Day 07: Dindigul

Day 07:

Getting down the mountain from Munnar was some of the worst road yet. Some of it was under contruction and really little more then small patches of dirt between holes. A few places were being asphalted but had been abandoned mid work for the holiday. Roads here are built by hand. They are tore up and evened out by hand. Trucks dump rocks which are carried about in baskets on peoples heads. The rocks are spread out and dirt is packed around them, also carried in baskets on heads. The final step involves a large square, aluminum cannister, like a 5 gallon container of olive oil. Instead of olive oil it has hot tar in it. They pore it threw a series of perforations and generally just glop it all about. Viola! A road is born.

Just out of the mountains we entered a whole new type of terrain. The road was pristine and wound threw a national wildlife sanctuary. We saw our first troops of monkeys in the road and even saw a wild elephant cross our path.

The good road and the broken in engine meant we could start making some good time.
This also meant that we could spend New Year's in a bigger town - Dindigul.

We tore up some pavement and managed to get to Dindigul as the sun was going down. We drove and drove and couldn't find a single place to stay that didn't look frightening. Your average place has a bare florescent bulb, stained mattresses and red, blood-like betel spit all over the walls. We hoped for something above average.

Asking another rickshaw driver is the key we've discovered. The one we asked took us to Dindigul's 1 and only 3-Star Hotel. And they just so happened to be having the best New Year's Eve party in town we were told. This was looking good.

The quasi-new hotel was smack in the middle of the sprawling industrial city which appeared to manufacture filth. This was one of the dirtiest parts of India yet just when we thought it couldn't get worse.

We were still excited about the evening's potential, not just because we had such a nightmarish time trying to find it, but also because this was going to be a real, Indian-style party. We had visions of dancing, champagne toasts and a big countdown to the New Year for the Indian continent. We rested, showered and waited for the festivities to begin.

We'd been told that there was a big buffet tonight so we weren't surprised to find one being set up in the courtyard out back. The roof to the lower level made for an impromptu patio after we climbed out our windows. The gaggle of bus boys (there are always 10 loacls to do what in the States would take 2 - or 5 if you're union) were hanging about and practicing dances moves seemingly learned from Bollywood flicks. This party was going to be amazing!

8 o'clock was the start, so we came down a fashionable 15 minutes late. The hundreds and hundreds of people were still arriving. Something was wrong though. Dindigul's who's-who of small business men were there with all their kids and family in tow. Their entire family - kids, moms, grandmothers - everyone. This had the look of a real family affair.

This was when we found out that there would be no alcohol allowed tonight. For one night only. Family = no alcohol.

To make up for this disappointment the hotel had a few dozen balloons blowing around the lobby, gather in corners like dust bunnies. It didn't help.

Everyone was munching on paper cones of popcorn and excited entering the main room.

Just outside was a table were pilled with silverware. They were selling the utensils for the dinner. See, everyone eats with thier hands in India. The right hand that is. If you wanted silverware you had to purchase it since, in their estimation, you'd probably make off with it after dinner. Conventiently the utensils were sold individually which was great if you brought your own fork and in your haste to get to the action, forgot your butter knife. You didn't have to purchase a whole set. Having a week's worth of India under my belt, ahem, I knew that I'd only be needing a spoon. Spoon's and forks were 15 Rs. (30 cents) and knives were 10 Rs.

Silver in hand, we presented out tickets and entered the party.

Immediately inside the door was a styrofoam, handmade nativity scene painted in day-glo colors. I'm assuming so that if a errant rickshaw came careening through the lobby, the bright paint would save styrofoam baby Jesus.

The first room was the game room. Hundreds fo people were gathered around what I can only describe as the saddest, "church youth group fundraiser" like games, I'd ever seen.

There was a card table where Dindigul's slick young men were cheering and goading each other to beat the ring toss. The goal was to throw a plastic ring 10 feet onto a card table covered in mini tubes of toothpaste. These served as the targets and prizes.

A local TV station was filming the action and turned their cameras on me, clearly misinterpretting the meaning behind the look of amazement I wore.

Another game was called "coin in bucket". It was just that - a bucket of water. You dropped a coin in one of the shower buckets every room had and if it lands in the center, you win - you guessed it - toothpaste.

(more soon)

Anthony //