Tagel/Melaku and a few others wound there way through some heavily populated villages, but nothing like today. I have a new term for these little enclaves all over the map in India ... MCHB ... massive conglomerations of human beings. It was fascinating and a joy to watch. My wake up came at 5:35am as planned, my chauffeur scheduled to appear at 6:00. I showered and danced around the stall until I became accustomed to the water that was a tad on the cool side. Whenever I hop into a shower that is not quite warm enough, I think of Mr. Singh who lived near the Kronicks on Cullen. Not long after we moved into Wolverton, we had them over for dessert and the topic of showers somehow came up. Mr. Singh suggested showers should always be cold. That will happen, especially trying to get my Sweet Thing into a cold (or even cool) shower,; not going to happen. Then my first stay at a hotel in Bengaluru and the water is cool. Coincidence (this being the Singh's homeland) ... I think not.

The driver was a bit late. I was disappointed that the front desk was not following through on their commitment to feeding me before I left since breakfast does not start here until 7:30. It was very kind of them to offer but I could not remind them as their generosity was appreciated even if I did not get the food. Lo and behold, a few minutes after I got down here, the front desk guy exclaimed "Let me check on your breakfast" and I ended up with a veggie club sandwich and coffee. What a nice gesture and I was very thankful. I also reminded myself how un-hungry I am most mornings, and those thoughts compelled me to take away the second half of the 'wich.

We headed out of Bengaluru for what seemed to be forever, and finally hit what seemed to be open highway. Then the tolls started and went on all day. My Dad mentioned once how the US government was a leader in levying tolls during the war to help pay for the war effort. They had every intention of scrapping the tolls once the war ended; alas, they forgot and they still exist everyhere in America. I immediately saw signs for Mysore, the ultimate destination of this trek some 120k away. The drive did not disappoint as we whizzed through little MCHB's one after another. There were outlets in all selling probably everything anyone would ever want and then some. They were all delightful. The most recurring vendors were pushing Vodafone and Airtel was a distant second. The vehicles all over the road were of every shape/size/colour one could imagine. I did not see one bus that was even close to resembling any other bus on the highway. I noticed this in Africa and it seems here too that the manufacturers only make one copy of each. Overflowing with riders - an understatement. The doors were open and clientel was literally hanging out the bus to keep cool. I also saw some trains with the steps in the compartments between the cars down with people perched ever so precariously on them. These are the same stairs that are covered by a flor that swings into place in America just before the train leaves.

Oy-yoy-yoy, the trucks, mainly Tata, but lots of other manufacturers whose names I did not recognize. The cars were predominantly Tata, Suzuki, and Hyundai though there was a splatter of Japanese and a few German vehicles. The Hyundai was called a Santos, something which may be unique to India as it was new to me. Since they drive on the left side of the road here. one would expect the slower vehicles to still hug the shoulder side of the 4-lane roads. Fat chance. The slow traffic hugs the median making it a requirement to pass them on the left. I also discovered what we call a paved shoulder at home in this country is many times a third lane. There was lots of impatient horn honking amd the driver threaded his way through slower trafic. It was a difficult manouvere in many cases since the left lane had one or more motorcycles to also navigate around. About 90 minutes into the drive we stopped for the driver to eat breakfast. I took my first pictures there, capturing some kids eating grass at the side of the road. The buses were colourful and each completely full (over-crowded) or almost empty.

Our first stop was a bit shy of Mysore and was another a site where there were a number of touristy sites to see. We saw the final resting place Tippu Sultan who ruled this part of India in the 19th century. We stopped at the location of Colonel bailey's dungeon, where war prisoners were sent to this unfortunate site once captured, and chained to  stone slabs sticking out from the walls. We then went to the Ranganatha Swamy Hindu temple. Silly me started to enter the temple and was motioned to come back and ditch the shoes and socks. Maybe I should become a Hindu priest as they probably get to live their lives barefoot ... my favourite. Outside the temple was a high tower-like structure wuth ornate wood carvings part way up the side. I can only shudder to think of how long it took to make those carvings and how many nails were broken doing so. It must have taken years. The pillars holding up the ceiling of te temple seemed to be made out of rocks, more than likely sculpted individually by hand and then fitter together into a pillar. I turned a corner and happened into a colourful small room dug into a wall of the temple. A priest was hanging out and just starting to lead a prayer as people stood still and some kissed the ground, I watched for a bit in amazement.

As one got deeper into the temple, the signs forbiding photography appeared, so I was out of luck until I got outside. There was one location where a rather arge room had been etched into the temple wall. There was a form reclining on the alter. A woman (it seemed) and she was black. She was draped in customary colourful Hindu garb and had flower-like stuff over her. The priest who tended to the alter went inside the room a few times to perform a task for the onlookers. Many were carrying what seemed to be a tay with banana leaves and small coconuts. I thought they would be given to the priest who would deposit said fruits in the holy chamber. On the contrary, he would lower the tray until it touched the floor of the structure upon which the figure was reclining, then hand back to the worshipers. The courtyard to the side of the temple was large, and surrounded by stone everything. There was an especially interesting structure, actually a few of them with differing sizes. in the courtyard. Hmmmm ... they sure look like chuppas to me.

I strolled the flea market across from the temple and was followed by a number of vendors insisting I needed wooden elephants, incense, and fans. I bought something for Annabelle there and Avery is next on my list in the grandchildren department. One of the structures that was attached to the bulding had a bunch of green plant material hanging from one of its corners. Hmmmmmmm ... I wondered? Could it be? Naaah. a gaggle of school children were in the marketplace, all dressed in their read and striped red uniforms and they were a little on the cute side I must say. Our next stop was a palace with a museum in the centre, having been the summer place of Tippu, having been built in the late 18th century.Darilya-Dault is a fine palace at that within grounds covered in very short well-kept grass. It was as short as that found on a golf green. Even the entry structure to the gardens was exquisite.

No cameras were allowed in the museum itself but that did not stop most except me :). The throng would its way around a square room with the outside walls all following a different theme. The first was, I know this will surprise you, was dedicated to war. There was an awful lot of fighting going on in the 17th and 18th century. The next wall was dedicated to people of every shape and size. We then entered a few halls that contained showcases full of memorabilia and paintings/pictures of the sultan's immediate family. There was a long and narrow pool flanked by rows of trees leading up to the museum. Everything was so green and it's so dry in the south if India in the winter that they grounds crew must be busy attending to these little green gems referred to as "grass". There was hardly anyone at the ticket booth when I arrived, but on my way out it was a different story. We left and headed in the direction of Mysore as we climbed back on the main highway. We briefly stopped at none other than a Catholic cathedral Who would'a thunk. We did not stay ther elong as I have seen many of them. Nobody ever accused the Vatican of having too few of such structures in the diaspora.

Our next stop was another temple. I was templed-out so walked through a funky row of closely-packed stalls where the predominant goods were bangles, stuffed animals, wood carvings, and watches. The further one got into the row, the more congested the walkway became. At the end was the temple I could have gone into I I desired. A priest was working the crowd looking for donations and as quite ticked when I dropped Rs. 6 into his bowl. Sorry bud, Rs. 6 multiplied by the number of people who pass through that temple in a given day could amount to some sizeable coin my friend. 'Twas then time for lunch. We drove around Mysore for a while, I excpecting the driver to take me to a hotel which he did. It was the Pai Hotel Vista and I ascended to the fourth floor for a buffet. I am sort of buffeted-out but managed to eat anyways. I had dome buttered and hot naan which always pleases towards the end of my meal. There was a bit of a kefuffle with my VISA card but that was ironed out when I descended the elevator with the restaurant's maitre'd and paid at the registration desk. Next was the main event ... and it was an event, the Mysore palace. I believe the locals call it Mysuru.

Now this was a palace to end all palaces. Not having traveled extensively in the British Isles I am sure there could be many palaces/castles there that make Mysore look small in comparison. Suffice to say, I was impressed with what I saw. There were a handful of building all over the vast grounds of the palace, with the main building dwarfing all others in size, not to mention the attention it got. I ended up sharing a guide with two ladies from Australia at the whopping stipend of Rs. 150 each. It was worth it as it had been the day the Allamraju's and I did Golconda fort in Hyderabad. There were displays of artifacts made from Bengalie teak and silver predominantly. There was no shortage of grand halls with vaulted ceilings adorned with vivid sculptured pillars and pilasters, many with cathedral-like roofs that were a sight to behold. There was a lot of gold on the pillars and some of the baseboards. The guide told us the palace was built for 90,000 USD, mentioning that would not even cover one of the ornate chandeliers if compared to today's prices. There was a sports field on one side of the palace with an assortment of viewing locations where the rich and famous of that era would watch an assortment of events at the invitation of the king. There are certain times during the calendar year that the palace is closed to the plebs such as me, when special events are held by the upper class of the Mysore and greater southern India area. The palace had its own temple, a Sri Shveta Varahaswami structure located in the vast courtyard.

We piled back into the Tata and I told the driver I was done. We headed back towards Bengaluru and I dozed off a bit. The traffic was worse than when we came down and the driver threaded a few interesting traffic-needles all throughout the journey. We settled up at the hotel, and I ended up, with tolls, parting with a whopping Rs. 2,600 which meant, including the driver and car, a mere $52. That was not only a deal, but delivered a fantastic day at that. My immediate plans ... sit in the restaurant at my hotel, write this entry for the BLOG, and crash in time to get up at 2:30am and watch the Sens. Tomorrow is up early, a visit with Giri and his family, then back to Hyderabad on a 3:35pm flight. There is nobody in the restaurant. Is it that to maintain their star rating, they must have a restaurant open from 7:30am until 11:00pm? Let me know ST ...