Tue 16 Dec Flight Home

Tue 16 Dec Flight Home
We leave Mumbai (BOM) at 0305 and arrive Frankfurt at 0720.  There we have a 3 1/2 hour layover, leaving at 1045 and arriving Atlanta at 1510.  Hopefully the layover will be sufficient for our backpacks to arrive in Atlanta with us. They are lighter now than when we left from the states on 10 Nov.  This is rather curious, since we have picked up lots of literature and a few souvenirs. Maybe we left some books in India, and packed more into the carry-on luggage. Or maybe we are carrying or wearing our heaviest clothing.
Lots of time before our flight leaves, so we find the most comfortable seats in the airport, and try to get a little shuteye.
Mumbai is +5:30 GMT and Frankfurt is +1.  That makes the elapsed flight time 8:45.  We get two meals. Carol springs for the vegetarian choice, which Lufthansa prepares surprisingly well.  (Or maybe no surprise. Lufthansa advertises heavily on Indian television and print media. The main ad features a grandson on his first airplane trip, who tells his grandfather,  "It's just like being in India!")
There is some free space on the plane. Mike finds a comfortable bulkhead aisle seat and grabs about 5 hours sleep.  Carol gets to watch a couple of movies.
3 1/2 hours is way too much time for a layover. Or perhaps not. Somehow, Carol and Mike get separated and she heads off to the wrong flight to Atlanta (Delta instead of United), departing from different terminal. Each terminal has its own security check. Two spectacularly inefficient examinations later, we are reunited.
Finally it is time to board.  Atlanta time is -5 GMT, so we face an elapsed flight time of 10:25.  Not a whole lot of sleeping, but a few winks here and there for both of us. Carol continues to be served Indian veg eats (!) ahead of all the passengers.
We land, get admitted to the US (Yea!), find our backpacks (Yea!!), leave the arrival terminal, and are forced to take an airport bus from the international side to the domestic side for ground transportation.  (Since we have cleared security, we can't take the train which runs the spine of the airport.  Stupid planning, it seems to us.)
On to the MARTA train, catch our bus, and then walk the last km (yes, .6 mi) home.  We are back to the house about 1830, after dark. It is 5 am India time. The whole trip took 31 hours from our Thane hotel to home. 
Mike weighs himself and discovers that he has lost 22 pounds - maybe one should become a vegetarian (or be absent for Thanksgiving).
It is good to be home, even though the relentless Christmas buying season hits us head on. After all, Chanukah starts tonight!  Time to unpack the Chanukah candles we bought in Thane.

Mon 15 Dec Thane Mumbai

Mon 15 Dec Thane Mumbai
We're in no great rush this clear and (relatively) cool day. This morning the kitchen had already rolled out a wider range of choices by the time we were ready to eat. Breakfast - for Carol appam and sambhar with watermelon, and milk tea.  For Mike another omelet.
We packed and checked out of our room, leaving our bags in storage.
Truth to tell, we were finally cured of tourism. Souvenirs had been bought, sights had been seen. There really was no practical way we were going to get to the top of the hill forming Sanjay Gandhi Park - so close, yet so far.  So we set out to amble around town, aimlessly at that. 
We found the market we had walked through the night before when we puzzled out our way from the end of the local bus line back to the hotel.  We were getting oriented to Thane - another couple of days and we would have figured out how to get around this large town. But could we take a train from our hotel (east) to the airport (west) when the time came to depart?
Finally, we decided to try to get to Malabar Hill to see some of the Back Bay (western) side of Mumbai and also some of the Parsi sites, including the famous Tower of Silence on Malabar Hill.
Our route would involve a rickshaw to the Thane train station, then a train to Ghatkopar, about 12 km in. 
We were starting to get the hang of getting aboard crowded Mumbai trains by now.  At Ghatkopar, we walked to the sparkling new east-west subway line. The introductory fare was 15 R each (25 c).  Security personnel were plentiful.  We ascended the escalator and rode the subway (partially an elevated line) along with thousands of other Mumbai folks who seemed to be on an adventure, trying out the new ride. This link would serve as the linchpin for the airport route.
Off at Andheri station.  Here there is a transfer to the Western train line.
The transfer involved descending to street level. Could we have negotiated all these ups-and-downs (not to mention security checks) in the dark of night, loaded with our backpacks. No way!
On the way we passed a snack and juice stand and bought a couple of delicious cane juices.  Yum.  Off inside the railway station to buy our two tickets, and we were on a train inbound to Grant Road station, about three stations north of Churchgate, the southern end of the line.
Out into the neighborhood - a very upscale area. We walked through an area of well-kept parks, bistros, and people as spiffy as their highrise homes. Cow-free. 
Always directing our path uphill, we cross a busy street, and there is Malabar Hill.  So green, so unlike the rest of Mumbai. Chattering birds, a few chattering monkeys. We walk up and up a street that ascends the hill. You can see Chowpatty Beach and the Arabian Sea below. Toward the top, we reach a guard station. After chatting up the guard, we realize that we might get a glimpse of the tower but we certainly were not going to be allowed inside, not without proof of being Parsi. We offer our passports and mention that we had visited Iran. No dice.
Anyway, we had used up a good bit of the afternoon to get our thrill on Malabar Hill, and it was time to get back to Thane.  We walked into a neighborhood so spiffy that only cars and taxis go in.  We were looking for a bus to go across to the central Thane train line.  But it slowly became clear that buses were not going anywhere in this neighborhood.  So rather than get really lost, we walked back to Grant Road, and took our transportation in the reverse direction. 
It took about 1 1/2 hours, but we were back at the Thane railway station.  It was close to 1900, and we were hungry (we'd skipped lunch), so we walked into a hopping restaurant/bar right by the station.  We were sent upstairs to the empty family section, instead of being with all the guys on the main floor.
We ordered soup, a main dish and salad, and two bottles of water. Nothing special, but much appreciated.
When we were through we found the bus back to the hotel.  This time we got off at the correct stop.  We walked the neighborhood and stopped at another cane juice vendor for our last vacation cane juice.
Back to the hotel, where the manager allowed Carol the use of a hotel room to clean up and change clothes. Since we were stalling our final departure, she was tempted to bribe the young man who opened the room to allow her to shower.
At 2200 the taxi we had ordered through the hotel arrived on time.  Thirty minutes and 500 R later (not bad for both time and cost!) we were at the airport.
All we needed to enter BOM (Chhatrapati Shivaji Airport) were paper airplane tickets.  Mike had packed the receipts somewhere, so we were stuck in limbo for 20-30 minutes at the entrance to the airport.  Finally, a fellow at the Lufthansa desk came out, borrowed our passports, went inside to the computers and printed out paper tickets, and we were IN THE AIRPORT.  It was 2300, and we were to leave in "only" 4 hours.  Bye bye, Mumbai.

Sun 14 Dec Thane Mumbai

Sun 14 Dec Thane Mumbai
Hotel Vinyasa is in an urban area. We noted the street noise way into the night. Up at 7 am.  Headed to the front desk and asked for a room on the other side of the hotel and on a higher floor.  And so we moved from room 102 to room 207 - basically the same room (albeit only a one-pane window), but facing the hills (yaaay).
Breakfast service began at 8 - served out on the open roof deck, with a grand view of  the Shivaji Nagar neighborhood and the hills to the west. According to the waitstaff, the breakfast choice seemed to be an omelet and tea.  So we ordered and dug into ... yet another masala omelet. As we finished up, they started bringing out the Indian food.  Too bad, so sad. Carol insisted on staying long enough to scarf down some poha.
A word about Thane. Today, Thane is a suburb of Mumbai, surrounded by the Yeoor and Parsik Hills (that area of darkness we passed on the way into town). The suburb is divided by the Thane creek that drains into the Arabian Sea. Thane (Thana) was the terminus of the first railway in India built from Mumbai in 1853. If you can picture heading from Yonkers to Manhattan by train, you have a sense of the spatial relationship. As the guidebook says: "Although the culture is predominantly Maharashtrian, there are influences of the cosmopolitan culture of Mumbai as well."
Not a cloud in the sky. Unlike when we first got to Mumbai the highs were in the mid 80s and the morning lows in the low 60s. A great day for being outside in Sanjay Gandhi National Park, a nature park with both wild panthers and Buddhist ruins. However, the entrance lies on the other side of Thane, 40 km away and a bear to get to by public transportation. The guidebooks and the hotel staff both suggest hiring a taxi for several hours to get there and tour the sights of this 40-mile square park. Mike balks.
So we walk around the neighborhood, headed toward the hills. Can we walk toward the crest without entering and see what lies beyond? Unlikely.
So out instead to see the synagogue in Thane.  We walked out in the adjoining streets for a little bit, just to get our orientation, and find out which buses came back here from the Thane train station.
Thus oriented, we caught a rickshaw to the "Shaar Hashamaim synagogue, near the Civil Hospital."  On the way we passed a Jewish cemetery. The driver found the synagogue reasonably efficiently.
This morning, Shaar Hashamaim was open and buzzing.  Chanukah started next week, and Sisterhood was holding a holiday bazaar in the front room.  Clothing, spices, food, gifts, and of course Chanukah candles were for sale.  The sales ladies were just like any other coterie of Jewish women, but the Indian difference was everywhere. One bubbe was selling 250 gm packs of masala, entitled Mom's Magic.  Only 200 R.  But we already had enough masala, and you never know what the beagles at the American customs will pick to bark at. However, we sprung for hing (the seasoning asafoetida) that another vendor, Penina, was hawking. We bought some handmade knit kippot in vivid colors that were decorated plastic seed pearls, along with complementary-colored mirrored cloth bags. Who could resist a 50-pack of pink Chanukah candles for 100 R? Souvenir mission accomplished.
We wanted to see the temple sanctuary, which entailed a visit to the president of the synagogue in his offices, and a [mostly mandatory] donation of 500 R.  This got us a 15 minute tour of the place, including opening of the ark, etc. The Jews forming the historic core of Shaar Hashamaim are the Bene Israel, the "older Jews", the ones who (as the story goes) date their lineage to a 175 BCE ocean voyage from Israel to escape Antiochus. In fact, in 1998, Thane municipal road workers stumbled across ruins of a 500-year-old Jewish cemetery. Today, forty percent of the Jews in India are said to live in Thane.
Shaar Hashamaim is less grand than the synagogue in Pune (which, along with the Mumbai synagogue, were the Sassoon synagogues and therefore the most opulent). Those Baghdadi Jews and community builders came to dominate the international commerce in this part of the world. But the Bene Israel have the more intriguing back story.
The Jewish cemetery Carol saw was perhaps a km away, so we left walking in that direction. Follow these directions: up the road, under the main highway, past Hotel Satkar, and it will be on your left.  We finally found the cemetery, walked in and looked around.  A very pleasant place, with mostly new graves. Many headstones had names that ended in "-kar", which turns out to be the linguistic equivalent of  'person from the town of X' (Shaul Punekar, for example).
For lunch we had a hankering to go back to the Fort section of Mumbai and eat at Apoorva Restaurant, the Bangalore eatery that was not open when we tried to visit during our first days in India.  So we took a rickshaw for 50 R to the Thane Rwy Station to make the 35 km ride to CST Station in downtown Mumbai.  After all, it was Sunday afternoon.  How crowded could it be?
We were let off in the taxi line.  What a madhouse of a station! Couldn't find the restrooms.  Worse, the line for tickets was 15 minutes long. Interlopers bold pushed their way to the front of the line.  Next to this line was a women-only line.  Carol got into that one, and bought  2 10 R tickets while Mike in the men's line still had about 5 minutes to wait.
Off to the other line to wait for a train to pull in. It appeared that the trains were running late, and very crowded.  The first train, a 1220 train (pulling in at 1250), was so crush-loaded that there was no point even trying to get on.  The next train, a 1215 train (pulling in at 1305), was also very crowded.  Carol dove into the crush, stumbled, but was pulled onto the car.  She wedged herself onto the edge of a seat. Mike was still outside on the platform as the train started to move.  So he grabbed onto the bars on the door, and hung on as the train pulled out.  Eventually, the other passengers pulled him into the train.  He caught Carol's eye to indicate that he was on the train.
What must it be like to be a weekday regular commuter?!?   (This was Sunday, after all.)
And off we went.  25 km along, as the crowd was somewhat thinning, Mike was able to sit down.
At the end of the line, we got out.  Unlike Mumbai Fort district during the week, on Sunday the transit station neighborhood was very quiet. 
We walked to the Apoorva Restaurant, which we finally found.  We ordered Buttermilk (35 R), Salted Lassi (45 R), Baby Pomfret Fry (225 R) (the regular sized pomfret was absurdly priced), Mutton Sukha (160 R), Appam with Chicken Stew (190 R).  Total 655 R ($11), with tip 700 R.  A real treat in pleasant surroundings.

Although Wikipedia pictures the bread called appam as something different from what we got, we were served what we would classify as flaky parothas, a South Indian specialty.  We have fallen in love with flaky parothas, best envisioned as a flat bread that resembles puff pastry, although it is not.
A walk around the adjacent area revealed that is was once, and probably still currently is, a home for Parsis. We have developed a sixth sense in noting Zoroastrian symbolism in structures and signs.
Time to head for a going-away present for Carol, a last kesar pista falooda at the shop right near the Traveller's Inn, our first Indian lodgings. We encountered some young newly-arrived tourists up the street from the hostel and shared some advise from our font of five weeks of Indian experience. 
As we were walking along a gentleman came up: "Hello Uncle and Auntie, don't you remember me?"  A former taxi driver, perhaps? We talked for a while, but neither of us could remember him.  When he started asking for some money for fixing his taxi, we gave him the bums' rush. Probably one of the venerated scam artists of travel in this part of the world. But he was GOOD at his scam. Rather endearingly, the gonif even had sternly reprimanded Mike even while he was spinning his sob story, for Mike putting his foot on a tile with a Hindu image while tying a shoelace - proof that even no-goodniks have morals.
The falooda itself  turned out to be a tad sweet, but good as it was the previous month.
As we walked along, we found an internet place/ ticket office - right expensive at 50 R per hour or any portion thereof to get on (Sunday prices, they said).  We needed to go online for a little bit, so we paid.  Those young tourists were also here, trying (mostly unsuccessfully) to get a train or a bus to Goa ASAP (always a rush to get to Goa!).  There was a travel agent working with them, but they felt that his prices were too high. We told them how to get to CST and try their luck at the main station.
The train trip back to Thane was uneventful.  We splurged for 1st class tickets (280 R for two) - we were still freaked out by our inbound experience.  As 1st class passengers, we had seats the whole way.  (I suspect that some of our seatmates had not paid the extra.)  We found the bus stand and got on one of the several bus routes going back to our neighborhood.
The end of this line, however, was about 1 km past our hotel (we had missed our stop).  We got out and started walking back.  After a while we saw a bustling market, with live and butchered meat for sale, and the whole gamut of vegetables and fruit.  A detour through the market, and then out for a few more blocks of walking.  Here off to the left was the multi-colored sign for Hotel Vinyasa.  Carol had spotted it before as we passed on the bus.  And so we finally were at the hotel.
We really weren't hungry for dinner. However, as we walked again on our street we saw a cane juice vendor and ordered two large cups (15 R each).  Thus sated, we went back to our room, and watched TV for the last time in India.

Sat 13 Dec 2014 Pune Thane

Sat 13 Dec 2014 Pune Thane
Up and pack (wet clothes and shoes have dried). Check out from Surya Villas at 0820.  They store our bags.  We had been told at check-in that we would pay 2250 R per night (presumably, plus tax) (= 4500 R).  Instead, we are charged 2000 R per night, plus 296.8 R service tax (@7.42%) and 400 R luxury tax, for a total of 4696.8 R.  Close enough.  We decided to put the payment on the credit card.  Now we may have enough rupees for the rest of the trip and avoid last-minute money changing.
Quick rickshaw ride to Ohel David.  At 0830 on a Sat morning, the streets are clear. You can actually move.  We can also read the inspirational signs posted on major streets, such as "Avoid the unmanageable. Manage the unavoidable."
We get to the synagogue early enough in the service to appreciate the open roadways. Carol deposits her sandals once more inside the entry. There is already a minyan of at least 10 men, seated on the left.  The women are on the right. Surprise: this morning most congregants wear footwear. Go figure.
Mike received the first aliyah (they don't apparently necessarily give it to Kohanim, or maybe there are none in this congregation) as an honored guest.  Mike was also offered the honor of leading musaf, which he turned down, since he had not the slightest idea how and with what melody they davened musaf.
After each honor, the honoree goes to every other man (and often crosses the sides and includes the women) and offers both hands, holding the tallis, to shake both hands of the other congregant.  We saw this also at Tiferet Israel, but since the congregation was larger, you couldn't necessarily get to shake everyone's hands.
Carol is seated next to a Bene Israel woman named Hannah and shares her Hertz Chumash during the Torah reading.  The Torah portion, Va-yeishev, contains Genesis 38, the story of Tamar and Yehuda, which produced the ancestral line of David.  Some racy stuff here. Joseph Hertz, who was Chief Rabbi of United Hebrew Congregations of the British Empire from 1913 until his death in 1946, was ever the prim redactor. He has as commentary to a term in Gen. 38:15 "harlot":  "a woman dedicated to impure heathen worship. This repulsive custom . . . survives in many forms of Hindu worship."  Carol turned to her seatmate, who rolled her eyes and made a wry face.
Later, Hannah comments on Jewish worship that excludes women from leading a service or reading Torah. She also thinks that the matriarchs deserve the same recognition as the patriarchs. You go, girl!
The service was over about 1045, and it was time for a kiddush, to which we were invited.  There was a d'var torah and a reading of commentary by selected women. Servers bring some bread, some wine, Aloo Tikka (potato balls), milk tea and some fruit.  Very nice.
It was now 1200.  We could now visit the interesting neighborhood near Ohel David. We walked a couple of blocks to the nearby Parsi temple at Sir J.J. Parsi Agiyari Compound.  Inside they were having a "Grand Exhibition Cum Sale". Quite a mix of items: Western and various Indian styles of clothing, accessories, homemade food items, Iranian textiles. Hanging next to each other was wall art with Ahura Mazda, the Last Supper, and Hindu gods. One vendor was selling blown-glass versions of the chili-lemon good luck charms.  Carol bought 6 big ones and 4 smaller ones - the entire inventory. 
We wandered a little farther into the commercial district, into a nice bakery.  Parsis are famous for their Anglo-British baked goods, but we weren't really hungry.  It was time to get back to the hotel. Some much to see and do in Pune! Once again, we have missed the opportunity to visit local museums, historic homes, and palaces. Do any of the Osho devotees ever try to venture beyond Koregaon Park?
Back at Surya Villas, we picked up our bags. Farewell maroon robes, Yogi Tree, and German Bakery. For 120 R we got a rickshaw all the way over to Swargate Bus Stand.  Here we were to pick up our 3 PM Volvo bus to Thane.  It was now 1440.  Buses came, loaded, and went.  None were our bus.  1500 came and went.  Finally, at 1520 our bus came, loaded, and left. We were in seats right near the front.
The road from Pune to Mumbai is to expressway standards, mostly.  However, it takes about 30 minutes to get through the western part of Pune to the entrance to our road.  Once we were on the road, we still hadn't left the outskirts of Pune.  Here and there were scattered 30 story apartment buildings, with 1, 2, 3, and 4 bedroom apartments for sale.  About 30 minutes out on the road, we hit a traffic jam.  It turns out this was a major loading point for all of the long distance buses.  Our bus took on some passengers.  Others were loading from scratch here.  Can't imagine this kind of arrangement on an American interstate highway - but this is India.
Finally, it was reasonably clear sailing.  We were on a divided 6 lane road with limited access.  We were coming out of the hills down to the coastal valley.  The sun set and pretty soon we were back in the city - this is the outskirts of Mumbai.  The Mumbai metropolitan area exceeds 20 million people, and seems to extend outward 120 km from the southern tip of the Mumbai peninsula.  As we went through these extended cities, people were getting off here and there.  1800 came, then 1830, then 1900.  Everytime we thought we were finally in Thane, we would leave whatever city we were in, and continue on the road for some more. 
Finally, about 1730, we came to a halt.  This was the Thane bus terminal.  The rickshaws quoted us a price of 200 R, which was reduced to 100 R, and we took it.  Turns out that the fair price was probably closer to 50.
Anyway, we drove through a ramshackle neighborhood to our Booking.com choice, Hotel Vinyasa, a brightly lit-up hotel on a street which could have been anywhere inside Thane. Outside there is an elaborate balloon arch under which well-dressed women with small children dressed to the nines enter. Carol is excited - are we finally going to see a "kitty party", an event advertised at all the best hotels?  No, this is probably just a regular KID party of some sort.
A "kitty party" turns out to be a women's event, usually held at a specified time each month by a specific group of women. It gives participants a chance to dress up and have a carefree good time, whatever that means for attendees. Every member of the group has to host the party at least once. Every member also has to contribute a set sum of money each month. "Kitty" refers to the amount of money collected at the party. The kitty is handed over to one member of the group every month. This next hosting member organizes food and other logistics. No kitty cats. No kiddies, either.
Our spacious room on the first floor (one up from the lobby) faces the street. It has a nice TV,  an electric kettle, abundant choices for lighting, and a reasonably comfortable bed. Our bathroom has an enclosed shower (the first one of the trip that wasn't going to get the toilet and the bathroom floor wet).  Maybe we really had booked a 3+ star hotel, instead of our usual 2 - 3 stars.
After we settled in we went walking down the street.  At the end of the street, we found a small restaurant and went it.  Chinese Indian food.  Of course, in most of India, there are no Chinese cooking the Chinese Indian food.  Anyway we ordered Szechuan soup, Hakka noodles, and a chicken dish, and ate.  Not real Chinese, but tasty anyway.
Back to the hotel to sleep.

Fri 12 Dec 2014 Pune

Fri 12 Dec 2014 Pune
Up early.  The internet is still way closed, so we walk over to a nearby garden and exercise area by the riverfront.  There is a sign for a sponsored walking tour that departs at 7 AM Saturday and Sunday, covering some of the old parts of town we saw yesterday. The map also indicates the location or some other interesting possibilities. Mike snaps a photo of the route for future reference. Then we walk out to a pathway down to the river.
It is 0830 and Mike does not want to walk all around Pune just quite yet. Time to chill for him, so he goes back to the hotel room to work on the blog and rest.
Carol goes out and explores Koregaon Park. This neighborhood is laid out as a rectangle with six 'lanes' between a North Main Road and a South Main Road. Some of the Osho ashramites we spoke with yesterday said that the Osho gardens are a must-see, so she heads first to the Osho main gates, passing the roadblocks and police guarding the entrance. Bummer - the only morning time the gardens are open to the general public is 0600-0900. Absent the daytime maroon robes required for Osho-ites, not to mention the 1560 R short-term daily fee for international visitors and the mandatory HIV test, it's no-go for now.
Walking the lanes is like being in the country in the city. It's quiet; only the sound of birds and domestic animals. There are huge banyan trees. Up and down Lanes 1-4 there are mansion houses (AKA bungalows) on large plots, many of them with signs in front: NOT FOR SALE. At Lane 5 there is loud construction. Carol realizes that this is where our hapless rickshaw driver tried to deliver us the first day. It turns out that the first four lanes are governed by the Collector's Lease of 1930, which puts a restriction on high-rise buildings. Thanks to the stringently implemented rule, the four lanes have remained 'only-bungalow areas' even as the other lanes are punctuated with high-rise residences and commercial establishments. Time to head back.
There is a sign on South Main Road for the Sassoon Jewish Cemetery. A security guard watching the place has an entry book to register visitors, but there is no great formality to enter and browse around. It is a rather ramshackle collection of aged tombstones and some more-elaborated raised graves. Inscriptions are in several languages, reflecting the origins of those buried beneath. Some are Veddy British, extolling service to the Raj or containing sentimental Victorian couplets mourning the deceased.
After 1200 Carol comes back to Surya Villas.  Mike is rested and ready to walk. We go out and walk around three crossroads of Koregaon Park.  Along the way, Mike thinks about taking a picture of one massive mansion we pass that has two really fat and torpid guard (?) dogs lying in front. The gates obscure any view of the house within.  As he pulls out his camera, a security guard comes over.  No pictures, not even of fat dogs.
Then, around the backstreet to the Jewish Cemetery.  Carol got in free earlier this morning, but Mike's camera costs 200 R (money probably staying with the guard instead of going to a cemetery restoration fund).  A good number of the graves are for folks who were "born in Baghdad", which may or may not be shorthand for born in the Middle East.  Others don't have that designation and are presumably Bene Israel (original Indian Jews).
It is now past 1300 and we are both really hungry.  We catch a rickshaw back to the Muslim neighborhood - maybe to finally chow down on a "beef roll."  It is not a long trip, for 80 R.  We think our driver is taking us to Laxmi Rd and Nehru Blvd, as we requested. These are both major streets - we will explore from there.  But it is eventually apparent that the driver hasn't understood (he is thinking of a much longer trip). We are on Laxmi Rd well past Nehru Blvd, all the way into the old city (where we were the day before).  We see that we are past where we wanted to be, AND it is starting to rain, so we pay him and hop out. 
Yikes. The rain is now coming down at a right respectable clip.  Day 31 of the trip, and this is the FIRST rain of our trip! Wet feet and damp clothes. We duck inside a jewelry store, just to get out of this mini-monsoon. The nice people who run this gold store (and their guard) continued displaying some heavy gold items while we waited out the rain. 
The guys staffing the jewelry store say there is a very good restaurant very near - 50 m down the street, up on the 2nd floor.  It is called Bhagat Tarachand.  We go in.  It is veg (of course) but we anticipate Good Eats.  Very nice, upscale, but with downscale prices. We order alu mutter (140 R), karela fry (100 R), and yellow dal (90 R), along with roti (30 R), and a bottle of chaas (buttermilk) (80 R, but it is BIG, enough for 2+ glasses for both of us).  Really good, and really satisfying for two really hungry folks.  The total price was 462 R, incl. a 5% service chg. (less than $8).
We are through before 1500.  Time for some internet, just around the corner.
After internet, we walk a little, and then get a rickshaw back to the hotel.  We relax a little, take a walk together through Koregaon Park, trying to find the Osho teerth, another set of gardens.  We don't succeed in finding the gardens, but we do buy some delicious roasted corn from a street vendor. Mike smirks that these are 50 R each - tourist gouging compared with our corn at Elephanta Island, Champaneer and Rajkot (20-30 R).  While we eat our corn we chat with two other customers - a cute young maroon-robed English-speaking couple. Nothing like Osho attitudes and an exotic locale to put some bounce in your step.
A little after 1800 we get a rickshaw to the synagogue.  We tell the driver "synagogue," but also add "near Nehru statute."  This combination of instructions works and we arrive there around 1820 or 1825, in plenty of time.  Inside, Carol slips off her shoes to conform with other congregants and enjoys the feel of the cool marble floors.  Everything is perfect, EXCEPT that the service started well before 1800 and is now just finishing up.  They did not have a minyan. GRRRRR.
Mike sits next to a Pune gentleman who left for Israel 40 years ago, and is now back visiting.  He, and the others really want us to come back tomorrow morning at 8 am or so.
Some history: Ohel David Synagogue, reportedly Asia’s largest synagogue outside Israel, was built by Sir David Sassoon in 1867. It is also known as “Lal Davel” (the red synagogue) because of its red brick construction.  The English Gothic style structure, with a 90 foot high spire, is part of a compound that houses a non-operational mikvah as well as the burial site of Sir David Sassoon.
After services we walk down the road a little bit.  This is Sarbatwalla Chowk, the ethnic center of Pune. A little Queens or Buford Highway, if you will.  Here's the story:
"Many generations back, a king eager to attract Brahmins to his kingdom offered land grants to any who would come and settle in ‘the village of Pune,’ as those with long memories still call this now bustling city of Pune. Many took up the offer, made their homes alongside the purifying waters of the town’s broad rivers, and established Pune as a stronghold of Brahminical culture and learning. It is still today a great place to come to study that culture’s lifeblood, the Sanskrit language. Brahmins’ status as Brahmins depended on maintaining ritual purity. The necessary distance from potentially polluting factors was upheld physically as well as socially. As such, those who are not members of one of the upper castes were discouraged from making their homes within the boundaries of the heavily Brahmin Pune village. Even today, it is within the ‘village’ of Pune that Brahmins and members of the upper three Hindu castes tend to make their homes. And for generations now, everyone else - Jews, Jains, Christians, Muslims, Parsis, as well as members of those Hindu groups once called ‘out-caste’ or ‘untouchable’ - has made their homes outside that central area of Pune, and away from the pure waters of the city’s two rivers. This extravaganza of religious pluralism, ironically enough, turns out to be a by-product of the exclusivist impulses of Pune’s Brahmin community."
Our walk takes us to Dorabjee, a grocery store/ restaurant established in 1878.  Feels like a Parsi Zabar's for imported food and groceries. They have strict rules against entering the store with backpacks of any kind, so Mike waits at the door while Carol goes in. She soon calls for Mike and they trade places.  There on the wall is a sign advertising "Leg of Ham."  The butchers are evidently taking orders for Christmas.  In two days, we have seen signs for beef and pork.  Not easy things to find in India.
Around 1915 we catch a rickshaw back to the hotel, just as it is starting to rain again.  By the time we get to the hotel, it is raining hard! Up to our room to wait out this downpour.
By 2030, the rain has stopped, so it is over next door to Yogi Tree. Our choice is to eat inside the already-crowded indoor restaurant or to take a table under the outdoor tents. We choose the later and order Russian Soup (Carol) (120 R), Cream of Mushroom Soup (Mike) (120 R) and a pot of Ginger Lemon Tea (100 R).  At the next outdoor table is a German guy who has just flown in.  We try to get some conversation going, but are finally convinced that he is so exhausted that he just wants to be left alone. 
For some reason, we left the umbrellas in the hotel.  Just as we sat down on the patio under a canopy it started raining again, and rained hard while we were eating.  Most everybody else was packed inside the restaurant = no room for us now.  As we finished eating it let up a little bit so we could hustle back to our suite, where we appreciate the abundance of room to hang our wet clothes, wash some others, and dry wet shoes. TV, then to bed.
It rained hard all night.  The next morning we were told that Pune had received 35 mm of rain (1.3").

Thu 11 Dec 2014 Pune

Thu 11 Dec 2014 Pune
The hotel woke us at 0500, not 0530.  Oh well!  That got us to the bus stand not long after 0600.  Plenty of time to wait for our 0700 bus to pull in.  It pulled in, we put the bags in luggage storage underneath, and got on.  We were in seats 6 and 7, second row from the front.
We had figured on 5 hours to Pune.  At least that is what the Lonely Planet says it takes.  Our tickets had us going to Shivaji Nagar Bus Stand, about 4 km west of the main railway station.  A little after 0900 we pulled into a modern roadside rest stop center, something that would not be out of place on the Florida Turnpike. Good clean rest rooms, appropriately marked with stick figures absolutely needing to go.  Lots of different kinds of fast food, some buffet options, and even some slower food.  Just a quick snack for us, and back on the bus.
About 1115 we are pulling into the eastern outskirts of Pune, a city of 3.1 million or so.  Here the Deccan Plains meet the Western Ghat Mountains and the River Mula meets the River Matha to form (tah dah!) the Mula-Mutha. Unlike many other Indian cities, Pune is really spread out, with clusters of 20-40 story apartment blocks waaay out from the center of town.
While still in Aurangabad, we called ahead and reserved a room at Hotel Surya Villa, in Koregaon Park, an area about 2 km northeast of the railway station.  Mike tracked our progress into town on the guidebook maps. It seemed a shame to ride past the area of our hotel, only to need an expensive rickshaw ride back to our final destination.  We presented our problem to the guys in the adjacent bus seats. They suggested that we get off where one of them was getting off.  We did. Our bus friend spoke in Hindi (or perhaps Marathi?) with the drivers eager to score virgin visitors, and presented us with a rickshaw driver who agreed to carry us and our bags to the hotel for 60 R. 
We were just north of the Mula River, which runs through the center of Pune. All that was needed was a left at the next intersection (remember that left turns are the easy turns when you are driving on the left side of the road). cross the river bridge, left at the first major intersection, left at the next major block (German Bakery, about which more later), and go 100 m to the hotel.  Easy peasy.  Except that this rickshaw driver had no idea what he was doing.  He passed our turn, went at least an extra km down the road, made a right turn, and then had to make inquiries.  The result: we had to double back. Finally we found our hotel.  The driver wanted 100 R for his incompetence. We compromised on 80 for the overly-long tour of greater Koregaon Park and got out.
For some unknown reason or other (good karma?, a wish to offer these geezers extra-quiet lodging?) , the folks at the desk of Hotel Surya Villa gave us a full suite for the price of a room. A foyer, a sitting room, 2 balconies, nice bedroom and bath.  We didn't use the extra room, but it became useful for drying some things that got wet the next day...
A little about Koregaon Park.  Pune is at 550 m elevation (1800 ft).  This makes it a good bit cooler and dryer than, say, Mumbai.  In 1820 the British made it their summer monsoon capital.  At the eastern edge of the then-undeveloped town was some land which got platted as Koregaon Park.  A good number of the lot sizes were huge, and they got scarfed up by any maharaja or maharao who was worth anything.  These folks then proceeded, over the next 100 or so years, to build the most amazing dwellings.  Even today, each property is fenced in, with security at the gates.  No photos, please.  Koregaon Park! Even the name sound like the setting for a rip-roaring Indian telenovela or steamy soap opera.
One of the Koregaon palaces became the headquarters of the Osho International Meditation Resort.
The story of New Age guru Shri Bagwan Rajneesh (1931-1990), aka Osho, is too fantastic and implausible for this humble blog to recount. It is a tale of utopianism, free love and tax evasion.  The ashram is still quite popular, and there were numerous folks staying in our hotel who traveled to Pune for extended Osho stays.
Pune itself lies at the heart of India's "enlightenment belt". On the outskirts of Pune is BKS Iyengar's "yogacrharya" (yoga center), which draws adepts from around the world. In other parts of Maharashtra, people gather for retreats of five days for Laughter Yoga and 10 day silent meditation retreats to practice Vipassana Yoga,
Eventually, we went out.  More than enlightenment, at the moment we needed (1) food, (2) train tickets to Kaylan or Mumbai on Sat aft. (Kaylan is 60 km north/east of Mumbai.  Local trains go in to the city from there.),  and (3) a place to stay in Thane Sat - Mon.
First we walked up the street. Beside the hotel sits the Osho Bookstore. There were tourist trinket shops and a small somewhat expensive grocery. A friendly inquisitive woman with a small child turned out to be trolling for tourist rupees.
Around the corner to an internet place, where we booked a double room at Hotel Vinyasa in Thane.  The room was the most expensive to date, at apx 2700 R plus 17.4% tax.  (Came to apx 3170 R per night, or $53).  Welcome back to Greater Mumbai, one of the most expensive parts of all of India.
We walked back up the street into the German Bakery at the head of the block.  This famous tourist restaurant was bombed by terrorists in 2010, leaving 17 dead and 60 injured, and now has extensive security.  Can't bring in any water bottles, for example.  We went through security, looked at the menu, decided it was (a) too expensive, and (b) too chichi, and walked on.
All the peace and love in the world doesn't make it any easier to cross the busy, busy streets. After a km or so of walking, we saw a very busy eatery, Vohuman, and walked in.  The main, and almost exclusive, item on the menu: eggs. Mike ordered an omelet (OK), and Carol got a two-egg bhurji (spicy egg scramble).  Toast and tea rounded out the meal.  A dog with very big expectant eyes sat at the doorway, occasionally venturing in to check the floor.
We notice a Coke ad.  The girl is drinking a Coke, but her lips are actually touching the bottle as she drinks.  Either the ad maker doesn't understand how Indians actually drink, or there is something else going on here. 
It is now 1400.  Onward to the train station.  We find the special window where foreigners buy train tickets.  We are behind a mixed race couple (from Britain?) who trying to get to Goa.  Nothing available.  Then we get up to the window.  Tickets to Mumbai or Kalyan on Sat aft?  Nothing available.  We suggest to the couple that they try to get to Goa on a bus.  We do the same in our quest, and walk the short distance to the main bus terminal.  But it turns out that the buses for our direction leave from Swargate, which is way across town (well, maybe only 4 km away, but the old town lies in between), and it is not easy to get there.
A 120 R rickshaw finally gets us there.  The Swargate station has plenty of fruit sellers and merchants of all kinds surrounding the station - the antithesis of Koregaon Park. We discover that there is a Volvo bus to Thane (in between Kalyan and Mumbai, about 35 km north of Mumbai) and we try to buy tickets.  For this we need to go around the corner (do you see a pattern here?).  We do and finally buy tickets for 1500 on Sat. 
We now have the rest of the afternoon to wander Pune.  We are in a market area, hungry and thirsty.  First, we buy some bananas.  Up the street is a fruit juice vendor.  The watermelon juice looks inviting and the guy behind the street side counter seems clean and sanitary. We get two glasses.  Yum. Then, two more.
We are now walking north and east, through the old town, and generally toward the Ohel David Synagogue.  It is a long walk.  We pass a sign for some food.  The sign includes "Beef Roll 45."  No idea what a beef roll is, but the idea of selling beef is so unusual, that we take a picture.  We have been in India for 30 days, and this is the first mention of beef as a food.  McDonalds was practically evicted from India because of a rumor that they were using beef fat to cook their fries.  This violates a serious taboo.  But this eatery, judging by the clientele, must be a Muslim place.  We weren't hungry, and never got a chance to buy one, to see what a beef roll actually was.  Up the street, several goats under the watchful eyes of their minder nibble on the meager blades of urban grass. Carpe diem.
We seems to have ended up in the center of the metalworkers, lighting dealers, and office paper vendors. Around the corner was "Thothful Technologies" [sic].  No idea what thothful tech might be.
Another km or so, and lo and behold, we are at Ohel David Synagogue.  It is 1730.  The guard at the gate has to check us out, but eventually we are inside and being shown around.   The Torahs are Sephardic style, housed inside a round case.  There are a few prayer books which are Hebrew on one page and Marati translation on the opposite page.  We are told that Friday night services are at 1900, but they might start at 1830.  We indicate that we will be back tomorrow.
It is now dark, at 1800.  We get a rickshaw back to the hotel. 
Next to the hotel is an indoor/outdoor restaurant named The Yogi Tree.   At 2015 we go down and take an outdoor table.  The menu devotes a page to their scrupulous handling of food items, most organic. Probably the safest place in India to eat a raw salad. Carol orders a dish called Yogi's Muesli (140 R), with rice, yogurt, fruit, nuts and muesli(!), and a glass of BCC juice (beet, cauliflower, carrot) (100 R).  Mike gets a bowl of Russian soup (120 R).  It is so good that he orders another bowl of soup, this time, Onion au Gratin (120 R).  A very pleasant place.
Back to our rooms.  As we are getting close to the end of the trip, and spending a little more on our lodging, the TVs are receiving more channels.  So we watch for a while.  Then to bed.  

Wed 10 Dec Aurangabad Ellora Caves

Wed 10 Dec Aurangabad Ellora Caves
Up and going fairly early.  There was a Volvo bus leaving from Manmandir tomorrow at 6 am, but it is now sold out (shoulda purchased yesterday).  Downstairs at the attached restaurant we grab a quick breakfast of masala omelets (not the greatest-overcooked and oversalted; Mike leaves most of his). A gecko is also visiting the restaurant. It takes several waiters and a broom to shoo it. Then a quick rickshaw to the bus stand, where a bus is leaving for Ellora Caves.  64 R for the two of us.
The journey today is much shorter than yesterday's trip to Ajanta, just around 30km. We arrive at Ellora a little after 1000.  The Ellora complex includes 34 caves (sponsored by Buddhist, Hindu and Jain traders on the Indian spice route and various and sundry dynasties). The caves run more or less north-south, with access from a road plied by tour busses, private vehicles, auto-rickshaws, and foolish pedestrians (us).  And flies.
Cave 16, the most famous, is right in front of us as we start our visit.  We decide to be perverse and go to caves 30-34 first, waaaay to the north.  So we walk along a boring road, with cars and buses passing, until we get to a parking lot.  We weren't the only ones with this idea.  Turns out lots of folks do 30-34 first, and with good reason. These are the Jain group of caves (9th-10th C. CE), very nice caves indeed, with 33 and 32 being two story caves. We are taken in by a gentleman who has a prodigious torch (flashlight).  He shines his light and we look and photograph.  Cave 32 has wonderful paintings in very good condition, including a beautiful serene Buddha.  The deep shades of red, blue and green are striking.  We tip at the end.  Outside Cave 32, a wonderful naturalistic elephant statue (not Ganesh, just a four-legged beast) towers above viewers. Caves 31 and 30 are less spectacular.
A walk through the hills takes us to Cave 29.  This one has multiple carvings. There are carved beings with multiple arms (or heads). Carol spots the four Aussies from our bus trip but isn't close enough to ask them if they traveled on a different, better bus from Indore.
Caves 29 and 28, both Hindu, are very close, but are separated by a deep creek.  The trail across is blocked, so we do the sensible thing and hire a rickshaw for 80 R to take us to the parking lot for Cave 21.  There we walk across to Cave 28, and backtrack, cave by cave, to 21, and then to 17.
It is now 1300.  Time to tackle Cave 16, the Kailash temple. Its construction started in the mid-8th C and went on for 100 years and several dynasties to produce a representation of Mount Kailasha, Shiva's Himalayan dwelling. It is bigger, more elaborate, more full of carvings, more MORE than the other caves. Carol's feeling is TOO MUCH, TOO MUCH. This "cave" is actually a complete three story temple carved out of the rock, as much a "cave" as the Lalibela churches. A frieze of athletic dancers (devis?) on the outside; one swings a foot behind an upraised arm. A fine potbellied Ganesh where you remove your shoes.  To Kailash the student and tour groups all come, cellphones or elaborate cameras in hand, to get photographed and snap selfies. Of course, the school chaperones and tour guides must take group photos. And families want to take photos of (or with) this couple of old foreigners. Mike snaps a photo of Carol with some female students in spectacular clothing - long loose dresses covering tight pants. Are they Muslim or Jain or something else?
It is now 1330.  We are getting exhausted, with 15 caves to go.  The guidebook says Cave 15 is the best of the remaining group, so we climb a long group of stairs and go in.  A caretaker with a good flashlight gives us a nice tour, with more explanation of this Buddhist/ Hindu structure and its art than we can fathom.  Mike rewards him with a skimpy 10 R tip.  But there are other ways to do favors. The caretaker has 10 $1 bills ("from his sister in the US" - sure they are! Probably tips from other, more generous USD-carrying tourists).  The money changers don't like $1 bills. So the gentleman asks for our help. Mike gives him 600 R in small bills for the $10 USD, albeit reluctantly. We also will not be able to exchange these American ones in India, nor will we hand them out with abandon.
Caves 1 - 14 are probably filled with lots of goodies, but it is 1400. We are really tired, hot, and sick of the flies. Time to walk out.  On the way we pass a large group of tussling and shrieking monkeys. Carol decides to toss her naan leftovers to them. One bandito snatches it from her hands and makes off like lightening.
A bus will come along eventually, but right now there is a waiting jeep with a young driver, his helper, and two female passengers.  The kid behind the wheel offers us a 40 R ride to the Aurangabad bus stand.  Sure, we say, and hop in.  He is trolling the local hamlets en route to earn some money as ersatz transport, and soon he is full. REALLY full, with men crouched in the back of the jeep.
Finally we enter Aurangabad.  We pass a money changer and hop off before we get to the bus stand.  Good judgment, because this agent is giving 61 R to the dollar - the best exchange rate of the entire trip.  We change $300, receiving only R 500 bills.  These funds should be enough for the entire rest of the trip.
We think we are now north of the bus stand, fairly near the old town.  We check the position of the sun. Wrong again! We are south, having come from Ellora (north of town) back into town on the southwesterly road.  Go figure!  Because we cannot get our bearings we take a 20 R rickshaw ride to the bus stand.  Here we buy tickets to Pune for tomorrow on the 7 am Volvo bus. 1250 R for two tickets.  Mission accomplished.
According to our books, there is an internet café to the southeast.  The next rickshaw guy sort of figures out the desired location.  We get out in a much spiffier part of town, and find 4 different internet cafes all along one street.  There is also a vendor of cane juice for refreshment.
We go into the one internet place listed in the guidebook and start posting.  Is it the best one?  Probably not, but it was the one listed.  While Carol chugs away at the computer, Mike wanders around trying to solve the change problem.  Earlier, he had lots of small denomination bills, but he has spent them all. Now he has only the 500 R notes.  500 R is just $8.33 US, but this is an impossibly large denomination bill for most street vendors.  A store is willing to take a 500 R bill for a soda, and give change, so the problem is solved.
Back at the internet, Mike strikes up a conversation with a fellow who is Sikh, and whose family had to escape Pakistan at the time of the great migrations in 1947.  This guy has traveled through much of Europe, and now is here in Aurangabad working at an IT job.  We tell him about the several Sikh gurdwaras in Atlanta, including one near our house.
This part of town is a mixed neighborhood: lots of Muslims, but also Sikhs and other minorities.  Possibly it is also the site of a lot of schools, because much of the internet traffic seems to be school related.
It is now dark.  We are less than a km from Tandoor, a  recommended non-veg restaurant (meat!).  Makes sense: non-veg restaurants are often in Muslim neighborhoods.  We walk down a BUSY road in the dark.  We don't see it so we ask around. Just walk on a bit.  We walk across the street from a busy and attractive veg snack and sweet shop (tempting!). After inquiring of pedestrians and shopkeepers, we finally find Tandoor.
The waiters try to tempt us with local wines (yes, Maharashtra has vineyards). We order tandoor chicken (of course), a cauliflower roast with dipping sauce, a spinach dish and a large beer.  Tasty, but relatively expensive.
At Tandoor we spot the young Swiss couple we had chatted with at Ellora.  Same guidebook, same ideas, same itinerary, and pretty much an order of the same food and drink. Their question: Having seen today's caves, should they also take a day to visit Ajanta? Our reply: YES, YES.
We start to walk back and find a small grocery store with non-Indian customers among the shoppers.  This neighborhood  (which turns out to be near the railway station) has several tourist guesthouses and other lodging. Not surprisingly, the grocery store stocks a wider variety of goods than we have seen at comparable outlets. Carol even buys a new toothbrush. Then, a quick rickshaw back to the hotel.  We ask for a wakeup call at 0530.  Fine with the front desk.
Up to the room for packing, TV (large choice of channels) and sleep.