Sunday 24th February - Food and Temples

There is an early breakfast rush as everybody wants to get out and do things before it gets really hot. Our digs recently have spoiled us for the first meal of the day and it is a bit of a come down being back to the chafing dishes and make your own tea of a buffet. We pass on the large vat of strawberry milkshake. The hard boiled eggs could have come from Bangladesh but they do a tasty wada, so we get by. The main temple, Meenakshi Amman, is the big attraction in the city and it is only a few blocks away. As we turn the corner at the end of the street we see a couple of imposing towers, known as gopurams, looming up above the streets to the east. The traffic is quiet and, in the streets immediately around the temple, almost totally prohibited. Our route selects itself based on following the shade and leads us to the West Gate, a towering structure, covered in ornate painted carvings.

Here a helpful chap shows us where to find the entrance and explains that phones, cameras, shoes and large bags are not allowed and must be deposited for a small fee. We think that we have managed to comply and thank him, expecting him to offer to guide us. Instead he asks us to visit his shop when we come out. At the security check two power banks are found in R's handbag. These are not permitted and she is sent back to hand them over. The custodians of the phones will have nothing to do with them, so she has to queue again at the bags and cameras depositary.

When we arrived there were very few people seeking admittance but already queues are building. We enter the complex and are blown away by the scale. It makes the Vatican City look like a drive through Burger King. Keeping to the shade we set off clockwise round the outer courtyard. Before too long we come to a place where people are handing banknotes to an elephant,  which then blesses them by tapping them on the head with its trunk. Incredibly photogenic and too good to miss. We dig out a couple of ten spots, doff our hats and take our place in line. Well worth the expense.

When we move into the inner areas we are even more impressed. The halls are endless and beautifully decorated. The walls and supporting pillars are intricately carved with figures of gods and goddesses, while the ceilings are painted with brightly coloured geometric designs. The overall effect is stunning despite the low levels of lighting. At various places there are notices that say no Non-Hindus beyond this point, so we may have been missing something sensational, but what we do get to see is most impressive. We emerge into daylight again to find an area where stonework is being replaced and repaired. The new work looks to be of very high standard. 

Inside each main gate are a few stalls selling souvenirs and items that the devout can use as offerings to the deities. To compensate for the lack of photos D invests in a pack of postcards. Near the centre there is a large tank with shady steps around the edge where we sit for a while. Walking round to the other side we find a photographer's stall where one can have a memento photo taken, printed out in various sizes and, if so desired, framed. We opt for a single 6x4 glossy, no frame and part with Rs 50 for the privilege.

In one corner of the complex is a place called the Hall of a Thousand Pillars, billed as an Art Museum. This costs another 50 each but is an impressive building in its own right. The art is mainly statues of gods in dusty glass cases, although the there is an extensive painted mural that some idiots have written their names on. The central corridor is something to behold. The photo below of one of the postcards is as good as we can offer. We aren't big fans of ivory carvings but the 10 foot x 10 foot model of the temple complex built mainly from ivory is quite a sight.

As it heads towards midday, the stones under our bare feet are getting a bit too hot for comfort. We make our way back to the West Gate and recover our shoes and other belongings. A very helpful man shows us the way out and asks only that we visit his shop, by coincidence the same shop. We go in anyway as it has AC. There is no hard sell and there are some beautiful things on display. R is greatly taken by a pair of silver earrings in the form of peacocks, with green stones illuminating the tail. The man tells her these are emeralds. The asking price is just over £90. Later we look up the price of emeralds - around $4,000 per gram, and R is relieved to have decided against. The shop allows access to the roof and, via a rickety bamboo ladder, onto a shaky wooden viewing platform that gives a view of sorts. Quite the most terrifying thing D has done in years.

Back at the hotel number one job is cleansing of the feet, which are best described as mocket. We chill for a couple of hours and catch up on yesterday's blog entry. Madurai had been added to this year's agenda as a relatively late substitute for a wildlife viewing place that seems to have gone off the boil in recent years. We have not been disappointed, although Lonely Planet's rather misleading information that mobile phone/cameras are permitted needs remedying quickly.

Once the heat eases we go out again to visit the Pudhu Mandapa, immediately adjacent to the temple. This is another architectural marvel, although the traders and craftsmen on the different level corridors seem oblivious. There are a few tailors working at sewing machines, and one seems very anxious to sell D a short kurta. It obviously isn't going to fit but the man claims that he can make one the right size in an hour. Tempting, but how many kurtas does a chap need?

It is Sunday and quite a few stalls are closed, but a very interesting place all the same. Many of the traders ask us where we are from and are happy with our lack of luggage space explanation for not buying. One lady tries to sell R some art that converts into pictures from the Kama Sutra, while her neighbour tries to convince D, a textiles graduate, that the trousers on her stall are finest cotton, even though the label says 100% Rayon. On the way back to the hotel R wants a cup of tea and we decide to try a place we saw from the roof of the hotel last night. It is called the British Bakery Cafe and ten seconds after we walk in we walk out. It is filthy. The place next door is very Indian and spotless. They do lemon ginger chai for us, served in a metal tumbler that sits in a bowl that contains a second helping. 

Back at the hotel we ask about the temple procession that takes place each evening. Apparently we would need to be in the temple by 8 pm, having gone through the fun of security etc again. The procession takes place at 8.45 and as no photography is allowed we decide to opt out. Our prompt arrival at opening time at the Rooftop Restaurant gets us one of the cosy nooks again. Any Delhi-ites who chance upon this account will probably burst out laughing when they discover that we ordered Chat Aloo as an appetiser while we study the menu. It is pretty fierce and certainly helps the first beer go down. We eat yoghurt marinated chicken, chickpeas and peas pulao. D just keeps space for Gulab jamun.