a weekend in Mysore.

Courtney, my new roommate, and I spent the weekend in Mysore. on Saturday morning, I woke up on the hard mattress at Vyshak International Hotelbefore Courtney. I ventured outside and up towards the roof to see the sun rise and the city skyline. for breakfast, I had a Mysore special. the name--I don't remember. but it was orange and delicious.


the two of us headed for the zoo on Saturday morning. in planning the trip, we were both hesitant to tell the other that we wanted to go to the zoo. turned out it was on the top of each of our lists. the zoo was incredible. I don't think I've been to a zoo for 5 or 6 years. I love animals. why don't I ever go to the zoo? the highlights were the giraffes, elephants, Bengal tigers, flamingos, and a harmless Indian man with a pink shawl who, without permission, tagged along with us the entire tour of the zoo. I was especially awestruck at the baboons. there were 5 of them in varying heights--the largest was a very Rafiki-ish figure. and the smallest (the kids would say "he's soooooo puny Miss!") was more of a Curious George type. I felt a connection or an attachment to the baboons but moved on after a few minutes.

"if you fall, animals could eat you and that might make them sick."

after stopping by a 5-story supermarket called Big Bazaar, we planned to go to Maharaja's Palace--the primary sight to see in Mysore. our driver had something else in mind. we ended up on our way to Chamundi Hill. after bribing some government officials to let us through, we were making our way up a tall mountain, where there was a temple and a view of the city. on our way up, we were ambushed by a group of Indian adults. they surrounded us and started taking our pictures. that was the first of numerous people gawking at us and asking to take their photo with us. I'm going to attribute it to Courtney, who is blonde and blue-eyed. the woman above was part of that group. isn't she stunning?

our driver, Srinivas

at Chamundi Hill, we went into a Hindu temple. taking our shoes off-6 Rupees for 6 shoes--and getting these religious, orangey-red bracelets tied on us, we went through the rituals. we were with our driver--which was nice because he knew what to do and took us under his wing. when Courtney's bracelet was tied to tight, he retied it for her outside the temple.


again, on our way to the palace, we ended up at Parklane, a tourist-geared restaurant. not excellent, but not bad either. after lunch, our driver was nowhere to be found. we were suddenly ambushed by men selling fans, flutes, boxes, snakes, you name it. all of which I look at and say "made in China!" an auto-rickshaw driver, came to us and told us he would take us somewhere for just 20 rupees. we decided we would just go for a walk and the rickshaw driver followed us. finally, settling on a round in the rickshaw for 5 rupees (Courtney hadn't ridden in one yet), we headed out on one of the best adventures.

the driver whose name we learned was Asif, took us to Old Mysore. the streets weren't paved and the people weren't jumping at us trying to sell us stuff, although they were definitely staring. he took us to an oil and scents shop where we saw this woman making incense. soon we were ushered into the owner's office. he ripped us off for a few essential oils, but the experience was worth it. it is times like these that I am constantly thinking, is this for real?

Asif took us a few more places, ultimately ending up at an emporium of silk pashminas, clothes, bags, and jewelry. I fell in love with a $100 (Rs. 4500) pashmina. I bargained it down to Rs. 1500 but told them I wouldn't take it until it was Rs. 1000. I thought I would get them by walking out the door, but they let me go. and that pashmina will go to someone else. oh well. for what was originally a Rs. 5 trip turned into a Rs. 50--surprising to swee Asif. he was so humble and sweet and really characterized the people we met in Mysore.

we went back to Parklane to see if our driver was there and ah, he was. off to the palace. but....no palace. we went to Brindavan Gardens to see the musical lights. a very Belagio-esque show was nice, but the best part was Asma, a 13-year-old girl visiting Mysore from Mumbai who made friends with us while fulfilling her mom's urging to practice her English. she came up to us after we met her and gave us a kiss on the cheek. she was darling.

we went to dinner at Dynasty with the driver. he was uncomfortable but we were uncomfortable having him eat separately from us all that time. he is still with us now.

this morning, we got up early to check out of the hotel. alas, our driver was not waiting for us. we walked around, attempting to avoid the many wooden snakes and cheap watches coming our way via persistent Indian men. we called Asif, but he couldn't make it for 20 minutes, so we hitched a ride to the fruit and vegetable market. it was a million times better than any hipster farmer's market I've ever seen. I wished all of you were there to see the bright-colored powders and the old, wrinkly women tending heaps of eggplant.

we finally made it to the palace. the architecture, the wood-carving, the golden doors, and the paintings were phenomenal. unfortunately, no cameras allowed. but like the baboons at the zoo, I was really drawn to an old photograph of some Indian children in the palace. the photo was as old as they come, but the people were real. it was the only photo in the place, the rest were paintings. like a cliche, their eyes followed me as I walked.

Mysore was quiet but sufficient and much more charming than any other place I've been in India. it was a delight.

I am feeling good about things. Mysore was about a 4-hour drive from Shanti Bhavan, and traveling the windy roads up against mountains and through trees made me forget I was in India. I've been thinking of home. I'm doing all right without Melissa. I miss having someone who shares my brainwave but am coping. I love all of you.

I can't remmber who taught me the Mission Impossible them secret knock. no doubt it was someone hilarious and dear to me. but I can't, for the life of me, remember. was it my class-clown of a best friend Megan? or was it here husband Blake? was it my funny friend Carly? or could it have been Meredith or someone we both knew? maybe it was my brother, or my brother-in-law? I can't remember if it was my roommate's boyfriend, or some student I had in American Heritage. please, someone help me. when I think of this, I wish so badly I was just a text mesage away instead of half a world.