A Bangalorious Christmas!

Being in India is a lot like being a part of a dysfucntional family. You're in it so you just learn to love it and once you learn to love it, well, you just can't get enough of it! But that being said, there are at times (many times) that your only wish in the whole entire world would to be a part of a normal family. ahhhh, dysfunctional India.

Santa found me amoungst the millions of Hindus here in Bangalore and Christmas passed just like it would any other day with the exception of a new Calvin and Hobbes book and an Economist magazine. There were crowded streets and sales as apparently the provincial government of Karnataka deems the Christian holiday an excuse enough for a long weekend so the Christmas crowds were out just like they would be anywhere else - we couldn't even get into a movie!

Mom and I spent the morning at the train station pushing our way through to get a ticket to Mysore and then the afternoon at the local city market. The market turned out to be one of those little rewards India gives you just when you want to punch it in the face. With not another white person for miles we were treated like celebs while we wandered the busy asiles of light-up dancing Ganeshes, tikka powder, sweets and treats, flowers, veggies and fruit and of course, bangles. Everyone was so friendly and didn't try to sell us anything as nothing there was really of any use to us so they just wanted their picture taken and to talk. Hours passed in a flash and my camera was soon drained of power so we moved on to the main hussle of Bangalore, MG Road.

MG and Brigade Roads are kind of like the equivillent to Vancouver's Robson or Toronto's Young so there are a plenty of designer stores fancy lounges, restaurants, bars, and a fashionable and very non-traditional generation of young Indians with money from the booming hi-tech industry. A little different from Delhi. For a big city it was actually not too smelly or full of trash and for the most part there was very little staring with one exeption that got me thinking...

I was walking down a congested street, Mum was lagging a little behind and in front of me there was a group of, I would guess, 18 to 20 year olds, two guys and two girls. One of the guys while trying to keep up with his peers turned around about six times to stare directly at me. Stare. Stare. Stare. Stare. Stare. Stare. For seconds he held the stare before glancing to see where the hell he was walking. I caught up slowly (as he had slowed to stare as well)

"Do you have a problem with me?"
"No! No! I have no problem."
"Then why are you staring at me."
"I am not staring. I do not mean to stare."
"Well you ARE staring. Why do you stare?"
"I am staring at your freedom."

I was stunned. He left as I turned the corner to go the other way and I haven't been able to shake the expression. Staring at my freedom.

After a short train ride we've arrived in Mysore, which according to the Lonely Planet "has a way with travellers, who tend to stay a while and become enchanted by the city". Now, I don't take the Lonely Planet suggestions to heart but I expect them to be in the ballpark so after trudging around the hellish and noisy streets of Mysore looking for a place to stay, only to be turned down from about 5 hotels until we found one, my immpressions did not get off to a stellar start. The following day made no massive turn arounds with the execption of finding a good bank machine, super-awesome Ganesh stickers for my journal, and finding a way out of the totally overflowing and crammed with Indian tourists buying saris, silk and sandlewood oil city. Our attempt to go see the biggest attraction in town: The Palace, failed as they wouldn't let me inside with a camera and I didn't trust the suspicious "camera check" system. We walked around the goddy outside and concluded we were not missing much on the in as tourists are only allowed in a handful of the rooms. Palace, schmalace. The conclusion for Mysore is that it isn't even worthy of a picture on the blog.