Don't Trust the Frogs...

Besides the chaos, there is something else amazing about Indian streets.

The cars.

Once you get past the intensity of traffic, you begin to feel transported back a half century. The streets are dominated by white cars with rounded stylings and fins reminiscent of the 1950's. But these are not throwback cars. They are not leftovers. They probably aren't even all that old. These are Ambassador Classics. And they are proper Indian cars. The Ambassador has been manufactured in India for decades. In typical Indian pragmatism, at some point they made the decision to stop changing the body design. Not because they were lazy, but for utilitarian reasons---anyone can fix an Ambassador. All garages have all the parts necessary. In a country with too many people, too little cash, and too few roads, this makes all the sense in the world. And the fact of the matter is, they shouldn't change this car---it is great! They look fabulous, are incredibly roomy, cheap to maintain, and take the beating that Indian roads dish out. If they were available for sale in the states, I'd buy one for sure...

...but Indians don't seem to like them. They are sort of an anti-status symbol. As Jeff termed it, "Indians don't seem to root for the home team..." This explains why I could not find any Tshirts in Tamil. No jerseys for the national soccer team. Nothing that showed local pride. And, so perhaps this is why the hotel staff frowned when our driver pulled up to the hotel in a pimped out Ambassador. We were cruising in style down the best road in India towards Pondicherry---the last bastion of French cool in India.

Pondy was a French colony for more than a decade after India gained independence from the British. And it clearly still retains a bit of that identity. Things are a little looser. Alcohol is more accepted. The architecture looks different. The food is more continental. And the rickshaw drivers even speak French!

So, with one of Jeff's friends from work in tow, we headed south from Chennai. On the way we stopped at Dhak Sheena Chitra, which Jeff described as India's answer to Colonial Williamsburg. The park highlights traditional architecture, crafts and traditional arts from each of the southern states (Tamil Nadu, Karnataka, Andra Pradesh, and Karala). Interesting stuff, surprisingly diverse. Most interesting was a glass worker who fashioned a very detailed Ganesh stature from a pair of glass tubes in just a couple minutes.

Our next stop was Coveling, a few miles down the road. The spot was part of the ongoing wars between colonial powers on the east coast (the Carnatic Wars, which I had never heard of before, but will start reading about pronto). The Dutch built a fort on the spot of the restaurant where we would be having lunch. It was overrun, retaken, and eventually handed over to the local Indian rulers. Soon after, a French ship appeared on the horizon and demanded medical assistance for the sailors aboard with scurvy. It turned out they did not have scurvy---but did have swords and guns which they smuggled ashore in their gurneys. The lie won them the fort for a short time before they had to slink south to Pondy. Gotta learn, don't trust the French...

Further south sits Mamallapuram, the rock carving capital of India. The reputation was won when the Pallava kings of nearby Kanchipuram started to have their subjects carve a series of temples and friezes out of the solid rock hills in and around this coastal town in 600 to 1000 A.D. The whole area is alive with the wondrous works of art and is listed as a U.N. World Heritage site. The carving craft continues as many streets are lined with stone masons who continue to ply the trade today---their work, in the form of giant hunks of granite that have become Shiva, Ganesh, or a host of other deities, is shipped to hotels and galleries around the world.

The most well-known of these sites is king Narasimha Varaman I's Shore Temple (listed singly as a World Heritage site beyond the regional designation). Built around 650, the small, intricately carved temple is nestled on an outcropping above a beach looking out on the Bay of Bengal. Nearly 1500 years of being kissed by saltwater breezes have dulled the details of the carvings, but not the power of the place. Lions with cheesy smiles still guard over the grounds, as do lines of Shiva's nandi bulls. Wandering about the towers and listening to the waves leaves one contemplative. After 1300 years, what will be left of Chicago? Of America? Will anything that I touched in my lifetime survive that long? Or fill future generations with the sort of wonder that I felt as I gazed on the spires and shrines contained within. (NOTE---I will post photos of the Shore Temple over the weekend.)

The entire area is littered with other equally impressive sites. The main hill overlooking the Shore Temple is stratified and fascinating. On the tippy top is the 8th century Olakkannesvara temple---actually, its not on top---it IS the top; the temple is ornately carved from a single giant hilltop rock. Below, in the middle of the hill sits a the Mahishamardinin mandapam---a man-made "cave" or room cut directly into the rock of the hill. The front is supported by stylized columns with scenes from the Ramayana in relief on the interior walls.

Below at the base of the hill is another Giant frieze that must have been 60 - 75 feet wide with scenes of every day life in the area. Of particular interest was a small bolder that sat above with had been carved to resemble monkeys. Nearby lounged, what else?

...monkeys. Macaques wandered the area scavenging. At this point in the trip they were still cute and novel, so we followed them past Krishna's Butterball, a huge impossibly balanced boulder that looks ready to crash down on monkey and human alike even though it has sat here for millennia (people apparently like to pose for photos acting as if they are supporting the big rock). The simians kept rolling whenever we got close so we returned to the car and headed for Pondicherry.

But perhaps most amazing are the "Five Rathas" or chariots. We walked through gauntlet of beggars and hawkers offering carved stone balls depicting the Kama Sutra (...yeah, sorry I didn't bring that classy item back for anyone...). But it was worth it as we passed into the small fenced-in park that contained an astounding group of carvings that nearly disappeared after they were carved more than a millennium ago. Five small temples (thought to resemble giant Hindu temple chariots) and their larger than life-sized guardian elephant and lion offer a stark contrast to the ruinous look of the Shore Temple. All were cut from the same giant rock, and look as detailed and fresh as they likely did centuries ago. The entire area was covered in sand for hundreds of years and were only unearthed (relatively) recently when an British expedition dug them up 200 years ago. Since then, they are a magnet for tourists and locals alike---all of whom are filled with wonder. Children squeal with delight and drape themselves over the lion and elephant. Adults chuckle at the somewhat suggestive carvings. Everyone must ponder the incredible effort and vision it must have taken to carve entire buildings from a single giant rock. Astounding stuff. (Photos coming.)

Pondy offered a completely different experience. It is a fascinating place that still bares the frog mark. Police look straight out of Paris with their red belts and pill box caps, French architecture abounds on one side of the canal that divides the town in half, French bookstores can be found all over town, and the flag can be seen all over town. But, despite all of the guide book comparisons with Paris and Lyon, it ain't France. Like all colonial places, Pondicherry is an amalgam of the native and foreign. And that combo creates a unique place. In my mind, the balconies, looseness towards alcohol (which is frowned upon and expensive throughout much of India), and chill atmosphere all screams of a different French bastion---New Orleans. Both party and both were recent victims of horrible floods.

The tsunami did not scare people away from the sea shore here either. As we made our way into town, it seemed like tens of thousands of people were promenading along the sea wall and enjoying the ocean breeze. Our hotel, Le Duplieux sat a few blocks away. The gorgeous colonial building was formerly the mayor's house, refurbished in hipster style with a large water feature, but the interesting rooms retained much of the original woodwork and charm. Our lofted room had a great segmented bathroom where I later spent much of the night after a pleasant dinner...

NEXT: Popped by a pachyderm; Doors that knock your eyes out; Chilling with the Raj, but staying with the Prince...