Elephants Never Forget

I'm a little behind on these posts because we've been traveling, but FEAR NOT: I'm back. Update on this weekend's trip to Delhi and Agra will be forthcoming shortly. For now, please enjoy this belated post on last weekend's jaunt to Mysore.

The city of Mysore lies about 7 hours southeast of Manipal and is home to the famous Mysore Palace, the second largest Indian tourist attraction after the Taj Mahal. To get there, we again enlisted the help of the van driver who had taken us to see the Jain temples, whose driving credits include a) affordability, and b) the fact that he has never killed us in the past. As we boarded the van I inquired about an odd talisman that I noticed hanging from the front undercarriage of the vehicle:

The driver had a hard time conveying his answer in English, but as I understood it the ornament was a bouquet of dried chilies and other items intended to christen the new van and keep its passengers safe from harm. "I'm glad we have that," I said, in what I hoped was an appreciative tone and not a a betrayal of the fact that what I'd actually be glad to have is seat belts and general road safety.

I'd done a cursory Google search of Mysore prior to the trip, so I entered our weekend away armed with a few basic facts: the Mysore Palace had been the seat of Indian royalty from 1399 to 1950, although many of those years represented periods of indirect or puppet leadership under other empires (the British Empire held India as one of its colonies throughout the 19th century and the first half of the 20th century, for example, but permitted the royal family at Mysore to continue inhabiting their palaces and acting as allies of the crown until India gained independence from Britain in 1947). The palace has been destroyed and reconstructed numerous times since the 14th century, so the version that stands today is mostly a Victorian-era renovation. Photos were prohibited inside the palace, so most of our shots from the day were of the exterior.

Old and new sections of Mysore Palace

Like most other palaces and temples in India, visitors are required to remove their shoes and leave them at these storage areas before entering

Palace courtyard

I wasn't aware that everyone except me had packed a kurta for palace day and I am still salty about it

The interior of the palace is massive. The grand halls that are open to visitors are enormous in scale and still only constitute a fraction of the actual square footage of the whole building, most of which is closed to the public.

The courtyard jaguars made another appearance in the plaza

Walking away from the palace, towards the gate

Shira asked me to take pictures of her doing yoga poses inside the arch of the gate, but the sun was completely obscuring my view of the screen and I had no idea whether or not I was lining up any shots correctly. Apologies to anyone whose sense of symmetry is as offended by this slight miscalculation as mine is.

The arched pose was more successful.

Our abbreviated tour of the palace took about an hour, after which it was time for a moment I'd been anticipating ever since I'd learned I was coming to India: an elephant ride!

In line for elephant tickets!

Traditionally, elephants have been exotic modes of conveyance for royals and other well-to-do Indian personages, who rode on their backs in howdahs (the fancy, often jewel-encrusted open-sided carriages).

Also known to ride in howdahs: street rats committing identity fraud

Today, though, plebians like myself can pay the low low price of 100 rupees (about $1.50) to take a spin around the palace grounds on these ponderous pachyderms. Laura and Shira were the only other members of the group brave enough (foolish enough? easily amused enough?) to join in the fun.

In addition to the fact that nothing truly equivalent to an elephant ride exists in the United States, the casual disregard for safety that we have come to associate with many Indian experiences was in full effect in Mysore. The lighting in the picture below is not ideal, but this is the barely-enclosed paddock where the ride begins; the elephant walks through a gate to the right of this picture, and the line of people waiting INSIDE THE ENCLOSURE at ground level have to step aside to make sure they aren't underfoot as the elephant returns to the platform to deposit its current passengers and pick up the next batch.

Waiting to board!

And we're off!

Our "driver" didn't speak much English, but was able to answer a few basic questions - we learned that our elephant was a female and that her name was Priti. "You're a good girl, Priti!" we said encouragingly, as she shuffled out of the paddock and onto a walkway.
"How old is Priti?" Shira asked.
"22," said our driver.
"And how long has she been doing this?"
"100 years," he replied.
"That's some curious math," said Laura.

Laura was definitely not so terrified that she had to spend the first part of the ride clutching my arm

#byefelicia

We also got a chance to go somewhat behind-the-scenes and visit the elephants up close, in the shaded pavilion where the handlers keep the ones who are off duty:

Shira tried to inquire about the whitish coloration that many of the elephants had on their trunks and ears. The handler said it was mostly a natural variation and that some elephants have more or less than others. Google tells me that elephants do also tend to lose pigmentation in these areas as they age. 

The handler also offered to let us ride the elephant bare-backed, but Shira was the only one who took him up on the offer.

Elephants are traditional symbols of good luck in India - almost everywhere we visited had elephant statues and motifs prominently displayed. The Mysore elephants were trained to "bless" visitors and ensure good fortune by gently touching their trunks to the head and face of anyone who stood before them. They also accepted cash tips with their trunks and passed them along to the handlers.

Allow me to savor the one and only time I can unironically use this hashtag: #BLESSED

(Side note: It would be remiss of me not to mention as part of this post that elephant-related tourism in Asia is a subject of considerable controversy among animal rights proponents. Elephant riding is a major attraction, especially for Western visitors, and a lot of companies offer tours in which elephants carry passengers on long-distance treks without affording them adequate rest or veterinary care. Many activists seek to raise awareness of the inhumane treatment of the elephants who are pressed into service for the tourism industry, with some advocating for an end to rides altogether. We didn't witness any troubling treatment of the animals at the Mysore Palace, which was reassuring, but I also don't think any of us are naive enough to believe that a group of tourists visiting for one brief afternoon could get a true picture of what a service animal's life is like. If you want to know more about the way elephants are often mistreated in tourism, here is an article you may find helpful.)

Earlier in the day, as we were leaving the hotel to go to the palace, we had acquired a local tour guide. He introduced himself as Pasha and settled into the passenger seat of our van. "My friend," the driver said, motioning to him with a smile. Elissa had warned us that this was a common phenomenon in India; you might hire someone for one service, like driving, only to find yourself in the company of one or more of their business partners later in the adventure, who also expect to be paid for their unsolicited assistance. "They come out of the woodwork, these 'friends,'" Elissa had said. "It's fine though. You often do need a guide in these busy cities. You just tip them at the end of the day."

Pasha on the streets of Mysore

Pasha and the driver conferred for a moment and then we were off, headed to an unknown destination. "I've stopped asking where we're going next," someone said. "I figure we'll find out when we're there."

We passed shops where you can buy ladders made from bamboo -

And little side streets -

And a lot of cows painted yellow, which we were told had been done for a festival -

Until finally we arrived in front of this place, whose sign indicated that it was a purveyor of "instance sticks."

"Come," said Pasha, ushering us down a dark, narrow hallway and into a small antechamber, where a man and a wizened old woman seemed to be expecting us.

The stranger greeted our group and welcomed us to the shop. Two women seated on the floor, rolling the perfumed dust onto thin wooden sticks one after another, were relatives (mother and sister? I forget). We were informed that they could roll 1,000 sticks per day.

The women invited us to crouch down and try the technique out for ourselves. "This one's for the front page of the IHP website," Laura told Elissa as she snapped a shot.

Next, we were herded into a back room with an L-shaped couch surrounding a small table filled with glass vials enclosing different-colored liquids.

"What are these? Magic potions?" someone muttered.
"Where... are we?" Elissa wondered aloud, cementing our suspicion that this had never been a planned stop on the Mysore tour.
"Give me your wrists," the owner of the shop commanded.

The vials contained perfumed oils made from aromatic plants like lavender, jasmine, sandalwood, and cinnamon. The shop owner dabbed samples of each oil on different points of our hands and arms, inviting us to smell the floral notes. An informational sheet promised that each oil had a different purpose - some would relieve nausea, others would increase libido, and some would promote mindfulness during yoga and meditation.

Outside, the day's batch of sandalwood incense lay drying in the sun.

Someone capitalized on this nearby bright turquoise house as an opportunity to take adorable photos of Katie.

Most of the group was not interested in making a purchase, but I bought a selection of incense and Andrea walked away with a vial of jasmine oil. We said our goodbyes to Pasha and clambered back in the van to head out of town, back home towards Manipal.

But not before making a pit stop at this: the Golden Temple in Bylakuppe, more formally known as the Namdroling Monastery. The monastery is a teaching center for monks and nuns (called lamas), and is also the site of a seminary and hospital.

I told Andrea to look excited.

Inside the main temple are three statues representing Guru Padmasambhava, Lord Buddha, and Buddha Amitayus. A plaque inside the temple informed us that the statues are made of gold-plated copper but are hollow on the inside, filled with scriptures, "relics of great beings" (?), clay items and small statues. According to tradition, beholding and venerating the three statues with prayer and offerings will promote faith, peace, wisdom, love, kindness, and compassion while simultaneously erasing negative thoughts and actions.

Our final stop of the weekend was also a temple - this time the Sri Chamundeshwari Temple, which sits at the top of a hill. To get there, visitors climb up several flights of stairs before finding themselves in a village where private homes, shops, and livestock mingle freely. Here, some cows stroll leisurely down the street.

The temple:

As we got closer we noticed, with delight, that monkeys were climbing all over the sides of the building!

More yellow-tinged cows at the marketplace surrounding the temple:

The monkey on this roof appeared to have stolen a bag of chips from someone and was eating them while he surveyed the chaotic scene below:

And Andrea witnessed this monkey steal a bottle right out of someone's hand. Apparently even the monkeys in India are worried about drinking unfiltered water.

 And then we continued the ride back to Manipal and collapsed from exhaustion. THE END.