sunset, sunrise

varkala, india

if one were to capture the atmosphere of a renaissance fair or a less-axe body spray infested portion of the jersey shore, add religious fervor and a rival to the statue of liberty, and then fill the whole thing with indians, you would have kanyakumari. kanye-east, as i like to call it, is found at the very southern tip of the indian subcontinent. the bay of bengal and the arabian sea kiss opposite cheeks of the indian ocean at this point and slightly to the east, no more than a football field from shore, are two miniature islands. on one is found a pair of temples dedicated to the nineteenth century ascetic vivekananda, who spent a few years meditating on these rocks. a couple first downs away is an island with a 133-foot tall statue dedicated to the tamil poet, thiruvalluvar. for twenty rupees, i spent a fair amount of the afternoon shuttling between these two and the lookout point nearby.

architecturally impressive? sure. a worthwhile diversion on a monday? you bet. mindblowing? not quite. i'm sure that were i armed with a greater knowledge of the namesakes for these monuments, i would have a greater appreciation for the monuments themselves. but i found a way to make the destination worth the journey even if i wasn't completely into the subjects commemorated.

anyone can watch a sunset on a beach, but today had to be the first time i'd seen a sunrise over the ocean when i wasn't still celebrating from the night before. i set my alarm for five and left hotel loshi alone, only to join what seemed to be a mass that grew like congealing drops of dew on a leaf. i walked with a growing throng of sadhus and hindu devotees along the main road, rounded the kumari amman temple to join even more, and finally took a spot on the concrete ghat steps that grew denser with early risers. 5:30, i bought myself a chai in a small paper cup and watched more and more people enter, then looked below to see the families and small groups stepping into the mild surf. still dark.

there was no cheering when the sun came into view just beyond the vivekananda temple. there were touts offering their photo services or small necklaces or maps of india and some people appeared absorbed in their minor conversations. but to sit on the ghat steps with a multitude that would be an impressive crowd at any high school playoff soccer game was special. to realize that it was for no greater occasion than to welcome the start of another day: that justified the trip alone. so primitive, so pagan, so indian. if only all morning alarms could evoke so much.

tally from 44-hour train ride
cups of chai: 4
apples: 2
bags of masala potato chips: 2
bananas: 3
disappointing egg biriyanis: 1
thoroughly disappointing egg biriyanis: 1
stale chapatis to accompany that spiced, relatively bland sauce: 3
70 rupee bags of pistachios: 1 (there would have been more had i found them)
cups of coffee: 2
liters of mineral water: 5
issues of economist: 1 (thank you chennai newstand!)
times i was asked if i was married: 3
" " " " why not: 3
times a grown man (older than me, but not by much) asked me if it was true that americans were very sexual people, but asked it in such a way (including whispered, hushed tone) that it felt like he was my 12-year old younger brother: 1
times this has happened before: dozens
pills of cipro taken: 2 (mahatma's revenge had terrible timing)