As a child in a basket through a tropical country (3).

Lazy

Mysore is a beautiful, clean city with much green and many palaces. Finding a hotel, however, was difficult. "Let us put up the tent" we heard from the basket, "there at that camping", pointing at a group of nomad's tents at the city gate. No, children do not make the problems when travelling. The first week she was apathetic; she was a little upset by the heat and the strange food. By sitting in the basket she became lazy, also in the city she did not want to walk. Before we realised it she beckoned a bicycle-rickshaw! It was a complete party, when there appeared to be horse- or ox "taxis"?
"Is that our temple?" Idhuna asked when she saw the sculptured entrance gates, rising above the houses. We had expected that with a 4-year old, we would hardly be able to visit temples, but it turned out to be different, it was often impossible to drag her away from them.
At the entrance stood a temple elephant, she gave him a coin in his trunk, which he gave to his boss, after that he held his trunk over Idhuna's head to blow the blessings over Idhuna's blond hair. Inside the gate, in the temple court, the monkeys were running around, used to being fed they circled around us. Squirrels rushed over the walls. In the large pond where the pious Hindus purify themselves before they enter the sanctuary, shoals of fish were swimming which jostle for the food from Idhuna's little hands. Inside the cool and dirty column hall she was running around enthusiastically, picking her garland into pieces. "Look all small figures of Nandi" - small statues of god Shiva's riding animal - every statue was decorated. The reminder she put down for Ganesha the god with the elephant head, just as with the Indian children, he was also her favourite. A Brahman priest watched smilingly.

Jungle path

With a lot of trouble and many inquiries we found the road, it was not mentioned on any map, but we did not want to go through the million-town Bangalore, and our daughter liked to cycle past wild animals. It was more like a path through the jungle with elephants and monkeys being the main inhabitants. There was no traffic anymore, people proceeded on foot or on horseback. The few who live there, watched us silently, as if we were ghosts. Yet we had a fellow cyclist, a man, his, wife, veiled in black, on the back of his bike and two little daughters on the crossbar.
"They have to go to the bus" he said "which leaves for Anchetty a few hours cycling further away". Besides, they walked more than that they cycled, because the slopes, which ran through dry riverbeds, were so steep, full of stones, holes and loose sand. Idhuna also had to walk short distances, first grumbling, then the movements made her fit apparently, and she chattered endlessly, searching for elephants. At a clear brook, in the midst of the silent nature, she could deliciously splash and relax, because people, well-meant, who caressed and petted her were the greatest burden for her. A goat shepherd came along and she may play with the little goats; now it was her turn to caress.
In the afternoon we arrived in Anchetty. There was a market, everybody sat with his merchandise in the street, vegetables, fruit, baskets, fabric and of course fortune-tellers, with their green little parrots in cages, were not missing. As usual on our arrival, everybody crowded around us.
"People", Idhuna shouted, while bowing out of the basket "go back, your market is running empty".

Poop vases

At about 4 o'clock in the morning we mostly were awakened by very loud music from the temples, monotonous droning alternating with beautiful melodies. "It's a bad month now", the trustee told us yawning, while he had just got up from his sleeping mat and opened the door of the rest house, "then we have to pray a lot". At dawn, in the street everything slowly came to life, here or there on the pavement, an individual was still asleep like a corps wrapped up in a sheet. Much sweeping went on and the women decorated their pavement by sanding it with white powder in beautiful geometric figures. Some put flowers in small balls of cow dung. "Poop vases" was the comment from the basket.
On the peddling carts fragrant incense sticks were burning, all the teahouses were open for a breakfast of idli's - the steamed rice cookies - and other goodies. Everywhere you saw people busy with the first morning duty of a Hindu: to defecate himself. In cities, the homeless and slum dwellers did this on the pavement, outside here and there in the fields and in the roadside. Outside the village or city in the neighbourhood of some water, you definitely should not get off your bike.
Cycling in the cool morning is pleasant. Often we had company from fellow cyclists on the way to their work. Lively chattering they tried to keep up with us. Idhuna enjoyed it, played hide and seek behind her umbrella or shouted, "bell, bell!", which in English meant the same: ding-dong, ding-dong.