028 Mysore, Mysore, Mysore

Mysore in Karnataka, India, with almost a million inhabitants, feels like a small town after Bangalore. A green city with a working public transport system and a whole bunch of attractions for the Western visitor. A palace, museums, a very attractive market area, lots of handicraft workplaces a population who can't wait but to show it all to you.

I arrived on a Wednesday afternoon at the well organized Intercity bus stand near the center. My host had told me to take bus 119 to a hospital near his house, and so I did. I was in luck, and got to ride on a brand new unit with air conditioning and available seats. After I found the house of my hosts Santhosh and Akshatha, they asked me how long I was planning to stay. I told them two nights, which I then learned was out of the question. It would only give me a day and a half in the city, which would be way too short. When Santhosh told me I should stay till at least Monday so I could see the palace lights on Sunday night, I thought he was joking, but in the end I did exactly that.

Santhosh and Akshatha host couch surfers all the time, they have a special room for it with a couple of beds, and in my time there, I met six other travelers from all over Europe. One of them is a Yoga teacher, so me and some others did our first yoga lesson one morning.

On my first day in the city I walked around with Mads from Denmark. We were looking for the Old Bazaar, and when we asked a guy if he knew the way, he offered to take us there, because he had a day off and thus lots of spare time. He knew the neighborhood well, and after showing us the magnificent old market he took us to some of the workplaces around. The market was incredible, with a separate area for fishmongers and butchers. The butcher stalls are open-air affairs with only a pile of meat, a big trunk as a chopping block and some hooks from the ceiling with assorted intestines. All the meat came from sheep, there was also a lady selling sheep heads. In an alleyway around the corner, where the actual butchering was done, two forlorn sheep where awaiting their impeding doom. I will eat vegetarian again tonight.

Our guide then took us to a local workshop, where old men were sitting on mats on the floor, cutting, filling, rolling and packaging beedies, the local equivalent of the cigaret. We rolled some beedies ourselves as well.

After that, we were off to see a workshop for inlayed furniture, and an incense and oil workplace. Mysore is the city of essential oils made out of every imaginable source, most famously sandalwood. It is also quite expensive. I bought some incense instead.

I spent some days in the city with visiting the top attractions such as the Maharaja's Palace and the art museum. Then, on my last day, I took a bus out to Bylakuppe, a little bit of Tibet in the south of India. This monastery town was erected after the Chinese occupation of Tibet, and now houses many Tibetan monks. The main tourist attraction is the Golden Temple. A very pretty place, but unfortunately the (mainly Indian) tourists do not really help towards a quiet and peaceful atmosphere. Although I was a little pressed for time, because I wanted to make it back in time for the palace lights in Mysore, I took a rickshaw up to the next village in the huge Tibetan compound, and walked around for an hour among the red-clad monks and school kids.

The difference between the Tibetans and the Indians is striking. Indians have, for example, no problem with staring. If something is interesting, be it a beautiful girl, an accident or one of those crazy white people walking by, they stare for as long as their concentration span lasts. A few days ago, my bus had accidentally bumped softly into a parked car. Within seconds, everyone in the bus was scrambling to the front to get a better look. Tibetans, or at least the ones in Bylakuppe, are the complete opposite. When they walk past, they shortly lift up their gaze, recognize you for the tourist you are, and lower their head again.

Although it felt rather peaceful for a change, I rather like the engaging attribute that most Indians seem to have. No matter where I go, people want to talk to me. Often the friendly conversation is limited to a basic set of questions. usually a conversation starts like this:

"Country?" (preferably shouted from the other side of a bus or train, without any further introduction)

"I'm from the Netherlands"

"Where?"

"Holland!"

"Ah, yes. Your good name, sir?"

"My name is Tim"

"Til?"

"TIM. TEE III EM"

Sometimes people want to know about my line of work or if I like their city. But usually more questions don't come. Never have I been asked about my favorite color, or if I like strawberries. Which is not to say that I don't have more in-dept conversations, but that mainly happens when I initiate the communication, or if the other person wants to sell something. People tend to say "Hello!" a lot on the street when I walk by, and kids wave to me. It is all very friendly, people are mainly curious. Only now and then do people ask for money or do they want to sell something, it is all much less intrusive then I expected. Other travelers tell me that in the north of India it is much harder to be left alone for a minute. In the places I go to, it is usually fine. Even when I sit to read a book somewhere outside, I am usually left in peace when I want to.

Another interesting thing is that it appears as if half of the people I meet in shops and restaurants are avid coin collectors, so often have I been asked which currency The Netherlands has, and if they can have a coin. I honestly din't bring any, so I have to disappoint them. Asking for coins is also a well concealed way of begging for a tip, and a very good one at that. A normal tip in a simple restaurant would be 10-20 rupees. A Euro coin is worth 70 rupees. I have eaten complete meals with bread, rice, 3 types of vegetable sauce, a yogurt and dessert for 50 rupees, just to give you an impression of the price level if you want to live on the cheap. 

(just a short disclaimer: I met loads of very friendly and intelligent Indians on my trip, the above is obviously not the whole picture)

After the monks, I took the two hour bus drive back to Mysore. Each Sunday night, for exactly 45 minutes, all 96,000 lights are switched on, and the outline of the palace lights up against the dark sky. A pretty sight, and one I am glad to say I was just in time to witness.