I’ve been in India less than 36 hours before my dear friend Mithra ditched me.  “I’m going to see some relatives today,” she announced.  “I got you a driver and a tour guide to show you around.  Enjoy and don’t get killed.”

And just like that Mithra was off like the wind.

Nothing freaks me out more than getting lost in a strange city, so when the driver and tour guide showed up, I made it abundantly clear I needed a game plan and itinerary for the day.

“I think we’ll go South,” said my oh-so experienced guide Kala.  And then she vaguely left if at that.  “South Pole?” I asked.  “South America … South Dakota???”

So we started driving for points unknown.  (And mercifully we were headed south … otherwise I would have assumed she was taking me out in to the tropics to kill me.)  Turns out once you get out of the city, there are temples galore.

Statues and sculptures and shrines, oh my!

And with it being Sunday … there were tourists upon tourists seeing the same sights.  Little did I know, I would be another tourist attraction.  Anyone with blonde hair stands out in a crowd in India.  And today, I was the only one.  Apparently within a 50 kilometer radius.  People would walk right up to me and stare … not in a rude way, mind you.  But more in a what-the-hell-is-a-white-boy-doing-at-these-temples-in-the-middle-of-nowhere sort of way.

Just driving to the temples was an adventure.  We’d weave our way through the teeniest villages (or as our tour guide would call them “WILL-ages”).  Monkeys would leap from roof to roof, occasionally using a sacred cow (or two or ten) as a springboard.  Apparently, “open-air peeing” is a national sport, since I spotted guys urinating with wild abandon.  And I’ve never been so thankful for Velcro in my whole life when some grabby, pickpocketing gypsies accosted me.  (Don’t worry … I was on to them within the first ten seconds.)

Kala asked me several times how I was doing.  Before I could answer she’d launch into another insightful lesson on the history of Pallava Kings who shaped the once-drab stone structures in to monolithic works of art.  I took a lot of pictures, but if you’ve seen one monolith, you’ve seen ‘em all.  And according to her, Indians like their gods and goddesses.  And elephants.  Lots of elephant themed-statues.  Sometimes it’s like a double-bonus point score and you get a god with an elephant head.  That must be like going to Disneyland for Indians.

We spent the entire day off the grid … and off the beaten path.  We bought fresh mangos and drank coconut milk.  The whole things was surreal — minus lunch at this clandestine four-star resort that only tour guides are aware of.   It’s like dining at the Secret Society of Sambar.  We went from relative squalor to Shangri-La within one square mile.

Of course, I found out later that Mithra just wanted to take an extended nap.  Good thing she had enough sense to send me out to see a part of India most folks never get to see.  Unless they get ditched by their friend.