The Chola trail gave me something more than simply a dose of history. A feeling of identity also. It is awfully tough to be objective and write about the trail, so I’m not even trying as of now. I’m just putting down some raw info to help understand the might and the glory of this dynasty, which was one of the strongest in South India and they established its supremacy in South East Asia too.

This traditional Tamil dynasty held sway for over 1500 years and its origins are entangled in fables and poetry as the chronology matches the reign of Emperor Ashoka ( 273 BC-232 BC ). Literature heralds the rulers to be descendants of the Sun God. Historically though the reign is split into 3 distinct eras the early Cholas (second century BC-9th century AD), the medieval Cholas (9th -11th century AD) and the later Cholas (11th -13th century AD) .Our story starts somewhere in the middle of tenth century and moves on to the 12th in the reign of Raja Raja Chola one and his son Rajendra Chola one and later on to Raja Raja Chola II.

Darasuram

All that’s left today as a witness to their might are The Great Living Chola churches. The Brihadeshwar temples in Thanjavur and Gangaikondacholapuram and the Airaveteshwar church at Darasuram built by these kings are a part of UNESCO World heritage Site and this is where the trail essentially starts..

The Gigantic Brihadeshwara Church Thanjavur

We commence with Thanjavur, the first Enormous Brihadeshwara church, or the Periya Koil built by Raja Raja Chola one in the 11th century in Thanjavur.This was the instant I was waiting for, a second that defined this trail for me.My eyes follow the Vimana of the church as my neck crane to capture its height. It is an understatement to call it big. It is bigger than life .Consider this. At a height of 216 feet the soaring Vimana is the tallest of its kind in the world dwarfing the Gopura, or the outer tower. The shikara or the golden dome replete with many stucco figures weighs eighty tonnes. Elephants were reputedly used to draw this single granite block on a six km ramp to put it on top.

The Nandi weighs twenty-seven tonnes and is the second biggest in the country while the main deity, the Shivalinga is at a height of 8.7 metres, the biggest in the world. Life size representations of Gods and Goddesses fill the sculptured panels and the temple is a repository of records for posterity.

108 Bharatnatyam dance postures are outlined here and the corridors and ceilings are a decorative mix of fresco and wall decoration paintings wholly original to this dynasty.Architecturally the church is the most formidable structural granite church to be ever built in the world and therefore it’s the first to become a Great Living Chola church and part of the UNESCO World Heritage Site .There is such a lot to say, but I will be able to end here for the moment about this temple.

I went to the 11th century when Rajendra Chola one, the following ruler had moved beyond South India and attacked East upto the Gangetic Plain and made ripples overseas in the East and overwhelmed all of today’s Srilanka, Maldives, Malaysia and Indonesia.

Yet, his capital,Gangaikondacholapuram that controlled this mighty empire for over 250 years has simply disappeared from the face of this earth. When Rajendra Chola one conquered the Gangetic plain, he needed to celebrate. He also wished to portray to posterity that he was likely larger than his pa Raja Raja Chola one who had immortalised himself with the Large Brihadeshwara church in Thanjavur.

So Rajendra took a step farther. In fact, he was the C-I-C in his dad’s military too. He moved away from Thanjavur, his pop’s capital and built another Brihadeshwara church in a new found capital called Gangaikondacholapuram which means the city of the Chola who caught even the Ganges. However he didn’t complete the church. And he finally made sure that his dad’s church was larger than his. Its tantalizing to dig deeper and share stories and information about the church, but I wouldnt know where to finish … The 3rd destination was Darasuram at the Airavateshwar church built by Raja Raja Chola II in the 12th century. Called Rajarajapuram, this is a sculpture’s dream in stone. A church formed like a chariot drawn by horses and supported by 100 obelisk pillars carved delightfully greet us. And eventually,a Chola trail is unfinished if one doesn’t refer to the golden Chidambaram church.

Chidambaram

Patteeswaram, Tamil Nadu

Just before you enter any temple in India, you have to pass through a market. In some cases, shopping happens right inside the temple complex. Very often I find the markets more interesting.

Madurai, Tamil Nadu

Thanjavur, Tamil Nadu

Chidambaram , Tamil Nadu.

Thirukadaiyur,Tamil Nadu

Here’s a portrait of a map outlining the empire of the Chola Dynasty that ruled South India and parts of South East East Asia under Rajendra Chola one in the 11th century. This map lies lost in a thatched shed which homes the museum too. And the thatched shed is in a forgotten town called Gangaikondacholapuram, the erstwhile capital that once ruled over this whole empire. Today the city doesn’t exist, excepting an half finished enormous Brihadeshwara church that is like the one in Thanjavur, built by Rajendra’s pa, Raja Raja Chola. Here’s a painting of the king, Rajendra himself – in the same museum.

Please click on both the pictures to see the enlarged versions

The Mardan Palace, a $1.4 billion luxury resort, was unveiled just the other night at an opening party in Antalya, Turkey. The turnout of the party included over 600 international dignitaries, as well as celebrities. The guests were able to dine on top of the Mediterranean’s largest swimming pool and enjoying some great performances from Tom Jones and Mariah Carey. Some guests that showed up at the grand opening of Mardan Palace included Paris Hilton, Sharon Stone, and Richard Gere.

The guests that attended the opening of the hotel also got to see fireworks and a laser light show as they dined on Atlantic lobster and Black diamonds, which is an Italian black truffle.

The Mardan Palace represents Turkey’s first five star destination resort. The hotel was the vision of Telman Ismailov, who is the chairman of Russia’s biggest developers AST. The hotel has 560 rooms and includes two royal suites that come with private pools.

The architecture of the hotel keeps Turkish heritage in mind and has helped the hotel reflect distinctive landmarks located around Istanbul. The main hotel resembles the Dolmabahce Palace, and the bridges across the pool are based on the design of the Da Vinci Bridge.

The Mardan Palace also boasts a 7500sqm spa, as well as 17 bars and 10 different restaurants, including Japanese, Russian, French, and Thai style. Rooms at the hotel range from €360 per night up to €14,000 per night. The most costly rooms are, of course, the ones that come with the private pools.

Are you in a position to see the fort there? We were at the Malvan beach, when we saw a two-mile-long wall of a fort standing tall against the horizon. There are close to 15 families staying there even now.

My aunt lives there we had befriended a self-styled guide who selected to give us an armchair history of Sindhudurg, the fort that lent its name to the district. Sindhu means sea and Durg is, naturally, fort; therefore the name, he announced.

Built by Maratha emperor Shivaji Maharaj in the 17th Century across 44 acres of land, this sea fort found in Kurute Island is home to several shrines, including one devoted to the infantryman king built by his boy Rajaram. A footprint and a palm relic of the Maharaja are among the traveller best attractions here.

The monsoon had just set in and not one of the boatmen was prepared to take us ashore to the fort, but they strived with each other to tell us stories. When Shivaji was ruling over Konkan, he was keeping a lookout for a sea fort that would protect him from the assault of the Siddhis of Murud Janjeera.

The Janjeera fort had been undefeatable and Shivaji selected the rocky island of Kurute, and together with his chief, Hiroji Indulkar, built the fort at Sindhudurg. Built using molten lead mixed with mortar, it had 32 towers and was meant to be their naval HQ. The fort stayed with the Marathas before it being taken over by the East India Company.

I was more inquisitive about the families living in the deserted fort today. My aunt stocks lots of food until the monsoon gets over. It is very hard to keep sailing in the upset waters. The guide told us that just about all the families were those of mavlas or infantrymen who fought in the Maratha armed forces. For generations, their descendants lived here; the younger generation has moved to the shore in pursuit of work.

Tourism seems to be their main livelihood, besides fishing. Almost all of the homes are normal too. We cannot even sell them, and there are no facilities here; so, it’s like we are all cut off from the world, and continue to live in the amazing days of the Maratha Empire.

The tides recede and a private boatman offered to take us ashore. Madam, there are pools there which will never become dry. I will show you hid passages. Were you aware there had been a coconut tree with a branch?

As we start negotiating the rate, I am wondering about the families stuck in a time warp, cut off from civilization. We start sailing to hear their stories. Disclosed in Inside Story, Metro and supplement of The Hindu on September 21, 2009.

Our first day out with him was to the mountains in north central Bali and Danau Bratan (Lake Bratan, site of a famous temple). We headed southwest from Ubud to Mengwi, site of another famous temple, Pura Taman Ayun, a huge and beautifully kept up complex built in 1634. It’s got a huge moat and a couple of landscaped courtyards and a big climbable bell tower. Climbing it is the only way to get a look at the inner sanctuary.

From there we drove through lush green rice fields for a couple hours, along mostly uncrowded narrow roads straight north into the mountains towards Bedugul. On the western shore of Lake Bratan is Candikunning where you can get your picture taken holding a giant bat, a huge python or some kind of a monitor before moving on to the Buddhist-Hindu temple, Pura Ulun Danu Bratan. It appears to be sitting in the water and it’s very picturesque. If it wasn’t so far from where all the tourists are it would be far more overrun. It’s overrun enough as is. From there we headed to Munduk up in the misty mountains. We parked a trekked up and down the mountains to a gorgeous, isolated waterfall in a forest of spice trees. After that it was some amazing mountain top restaurant with a view of the whole world and then a trip to the vast Bali Botanical Gardens (Kebun Raya Eka Karya Bali) with whole areas dedicated to ceratin species like bamboo and orchids.

I was more than ready to call it quits after that but Anwar knew everyone (else) would want to see the temple in the Indian Ocean at Tanah Lot, so we headed south again for the sunset ceremony, the most touristy thing imaginable. When Roland started growling at me (as if it was my fault we were surrounded by hundreds of Australians and Ma and Pa Kettle) I pointed at that this would be the most beautiful spot on earth if there were no people around. After we left it was just about an hour and a half back to Ubud and straight to Kafe, one of our two favorite organic restaurants for dinner.

As a preface just like me say that I’m a huge fan of argan oil from the Essaouria region of Morocco. The oil is pressed from the undigested pits of a fruit that grows on the argan trees which are eaten by tree climbing goats and then pooped out. (See the photo at the link above.) So it isn’t poop-processed food per se that turns me off. And the mongoose poop coffee doesn’t really even come from a mongoose. The creature is a civet cat. Here’s how Wikipedia describes the concoction we’re talking about: “Kopi Luwak, also known as caphe cut chon (fox-dung coffee) in Vietnam and kape alamid in the Philippines, is coffee that is prepared using coffee cherries that have been eaten and partially digested by the Asian Palm Civet, then harvested from its feces.”
Sound unappetizing? Roland, who used to work at Starbucks and is a coffee addict said it’s strong but “bueno.”

If you want to add a bit of a fear factor moment to your coffee morning with your friends, ask them to drink some civet droppings with you. It will be quite a test of courage for some of them. Really though, there is nothing to be alarmed at. You are actually serving them coffee, but it is coffee that went through a more exotic process than your regular cup of Joe goes through.

It is called civet coffee. What makes this coffee most unusual is that it literally is the dropping of the palm civet. These furry little creatures love coffee cherries, particularly the reddest ones. They do have excellent taste, don’t they? They swallow them whole. While in their stomach, the cherries are processed by the civet’s stomach acids and ezymes. After a while the beans exit the civet body. The fruit has been removed but the beans are whole.

The resulting bean is has an aroma and flavor distinctly its own. The beans are cleaned and dried before roasting, if that’s on your mind. When roasted it results in oilier beans. The oilier the better is what the experts say. The result is coffee that tastes rather like dark chocolate with a hint of hazelnut.

Civet coffee has more than one source. The best known is Indonesia where it is called Kope Luwak. This exotic coffee sells for about $600 a pound.

Roland claims it’s $1,000 a pound and that the British royal family and Hong Kong’s Peninsula Hotel pretty much buy it all up every year between them. The cup he, Helen and Michael shared cost them $10 in the middle of the jungle and the place where we got was also selling a small jar of the beans for $35 (enough to make 2 cups back home; we all passed on that).

When I awakened yesterday morning and checked Twitter I noticed that nutty dog Miami Congresswoman and anti-Cuba fanatic Ileana Ros-Lehtinen was hollering about Juanes’ “Peace without Borders” Concert in Havana.Juanes is a Colombian pop idol living in Miami and Ros-Lehtinen, who is incredibly friendless with Miami’s big and growing non-Cuban Hispanic population, was frightened that he was comforting her enemy with his music. Between half 1,000,000 and 1,000,000 people showed up in Revolution Square for the event, more than ten times the amount of folks who worried going to Glenn Beck’s Million Moron March on Washington last weekend. Not like the Moron Marchers, Juanes’ 14-artist concert wasn’t about loathing, bigotry or political paranoia. It was about peace and love and music. Ros-Lehtinen and other far right Oldschool Cuban outlaws used to be in a position to dictate Yank policy– always punative– towards Cuba.

Those days appear gone as the well late unfreeze in relations between the two states takes on a life of its own outside of executive interference.

Back in Ros-Lehtinen and the Balart Brothers’ Florida– a corrupt and off leftover from Batista’s fascist regime in pre-Revolutionary Cuba– “Juanes had endured death threats, CD-smashing protests and boycotts since claiming his plan for the concert in Havana,” though the classes of folk boycotting him weren’t from his demographic.The Balarts pulled out their hair because “Spanish-language stations covered the event, and many exile groups said support, describing it as a rare chance for Cubans to get a peek of the outside world.” Asked during his Univision interview what he made of it, Obama was positive about Juanes’ music and had no issue with the event. His administration’s go-slow speed of normalizing relations is just starting to talk about sending mail. People are moving faster than he is though , and every month the travel ban becomes less and less materiel. I’m going to guess that as many people weren’t born as were when the U.S. Slapped its purposeless travel embargo on Cuba.

Seating on a slant at Fermentation restaurant

Fado is a normal style of Portuguese music thought to have come from the 1820′s presumably from a mix of African slave rhythms and normal music of Portuguese sailors and Arabic influence. It is indicated by gloomy, mournful tunes, regularly about trouble and / or the ocean. A Portuguese word frequently related to Fado is saudade, which translates approximately to aching or nostalgia for unrealized dreams. So at the end, Fado has a tendency to be a bit harrowing. There’s some love thrown in there, too, but things generally appear to go screwy again by the end of the track.

There are 2 main styles of Fado (Lisbon style and Coimbra, or student style), and there’s, naturally, a good amount of variety in the styles.

One of the vocalists

Fermentation is a family managed cafe with a down-home feel; it overflows with genuineness. Our table is outside in a cobblestone area that is a component of the street in the day, but commandeered by diners / listeners at night. Not being a proper patio, the entire set-up is on a big slant (like much of Lisbon, come to consider it), so frequently we have had to catch our food as it tried to roll off the fringe of our table. Keeping our chairs upright is also a little bit of a challenge. The vocalists (who are the same folk that take your order and cook your food) perform at the entrance of the eaterie, leaning seriously against the door frame.

Over the course of the evening, we heard from at least 3 generations, all of whom had glaringly experienced great anguish (if the singing was anything to judge by). It was clear from watching the youngest vocalist (perhaps eight or nine years of age) that their music style and custom of singing Fado is passed down from generation to generation. It could be contended that their technical skill wasn’t high quality, but they put their souls into it and, although we could not understand a word, the performances brought back a powerful unhappiness in us (and much applause from the local audience, who once in a while would be so moved as to take part).

We actually enjoyed our Fado experience and we are satisfied we had the advantage of seeing the real-deal version. So if you are down and out and without hope, go hear some Fado and either you may understand that your present position isn’t as bad as the lead in the tune or you may actually sink down into the depths of despair.

But most of all, the small towns are clean. So clean that sometimes they look almost deserted, until you spot an old man sweeping the sidewalk in front of his house or weeding the gardens along the main street.

fresh paint and not a broken roof tile in sight

There’s even a national competition to see which town is the cleanest. Town councils hand out free white paint (and dark blue or yellow for the trim, from the looks of it), and everybody paints their house (again). Okay, we’re laying it on a little thick (just like the paint), but it does seem like almost all the buildings in the little towns have been painted quite recently. And there’s no trash, and everything’s orderly, down to the vegetable gardens and fresh fish stands. The village that won the competition last year is ironically one of the poorest towns in Portugal. The joke in Lisbon was: “They’re so poor they don’t even have garbage.”

the immaculate town square

We stayed for about a week in the small beach town of Zambujeira do Mar. The buildings that should normally look yellowed and battered from sea water/wind were all immaculate. Our apartment looked out over the town square (pictured above). We kept waiting for it to get messy, especially with everybody parading around in it until all hours of the morning, but each day it looked like someone had managed to vacuum it before we awoke.