On the backstreets of Tiruchirappalli.

The start to our visit here was inauspicious. Running the gauntlet of touts from the bus station to the hotel, laden with two weighty suitcases, while dodging mounds of rat-infested waste on the “pavements“ was not a good idea. Then there was the somewhat frosty reception at the check-in desk, where a bewildering half hour debate took place about the integrity of our reservation. The non-functioning air conditioning in the room was the icing on the cake!

               The following morning we opened the curtains and gazed out at the building site across from the car park, wondering about the possibility of catching the next flight out.  But we stayed and a few days later we looked back at the wisdom of this decision for Tiruchrappalli, or Trichy for short, is full of hidden delights.

The Rock

         Later that day we caught a rickety bus into town and ambled through a bustling market in the mid-afternoon heat. As we walked we caught site of the Rock Fort which towered over the town, eagles circling around the temple which sat on the rock’s summit. With its bulbous, ochre flanks the rock seemed to have been made out of plasticine by some giant toddler. Intriguingly the rock itself is said to be one of the oldest on the planet, dating back some 3.8 billion years. We climbed its slopes up to the small shrine at the top and took in some fabulous views of the colourful yet simple houses below which stretched away into surrounding forests and fields of Tamil Nadu.





Children pose for a photo in the backstreets of Trichy

The true attraction of Trichy however was to be found not on the rock but in the warren of streets below. In the shadow of one side of the rock the streets were full of fascinating multi-coloured villas, markets and squares where daily life was played out before us in beguiling detail. By accident more than design we stumbled on this part of town and uncovered its charm. Here we found tiny, peaceful temples; sleepy elephants tied to posts in the back yards of some of the larger houses and squares filled with uniformed children playing happily on their way home from school. Peeking through narrow alleyways invariably gave you an impressive view of the rock framed between colourful houses and the deep blue of the sky above. We also came across quirky remnants of the past, such as a neglected plaque behind a lamppost honouring a visit of the Prince of Wales in 1922.  This was a different India than we had found before, away from the chaotic traffic and crowds of the town centres and tourist hotspots.



The wonderful sweets at Suriya

Back at the other side of the rock fort, we rounded off the day with a Masalla chai at a little cafe thronged with locals.  Suriya was basic in appearance but the tea was out of this world and the sweets made from coconut, almond and milk were truly divine.

On the way back to the hotel we remarked on how glad we were to have decided to stay.  Trichy had got us hooked.  

Un regal per a la Laia!

A present for Laia on the occasion of her 9th birthday!

Beware the bad monk of Mahamuni Pagoda




The serene Buddha at Mahamuni Pagoda

The day started off well enough. A vibrant ride the back of one of those distinctive pale blue tuk-tuks through the mayhem of a Mandalay morning to the Jade market. The sun beat down on us as we strolled around the rows of craftsmen patiently cutting and shaping the pale green stones into all sorts of wonderful creations, the wheels of their machines spinning at incredible speeds.  As we had come to expect in Burma the people here were welcoming and friendly,  beaming smiles never far from the faces of anyone we passed by.
               We were set up for our visit to the Mahamuni Pagoda and looking forward to witnessing the famed statue of the Buddha that it contained. Happily we jumped back in the tuk-tuk and had soon made our way to the grounds of the pagoda. Cameras at the ready, Susanna and I took in the peaceful ambience of the small but beautifully designed complex. Many of the buildings had layered roofs painted with gold leaf, resembling multi-tiered, golden wedding cakes. Other structures were simpler but contained a whole variety of quirky and fascinating relics.

               The Buddha image was the main attraction however. Contained within a huge central shrine, a serene smile on its face, and already surrounded by a large crowd of worshippers, it was a spectacular sight. Facing the statue were many colourfully clothed women with offerings of food and garlands of white flowers. The men meanwhile gathered around the Buddha itself, carefully applying gold leaf over its lap and back.

               Then, as we admired the scene, a monk dressed in flowing maroon robes approached and offered me the chance to take a closer look at the Buddha.

               “If you like, I can take you right up to the central chamber. You can see everything up there!” he exclaimed.

               I jumped at the chance. After all, if you can’t trust a Buddhist monk then who can you trust?

          Soon I was surrounded by the monk and 3 helpers who managed to put on a fetching, checked sarong to cover my pale white legs before approaching the Buddha. The monk led me up to the platform in front of the statue. I felt privileged to be able to see how the worshippers painstakingly applied layer after layer of gold to the statue. The layers had become so thick over the years that in places they seemed like golden snow-drifts.  
 



Susanna mid-tour

Leaving the shrine, the monk then led us on an impromptu tour of the pagoda. He soon had us ringing prayer bells, pouring holy water over the heads of Buddha statuettes, lighting incense sticks and listening to his detailed descriptions of every artefact to be found within the compound. Never once did it dawn on us that this could be anything more than an innocent tour from a good-hearted monk eager to show his home off to two interested foreigners.

Then however, as we finished the tour off at a vast concrete plan of the major Buddhist sites of Asia, the monk suddenly turned to us and said,

“Now I would like a donation of 20,000 kyat for my food and clothes.”

We were both shocked and alarmed by the determined and cold manner in which he asked for it. However, there was no way he would get anything from us as he had never indicated any donation or charge at the start of the “tour”. He had been dishonest and had willingly deceived us, something which we naively found unbelievable from a religious figure such as he.

We both turned away and headed for the exit. This provoked an angry response from the monk who started to push us as we walked, still demanding his money. This continued for at least a minute as we hurriedly passed by the same worshippers we had seen earlier, who looked on impassively, none of whom came to our assistance.

Thankfully the monk decided to give up the pursuit and we were able to hop into another tuk-tuk and head back to the city. It had been a chastening experience and reminded us that not all monks are as golden and pacific as the Buddha of Mahamuni Pagoda.