The Best Bite: Mysore Pak

I'm in love. Thalis, curries and dosas they’re all delicious, but I have a sweet tooth. India has won me over with its incredibly rich and buttery sweets.

Two weeks ago I was in Mysore. Mysore has a nice palace, an okay hill, and a ho-hum train museum which is described as a “must see” in the guidebook—one good train display and three old engines a must see does not make. As far as I’m concerned, the only reason to visit Mysore is to eat Mysore Butter Pak the local sweet. But I’m biased. Andrew who doesn't have a sweet tooth agrees with me.

Here are the ingredients: ghee (clarified butter), flour, sugar. Finished. Who knew three simple ingredients could make such a delectable creation? This sweet starts off with a crumbly edge. After the crumbly edge a delicate gooey center appears and melts away leaving a mild buttery sweetness in your mouth. It's rich. A small square is almost too much to eat. Almost too much.

We were chatting with some travelers and asked if they tried it. Looks of guilt blushed on their faces as they meekly replied: “Yes, last night for dessert and then again this morning for breakfast.” I didn’t judge them because I’ve been guilty of gluttony far worst then that and Mysore butter pak is worth every single calorie!

Ancient Ruins in Hampi

After bustling city adventures, the grandeur of old churches, and the chill vibe of Palolem, I was ready to see some old buildings. Lucky for me, Hampi was up to the challenge.

Hampi is a village in Karnataka state that is close to the Vijayanagara ruins. These ruins are a UNESCO world heritage site, so you know it’s going to be impressive. Even then I was still unprepared for what Hampi had to offer. This isn’t hyperbole: the landscape there is truly extraordinary. Large pink-grey lava stones are piled into larger hills, huge boulders punctuate roads, palm and banana trees fill the valleys, and the village is peppered with ancient ruins. All this is a complex feast for the eyes.

The highlight was the Vittala temple, built during the 16^th century it demonstrates the artistic heights of South Indian Hindu culture. The sun-bleached ruins were crumbling in some areas, but were mostly intact and showing off their intricate details. The showpiece was a stone chariot, fully intact and beautifully detailed. There were about thirty art students spread around the ruins. Most of them chose the stone chariot to draw or paint—you can see why from the picture below.

 

The Best Beach: Palolem

We were on the bus heading to...hmmm...I can’t remember now. I was disappointed with our Goan beach experience. First we went to Baga and there were lots of touts, tourists and trance music clubs. Then we went down the road to Calangute. This beach makes its neighbour, Baga, seem tame. Here dance music played non-stop, hundreds, but seemed like thousands, of Indian tourists frolicked and jumped in the water, and Europeans on package tours baked in the sun. There was a constant stream of touts trying to sell anything from jewellery, books, chips to sea-doo rentals and banana boat rides. I immersed myself in the 900+ page novel, Shantaram. In two days, I read two thirds of it. It wasn't the relaxing beach scene we hoped for. 

Calangute market

Baga beach

Luckily, while we were riding the bus we met a retired Canadian couple. They have a summer home in Goa. We griped about Baga and Calangute. They smiled, shook their heads and the wife said: “ you want to go to Palolem; it’s a remote beach with a low-key atmosphere. Baga and Calangute are zoos. Head to Palolem.” So Andrew and I heeded their advice. Just as tides crash against the beach so did our plans crash and flow back into the unpredictable ocean that is our itinerary.

I cannot thank that couple enough! Palolem was just what we wanted: a haphazardly built cocohut to sleep in, six rickety chairs lining our patch of sand, and Bob Marley playing somewhere in the distance. The beach itself was a long stretch of golden sand with lovely light blue-green water. 

Our cocohut cost 400 rupees per night that's 10 bucks!

We even found a good restaurant which is hard in touristy areas. Restaurants catering to tourists in India tend to serve the same food. On one menu you can choose Indian, Chinese, Italian, Mexican, American and Israeli food. It isn't surprising that the food tends to be mediocre. But, we had a lovely meal at Dropati. The eggplant curry was a sublime dish: tender chunks of eggplant in a scrumptious curry gravy. Also, the mushroom tikki skewers grilled in the tandoor had interesting flavours. The mushrooms were stuffed with paneer, dried fruits and nuts. The smokiness from the charcoals complimented the sweetness of the fruits, while the paneer and nuts rounded out the dish. A long walk on the beach was needed after all that good food.

Palolem was the perfect place for us to get over our jet lag and it goes to show you how serendipitous life can be!  

India's Best Taxi Driver

And this is blah blah blah, the taxi driver said happily.

 Ravi greeted us, two tired souls who’d just finished a fourteen hour train ride. Our train was supposed to leave at 6:55am; it left at 11am. We were supposed to arrive at 4pm; we arrived at 1am. We sleepily stumbled out of the train station. Ravi came up to us, he had a huge bright white smile, and showed us where to pay for the prepaid cabs.

The grand churches stood out like white giants against the midnight black sky. As we drove to Panjim, Ravi was saying church names and telling us which ones we should visit. Generally this is where he would give his sales pitch and offer to tour us around for a good price. Not Ravi. There was sincerity in his voice when he said the names of churches. There was genuine concern in his furrowed brow when we replied no to his question: Do you have a place to stay tonight? He asked us our budget. We told him, "Cheap. The cheapest room available." He grimaced but was steadfast. "Well a cheap room might be difficult but we can find it. I know some places," he replied. His toothy grin reassured me.

And he did know some places but the places were closed. That didn’t stop our Ravi. He knocked on doors, rang doorbells and yelled to rouse the sleeping receptionists. Ravi wasn’t disheartened when the lights came on and he was told no rooms available. He drove around until we found a place. The aptly named Hotel Blessing took us in that night. Ravi looked relieved. 

You're often in the dark when travelling. A guidebook can only take you so far; you depend on the locals once you're on the ground. How appropriate then that Ravi, whose name means Sun, lived up to his name and shone brightly and found us a place that night.

Here are some pics of the churches Ravi recommended.

The City by the Sea

view from our guesthouse at 7am

Mumbai: city by the sea, gateway to India, chaotic, filthy, incredible!

People who have traveled to India share a similar sentiment: sensory overload. They always spoke of the senses and how all of them are engaged and overstimulated, especially in Mumbai. Part of the adventure of travel is the sensory overload, is it not? India, according to my friends, was on another level. Smells of the intoxicating and repulsive kind were invisible threads that weaved a fragrant tapestry; sounds of touts rapidly pawning their wares or services, the not so friendly honks from car horns, and the everyday hiss, sizzle, and crunch of food being prepared all formed a fantastic fugue; sights of the carefully wrapped women in their jewel hued saris, the vibrant fruits and vegetables piled on tarps, and the filth that cakes the streets were all part of a large mural. I loved that my senses were engaged at every corner, turn, and stop while walking the streets of Coloba, a section of the city tourists frequent.

These are all part and parcel of life in Mumbai. I also liked seeing the proud Gate of India, the intricate rock caves at Elephanta Island, and the worn out cricket field where men practiced; they were all impressive in their own respect. More impressive was the ebb and flow of people living out their lives. Life is difficult here, obviously, for some more than others. But no matter what your circumstances you're allowed to try and live out your life. Etch out a meager or fruitful life for yourself in the city's rough marble.

These are some of my impressions of Mumbai. I only spent two days in the city so these insights are based on a very brief encounter. I read a novel called Shantaram. It is a great novel that tells the tale of an Australian man who escaped from prison and lead a fugitive life in Bombay, the novel is set in the 1980s when the city was called Bombay. After reading this novel, I appreciate the glimpse I got into this intriguing city. Check out the book if you want to learn more about life in Mumbai.