Mamallapuram, April 4

"South-India! It's like India, but south..." (freely adapted from Pixar's "UP!" )

Yes, it's definitely still India, but the people have darker skin and funny, curly hair, the language(s) is different and the food is not entirely the same either (coconut, coconut, coconut). And it is warm and humid, very humid. You have a sort of liquid, sticky second skin of sweat around you, that stays all day. No problem, just make a run for the beach and swim it off. Oh wait, the sea water is pissy warm too, darn.

Mamallapuram, the place where I am now, is a small village with a beach and tourist resorts. It has some particularly nice temples from the Pallava period (4th to 8th century), when this part of India grew rich by trading with the Romans, Malaysians, Chinese and Arabs. The temples are cut from the granite, all in one piece. That is quite remarkable. The beach is dingy near the village, because people, cows and dogs seem to use it as a public toilet. If you walk a little to the south it becomes excellent though. There are very high waves here, and swimming too far out is dangerous due to the strong currents.

Mamallapuram is also called Mahabalipuram. Why one ridiculously long name was not enough escapes me, or maybe one is Hindi and the other Tamil. By the way, ridiculously long place names seem to be inherent to Tamil.

After Hampi, where people speak Kannada, I took a night train to Thirupathi in Andhra Pradesh, where people speak Telugu. Kannada, Telugu and Tamil all have their own alphabet. In practice, this means I cannot read the signs on the buses and trains any longer. Although interesting, these Dravidian languages pose a disadvantage then.

Thirupathi is another overcrowded, dirty Indian city, but it sits below a 1500 m tall cuesta (cliff faced) mountain. On top of that mountain is Thirumala, one of the most visited pilgrimage sites in India (and thus, in the world). At some days over 100,000 people visit Thirumala to see and pray to the idol of Venkateshwara, the black avatar of Lord Vishnu. For some reason Venkateshware likes hair, and the pilgrims have their heads shaved to donate masses of hair to the god. Thirumala consists of kilometres and kilometres of dormitories, shopping malls, barbers, restaurants and temples, where the pilgrims lavish themselves on all sorts of extravaganza and kitsch, or perform their religious duties. The human mass of so many people is incredible. And walking through it all I suddenly realized that I was the only non-Indian. Of course I found myself stared at continuously. Some particularly lucky young men managed to take pictures of me. I will in future introduce a fee of 10 rupees per picture. It may earn me enough to pay for my daily expenses.

From Thirupathi I took a bus to Chennai, the capital of Tamil Nadu and 4th city of India. I left this chaotic urban disaster as soon as possible and found a a much more peaceful destination in Mamallapuram, just 2 hours south of Chennai. But it is still India. It is crazy, chaotic, often very dirty, a daily challenge to your senses and patience. And cows abound.