Mangalore, India - March 14th

After all that bitchin’ and moanin’ from the passengers, we were on the bus by 8:15 a.m., the time we were actually supposed to gather in the Casino Lounge, so we’re way ahead of schedule.  

We met our guide, Afshana, a college graduate, who would take us on the Mangalore City Tour which included a visit to Gokarnatha Temple, St. Aloysius Chapel (part of Afshana’s alma mater, St. Aloysius College) and a cashew factory.  

India is comprised of 30 states and boasts 97% literacy among its people.  Seventy-five percent of India’s coffee and cashew export go out of Mangalore which lies on the southwestern area of India on the Arabian Sea.  Hinduism is practiced among 85% of Indians, Islam 12% and Christianity 4%.  India gained its independence from the British in 1947.  

Mangalore holds the title of the eighth cleanest city in India.  I’m not quite sure how this is measured but I don’t want to think about how unsanitary the lower-ranked cities must be. 

Here in Mangalore, December to February are typically the most pleasant, with an average temperature ranging from 66 degrees F to 86 degrees F.  March to May is rather hot, and temperatures can exceed 100 degrees F.  It was hot and humid but not what we previously experienced.   

Tulu is the language of a majority of Mangalore’s citizens and the local currency is Indian Rupees.  We were told not to bother to exchange our dollars because our money was good everywhere.  

Built in 1912 by Narayan Guru the Gokarnatha Temple is dedicated to Shiva.  The marble interior contains silver-lined icons of Shiva and other Hindu divinities such as Vishnu and Genesha. 

Hinduism is very complicated as far as I’m concerned so if you’re at all interested in learning about all its different gods, you’ll probably spend a lifetime doing so. I’m really not that interested and couldn’t take enough notes on our short visit to make any sense so I didn’t.

The outside of the Temple was quite impressive with marble floors and lots of icons and figures.  We were instructed to remove our shoes and we knew about this before the tour so most of us wore socks. 

Later on, in the Temple, a woman from our ship but on another tour, was seen walking around the Temple with her shoes in hand.  She was asked to leave and, at first, she refused to do so saying that she wasn’t going to leave her shoes outside so they could be stolen.  Carrying shoes into the Temple is as wrong as wearing shoes therein.  The inappropriately way this woman behaved, I would’ve thought she was wearing Christian Louboutin stilettos.  

(I will never understand some people.  If you are even semi-conscious during this world tour, you would hear in the port lecturer’s talks (replayed on the cabin’s tv if you can’t make it to the live lecture, or in the paperwork provided by Princess in their port guides or tour order form) the various dress requirements and protocols expected in mosques, temples, and the like.  As far as I’m concerned, I’m in their country and if I wish to visit one of these places, then I will behave and dress accordingly.  If you don’t want to abide by their rules, stay on the ship or do something else.  End of story.)

Afshana took us to the various points of interest on the outside of the Temple and I asked her whether the pleasant-sounding chanting I heard was live or recorded music.  It was recorded music that could be heard all around the Temple grounds.  Later, I learned that the other music resembling pop music to my ears being broadcast was actually religious songs of praise and worship. 

There were beautiful statues of the various gods and Afshana described the myths and beliefs associated with each and their significance in Hinduism.  Again, it’s all very complicated and I’ll keep my belief system to one God – it makes life much simpler that way.   

On that note, what was particularly interesting was the story about a man (and I’m not sure if this was Narayan Guru who built this Temple) who encouraged the notion of One God/One Caste/One Religion.  There’s even a section in the Temple dedicated to him which contains a bust of this gentleman.  When asked how this meshes with the notion of many gods, Afshana simply said that this idea –OneGod/One Caste/One Religion – is but one sect of the Hindu religion and is, therefore, included in this Temple.  

There was lots of activity going on in the Temple early on Monday morning which was divided into different sections, each apparently led by a different priest.  Although signs prohibited the use of any cameras inside the Temple, Afshana obtained the consent of the “main” priest and photos were permitted inside and outside. 

At the first “altar” we approached, a priest was seemingly blessing people in a procession and burning little pieces of paper.  Unlike the Temples in Hong Kong, I didn’t smell any incense – perhaps that’s more of a Buddhist thing.  At the next “altar,” there was another priest sitting on the floor who was making circle with what looked like spices and I’m sure he was about to conduct some other ritual.  At the next “altar,” yet another priest seemed to be blessing people. 

Afshana then made a stop at the wedding reception area outside the Temple and explained that the time of weddings, whether arranged or for love are, very often,  based on horoscopes.   

Our next stop was the renowned St. Aloysius Chapel which was built by Italian Jesuit missionaries, and, according to our port guide, “you’ll stand in awe before hand-painted murals so glorious they rival those of the Sistine Chapel.”  They did not disappoint.  No photos were allowed and we listened to a docent inside the Chapel who gave us some information.   The Chapel sits on the grounds of St. Aloysius College (built in 1882), from which Afshana graduated four years ago. 

There are two types of paintings in the Chapel:  fresco on plaster and oil on canvas.  What is truly amazing is that all the paintings were done by a single Jesuit, Br. Antony Moscheni S.J., who came from Italy to Mangalore in 1899 and finished the painting of the Chapel in little more than two years.  

The ceiling depicts the life of Aloysius Gonzaga to whom this College and Chapel is dedicated.  The upper arches depict the saints.  The sloping portion of the ceiling is dedicated to the Apostles.  

Leaving the Chapel on our way to the cashew factory, we drove through the city and, I have to say, I was not particularly impressed.  Everything looked quite old, nothing was new and shiny, lots of men just milling around with, what looked like, nothing else to do.  We did see some cows roaming about and, of course, one of the woman in the bus lamented the fact they “didn’t have anything to eat.”  (The cows, not her and her husband.)

The cashew factory was an eye-opener for a few reasons.  It a very time-consuming process from the time the cashew is removed from the fruit to the time we actually buy larges jars of them in Costco.  And I’ll never complain about the price again.  There are six steps in the processing from drying, peeling, roasting, etc., etc.  We were also explained why cashews are never served in their shell.  The seed’s lining actually contains a fluid called Urishiol, and is not edible until a roasting process removes the caustic oil it contains.  

At this particular factory, and I’m guessing at others as well, women make up 95% of the work force.  Their salary is $3-4 per day based on the kilos processed.  The women, however, did not look distressed or overwhelmed.  Their work is not hard but tedious, in my opinion.  

The upside of this factory (if there is an upside) is the free child care “facility” offered to mothers with children from 5 months to 5 years of age.   There were only two adult women caring for over a dozen little ones who stood looking at us through the bars of a gate that enclosed the lower-half of the doorways.  I took a picture of the wall outside the day care room because it was colorful and happy, very different from the rest of the factory facility.  I just couldn’t take pictures of the beautiful children behind those gates who stood there looking at us with blank stares; to me, they seemed to be “trapped” with only a dismal future to look forward to.  None of them returned our smiles while we stood there, but when we turned to leave, the children became animated and excited.  Rather than capturing the sadness I initially perceived in their faces, I’ve chosen to remember the moment when their faces lit up, smiled and waved good-bye.  

We were given the opportunity to buy cashews and I bought a bag for a good friend back home whose only guilty pleasure is cashews.   

Upon returning to the bus, a woman got back off the bus and brought a bag of candy back to the children.  Not sure they really needed candy, but it might have been a treat for them and a nice gesture on the part of the lady.  

On the way back to the ship, Afshana demonstrated to us how a sari is worn by showing us the amount of material is needed and opining that the sari is very “sexy” because so much skin is uncovered.  I’m glad we weren’t given a test afterwards because I think we would’ve have gotten tangled up in the yards and yards of silk that goes into this lovely piece of clothing. 

Although our tour order form warned that there are no professionally trained guides but that our tours would be conducted by local English-speaking students, we were very lucky to have Afshana.  She was well spoken, obviously very well educated and extremely informative. 

I’m sure I could spend the next several years learning about India and how it all works.  Clearly, things are done very differently than in the States.  I’m not sure if people are resigned to their stations in life, whether the caste system still exists, or whether people are simply lazy with no ambition.  I have no idea whether all the Indian people have opportunities; I’m guessing not.  Contrast India with America and all its opportunities.  I have no patience for those in my country who moan about this or that, demand $15 an hour for punching pictures on a cash register or those who are happy to accept any paltry amount from the government rather than bettering themselves through education.  The ladies at the cashew factory clearly have no choice.  As far as I’m concerned, every American has options.   

  

Although we now have 10-year Visas for India, I can’t imagine returning here unless on another world cruise.  It was interesting to see, the people we encountered were all very nice, but it’s not my cup of tea.  Some of our fellow-passengers opted to take a land tour to the Taj Mahal and will be returning to the ship in four days.  

Michael’s Observations:   Zoning and planning regulations apparently do not exist in Mangalore.  While traveling, I witnessed piles of garbage right next to another home or business.  What really amazed me was the apparently unfinished upper levels of buildings.  I’m guessing that when a home or commercial building is planned, they pour concrete to multiple levels hoping, at some point, to finish those off.  Another interesting observation was the use of just raw trunks or stems holding up construction.  Not quite up to the level of bamboo scaffolding we witness in Hong Kong, but it was an amazing sight.  Zoning and planning regulations aside, clearly these are intelligent people and probably the reason why so much of our technological telephone help is outsourced to this country.  I’m not sure I’d ever want to come back though.