Fri. 11/14/03
“Mmm… I simply must have the recipe!”, if only I could actually say that at so many of these restaurants I could compile one helluva cookbook.
Now, for the sake of proper appreciation on your part of this blog entry, imagine that I am writing this in unitelligably catastrophic handwriting in a ratty-tattered orange notebook. Which, mind you, is precisely what I’m doing. You are reading it thanks to the kind efforts of my future-self (and editor) whom I have asked very kindly to type it all up next chance he gets. [Editor’s note: Hi.]
There’s a cat by my table meowing piteously, expecting, I presume, some of my food. Ha! Yeah right. I done ate it all already anyway. And it was really damned good. I’ve already forgotten the name of the dish; I used the point at random in menu method. Some people gamble in casinos, I gamble in restaurants. It turned out to be / was chicken in in gooey green sauce with whole cashews in it. Gooey green sauces are always good, that’s, like, one of the Four Noble Truths er something.
(1. Life is suffering.
2. The root of all suffering is desire.
3. Gooey green sauces are always good.
4. Oh well, what ever, nevermind.)
I happen now to be in Mysore, the former residence of the former Maharaja of the former state of Mysore (with a serious palace to prove it), and 3 hours by slow scary bumpy dirty bus. Got here in the afternoon. Skipped the palace and went for a run. I read in the Lonely Planet about a temple at the top of a big hill overlooking the town. Apparently the pilgrims are supposed to climb the 1,000 steps to it (the L.P. suggests taking a bus). I figured I’d impress the gods and run up it. There happens to be something on the order of 3.6×108 gods in these parts, at least one of them will notice, don’t you think? I struck off in the direction of the big prominent hill with the temple on the top, assuming that’s the one. Certainly no direct way from my shit-hotel to the bottom of the steps. Let’s just say that I took a very scenic route which left my with the privilege of trespassing, hopping various fences, and bleeding a bit from my arm and leg. Definitely without doubt the best run I’ve had in India yet. I made it to and up the steps (there really mighta been more that 1,000) in time to watch another impressive sunset. Sweaty, stinky, and generally gross, I fit right in on the public bus back into town. The driver, it might be noted, drove the steep, windy road WAY faster than even I would have in a little light car. And this was in a huge, old, and very shaky bus full of people. Luckily I had a suitable oh-shit-handle to grab onto for dear life. Tomorrow in the early morn’ I, along with 12 other wolunteers like me, am on my way to spend a day & night at some ginormous wildlife preserve. Should be awesome. Several sources have told me that there’s a serial killer supposed to be hiding somewhere out in the national park in which this wildlife preserve is located. I love how everything in this c’razy subcontinent has to have some terrible and ominous danger lurking behind it.
Sat. 11/15/03
Sat right at the windscreen on the bus ride from Mysore to the wildlife park, which afforded me an excellent view of all the dogs, sheep, cows, goats, bicycles, and small children the bus came inches from crushing. Totally gorgeous up here in these hills. I can see why the British colonialists always loved to retreat into the hills when in India. The brochure claims where at 7,000 ft., (they still measure heights in feet here). I don’t quite believe that, but we definitely are pretty high up. Went on some adventurising; I found a baby turtle in a puddle, saw some monkeys, a deer, a bunch of frogs, an enormous spider whose web I just barely noticed in time to not walk through, and, the highlight for sure, a dung beetle. And all this before lunch! Later we split up, with some of us going on an elephant ride, and some of us going on “safari.” I opted for “safari,” which was fun. It involved careening around on dodgy roads in the back of a jeep. Saw bison, “jungle fowl,” deer, sambar deer which are as big as horses, a wild boar, an eagle hawk, an owl, BUT no tigers. There are tigers and panthers here, so maybe tomorrow, maybe. We’re scheduled to watch a “wildlife film” now, before dinner. I don’t know how likely that is though. There’s a big group of rowdy Indian men watching very avidly the New Zealand vs. India cricket match on the only TV. Don’t know how they’d recieve the idea of being revoked of the TV. I really don’t understand how anyone can get so worked up over such and incredibly boring game. I mean, c’mon, it’s worse than baseball for god’s sake!
Sun. 11/16/03
Back in Mysore, on my way back to Bangalore. Stopped over with Ian to see that Maharaja’s palace close-up. They really know how to make shnazzy yet gaudy and weird palaces. It was built in the beginning of the 20th Century, and is the most impressive mix of colonial-English, over-the-top “traditional” Indian, and turn of the century modernism. The walls of my favorite room had heads of boars, leopards, bison, etc. (some of which had plaques claiming they were shot in the hills I just visited); interspersed with daguerreotypy pictures of the Maharaja, some with him dressed in hunting gear, some in tweeds, some in robe and big funny hat; interspersed with antique mandalas and paintings of the Hindu pantheon. All this with vintage ceiling fans overhead with cast-iron G.E. logos. You can say what you want about the Raj and all the horrible things attributable thereto, but they sure had style. We should trade. California can get a Maharaja on a war elephant, and India can get Arnie in his hummer. They have some 10’s of 1,000’s of light bulbs installed on the exterior of the palace, and they turn ’em all on on Sundays from 7:00-8:00. That was well worth sticking around for.
[Editor’s note: I learned my lesson after Kerala that I can’t be arsed to write about trips after getting back from them. Hoping to keep working with this method of scribbling while it’s happening, and then typing it up afterwards.]