Doing absolutely nothing on a beach in GoaGoa! Multiple Indians have told me they think it’s heaven and multiple foreign travellers have told me they think it’s overrated. Experiencing a bit of Goa and musing on these disparities is a fascinating exercise. However, I wasn’t in Goa for intellectual entertainment. I was there to sit at the beach, read a book, and recover from my food poisoning in Hampi. Please note: chicken vindaloo and Kingfisher do not accelerate healing. Sure, I could’ve done some (dangerously) cheap water sports or joined a party. But idleness was my dominant mission. It’s hard to get around Goa unless you are brave enough to ride a scooter, well-budgeted enough to afford Goa’s taxi cartel, or (like me) mad enough to take the rust bucket local buses everywhere. For that reason, I picked a fairly central location. Not one of the northern drug-and-party beaches, nor one of the southern yoga-and-wellness beaches, but an upmarket-ish interstice beach where everyone was Russian or a British pensioner (there were some Indian families too, which was reassuring). It was also surprisingly uncrowned for early January. I did not mind any of this. It was nice to finally touch the Arabian Sea. On the question of authenticity: Is not discovering where so-called ‘real India’ is suspended just part of discovering ‘real India’? Plenty of Indians love Goa and many parts of it clearly cater to them. The very visible Christianity-of-the-tropics (plentiful meat and alcohol, small wooden churches, little crosses and saints on overgrown verandas, pigs in backyards, etc.) and the Portuguese-style houses screams Goa’s unique legacy. Plus, the ‘lumpiness’ (for lack of a better word) of how India runs is still visible. Rough roads and chaotic traffic. Stray dogs on the beach. The masseuse at my sun bed having to stop and hide while a policeman strolled past. You never forget which country you’re in! I’m not an idle person. I’m not a beach person. But I mildly enjoyed Goa. When the sun sets and the moon creeps into view on the beach at dusk, it’s the evening star, Venus, a perfect white dot, piercing the waning glow of day that captures your attention as you nurse your beer. But after three days of lounging around on the beach in Goa doing very, very little, I decided enough was enough and forced myself to visit Old Goa, the former capital of Portuguese India. Catholic India. Colonial Portugal. The Basilica of Bom Jesus, Se Cathedral, among others. The highlight for me was seeing the colossal ruins of the Church of St. Augustine. It’s not just the Hindus that have a monopoly on magnificent Indian ruins! Laterite makes for a striking building material. Forget the flowing marble church sculptures of continental Europe - much of the art within these structures was done by Goan craftsmen with Goan materials. The local influences push through and are worth pausing to admire.
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The day before it closed due to the pandemic...Snaps from the glorious British Museum the day before it shut down in March as a result of the COVID-19 outbreak in the UK. It's dignified, it's elegant, and it's a world-class display of Britannia's best war booty from its many years of plundering and/or civilising the rest of the world. The museum holds priceless, famous, and very controversial artefacts such as the Rosetta Stone (which helped unlock our understanding of the ancient Egyptian language), the Elgin Marbles (which were originally part of the Parthenon in Athens), and the Benin Bronzes (that once decorated the royal palace of the Kingdom of Benin in modern-day Nigeria). These objects, among many others, have highly contested ownership. I often find that exploring a museum is as much an act of self-discovery as it is uncovering a particular collection. I find myself often mysteriously drawn to particular, idiosyncratic items for instinctual reasons. That blip, that feeling of magnetism to an object can be an intriguing and even thrilling sensation to have. Examples of items I found myself loving in this museum:
And who can't help but be awed by the museum's Easter Island statue (or moai) or the marvellous African artistry of the Benin Bronzes? Again, pity about their disputed ownership... It was sad, of course, to see the museum in such a quiet state as a result of the spread of the COVID-19 pandemic into the UK. It was quite eerie, in fact. I wouldn't be surprised if this was the quietest the British Museum had ever been in years. And who could blame anyone — a global pandemic will do that to visitor numbers. What a wonderful place, though. I certainly hope that as we overcome this awful virus, this incredible museum, along with many others the world over, will return to life.
A visit to the National Gallery Singapore...Ah, the National Gallery Singapore - home to the largest public collection of Singaporean and Southeast Asian artworks in the world, both contemporary and traditional. After a hot day exploring the tame, clean, hyper-organised urban ecosystem of Singapore, I was desperate to see some quirky, strange, beautiful, and even disturbing art to shake up my sense of normality induced by this somewhat stuffy, edgeless city. Indeed, sometimes I just want to be alone and wander an art gallery by myself. After my time in Chennai, I took an overtime train to Mysore in the south western state of Karnataka and spent New Year's there. This city of under a million people was once at the heart of the Kingdom of Mysore, an Indian realm that lasted for nearly six centuries until 1956, when it was absorbed by British rule. Thanks to a long history of royal patronage, arts and culture flourished in Mysore and it is lauded to this day as the cultural capital Karnataka. The masterpiece of the city is Mysore Palace, the grandiose residence of the Wadiyar royal family. It was originally constructed in the 14th century and was rebuilt and renovated several times throughout history. Mysore Palace is a three-storeys tall structure, composed of fine granite, with pink marble domes. Most strikingly, it is an energetic hybrid of Gothic, Hindu, Mughal and Rajput architectural styles. Interestingly, the former royal family of Mysore survives to this day. Although the household no longer retains any official titles or privileges in modern time, the current head of the Wadiyar dynasty is still often referred to as the 'Maharaja of Mysore'. Below: the opulent Ambavilasa Hall, once used by the king for private audiences. And below: the beautifully carved Durbar Hall, which was used as a public audience hall. Aside from the palace, there is also the city itself. I quite liked it as a city. After the unplanned chaos of Chennai, I found Mysore, by contrast, to be a relatively clean, organised and easy to navigate by Indian city standards. On New Year’s Day, I took the local bus to the top of the Chamundi Hills and hiked the over 1,000 ancient stone steps back down from the summit. What a view! The hill, and the temple on top of it, is dedicated to the goddess Chamundi, the presiding deity of Mysore. Halfway down the summit is a huge granite statue of Nandi, the vehicle of Lord Shiva. During my hike, I observed many religious devotees taking the stone steps up towards the temple. As an act of piety, some of the women taking this journey were applying patiently vermillion and turmeric to each stone step as they ascended. And that summarises my brief stay in Mysore! Onward to the next Indian destination!
Stop 1: ChennaiAfter Malaysia, I made my way over to India. My first stop: Chennai, also known as Madras, the hectic capital of the Indian state of Tamil Nadu. The taxi ride from the airport was almost the most overstimulating thing I did all year! I spent my first day simply wandering around the city. I went to Marina Beach, one of the longest natural urban beach in the world, and got caught in the rain. I found the famous Fort St. George, first British fortress built in India, to be mediocre. I tried to visit one the major temples in the affluent, traditional neighbourhood of Mylapore and discovered it was closed. But I’m not even mad. In a post on travelling India, the economist Tyler Cowen writes: “Most of the sights in India, including the very famous ones, are overrated. The main sight is India itself, and that is underrated." I completely agree. The tourist hot spots were more useful as way points than destinations in and of themselves. Just walking down a few city blocks, getting from point A to point B was a complete thrill. It’s all true, all of it -- the cows on the road, the frenzy of colours, the stray dogs, the cheap food, the trash, the energy of the place. I went to bed after my first full day with the phantom sounds of Chennai’s chaotic traffic still ringing in my head. Indeed, I was told by a fellow traveller that I was going to have my best and worst days back-to-back in India. Hell, after a single day in Chennai, I felt like I’d had extreme highs and lows on an hourly basis. And my big India trip had barely just begun. A couple of quick notes on Chennai:
Pictured above: The stunning Kapaleeshwarar Temple in Mylapore, dedicated to the Hindu god Shiva. Stop 2: MamallapuramAfter a few days in Chennai I went down south to the coastal town of Mamallapura, best known for its temples and monuments of the Pallava dynasty from the 7th and 8th century. The whole place felt somewhat orderly, with few tours or beggars or overtly scammy sorts. My sense is that the place is struggling a bit with tourist volumes and — more importantly — the town underwent a frenzied beautification job when Narendra Modi and Xi Jinping met here during an informal summit in October. The Group of Monuments at Mahabalipuram, UNESCO World Heritage Site, is what makes this town so special. Huge open-air rock reliefs, beautiful stone-cut temples, and unusual rock formations mark this place with a remarkable fusion of religion, power, wealth, and artistry. What is also interesting is watching how this small seaside resort town ‘works’ - e.g. how the shopkeepers set up in the early morning and the way the fishermen operate. There are no seagulls here, only crows. Washed up all along the shore are poisonous blowfish, a very common bycatch. Also, no one has liquor licenses so the restaurants pay regular bribes to the police and you have to keep the beer you’re having with your meal hidden under the table. A funny incident: One night in Mamallapuram, I was one of only two patrons at a seafood restaurant. We befriended the owner and he was like: “Hey! Come along to my friend’s niece’s puberty ceremony.” Then he shut down his restaurant early and took us to a big, colourful ‘puberty party’. I don’t think anyone minded we were there. To the best of my understanding, in South Indian Hindu culture these ceremonies are known as “Ritusuddhi” and celebrate a girl’s transition to womanhood after menarche (i.e. first occurrence of menstruation). There’s gift giving, the lucky girl gets to wear a half-saree, and everyone is well fed. (P.S. Do you notice how the event poster is just photos of over a dozen men? Great stuff.) How fascinating — and that was just day three in India! Stop 3: Dhamma Setu Vipassana Meditation CentreAfter my brief stay in Mallampuram, I returned to Chennai for the main reason I was in South India: a 10-day silent Vipassana meditation course. I had originally wanted to write a post explaining how I became interested with meditation, my thoughts on the practice and belief system, how I want to reset my sleep cycle and caffeine tolerance, do a digital detox, etc., etc. But after completing the course I discovered that I no longer hand the motivation to go into such discussions. The course was, by far, the most challenging thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. It wasn't some relaxing, tummy rub massage after a yoga workout — it was ten days of intensive silent, and frequently torturous, practice. Wake up at 4am. Lights out by 9.30pm. Almost ten hours of meditation each day. I was frequently struggling with exhaustion and pain throughout my body, and there were consecutive days where I felt utterly miserable and dejected. Also dropped a kilo or two, I think. These experiences, from my understanding, are fairly typical for these types of courses. But to exacerbate matters, I had two health scares. One night, I contracted a fever that made me uncertain if I could continue and, on one of my final nights, I got severe burning rashes across my arms and legs as a result of allergic exposure to something in the environment. So was it worth it? What did I take out of it? Would I potentially recommend this course to others? To be entirely honest with you, I'm not sure I would. Definitely do your research first and think carefully about whether such an experience is right for you. It very well might not be. And with that out of the way, it was onward to other parts of India...
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AuthorMing is an economist, traveller, and creative writer from Melbourne, Australia. He’s a nebulous collection of particles on the lookout for a good corner to sit with a book and a cup of coffee. Archives
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