in the land of the lamas

On Thursday, I went to Chamunda temple with the women’s group. We took the bus there and back because it’s too far to walk. The temple was especially crowded since we are still in the middle of the Navaratri festival, and the inner part of the temple was decorated with hanging strands of dried marigolds. We didn’t wait in the long line to go inside, but we walked around the temple grounds and spent some time by the river. There was a small, man-made pond outside the temple where we paid to ride in a dragon-shaped paddle boat. We peddled around the pond a couple times, laughing at ourselves and enjoying the absurdity of the situation.

After disembarking from our little boat, we stopped for some homemade ice cream. The vendor stored it in a cylinder-shaped container, and he used a knife to shave off a thick slice from the top. He cut it into bite-sized pieces and served it to us on a leaf. It was flavored with cardamom spice and was delicious. We then ventured down by the river and sat on the rocks. There were lots of monkeys on the opposite shore, and I enjoyed watching them as they played in the water and jumped from rock to rock. The baby monkeys were especially cute, and they didn’t seem to notice us at all.

Lulled into a false sense of security, we pulled out some sandwiches I had packed for a snack and began eating. Shortly after our impromptu picnic began, one of the women looked back and called our attention to a lone monkey, who had made his way to our side of the river and was steadily approaching for a surprise flank attack. The women were just as terrified as I was, which wasn’t comforting, since I was hoping for reassurance that I was not in fact about to be attacked by a monkey. We all huddled together, as my mind overflowed with visions of the monkey lunging toward me, confiscating my bag, and hurling my camera into the water as I watched helplessly. Fortunately, the monkey fiend found our food more appealing than anything else, and when he sauntered over and grabbed for the sandwich we were sharing, we handed it over without a moment of hesitation and quickly scrambled to get away. As I looked back, the monkey was sitting on a rock in the middle of the river, peeling back the foil from the sandwich and enjoying a nice change in midday cuisine. Lesson learned – no more eating around monkeys!

After leaving the temple and wandering through the nearby market, we decided to try our luck at eating inside, away from the local wildlife. We went to a building that is maintained by the temple and serves food to anyone who comes at no charge. After removing our shoes at the door, we walked into a big, open room with worn mats arranged in rows on the floor. The room was filled with an interesting mix of people, beggars and high-caste patrons sitting side by side. We found a spot to sit on one of the mats, and someone came around a gave us plates made of leaves, which had been sewn together with twine. Soon after, a man came around with a large basket of rice and used his hands to throw a generous serving of rice onto each plate. Various dals and soup-like dishes were then ladled on top of the rice as servers walked up and down the rows with pots of steaming food. Of course there were no utensils, so I had the opportunity to practice eating with my hands again. I’m getting better, but the tips of my fingers are very sensitive to the hot foods, and I have to wait for some of the steam to escape before I can begin the mixing process. The women laughed as I hesitantly poked at the food and then quickly drew my hand back, exclaiming “Ouch!” Though I transgressed every rule I know about eating selectively while traveling, my stomach played along, and there were no negative repercussions. I can only imagine that my luck will run out at some point, but so far so good. The food was wonderful!