Madurai

After our time in Kanyakumari we went to Madurai. It's about 200 km north of Kanyakumari. It's a big city (1.19 million). The main draw there is a large temple complex. We stayed in a pretty nice hotel. The streets of Madurai were teeming with people and activity. My mother didn't enjoy it all that much so we only stayed there for two nights (10-12 of Jan.).

On the night of the 11th my mom and I were out and about walking through the streets of Madurai. It was maybe 7:30 pm and it was very obvious that we were mother and son. But this maternal connection didn't deter my would be salesman.

An elderly man, approached me. He looked sort of like a dirty old grandfather. The kind of grandpa that tells you dirty jokes and slips you a glass of wine when you're 10. He said something along the lines of:

“Hello! Mmmblah blah mm sir, you like?”

I said:

“What?” He repeated himself. This time I caught a few more words:

“Hello! Mmmblah blah grass, good, very good, sir, you like?” Although I now got the gist of his proposition I was still lost.

“No, no, no grass. Thank you though, nani.” As I was standing by one of the many cows plopped down in the middle of a field that had inconveniently been turned into a street, I wondered if perhaps I was supposed to buy some grass from this old man and offer it to the cows as a sort of sacramental spiritual thing.

He must have seen my train of though because he said:

“No, no good sir! Blah blah hashish! Very good mary wanna! Good grass! Mumble mumble.”

My mind went blank. Here I was thousands if not millions of miles away from home and I was being confronted by a drug dealer. Oh no! I searched frantically through my mind. What did lonely planet say about dealing with drug dealers? What was I supposed to say? Should I show him the whites of my eyes as a symbol of his dominance over me? Should I kiss his feet?

I whipped out my Lonely Planet South India guide. Flying to the index I looked up drug dealer. Damn. Nothing. But wait, there were two entries under drugs. I went to the first one page 179 and began to read frantically. It was about Goa and the penalties around the use of drugs. You could spend up to 10 years in prison. Shit. I flew to the other listing page 475. It reiterated what the Goa listing had said. I was frantic.

“No! Master, sahib, mister, OM, my guru! I don't wanna mary wanna! I don't wanna hashish,” I kissed his feet imploringly! “Please don't drug deal me! Oh great drug dealer.” The old man looked slightly scared. No! I don't want him to be scared. That could make him vicious.

“I mean yes I would love some Mary wanna, oh great dealer,” I said. “Meet me in that alley in ten minutes and I will gladly pay you any sum mary wanna (my reasoning here was the in the alley my superior sense of hearing and my unique ability to use echo location would give me the upper hand in a fight)!” The old man broke into a grin,

“Ah, you wanna boy massage,” he leered. “I give you boy massage!”

Shit. No dice. This man seemed determined to give me either drugs or a massage. Neither, of which I wanted.