Day 78, Oct. 27


I got up early (actually I have arisen before 6 am every day on this trip) anticipating the thrill of an actual safari. However, I was sure it could not surpass yesterday’s elephant encounter. The jeep driver arrived on time and we were off to the forest. Once there, we had to sign in, show poof of ownership and insurance to the officer as well as driver’s license, pay a fee, and employ a registered guide. We must have looked like a scene out of a real jungle movie. I now knew that some of the animals were not friendly in this forest and respected the environment I was in.
Right off the bat, we spotted to herds of elephants and some single males. Then, we saw a variety of game and tapirs, boars, peacocks (the national bird) and deer. We searched for tigers which were there. The closest we got was to see a fresh track in mud on the side of the road. That was it for the next two hours. Yet, every moment of careful searching while driving on a rocky, muddy track in an exotic forest was breathtaking and worth doing again. (How about Africa, anyone?) I enjoyed the experience thoroughly.
We returned for breakfast. It was superb - the best of my trip. We talked more about local culture, received a tour of the estate, and prepared to leave paradise. Our hostess refused to accept payment. We were like family.
It didn’t take long for us to make our first stop. We pulled into the parking lot of a Hindu Temple only to go to a park entrance and pay to walk to Irpu Falls. We climbed bit and soon heard water. The trail did not go to the bottom or top of the falls/cascades but to the middle where children and adults indulged themselves in rock climbing/bathing. The feeling was enlivening to feel cool even in hot weather. In fact, the ancient Hindu understanding of the place had to do with the presence of the living God. There is a mystic presence there. But my thoughts hearkened back to two previous trips which ended on a similar note. In Thailand, I visited and bathed in a waterfall. So too, while in Colombia, the whole group there for Fr. Miguel’s ordination wee taken to a thermal waterfall where I had a special trip and experience which included a dip under the falls.
When we approached another ‘Home Stay,’ Father recognized the name and decided to stop there to see if they remembered him. Of course they did. We had coffee with them and they reminisced. On leaving we discovered we had a flat. They hustled some men over to change the tire. Good thing. Father did not have the proper tools to make the change. They, fortunately did. Then we left for the town to fix the flat. The garage was across the street from a shop owned by the family we just visited. The brother was running it at the time. Father visited while the job was done. To fix and change the tire was 30 rupees (60 cents). Next to the garage was what looked like a nice liquor store. On closer view they sold their product by the glass and the small place was crowded with drunks. That was the second time I saw the problem up front and personal. Indian men have a propensity for alcoholism. We spent the next several kilometers of our tip discussing the reasons for this.
Father Anthappa is certainly a man who needs company. He had made plans (only revealed to me only during this leg of our trip) for us to have lunch at the rectory of a priest friend. We were already two hours late and I had to get back to Bangalore. Nevertheless, we arrived at this ramshackle church and rectory. It was rough. But the food was very tasty. I ate a whole lot more than I planned or thought I could consume. In the process I abandoned my expressed but ignored plan to take him out to a good dinner before hopping on a bus for Bangalore.
Unfortunately, the time did not allow even stopping for a drink. It was past six and the trip takes three hours to the city and two more (in rush hour) to St. Anthony’s. With that in mind, I was rushed to the bus station where, on the run, and got on an express to Bangalore which Father had hailed down as it was leaving. We said our good-byes by cell phone.
I also had to inform the people in Bangalore of the situation. They appreciated it; but told me they could not meet me at the station. I told them I could handle the problem. I already made the trip accompanied. I could do it now alone. Accordingly, I left my intercity express at one station. Determined the location of the city’s central bus station across that same thoroughfare I negotiated two days ago (doing ole`s with a herd of buses). At the station the hardest thing was to find the unnamed platform of bus 318. Each of the score of uniformed transit workers I asked gave me a different direction. I narrowed it down, asked a passenger, and found out he was waiting for the same bus. He cautioned me to be patient and smiled. It seemed thousands of buses passed by. After a total of about 30 minutes our bus came. It had no markings. Without that man, I’d still be there. I got on and within seconds a crowd of sixty or so follow me on until the whole bus is filled beyond crowded. It was like NY. The girl who sat next to me in the front of the bus (where I hoped to figure out where to get off or to ask the driver) was reading book in English. I struck up a conversation hoping he s getting off after me. She wasn’t. But it was good as it helped the time go by faster and let me endure of the pain of having both my big toes stepped on simultaneously by students. The riders were even more inconsiderate of others than the drivers are. Indians have the bad characteristic of not being aware of others. In some cases that helps. There is a selective blindness to people of other castes, religions, socio-economic status and many other divisions (such as where you are going in traffic).
Well, I got to my stop. Actually, the crowd had filtered out to the point where I could ask when my stop a coming up. Three people immediately told me this was it and I better get out before the doors close. In my one second scan from inside the bus this did not look like the place. One glance from the outside convinced me they were right. An auto-taxi was right there. Although he charged an outrageous price for the short trip, I took the deal and arrived at St. Anthony’ shortly before midnight.
No one was up to greet me until I put on the light to my room and probably made some noise by dropping my bag. One after another I was scolded o not calling them up or answering my phone to their calls. They were worried if I had gotten lost.
And so ended my last day in India before packing day and departure