Most of the temples I visited in Tamal Nadu had a resident elephant. Usually it was stationed near the main entrance where its sole purpose seemed to be giving blessings.

The blessing goes something like this: you step up to the elephant holding out a one Rupee coin (US $0.02). The elephant then extends its trunk, curling the end to form a little cup - that's where you drop your offering. It then lifts its trunk and gently touches the top of your head. The elephant quickly gives the coin to its minder and then reaches out to the next supplicant. The whole exchange probably takes less than 20 seconds.

If you are new to the routine and don't immediate drop your coin in the "cup", the elephant will take the mucus-wet "lips" of his trunk and pluck the coin from your fingers. He will then use the wet end of its trunk to lightly touch your head. I like to tease my friends by saying that this "elephant gel" left a little stiff spot in my hair, but the truth is only my finger got wet. You quickly learn to drop the coin.

I was so enthralled with the elephants that I couldn't pass one up without getting out a Rupee. My friends said that was good because I need all the blessings I can get.

Madurai, Monday January 19
After five flights and an overnight in both Bangkok and Chennai, I finally landed in Madurai. I was a little dazed from all the traveling, but still anxious to get going. After I checked into the Hotel Supreme, I got an autorickshaw and was off to see the sights.

My first stop was the main temple, the Sri Meenakshi. It was about a 10-minute ride from the hotel. I could see the temple gopurams (entrance towers) from my hotel and in between buildings as we drove. They are tall, steep, pyramid-shaped structures covered with hundreds, maybe thousands, of brightly painted sculptures of Hindu gods. They are the most distinctive features of the south India temples.

I entered Sri Meenakshi through the southeast gate. The entrance hallway was a mini-mall lined with stands selling all kinds of religious kitsch: posters and calendars; stickers and statues; amulets and key chains. I left my sandals at one of the stalls and walked past vendors calling out to me to stop and look at their wares.

Not far into the temple I was surprised to see an elephant. I find these huge beasts fascinating - I guess it's the contrast of their great size and seemingly gentle disposition. This one had floral designs painted on its face and ears. It took me a few minutes to realize it was giving blessings to the pilgrims that crowded around it. I took a few pictures and vowed to return later and get a blessing myself.

Farther along the hallway I came to the Golden Lily Tank, a large pool surrounded by cement steps. I sat down for a moment to watch the activity. There was a colonnade around three sides where holy men sat giving consultation to groups of pilgrims. Other pilgrims sat relaxing on the steps and more walked past. Bright sunlight flooded the area and I could see several of the colorful gopurams rising above the temple.

At the far end of the tank was the first of the two main shrines in Sri Meenakshi. It's only open to Hindus, so I stood near the gate and watched pilgrims file inside. Around the corner, down a dark hallway, was the second main shrine, also closed to non-Hindus.

The temple complex was quite large. Besides the two shrines, the Golden Lily tank, the blessing elephant and the shopping mall entrance there was yet another elephant, innumerable smaller shrines and even a museum. On three sides of the complex was a wide, open area where groups of Indians sat relaxing in the shade. The whole thing was surrounded by a tall wall and enclosed an area the size of several football fields. I could see that a single visit would not suffice.

After an hour I wandered back to find my sandals. Across the street there was another temple - it didn't seem to be in use and the walkways around it were full of tailors setting at their sewing machines. As I walked by they called out offering to sew me a shirt or duplicate my slacks.

From there I decided to head back to the hotel. Having spent too much time in planes I thought I would walk. Near the temple I passed various souvenir shops. Farther along there were clothing and auto parts shops. The sidewalks were usually blocked with merchandise or parked vehicles forcing me to walk in the street.

Dodging mud holes and speeding autorickshaws I made my way slowly back toward my hotel. It turned out to be father than I thought and I had to stop several times to ask directions. Back at the hotel I had lunch.

I sat for a while in the lobby - there always seemed to be a lot of coming and going that was fun to watch. In fact, the hotel was very busy despite the fact that the rooms were kind of run down. I suspect the Hotel Supreme prospers from it's listing in the Lonely Planet guide more than from recommendations. Later I took a long nap.

In the afternoon I took an autorickshaw back to Sri Meenakshi. I repeated some of the morning's visits. First, I sat by the tank and afterwards walked around a bit more. Then I got the first of many elephant blessings. Outside I stopped to visit a few of the expensive tourist shops that populate the north side of the temple.

I ended my evening with dinner at the restaurant on the roof of the hotel. I had a splendid view of the temple and a cool breeze was blowing. I drank a few beers and worked on my journal. It had been a great first day.

Madurai, Tuesday, January 20
Next morning I headed to the city market just north of the temple. It's the kind of crowded, noisy place I love - lots of activity and lots of stuff to photograph. Shoppers crowded the narrow, muddy aisles eyeing piles of tomatoes, onions, zucchini and potatoes. Vendors stood in thatch-covered stalls shouting to the shoppers. Everywhere I found smiling faces willing to pose for me. I was in heaven.

Behind the market, to the north, was a flower market located on the second story of a nondescript building. It was easy to find because people pointed the way. It was up some dirty, concrete stairs. At the top the open-sided space was divided into stalls by low, concrete walls. Inside each stall were piles of flowers: roses, marigolds and asters. I saw one merchant weighing a pile of Lotus Blossoms. The floor was wet and strewn with leaves and stalks.

After walking around awhile, I walked over to Sri Meenakshi where I stood and watched the elephant give blessings again. Then I walked around the temple: I was frequently stopped by groups of Indians. They were very friendly and usually wanted to shake my hand and sometimes have their picture taken with me.

Later I walked the area east of the temple were I found lots of small shops. They sold plastic pots and pans, paint and hardware, and clothing and shoes. Finally, after maybe three hours on my feet I took an autorickshaw back to my hotel where I visited the travel agent in the lobby. I made arrangements for a car later in the day: I wanted to visit a nearby temple. Then I had lunch and took another long nap - I was slowly ridding myself of jetlag.

A little before 4:00 I woke with a start and realized I had to meet my driver. Downstairs I found him waiting behind the hotel. We quickly headed out of town in his white Ambassador on our way to Thiruparankundram - I was amazed how fast he could pronounce this name, while I can hardly write it.

Thiruparankundram is about 6 km (4 miles) south of Madurai - on the short ride I tried to wake up. In town, after parking the car, I walked over to the temple. It was another colorful place, but this time there were no gopurams. Instead the columns that lined the front entrance were decorated with painted statues of horse and riders.

I left my shoes across the street and entered the forecourt. It was a large covered area filled with pilgrims. The center of the floor was decorated with small circles of flowers each with an oil lamp in the middle - there were maybe 30-40 circles. Women sat praying among these decorations.

After buying a ticket to enter the shrine, I passed through a gate - there was a separate one for men and women. Ahead in the gloom I could see a series of switchbacks, the kind used for crowd control. They were packed and I couldn't see the end of the line. I was worried about being stuck, so I decided to bail out. As odd as it sounds coming from someone who frequently travels to Asia, I hate crowds.

Back in the forecourt I continued taking pictures. Outside I shot some pictures of the flower vendors, orange-clad sadhus (Indian holy men) and lines of pilgrims. Having satisfied my photo needs we headed back to Madurai.

I ended the evening on the roof again. While I was eating I ran into a British couple I had met earlier and we passed the evening swapping travel stories.

Madurai, Wednesday, January 21
I left at 7:00 for Rameswaram, a temple town on the coast southeast of Madurai. It's located on an island at the end of a spit of land that sticks out toward Sri Lanka and is one of several important pilgrim destinations in south India.

The morning was cool and the sun low as we pulled out onto a nearly empty road. My driver was Maran, was the same fellow that had driven me the previous day. He was quiet and had a quick smile. I had enjoyed his company and asked for him again.

The road was smooth and straight as we passed rice fields, coconut palms, banana trees, stray dogs, and a brick factory belching black smoke. After an hour or so the traffic picked up as the surface of the road deteriorated. The land was flat and covered with lush, green vegetation.

In places the road had been covered with rice stalks. Farmers put them there so that passing cars would crush the grain from the stalks. Seeing a photo opportunity I asked Maran to stop.

We also saw several accidents: one was an upside down truck, which seemed to particularly excite Maran. He slowed down and wanted to talk about how bad it was. I, on the other hand, looked the other way. It just reminded of how dangerous Indian roads can be - something I really didn't want to think about.

After a few hours we stopped at a little thatch-covered teashop. I walked around taking photos as Maran refreshed himself. From there the soil became sandy and soon we could see the ocean. The sun was high now and it was getting hotter. We stopped to view a large, military hovercraft (no pictures allow) that had pulled up on the beach. Indian kids were running excitedly around it and a few have even been invited aboard.

Finally, after 3 and one half-hours we crossed a long bridge and in a few more minutes entered Rameswaram. The roads were packed with cars and buses. When we got to the parking lot we were turned away - it was full. Maran then drove north a bit to a small temple built on a small rise that had a great view of the sea. There were several groups of Indians who wanted their picture taken. They were so friendly it was hard to break away.

Half an hour later we headed back to the parking lot, which was now open. Maran then negotiated an autorickshaw to take me to the temple, which was still quite a distance away.

The temple was located in the middle of the small town and had a tall gopuram, which was painted white. It shone brilliantly in the bright sun and was striking against the intensely blue sky.

There was a wide street leading from the entrance down to the sea. I decided to walk there before braving the crowded temple. The street was lined with stands selling all the usual religious stuff: posters, statues and medallions. In addition, there were flowers and fruit arrangements for sale which, were used as temple offerings.

The small beach at the end of the street was packed: sadhus (Indian holy men) were consulting with pilgrims, fully dressed men and women were bathing in the sea while others just stood around talking. After taking some pictures I walked back to the temple, left my sandals across the street, and pushed my way inside.

The marble floor was slick and cold with seawater, which dripped from some of the pilgrims. In some places the water was an inch or more deep. Walking on the cold, wet marble and bumping against dripping pilgrims was an unpleasant experience. In the back of the temple, near the entrance to the shrine, it became even more crowded, so I reversed course and headed back out into the refreshing sunshine. It was a relief to dry my feet and put my sandals back on.

I would have walked around some more, but I knew the autorickshaw driver was waiting. This is why I hate having a driver wait - I always feel the tug of his presence. Back in the car we drove back to the bridge where we stopped to take a few pictures. The sun and breeze were very pleasant and we stood enjoying the view along with busloads of Indian pilgrims. In fact, there were so many vehicles stopped that one lane of the bridge was closed.

After that I got in the back seat for nap for the long drive back. When I finally sat up I saw Maran smiling face in the rear view mirror. "Small sleep?" he asked. We reached the hotel in the afternoon. After a late lunch I ran some errands: I was leaving for Trichy in the morning. I made a last visit to Sri Meenakshi and then spent the rest of the evening on the hotel roof. It was a very pleasant final evening: there was a nice breeze, a starry sky and the temple gopurams were lit by floodlights.

Trichy, Thursday, January 22
At 7:30 I left for Tiruchirappalli, more conveniently known as Trichy, yet another temple town. Maran was at the wheel again, our third trip together. At the suggestion of the travel agent we were also going to stop at a few rural temples along the way. I don't have the names, since the places weren't listed in my travel guide.

We traveled on a rough, narrow road next to fields of bananas and sugarcane. We passed through small villages where the air smelled of cow dung. In one little place I saw a man sitting in a shed throwing pots. In another an old man with thick glasses sat drinking his morning tea. It was very quiet and peaceful.

The road began to climb up into lush, green hills. Our first stop was in front of a huge multi-armed statue of some female Hindu deity. The statue was sitting next to a low red and white striped building with nothing much else around it. I wondered at it purpose. I took a few photos and we continued.

Our next stop was a small temple with a brightly painted gopuram and a low, open sanctuary. Monkeys scampered about and one Indian family was sharing their picnic lunch with them.

After stopping at yet another temple set against lovely, green hills, we pulled into a large parking lot. As I got out Maran warned me to watch for the monkeys. From previous trips I knew the little rascals would snatch just about anything that you leave laying around. I'm told they are particularly fond of eyeglasses.

Up a steep set of stairs was a low, dark temple. Monkeys were sitting all along the walkway and more crouching on the façade. There must have been 8-10 of them eyeing me as more sat inside. In the back of the temple was a line of pilgrims waiting to bathe under a small waterfall. I walked around the simple sanctuary and then headed down the stairs past more monkeys.

Back in the car we passed picturesque rice fields with huge, sandstone outcrops in the background. Finally, about 12:30, we arrived in Trichy and I said goodbye to Maran.

I checked into the hotel Femina, a three-story, modern place with quiet, large rooms. After lunch I explored the area near the hotel, sent some email and finally took a short nap.

About 4:30 I got an autorickshaw to the center of Trichy: I wanted to visit the Rock Fort Temple. It was about a 10-minute walk from where I was dropped, up a busy shopping street past fabric, clothing and jewelry shops.

The temple was up a long, steep set of stairs. I left my shoes and walked through a narrow commercial arcade lined with shops selling religious articles and plastic toys. The actual assent began in a stuffy, covered walkway. Further up the stairs were open revealing a delightful view of the city and the river. It was a long climb.

At the top there was a small temple dedicated to Ganesh, the elephant-headed god. A priest was performing some kind of ceremony. It looked like he was blessing the flower/fruit-offerings that pilgrims had brought. I took some picture and headed back down.

At the base I walked around a bustling commercial area and then got an autorickshaw back to the hotel. On the way, while I was stuck in traffic, I noticed a young Indian boy about 10 years old. He was in an autorickshaw several lanes away. When he saw me looking at him his eyes got wide in surprise. When I mimicked his look of surprise, he got a big grin on his face. We watched each other until the traffic started to move again, then he threw me a kiss. He was probably delighted just to be noticed in the sea of people.

Back at the hotel I discovered the restaurant didn't serve beer: apparently, the hotel was owned by Muslims. I was advised that the Jenney's Residency, a nearby hotel, did have beer, so I got an autorickshaw over to there and had Chinese food for dinner.

Afterwards I decided to walk back. On the way, I saw a sign that said "Permit Room." I knew that this meant the place served beer, so I decided to stop and see what it was like. It was called "The Classy Bar" and it was anything but classy. Located in a basement, it was dark, smoky and small. A TV showing a loud India movie played at one end of the bar while 8 or 10 men were working on their drinks and watching the TV. There didn't seem to be much conversation going on.

I sat at the bar where there was the most light and ordered a beer. I got my journal out - I was planning on putting some thoughts on paper. Before I could start two young men started talking to me. One, a university student, was on his way to Chennai - it turned out the bus station was just across the street. The other, a large man with a dark complexion, was a lawyer. I spent the next hour or so drinking beer and talking to these fellows. Finally, I headed back to my hotel.

Trichy, Friday, January 23
After breakfast I got an autorickshaw to Sri Ranganathaswamy, a superb temple complex just across the river from Trichy. It was a fairly long ride through heavy rush hour traffic. Sri Ranganathaswamy is really a small city enclosed by the seven concentric walls of the temple. At the heart is the main shrine, which is closed to non-Hindus.

I had a short walk from where I was dropped, past stands selling food and religious items, to the main entrance. There were groups of Indian pilgrims in bright saris walking in the same direction.

At the first gopuram I bought a ticket, a camera pass and left my sandals. The shoe-guy directed me off to another fellow who offered to open a door to a viewing-roof. From the top I could see the whole dazzling complex laid out ahead of me. There were many colorful gopuram and in the center the gold-topped inner-sanctum.

All the while I was shooting photos this guy kept pitching me on tours. He told me he had the keys to buildings that I would miss if I didn't go with him. When that didn't work he told me I was his first customer and if I didn't go with him his whole day would be ruined. The more he pushed the less I liked him: there was no way in hell that I was going anywhere with him.

Back on the street I walked into the huge complex looking at the many shrines and painted sculpture. At every turn there was something interesting to see. There were also lots of beggars and sadhus asking for handouts and plenty of would-be guides offering their services.

In the rear of the compound I found a narrow room where men were reading newspapers. I guess it was some kind of library, but I didn't see any books. It was very quite and turned out to be a pleasant place to sit and write. The only sound was the rustling of paper and the buzzing of flies.

In all, I spent a couple of hours walking around. The place was pleasantly uncrowded and all the colorful sculptures were a treat for the eyes. Finally, I headed back to get my sandals.

As I was putting them on the shoe guy asked for my camera pass. I thought this strange and told him I wanted to keep it as a souvenir. He insisted and we argued for a few minutes, but in the end I gave it to him. He then threw it under a table; I guess to show me that it was useless - but I noticed he didn't wadded it up. Then I realized what he was up to - it was going to resell it. I reached under the table, retrieved it and left with him yelling at me.

Outside the complex I walked toward the river looking for a tourist shop I had read about. I looked at their fabrics, but didn't find anything I liked so I headed farther down to the river. At the end of a dirt courtyard there was a wide, concrete ghat (stairs down to the water) where people were bathing or washing their clothes.

In the center of the courtyard I saw what I took to be some kind healing ceremony. There was a dark, muscular man I figured was a shaman. He was shouting and making dramatic jesters toward a man who withered and rocked as if in pain. A woman next to him was weeping loudly and a dense crowd had collected around them.

At first I pushed up close to take some photos, but as I watched something about the whole production made me feel a little uneasy. I stepped back still shooting pictures. The ceremony then came to a climax with the shaman shouting loudly and jumping in circles with his arms held straight up. The crowd pulled back leaving him, the injured man and crying woman in the center. I decided I had seen enough and went looking for an autorickshaw back to the hotel.

This incident illustrated one of the few things that are certain about travel. No matter how interesting a sight is - and the Sri Ranganathaswamy complex certainly was a wonderful place to visit - more interesting things wait nearby, down some ordinary street, away from the tourist sights. My travel mantra is "Keep walking; keep looking."

At 4:30 I set off from the hotel again to visit the other large temple in Trichy, Sri Jambukeswara. It is also across the river and a fairly long, dusty autorickshaw ride away. While exploring, I happened upon a man feeding the temple elephant. He had a concrete trough, about the size of a dinning room table that was full of what looked like a mixture of rice and water.

The man was rolling this mush into hunks the size of soccer balls. As quickly as he could roll them up the hungry elephant would lift its trunk and open its mouth. One after another the man pushed the balls into the elephants mouth - over and over again. I suspect it takes quite a bit of food to fill an elephant's belly. Anyway, I shot a lot of photos of this.

I finished the evening by getting some spicy, crunchy snacks at a local market and a couple of beers at a "wine" shop. Back in my room I turned on the TV, turned off the sound and listened to country music on my MP3 player as I gorged myself in the privacy of my room.

Trichy, Saturday, January 24
Today I took a trip to a nearby temple town called Thanjavur. It was pleasantly cool when we pulled onto a bumpy, dusty road and past smoke-belching trucks and buses. Unmanned roadblocks periodically blocked our way. They consisted of a barrier across one lane and then a little farther another sat across the other lane. They forced us to slow down and do a zig-zag around them. I saw these roadblocks fairly often in Tamal Nadu and they were always unmanned. I was told they were left over from a time when there was trouble in Sri Lanka and there was fear it would spread to Tamil Nadu.

In Thanjavur our first stop was the Brihadishwara temple. There was the usual elephant waiting at the entrance and inside the grassy compound there were two large buildings. The first was an open sided structure that housed a giant bull carved from a single black boulder. It was draped with a white cloth.

The next building, the temple, had a huge pyramid over the sanctuary. It was made of carved, unpainted sandstone. As I entered, a priest handed me three little oil lamps and helped me light them in front of a statue of Ganash. He then demanded 50 Rupees, which I thought was way too much, so I gave him 20. This seemed to satisfy him, but still he asked for a dollar. "I like your money, sir." I just smiled and walked away.

Inside the temple there were only a few pilgrims and the priest. Behind the priest was a giant black lingam - the symbol of Shiva. The sanctuary was unusually well lit and I was immediately tempted to take a picture - most temples are quite dark.

I stood in the back holding my camera behind me. I knew I wasn't supposed to take any photos, but when the priest was occupied I quickly snapped one anyway - the place was just too picturesque. A few minutes later the priest saw my camera and shouted, "No photos," but the deed was already done.

Outside I sat on low wall across from the temple and talked to some young Indian men. Then I got an elephant blessing, retrieved my sandals and left.

Our next stop, against my better judgement, was the Thanjavur Palace. Many of the palaces I have visited in India are hardly worth the name - but we were already there so I decided to take a look. In the parking lot my driver fixed me up with a guide - another mistake. Inside the admission was 2 Rupees, but the clerk didn't have any change so I left a 5 Rupee note with her. She promised she would have change by the time I left - but I had my doubts.

The guide led me past some construction and up a narrow staircase to a room filled with old photos and antiques. We walked around while he told me stories about the former residents. On the roof we had a great view of the courtyard, but sadly it was covered with scaffolding. I interrupted yet another story with my request to leave. I had seen enough.

Downstairs there was no sign of the clerk or my change. Since the amount was small, I just left, as I'm sure she had hoped. On the way out the guide suggested we visit the nearby art museum, but I declined. At the car the guide started to get in. "Where's he going?" I asked the driver.

"I will show you a good place to shop," the guide replied.

"No thanks, no shopping." As we pulled out the driver shrugged his shoulders at a fellow standing in front of a souvenir shop, as if to say, sorry.

On the way back I realized I had exhausted (at least temporarily) my interest in temples. At the hotel I visited the travel agent and asked him to change my air and train reservations. I had decided I wanted a take a break by the ocean before heading inland to visit my friend in Bangalore.

You may also detect a slight change in my tone: I was getting a little tired of all the minor Indian hassles. At first I just ignored the unwanted attention, but as time went by I got quicker to say no. While the level of hassle is considerably lower in the south, there are still a lot of people who see tourists as potential suckers.

After dinner I visited another "Permit Room." This one was also small, dark and smoky. After I finished my beer I asked the barkeep if I could take his picture. He got a big smile and stood proudly behind the bar. Soon the two waiters came to stand next to him. They seemed very happy to have their picture taken. Others in the room just kept drinking.

Ann Arbor, Michigan
May 2004

Part Two: Pondicherry and Mamallapuram
Part Three: Bangalore, Mysore and Chennai

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