Loose of Limits

Aslam Read Part I of our post about Mysore  here . The next day - we set out to really see Mysore. Our first plan was to tour the inside of the Palace but, as we walked that direction after a quick thali lunch, we were approached by a young, friendly rickshaw driver, Aslam, who told us that it was a bad idea that day because it was too crowded. He offered to drive us up Chamundi Hill to the temple, take us to the Muslim Bazaar, and to the palace for 150 rupees ($3). He was enthusiastic, and this was the kind of experience we were looking for, so we said yes (knowing we'd pay him more than 150r and also knowing he planned to take us to shops where he would get a kickback for taking us…and not minding either).  First, we visited the temple on Chamundi Hill. (Read about Chamundi here.) On the ride, we learned more about Aslam. He is Muslim and lives in a village outside of Mysore with his parents, two sisters, two brothers-in-law, two brothers, and a niece and a ...

First of all, I'm very proud of this blog post title. Thank you for reading. We mentioned in our posts about Mysore ( here , here , and here ), that we took a bus to and from Mysore. This was a change from our usual transportation style via train, and it's worth sharing. By the time we reached Fort Cochin (read about it here ), we'd mastered the train system and felt pretty comfortable buying, boarding and riding on India trains. (More on trains later.) We had even started to enjoy them a bit. But there wasn't an easy way to get to and from Mysore via train, so we decided to take the bus instead, having been told that the government-run bus system had Airavat Volvo busses with air conditioning. The ride from Ernakulam (near Fort Cochin) to Mysore was 9 hours long, so we booked a night bus (leaving at 11:45pm) and chose our seats on the online booking system (KSRTC).  After killing a day of extra time in Fort Cochin, we took a rickshaw to the bus statio...

It happened faster than we had hoped. Tom got a cold and a nasty eye infection. I was desperate for a hot shower. While in Fort Cochin (read about it here ), we made the impulse decision to skip Munnar (too many tourists) and Wayanad (too much rain) and head straight for Mysore to catch the last 2 days of the  Dasara  Festival (also spelled Dussehra), a 10 day festival celebrating the victory of truth over evil and the day when the Hindu Goddess Chamundeshwari killed the demon Mahishasura . The highlights of the festival are seeing the Maharaja's Palace lit up with over 100,000 lights and watching the parade on the final day. We were anxious to get to Mysore, but couldn't find a reasonably-priced home stay, guesthouse or hotel room anywhere in the city on short notice. Realizing that one of the things we promised each other when we planned this trip was that we'd splurge on a nicer hotel when we were sick or burnt out…and that we were both sick and burnt out, we booke...

(First: We're a little behind with our recaps, and we'll get those up on the blog soon. In the meantime, we don't want to keep going back in time to write, so we're going to share some of our current travels with you while, at the same time, interspersing some posts from travels a few weeks ago…I hope it doesn't get confusing! This post is about something that just happened.) One of the most difficult things I've dealt with (probably THE most difficult, actually), has been the unwelcome stares from Indian men. Staring is something we're used to. Everyone stares at us. Kids giggle. Boys point out how tall Tom is. Women carefully inspect our faces. Men look over their shoulders to get another glimpse of us. Sometimes, as we're passing by someone, they'll ask, mid-stride, what country we're from. We'll answer "America…California" and they'll repeat "America!" and, sometimes, "Obama!" which is really fun. They ...

Auto rickshaws are a really common and cheap way to get around in India. We take them to and from train stations and around larger cities. When we were in Mysore (read about it  here  and  here ) we met a young rickshaw driver, Aslam, who took us to a couple of places around the city. He spoke great English, despite never having been to school, and was a great tour guide. We decided to hire him the next day to go see the  Keshava Temple , a temple about 40 km outside Mysore that was built in 1268. After we visited Aslam's house (tea and henna), we headed out into the country. We were enjoying being in the fresh air and quiet and seeing local village life without other tourists. After about 30 minutes, a motorcycle passed us and yelled something to Aslam. He quickly pulled over and realized we had a flat tire in the left rear. We weren't really sure what we would do, because we were in the middle of a rural area - no shops in site. Aslam had a plan, though.

Sneak Peek of McLeodGanj Writing to you today from McLeod Ganj (near Dharamsala ) in the state of Himachal Pradesh in northern India. This is where the Tibetan government-in-exile resides, including the Dalai Lama. It's a very special place. We are LOVING it. Hampi (which we'll tell you about soon) and McLeod Ganj have been our two favorite places in India, so look forward to those posts. We are seriously behind on blogging because, in stark contrast from the beginning of our time in India, we've been quite busy - 2 weeks of yoga in Goa, followed by flying to Delhi to meet up with Tom's mom, attending a friend's wedding there and then heading up to the mountains, we haven't had a lot of free time on the internet to post. So...here we are now, with lots to tell you - some bad (India really is a fickle b!+@#), but mostly good. Stay tuned.

Have you read my final thoughts on India? They're here . And, as promised, here's our first official country wrap-up, where we'll share the best of the best, the worst of the worst, and the things we still can't reconcile in our heads. We're calling this, 'The Good, The Bad, The "Are You Effing Kidding Me?!?!" But, we'll start with "The Bad," then move on to "The 'Are You Effing Kidding Me?!?!'" and end with "The Good." You should always end things on a high note, right?

I'm sure you've heard all about India's free-roaming cows (they're considered holy animals by Hindus and, thus, aren't farmed or butchered, and allowed free reign), but nothing can prepare you for having to compete for precious roadside space with a horned bull until you're actually doing it. In Kerala, most of the cows we saw, while common and in odd places, were tied up and used by families for milk. In Karnataka, things got a little more exotic, and our first few minutes in Mysore included pushing a bull out of our way so we could make it to a street median before local busses, rickshaws and honking cars ran us over. Cows are everywhere. They have no owners, but are taken care of by everyone. People give them food scraps and water, and the cows go wherever they want. They try to enter shops. They roam busy highways, they hang out at temples, and we've even seen them head butt a few innocent passers-by. Due to the head butting and being from a country w...