The Road to Mandurai

The only problem is that alcohol is not freely available or consumed in public places. They hide it. 
Having discovered that our hotel had no alcohol Rich decided to find some. He took a Touk Touk to a Toddy Shop - a little shack which sells liquor. The place was packed with local men buying whiskey. He bought 6 large Kingfishers and bought them back to the hotel to keep us going for a few of days.  As he put the bag down in our room one of them smashed. Resultant temper tantrum was alarming, fueled by inability to blame anyone but himself. Finally calmed down and as he settled into chair to enjoy beer a spactacular lightening storm erupted from the sky. He swivelled round to watch and smashed a second bottle. Was scarily cross. 
So we climbed onto the roof and drowned our sorrows by polishing the rest off up there, watching lightening over the spectacular Western Ghats.
Next day we trekked through the tea gardens along elephant tracks, complete with elephant poo. Can't tell you how beautiful this was, you really had to be there. Watching those wonderful women picking tea leaves (for the Tata Tea Co. - produce Tetley) will make me appreciate a nice cuppa so much more. 
For some reason the Indian people adore Richard. ADORE him. It's weird, and led to a terrible fit of the giggles at the TaTa Tea museum. Am very bad example to my daughters.
Next morning we continued west across the mountains. Cardamom growing beneath Teak trees and Poinsettia and Datura growing 12 feet tall on the roadsides. Crossed into bordering state of Tamil Nadu and then descended, via 17 hairpin bends and much hyperventilation, onto the drier plains.  Here agriculture is the big thing. Bull carts are used to transport sugarbeat, mango and rice straw. Women here carry everything on their heads. Even the very old women remain very straight and I've seen no hunched hobblers like we get in the West. Have decided to adopt the head carrying practice when I get back home. Probably get a few funny looks in Waitrose - but what else is new?
Passed through small village in throes of local festival. Everyone had their faces painted pink and was dancing in the street. All the men were totally pissed - throwing up and passed out in shade. Looked brilliant fun.  Seems Hindus have festivals all the time and celebrate everything. Am thinking of converting.
Arrived in Madurai in the late afternoon. Bad news: Stealth Mosquitos. Good news: underground (literally) bar which serves giant G&Ts. Huge sigh.....
Madurai is completely mad. Completely. There are no traffic laws, or if there are no-one knows them. Except one; if you intend to pass anyone you place your hand on the horn.  Cars, touk-touks, bikes, scooters, bull-carts and people in their gzillions jostle randomly whilst Holy Cow!s amble about chewing the cud with an air of serenity. But the people aren't angry like they are in Western cities, though they have far more reason to be. They smile and wave and invite you to their houses. 
The nucleus of Madurai is the Meenashki Temple.  As we made our way there we happened across a Tamil festival/ritual. This was pure chance - it normally takes place later in the year - and really alarming to witness. Half a dozen young men were parading though the streets with three metre long swords piercing their cheeks, like huge whiskers. They were supported, physically, mentally and spiritually, by drummers boys in front and girls with flower vases on their heads behind. Whole thing was very frantic with many of them going into hysteria-induced trances. It was 35 degrees and they were en route to a temple 16 km away (on foot with a sword through your face mind..). They do it as a sort of penance, to bring good fortune to their families. Can't even get my kids to load the bloody dishwasher. 
Our travelling companions are Will and Sally, and their 9 year old twins Joe and Ellie. The whole spectacle proved a bit much for Joe and he fainted. Out coldon the pavement. Bless him. It wasn't really a twitpic moment.  
The Meenashki Temple is spectacular, and several weddings were going on. Young brides were dressed up, ready to
leave their families, marry a man they didn't know and have sex for the first time - all in one day. Blimey, no wonder they looked miserable. Meanwhile Holly told her boyfriend of three years to fuck right off for being a lying cheating bastard. She looked pretty miserable too, mind you.     
We went to see the Banksy exhibition in Bristol Museum last summer. There was this great painting of a couple of overweight white tourists with big cameras and loads of shopping bags been pulled in a rickshaw by a small skinny Indian. It was characatured and witty, Banksy-style. Anyway, later that day, that was us that was. (I'm ashamed to say.) Was actually terrifying too.   
Had supper in rooftop restaurant over-looking the crazy mad city with humungous fruit bats swooping about our heads. Fabulous.