Sunday 17th February - Beware of Grown Up Lawns
The breakfast cook at Laika Boutique keeps banking hours so we have a bit of a lie in. At breakfast there is an English couple, who arrived yesterday and are visiting India for the first time in 30 years. We have seen changes in nine years so it must be like a totally different country for them. The weather forecast suggests that today might not be quite so hot but it is only a matter of a degree or two. We plan to visit the Lal Bagh Botanic Gardens this morning, a bit late for the recommended dawn chorus but R is taking her binos anyway. Trinity metro station is about 300 yards away. The system is called the Namma Metro because 'namma' means 'our' in Kannada, the local language, not the country. They must be very houseproud, as they provide large doormats so you can wipe your feet on the way in. Security get very antsy about D's camera, which has to be stowed in his day pack, and he has to sign a register before we are admitted. "No photos" the man tells him. We buy our tokens and ascend to the platform where the Anti-Photography Police are omnipresent and ever vigilant. So no photos were taken on the premises, not even one of a 'No Photography' sign.
The westbound three car train arrives and is already standing room only. After the next stop the line dives underground. Five stops along we change at a station called Majestic onto the North- South Green line and ride four stops to Lal Bagh on a much busier train. We walk up the street to the entrance and buy our tickets for the gardens. Inside the gate it is not yet too busy. We are careful to look for shade as much as possible. On the walk around the lake we watch a cormorant catch a very large fish and wrestle with it. A Brahminy Kite circles round hopefully but eventually the cormorant overcomes the fish and swallows it whole.
The gardens are extensive with many different features and themes. Not quite as many birds as we would like but lots of interesting trees and some really stupendous notices. D is considering an award. If only they had one banning photos.
The two metro trains home are packed but two very polite young men offer us their seats on the second one. May they be forever blessed. Back at base we hide from the sun and R forces D to deal with his less than fragrant sandals. Water closets in the Orient generally have an attachment known to us as the bum squirter. It may have a more technical name. It turns out to be very useful when it comes to pressure washing the insides of sandals. A short siesta follows and then, as dusk falls, we set out in search of sustenance.
This involves an auto ride to Watson's in romantically named Ulsoor. The pub is situated on the fourth floor of a building that seems to be entirely dedicated to catering establishments. We find a window table in a dimly lit corner. D is wearing his special t shirt in the hope that he will get free beer but it is so dark inside that nobody can read it. We order beer with snacks - peanut fry and sundal, made from chickpeas. It soon gets even darker when there is a power cut. Jolly though the ambiance is, we decide that we would like to see what we are eating and adjourn to the second floor.
Critics may call us unadventurous but we enjoyed yesterday's meal at the Mangalore Pearl and by happy chance their other branch is in this very building. They have different cartoons but the same welcoming approach. We choose Cauliflower kebab, prawn and mango curry and a couple of wet dishcloths each. The kebab turns out to be pakoras, which is fine by us, the curry is splendid and, thanks to PP, we have the perfect accompaniment in the neer dosas. We ride home replete.
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