CHENNAI Bats In The Belfry

We're not convinced we got the best out of Chennai  although, as the top recommend in Lonely Planet was Fort George and we thought that was generally disappointing, we're pretty sure we did.


Staying at Broad Lands hotel, a cracking 1951 heritage building, we were put in the 'penthouse' of this pale blue palatial paradise.

A semi-drunk Irish fella called TP told tales of 'proper' travellers from back in the day, who used to bring their guitars here, play music, drink wine and generally be mellow.

He also said the place used to have a bad rep for not allowing Indians to stay - no blacks no dogs no indians - so it can't all have been Shan-gri La.

Anyway, Fort George. The fort as such had long since disappeared and seems now to be a random collection of police boxes, military barracks, parade ground and government offices.

Any force attacking Chennai these days would be summarily dismissed by a uniformed person waving them away around a traffic island and police bollard.

The museum was very good, detailing the escapades of Francis Day in setting up shop for the Brits, with loads of offensive weapons and china ware on show.

There were some excellent water colours and engravings showing the life of the colony, plus a hall full of oil paintings of our kings, queens and consorts along the way.

St Mary's church sounded interesting, but was closed. On a Sunday.

Another beach, near the smelliest river bridge we've ever crossed. We didn't bother with it. We're slowly learning our priorities. The beaches are all a bit ****.

Back in our street, lunch and dinner was mostly had at the superb, ie cheap, fast and very tasty Ananda Bavan, where we were served and observed at all times by about six friendly staff. Dosas all round!

Breakfast juice, coffee and pastries were had at our corner caff, served by this nice man.

Yep, Chennai was that exciting, but with some nice encounters all the same.

Onward to Mamallapuram: clean beaches, temples, gift shops and white folks.

PURI Belter

Puri was canny. A nice beachy place, and a small step up from Digha.

Our hotel, The Gandhara, had a pool and a statue of Monty (or 'creepy Groucho Marx character' as our friend Si Carps put it) and nice breakfasts and a built-in travel agency and it was all nice and oasis-like.

The beach was the usual strip-cum-building site with loads of gaudy plastic trinkets for sale and Buddhas made out of seashells, locals being excited, lots of rubbish, some pony rides and a camel.

A packed local bus took us out to Konark to see the 13th century Sun Temple.

Tucked away in its own beautifully-manicured grounds, the stone temple is a massive, Earth-bound representation of the chariot attributed to king Narasingha Deva I, complete with huge wheels and pulled by six frankly disappointing small horses.

Temple belles.

The nags may have been very strong, but were surely underpowered for this jalopy:

Horse, er... power

Next, by bus power to Chilika Lake, to see some pink dolphin action.

Okay, we only saw a couple of humps, but lots of nice birds and it was a big, blue, beautiful day out on the lake, shared with some dead canny Indian folks.

Jagannath Temple was great fun, too.

Approaching the place, which is more like a small town, was like walking up to a huge Cup Final on match day.

Streams of folks were heading in, even more than normal as there was (yet another) festival going on that day.

Hawkers, beggars, etc (ie the usual crowd), lined the way.

It was so hot the authorities had put on a water bowser/spray station, so the hordes wouldn't shrivel up on the roadside queuing to get in.

As non-Hindus we weren't allowed into the temple itself, but made our own entertainment watching the chaos unfold.

A quick drink of pop on a hotel balcony, from where we surveyed the carnage, then a wander back to our pool.

And now for something completely different.