FEBRUARY 2015 • `150 • VOL. 3
ISSUE 8
Calypso and Callaloo in TRINIDAD AND TOBAGO
PHILADELPHIA Butchers, bakers, and candlestick makers
in Sw Ka s e Al et S hmir pi n o e W m ethi ngs h ee ls
PARIS The Lizard King Lives On
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se e e Ch � g n ia s ki rea stalg wis B � S o fN l� o a n A Ti eng B f rom
February 2015
CONTENTS
Volume
3
Issue
8
N A T I O N A L G E O G R A P H I C T R AV E L L E R I N D I A
XX
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Young farmers at Rigi Mountain in the Swiss Alps. Xxxxxxxx
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BREAKING CHEESE
UNTIL THE COWS COME HOME
Making kalari and experiencing the mountains with the wandering Gujjars of Kashmir BY ADITYA RAGHAVAN
An obsession with cheesemaking lives on in a Swiss Alpine hut
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COMING OF AGE
CHEESE TO PLEASE
SWEET SOMETHINGS
A trip down memory lane in the heart of Gujarat’s dairy industry
Where to score the country’s finest cheese
Chhanar mishti is a fiercely traditional part of Bengal’s cuisine
BY NILOUFER VENKATRAMAN
BY KARANJEET KAUR ILLUSTRATIONS: BY TWO DESIGN
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PHILLY ORIGINALS
A WINTER’S TALE
New entrepreneurs are revitalising the American city
A horse-drawn sleigh ride through northwestern China’s Altay Mountains
Journeys
BY LAUREN McCUTCHEON PHOTOGRAPHS BY CATHERINE KARNOW
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NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC TRAVELLER INDIA | FEBRUARY 2015
BY MARK JENKINS
BY NEHA SUMITRAN
BY ARUNDHATI RAY PHOTOGRAPHS BY LOPAMUDRA TALUKDAR
MEDIACOLOR’S / ALAMY/INDIAPICTURE (KIDS), MARTIN BRIGDALE/GETTY IMAGES (CHEESE)
In Focus
FEBRUARY 2015 • `150 • VOL. 3
ISSUE 8
On The Cover The platter of cheese from around the world announces the collection of delectable stories in this Taste of Travel Cheese Special. There is much to nibble on, from cheesy childhood memories to the instant gratification offered by Bengal’s chhanar mishti, and the notes of green pastures evident in traditionally crafted cheese on a Swiss mountaintop.
20 Editor’s Note 22 Inbox 134 Big Shot 135 Inspire 144 Travel Quiz
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Voices
38 Detour
Taste of Travel
24 Tread Softly
Turtuk, Ladakh’s apricotscented oasis
Driven around the bend on a road trip in Italy
Bengaluru’s no-frills military hotels 64 South Korea lingers in the mind and on the palate 70 The best Valencian paella comes from a family’s hearth
48 Dark Tourism
Smart Traveller
Visiting eminent Parisians who reside six feet under
71 Money Manager
Dining on difference is a treat for the curious traveller
52 The Landmark
Planning a holiday to Port of Spain, Trinidad and Tobago
Navigate
56 Postcard
Local Flavour
Greetings from Penang Dharavi biennale
Get Going
57 Family Time
120 Active Break
In and around London, for all ages
An action-packed road trip through New South Wales
58 Heritage Wonders
126 Adventure
Athens’s marbled maidens strike a pose
Riding Nicaragua’s youngest volcano, Cerro Negro
Broken beer bottles endanger green spaces and the people who visit them
26 Far Corners Soldiers, found but lost, in Sikkim’s Nathang Valley
28 Slow Travel
30 Where to get your gelato
licks in Rome 32 Find out why Bhojpuri stars are singing about litti chokha 34 In a Taipei night market, a gourmand’s nose leads him to a local delicacy
42 Road Trip
Kumbhalgarh’s forgotten fort
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Short Breaks
128 From Bengaluru Visit Kumbakonam for its sacred trails and fine filter coffee
Stay
132 A Jodhpur retreat’s verdure could inspire poets 133 Time flows with a dreamy languor at this Travancore resort
76 Checking In Chicago hotels with character
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february 2015 | national Geographic Traveller INDIA
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photo courtesy: Tourism Trinidad & Tobago (BIRD), Multi-bits/GETTY IMAGES (DISH), Krzysztof Dydynski/GETTY IMAGES (GRAVE), IP Cuisines/indiapicture (cover)
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Voices | slow travel biju sukumaran
A Moveable Feast
I Biju Sukumaran is a travel writer currently based in Barcelona, Spain.
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n my first year of living in China, with nonexistent language skills, only a few select restaurants were approachable to me. If an eatery had pictures on the menu, I was sold. But the most interesting places to my mind were the ones where Chinese characters marched down pages in indecipherable lines, where the same oldtimers sat at the same table year after year. Places like hotpot restaurants, where you get all the adventurous bits—brains, testicles, intestines and then some. When I finally mustered the courage to dine at these establishments, I would sit fumbling with the all-Chinese menu. I was often saved by other bilingual customers, who helped me order. With time, I learnt to eat at places that were previously inaccessible to outsiders like me who didn’t know the language. I evolved slowly. I’d walk into restaurants and glance at other patrons’ tables. I’d order by gesturing to another customer’s dish: “That one,” I’d say in childish Chinese. And if I was feeling particularly adventurous I’d slam my finger with false bravado on a random item, whose description I couldn’t read, and hope for the best. Luckily a number of organisations and companies are now bridging this gap between truly local food experiences and the surface-level dining available to tourists. My breakthrough came from Couchsurfing. Though it started as a free alternative to hostels, the online community has become much more, with hosts forming groups that make insider information available to travellers. We, a group of Couchsurfing friends, formed a foodie group to explore the city of Xiamen through food. Half of our crew consisted of native speakers and our first visit was an eye-opening trip to a back-
national Geographic Traveller INDIA | february 2015
street crab shop mentioned on a city food blog—a place I couldn’t possibly have found by myself, much less ordered at. In other countries I’ve also discovered the option of specialised tours. In Bogotá, Colombia, for instance, Mike’s Bogotá Bike Tours gave me a chance to cycle through the city and visit local markets, where Mike explained the startling array of exotic fruits native to the country—fruits I never knew existed. In Thailand, a Chiang Mai cooking school had me attempting pad thai and curry after a tour of the local market. And in Buenos Aires where underground dining is all the rage, a few supper clubs, like the Argentine Experience, are opening up to the public. Part cooking class, part exploratorium, it gave me a fun, hands-on way to learn about wine, cocktails, and local culinary customs. And though I like the explanations locals offer, I also think there is great charm—and excitement, nervousness, and luck—in stumbling around on your own to discover foods while travelling. You never quite know what you’ll get. In 2012, while living in China, I was lucky to be invited to a friend’s hometown in Longyan, Fujian Province for Chinese New Year. The fireworks in that town were so riotous, I could hardly hear or see through the smoke while walking in the streets. I was excited because I was going to witness my friend’s dad making Chinese eggplant—and eggplant in China is a glorious thing. I had sampled it everywhere in Xiamen, and it was always on my must-eat-dishes list in any new restaurant I visited. Now I was going to learn how to make it. The demo, however, was too fast for me, and it was impossible to figure out which of the similar mounds of white powder—salt, sugar, or MSG—was being used at each point. The dish itself was delicious; there is something ineffably enriching about eating with locals in their own home. Matching travellers with local families is exactly what companies like WithLocals try to do in Asia. Travellers tour locations, learn a traditional skill, or dine with a local family in their home. And in the West, companies like EatWith provide an accessible version of the supper club, where travellers mix with insiders who want to share their city through its food. Both ways of travel—the guided as well as the chaotic—offer their own distinct experiences. And blending a bit of both into one’s journey to a foreign land is a feast for any traveller.
lucas vallecillos/age fotostock/dinodia
Dining on difference is a treat for any traveller
Navigate | local flavour
Little Spheres, Hefty Cheers EARTHY AROMAS AND A SNACK THAT STICKS TO THE RIBS | By KAVITA KANAN CHANDRA
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ahendra Singh Dhoni served it to his Chennai Super Kings teammates. Aamir Khan raved about it on a trip to Patna. There are numerous Bhojpuri songs dedicated to it. For me however, litti chokha evokes childhood memories of chilly winter nights and earthy aromas wafting through the family garden. Littis are baked, wholewheat dough balls usually stuffed with spicy sattu (roasted Bengal gram flour). The fragrant filling includes spices like ajwain (carom), mangraila (nigella seed), garlic flakes, green chillies, ginger, amchoor (dried mango powder), and mustard oil. There are plain versions too, which are eaten with thickened milk or kheer. Chokha, the litti’s soul mate, is made with mashed, chargrilled potatoes, brinjals, and tomatoes. Accompaniments have now expanded from the
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ATLAS
Patna, Bihar
Once the staple meal of farm labourers, litti chokha is now Bihar’s favourite snack served at street stalls and swanky restaurants.
NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC TRAVELLER INDIA | FEBRUARY 2015
traditional chokha to coriander chutney, shredded green salad, stuffed red chilli pickle, and even chicken and mutton curries. For the people of Bihar, the simple snack has a solid association with the land they come from. In the 19th century, when the British took indentured labour from Bhojpur to countries around the world, litti travelled with them to Mauritius, Fiji, Suriname, South Africa, and the Caribbean: It continues to exist among the diaspora. My own fondest recollections of litti chokha are from the rare occasions when an obliging guest from Bihar would go the whole hog and slow cook it for us the traditional way, infusing the dough balls with a smoky flavour. Scrubbed clean with a napkin, they would be cracked open, drenched in piping hot ghee and served with the piquant chokha. We would devour them instantly.
Although I associate littis with frosty weather, it is an all-season, staple street-eat and popular fast food. From roadside vendors to residences and restaurants, virtually every town in Bihar, Jharkhand, and eastern Uttar Pradesh roasts (and boasts about) littis. It is low-cost, nutritious, portable, long-lasting, and filling: reasons why it is equally appealing to farmers, who carry this power-packed meal to their fields, and other locals, who routinely snack on it. WHERE? In Patna there is no dearth of street-side stalls selling litti chokha hot off an iron grill, heated over an earthen chulha. For an authentic sampling visit the 50-year-old Kotha Par Dukan near the railway station; for a delicious litti-mutton combo, head to the Bandar Bagicha Crossing. Patna’s citizens also recommend tucking in at the Mauryalok Shopping Complex.
february 2015 | national Geographic Traveller INDIA
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SONU KISHAN
Traditional litti chokha is a popular street food, delighting locals and stars alike.
Navigate | dark tourism
Grave Encounters Visiting eminent parisians who reside six feet under | By Sidharth Bhatia
Père-Lachaise (top), among the most visited cemeteries in Paris, is filled with elaborate tombs. Its illustrious residents include Vivant Denon (right), appointed the first director of the Louvre in 1802, who is commemorated in carved stone.
W
ith grey skies, a mild drizzle and a very slight nip in the air, it was perfect weather to visit a cemetery. And I was headed to Père-Lachaise in Paris’s 20th arrondissement, the largest cemetery inside the city’s precincts. The 110-acre grounds are the final resting place for thousands of Parisians, some of them extremely famous. There are “tombstone tourists” or taphophiles who visit cemeteries to look at epitaphs
48
and photograph elaborate sculptures. I wasn’t one of them and neither were the handful of people who got off at PèreLachaise Metro Station that Sunday morning. Following the signs, we all emerged into the dull morning, ready for some unusual sightseeing. Outside, at the newspaper kiosk, a bored man talking on his phone handed me a folded brochure even before I had finished saying, “une carte s’il vous plait (one card please)”. It
national Geographic Traveller INDIA | february 2015
ATLAS
Paris, France
Père-Lachaise Cemetery is named after Jesuit priest François de la Chaise, the confessor of King Louis XIV.
mikel bilbao/age fotostock/dinodia
costs just two euros, but is an invaluable guide if a visitor does not want to go round and round in circles trying to identify a grave, which could be hidden in some distant, obscure section of the sprawling estate. Though the place is serene and conducive to sauntering, looking at some remarkable graves with elaborate designs, I was in a hurry to finish the one task that I had on my mind from the moment I landed in Paris. All the other dignitaries could wait—I had to first go and pay my respects to James Douglas Morrison. Yes, the Jim Morrison, the bad boy lead vocalist of The Doors is buried in Division 6 of Père-Lachaise. Although Morrison’s grave is indeed there—a simple, unostentatious affair inscribed with his full name and dates of birth and death—it’s hardly his “resting” place. Devotees like me, who make the pilgrimage from across the world to look at, photograph, and even kiss the humble gravestone, do not allow the Lizard King his peace. Roses, drawings, graffiti, even his framed photographs, as well as some broken needles, indicate the love and respect the star, who died in Paris in 1971, continues to inspire in his fans. Cemetery authorities have now enclosed the tomb within barricades, no doubt under instruction from Morrison’s family members. This ensures that visitors remain at a respectful distance, but it hardly deters the truly enthusiastic and fanatic. The barricades too are full of locks, now a popular form of expressing love. On the day I went, senior citizens, young dudes, and tattooed women were
Navigate | dark tourism
my fellow gawkers, posing at convoluted angles to get a proper selfie. Despite the significant presence of Morrison’s fans, there is complete silence around. You cannot help feeling touched by a sense of solemnity, a far cry from the raucous life of the rockstar. After paying my respects at his shrine, I set out to see the graves of other well-known residents. There is a wide choice; the map has nearly 250 names that include composer Frédéric Chopin, glass designer René Lalique, post-Impressionist painter Georges Seurat, and jazz violinist Stéphane Grappelli. I focused on finding the personalities on my own small list. The first one was the famous chanteuse Édith Piaf, who charmed Paris in the 1930s and ’40s. With “La Vie En Rose” ringing in my ears, I started walking towards Division 97, and even though the map showed a fairly straight path, I lost my way. Since the cemetery is on an incline, it can be a fairly tiring walk. By now the sun was out, so it was hot too. I gave up the search for Édith Piaf and instead headed to
Division 94 close by, to trace the grave of Gertrude Stein. The American modernist writer of the early 20th century lived in Paris and ran the city’s most famous cultural salon on Saturday evenings, where authors like Ernest Hemingway and James Joyce would routinely drop by. Stein was a Jew, but the cemetery has no religious barriers; only the condition that the person should have lived and died in Paris. True to her own literary style, the grave is sparse and almost austere: Her tombstone is a block of granite with her name chiselled on it in golden letters. Her close friend and partner Alice B. Toklas is buried with her. After this sombre homage, all that was left for me was to seek out the tomb of the most famous wit of his time, Oscar Wilde. Would it reflect his flamboyant personality? Or would it also be modest, given that Wilde had such powerful detractors and served jail time, especially towards the end of his life? I was in for a surprise. It is
Oscar Wilde’s statue is covered in puckered lipstick marks. Marauders, vandals, and perhaps, admirers, have taken away chips of the stone as souvenirs
heartening to see that Wilde is commemorated with a marvellous monument made by the sculptor Jacob Epstein, who incorporated Egyptian and other influences into creating a winged creature, said to symbolise a messenger moving forward. It has been studied for hints of strong sexuality—the figure’s nakedness was a source of much controversy in 1914 when it was completed. The statue is covered in puckered lipstick marks. Marauders, vandals, and perhaps, admirers, have taken away chips of the stone as souvenirs, although authorities have now installed a glass barrier around it. I had heard that J.R.D. Tata too was buried at the cemetery but no map indicated the spot. However, I was satisfied with the visit to Oscar Wilde’s tomb, which capped a perfectly fruitful but tiring day. It also put me in the mood for a beer at a typical Parisian café nearby, where I wound up the day contemplating the mysteries of life, death, and everlasting fame.
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Bruno De Hogues/ Photolibrary/getty images (cemetery & reclining statue), superstock/dinodia (bust)
The cemetery (top left) is also Paris’s largest park and was designed by architect Alexandre-Théodore Brongniart, who took inspiration from English gardens; While rockstar Jim Morrison’s memorial (top right) is the most popular (this bust was stolen a few years ago), musician and actor Fernand Arbelot (bottom), whose last wish was to gaze at the face of his beloved for eternity, is one of the most poignant.
Navigate | postcard
Greetings From Penang the languid treats of the multicultural malaysian state
Go Now
Alley Galli Biennale
T
here’s no finer end to a day in Penang, Malaysia, than gathering poolside
Tip
at the Eastern and Oriental Hotel to watch the tropic sun drop into the Strait of Malacca. Drink to the dusk with a cold Tiger beer, a reward for exploring the tightly packed and steamy streets of the city’s preserved inner core—a 640-acre UNESCO World Heritage site known by its English colonial name, George Town. A white diamond glistening with the sweat of the exploited labourers who built it, the British imperial port prospered by trading Southeast Asia’s treasures of cinnamon, nutmeg, peppers, and silks. The same items are still for sale beneath the colonnaded arcades of “shophouses” built
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ATLAS
Penang, Malaysia
The Tropical Spice Garden in Penang’s Jalan Teluk Bahang neighbourhood, has a rainforest at the centre of the park, surrounded by exotic spice trees such as cinnamon, clove, and nutmeg.
by the Peranakan Chinese. Those enterprising Chinese merchants deftly minted money and a legacy—their ancestral tablets commingle with George Town’s Hindu, Christian, and Muslim holy sites. That same multicultural tradition can be tasted, too, in local dishes like koay teow thng, flat rice noodles and meat saturated in a clear soup, served at long, rough tables on the harbour docks, where stilted houses cluster on six adjoining jetties founded by ancient clans. Their descendants fish the sea until twilight, when their boats sail past a statue of Queen Victoria. Standing on a plinth, her majesty may look toward England, but her heart lies with Penang and the looming, purple night.
Remember to buy bottles of pickled fruit preserved in vinegar or brine, a Malaysian speciality. Visitors usually hone in on dabai, a kind of wild olive; mangosteen; breadfruit, that resembles a jackfruit; and the stinky southeast Asian delicacy, the durian.
national Geographic Traveller INDIA | february 2015
Mumbai’s most famous cultural export in recent years has been the neighbourhood of Dharavi, its entre preneurial energy extolled often in film, literature, and lengthy case studies by international business schools. A lively new festival hopes to celebrate this energy through artworks created by the communi ty’s residents, with the help of men tor artists. Organised by the NGO, Society for Nutrition, Education and Health Action (SNEHA), the biennale grew out of a similar 2012 initiative that included a “museum of health” without walls. The “artboxes”, or different projects, are arranged along four themes including health, recycling, and vitality. These include a puppet show developed in consonance with Delhi-based Ishara Puppet Theatre Trust; “Dharavi Cabinet of Curiosi ties”, a sort of scale model of the cramped living conditions of the area’s residents; a song about cities recorded with poet Jeet Thayil; “Priya’s Shakti” that addresses sexual violence via comics; and an impressive quilted map of domestic violence based on actual data (Alley Galli Biennale is from 15 Feb-7 Mar at various locations in Dharavi; MonFri 11 a.m.-6 p.m.; www.dharavibiennale.com. Walkthroughs, starting at The Colour Box on 90 Feet Road, will be conducted on weekends). —Karanjeet Kaur
PAUL WANG (illustration), Benita Fernando ©Dharavi Biennale, SNEHA (puppet)
By Andrew Nelson
DOWN MEMORY LANE IN THE HEART OF INDIA’S DAIRY INDUSTRY
THE ART OF CRAFTING CHHANAR MISHTI
CHEESE BREAKING E WITH TH F GUJJARS O M A PAHALG
E RE TH HE E ’S W COR TRY S N ST TO COU INE SE F EE CH
S IS ON W S SSI G E E IN TH BS ITH AK O W EM ON S S EE IVE H C L
In Focus | taste of travel
Cheese to please Hotel Mango Hill Pondicherry
Nestled in the misty Nilgiri Hills of Coonoor, Acres Wild is a charming 22-acre organic farm and B&B that offers in-house guests beginner’s classes in cheesemaking. The basic, two-day course involves learning to make soft and hard cheese (there are advanced classes too) and tasting a spread of the farm’s produce. The rooms, named after Halloumi, Cheddar, and Colby cheese, are cosy, the meals are delicious, and the owners, Tina and Mansoor, are great company (94432 32 621; www.acreswild.com; `5,000 for twoday course, open only for house guests; cottages from `3,000 during offseason, including breakfast; cheese available for sale at Baker’s Junction and Tulsi Mall, Coonoor).
Mango Hill’s decor blends French and Indian aesthetic, and its cheesemakers use French ferments and Indian cow’s milk to make a lush variety of cheese. Try their Borsalino (a kind of herby cream cheese) with crackers or toast, the unpasteurised farmer’s cheese with salad, and their soft, springy mozzarella (0413-2655491/92; www.hotel-mangohillpondicherry.com).
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Acres Wild Coonoor, Tamil Nadu
ue C heese
Lal Market Gangtok, Sikkim Cinnabar farms Kodaikanal, Tamil Nadu
rs
in
Cinnabar, a B&B in Kodaikanal, cherishes farm-to-table living and encourages its guests to get their hands dirty. They offer cheesemaking and bread-making workshops, sessions on vegetable harvesting, and sell bottles of scrumptious fruit preserves. Cheesemaking courses range from day-long sessions for amateurs to longer classes for small-scale and large-scale cheese production. Days begin with lessons on the farm and end with dinner around the community table (98421 45220; www.cinnabar.in; prices for cheesemaking workshops vary; doubles `6,000, including breakfast and dinner).
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La Ferme Cheese Auroville, pondicherry Following the tenets of earth-friendly Auroville, La Ferme’s cheese operation near Pondicherry uses milk from nearby villages, and energy produced by biogas and windmills for their pasteurisation process. Lovers of matured dairy are welcome to drop by La Ferme to see the wheels of chilli-flecked gouda and hunks of Parmesan and Cheddar that line the storeroom. Their blue d’Auroville, lofabu, and feta are recommended (0413-622212; www.auroville.org/ contents/112; call in advance for a short walkabout of the place; cheese available at Nilgiris Supermarket in Pondicherry).
national Geographic Traveller INDIA | february 2015
For a glimpse into Sikkim’s pantry, spend a few hours browsing through Gangtok’s Lal Market. The women selling nettles, spices, and all manner of fermented pastes, are always chatty, and happy to explain how the produce is used in their own kitchen. It’s a great place to stock up on pickles, and cheese. Look out for the leaf-wrapped cultured yak butter, and the churpi (both young and aged).
Ca
nt
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Tastyart Ltd Rob White/ Photolibrary/getty images (Blue Cheese), Philip Dowell/DK Limited/CORBIS/imagelibrary (Boursin), Sara Danielsson/ StockFood Creative /getty images (Cantal)
Where to score the country’s finest cheese
Feta
world india
Maia Cheese Palolem, Goa
Che es
e
coffee, and cranberries. It’ll make a kitchen geek go weak in the knees, and leave them smiling like the cow on the fromagerie’s logo (020-2688 0888; www.facebook.com/ AbcFarmsPvtLtd; daily 7 a.m.-9 p.m.).
more than paneer Kalari/Maish Krej A traditional cheese made by Kashmir’s Gujjars, kalari’s soft but stretchy texture has earned it the nickname “Kashmiri mozzarella”. The dense, white cheese is generally pan-fried on a tawa like a paratha (no atta, though), so it browns on the outside and is gooey and stringy within. It’s served with chilli powder and lashes of lime. Street food stalls also serve kalari kulchas with chhole. Churpi It is a kind of yak cheese consumed in Himalayan regions such as Himachal Pradesh, Jammu & Kashmir, Sikkim, and loftier parts of the Northeast. The chewy cheese, almost like an eraser in texture, has a sour tang and is generally added to potato momos and broths in the winter months, when fresh herbs are hard to come by. Churpi is more readily available in rural areas and is generally made at home so it will take some asking around to get the real thing. The blocks of yak cheese (tastes vaguely like Emmental) commonly sold in stores in Manali, Leh, and Shillong are usually not churpi.
a
Maia Cheese is one of palmfringed Palolem’s lesser known secrets. Run by onetime pianist Maia Donadze, the fromagerie started off a few years ago with batches of delicious feta, but now has a menu that also includes fresh mozzarella, mascarpone, ricotta, Parmesan, and Cheddar (99709 46911; maia-cheese.com).
re am
Bandel A reminder of Bengal’s Portuguese antecedents, Bandel is a soft cheese with a deliciously smoky character. It is available in only two Kolkata stores—S. Panja’s and Johnson’s—located a few doors from each other in New Market. It makes for a great food souvenir, since it doesn’t spoil easily.
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igfotofood/shutterstock (Mozzarella), Steve Outram/ Photographer’s Choice/getty images (Feta), FomaA/shutterstock (Cream Cheese), Food Collection/indiapicture (Cheddar), Jonathan Kantor/ The Image Bank/getty images (Gouda)
The walls of the ABC Farms store are lined with cultured goodies. There’s feta soaked in herbs and olive oil, tubs of bocconcini (mini mozzarella balls), and sealed packets of Boursin flecked with chilli flakes. The family-run business dates back to the 1970s and supplies cheese to numerous restaurants across the country. ABC’s range includes the basics (their goat’s cheese is quite good) as well as more experimental creations that involve whisky,
ud
Cheddar
Dutchman Chris Zandee makes natural artisan cheese with milk sourced from the Gujjars, semi-nomadic pastoralists who rear dairy cattle in the mountains around Pahalgam. His Cheddar and Gouda are very good and widely available around Manali, Srinagar, Leh, and Delhi (himalayancheese. com; available at a number of stores including Apricot Store and Open Hand Café in Leh, Pick and Choose and Sun Fresh Supermarket in Srinagar, and Altitude Store in Delhi).
A few minutes from Auro ville, Sun Farm is a cheery little operation that makes feta, Cheddar, tomme fraiche, mozzarella, and Cantal, a kind of semi-hard French cheese that dates back to the Gauls. Their cheese is available in Pondicherry, but those interested are welcome to visit the farm, meet the cows, and get a quick tour of the cheese storeroom (95858 97730, 04132623588; www.thesunfarm. com; visiting hours Mon-Sat 9 a.m.-12 p.m.; cheese available at Nilgiris Supermarket in Pondicherry).
Go
Himalayan Cheese Pahalgam, Jammu & Kashmir
ABC Farms Pune, Maharashtra
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Mozzarella
The Sun Farm Pondicherry
Journeys | quest
A winter’s tale Impassable but not impossible: A horse-drawn sleigh ride through northwestern China’s Altay Mountains By M A R K J E N K I N S
china
mark jenkins
Traditional chana sleighs glide along a mountain valley.
Skiing on boards, here covered with animal skin, may have originated in the Altay region millennia ago. Facing page: Altay skiers pole their way along a ridge in Xinjiang Province; wrapping their skis in skins provides traction for uphill climbs.
mark jenkins
Journeys | quest
china
It’s 37 degrees below zero Large heads bowed, snow coating their thick hides, plumes of steam swirling from their frosted nostrils, they’re primordial beasts genetically inured to intense cold. A wooden sleigh called a chana is attached to each horse by long pine poles and a curved yoke. The design of the sleigh—the width of a horse’s ass, the length of a human body, with two curl-tipped runners—has not changed for centuries. Our chana driver, Norbek, a rough-cut Kazakh as impervious to the cold as his horses, adjusts the leather straps with bare hands. He has loaded the two sleighs with our backpacks, crosscountry skis, and sacks of hay for the horses. Bundled in down parkas, mittens, and insulated pants and boots, we are about to sled into the Altay Mountains of central Asia. The Altay, an obscure range that is buried in snow all winter, rises at the converging borders of China, Mongolia, Kazakhstan, and Russia. It may well be the last place on Earth where horseand-sleigh, an ancient form of travel, remains the primary means of winter transportation. Four of us are on this expedition: Norbek and I on one chana, Nils Larsen and Ayiken on the other. Larsen is an American ski
historian who has travelled to the Altay nine times to research the origins of skiing. Shaggy-haired, soft-spoken, and a master skier, he lives in a century-old cabin outside of rustic Curlew, Washington, and owns a small ski company. Ayiken (pronounced I-kin) is our factotum, a rosy-cheeked Kazakh fluent in five languages who is as at ease with pinched-faced Chinese bureaucrats as with broad-smiling nomads. Our goal is Hemu, a village deep in China’s northwestern province of Xinjiang, where Larsen is hoping to interview the last living members of a ski culture thousands of years old. To get there by chana, we must cross a mountain pass, then parallel the ice-bound HemuKanas River. In summer, Hemu is a one-day journey by horseback. Now, in February, it will take much longer. As we’re about to set off from a settlement named Jaldungwe, a horseman gallops up to warn us that avalanches have closed the chana track to Hemu. “He says it is impassable,” translates Ayiken. Norbek nods, his eyes squinting, his face snow-burned to leather from so many years of living in the elements. When the horseman departs, Norbek flicks the reins of his horse and we february 2015 | national Geographic Traveller INDIA
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Jonas Bendiksen/magnum photos
Celsius, and our horses don’t give a damn.
Poetry in Stone
Visit Kumbakonam for its sacred trails and fine filter coffee | By Lakshmi Sharath
2+ DAY S
The strong aroma of filter coffee fills my lungs and I follow the trail to find a tiny shop. Sacks bursting with coffee beans are stacked against dusty walls covered in portraits of gods and goddesses. Freshly ground coffee powder seems to be suspended in the humid air. On the table, there’s an array of filters, davaras, and tumblers, all the accoutrements required to make and serve filter coffee the traditional south Indian way. “This isn’t ordinary filter coffee, it is the famous Kumbakonam degree kaapi,” says the vendor as he pours the dark brown decoction into a tumbler and mixes it with boiling milk. This is the signature brew from the town of Kumbakonam in Tamil Nadu’s Thanjavur district and almost every coffee shop here claims to serve the original drink. There are many explanations for why it’s called degree coffee. Some say it refers to the purity of the cow’s milk used, while others claim it’s the exact temperature to which the milk is boiled. To me, it is the perfect cup to sip on a warm morning as I soak in the vibrant atmosphere of the town. 128
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A walk through the lanes is an assault on the senses. Autorickshaws and motorcycles vie to overtake each other. A cart filled with pearlywhite jasmines is thrust in front of me. I turn onto another street to find shops filled with bronze lamps and vessels. At almost every corner, there is an ancient temple. According to the guidebooks, the town has more than a hundred of them. I am not keeping count, but the number doesn’t seem improbable. Kumbakonam is steeped in antiquity, dating to the Sangam era and ruled by every dynasty from the early Cholas to the Vijaynagara kings, the Nayaks, and the Marathas. Tracing the legends that speak of the town’s origins, I wind up at a massive tank filled with water and glittering in the morning heat.
The carvings on the Sarangapani Temple’s gopuram reflect different aspects of life, from war and dance to eroticism. Facing page: Kumbakonam’s lanes are studded with big and small temples, and the air often resounds with the sound of Vedic chants (left); Devotees get blessed at the Adi Kumbeshwara Temple (right), known for its many mandapams and halls, including one with 16 pillars carved with the zodiac signs.
EXPLORE Town Centre The giant water tank at
Mahamaham is the physical and cultural nucleus
of Kumbakonam, surrounded by 21 wells and
dinodia
heritage
Short Breaks | from bengaluru
kumbakonam
Finding Shiva Kumbakonam’s skyline is
dominated by towering gopurams, some of them over 100 feet tall and covered with sculptures of gods and goddesses. There’s something in these temples for everyone, from the devout to the curious. I find a great guide in Subramani, an auto rickshaw driver who seems to know the lore that surrounds each shrine. We strike a bargain and for two hours he shows me around the five temples in town that he says should not be missed. We begin with two shrines dedicated to Shiva, then visit two Vishnu temples, and end the trail at Ramanathaswami Temple. A bit of Kumbakonam comes alive for me at each stop.
The corridors of the grand Adi Kumbeshwara Temple, dedicated to Shiva, are filled with colourful floral motifs and paintings. It was built by the Cholas nearly 1,300 years ago and is spread over four acres. At the Nageswaran Temple, I’m taken in by the architecture. Built by King Aditya Chola in the ninth century, it has a sanctum designed to look like a chariot. The Vishnu temples are impressive because of their majesty. Sarangapani Temple has the tallest gopuram in Kumbakonam: 15 tiers that go up to a height of 175 feet. The Chakrapani Temple has an awe-inspiring eight-armed idol of Vishnu, known as the Sudarshana Chakra avatar. The walls of Ramanathaswami Temple are covered in murals from the Ramayana and it has largerthan-life sculptures of Rama and Sita. Every temple has a story, mostly of passionate devotees who were rewarded by the deities. But it is at the Adi Kumbeshwara Temple that I learn more about the legend of the town. When Brahma dropped his pot in the deluge at the end of the epoch, Shiva disguised himself as a hunter (kirata) and shot the pot with an arrow. When nectar flowed into the Mahamaham tank, Shiva used the clay of the pot to carve a lingam, earning the name Kiratamurti or Adi Kumbeshwara. As the tale ends, silence reverberates through the temple. I experience a moment of bliss with the divine that can be felt only in solitude. I sit amongst the ancient pillars until the temple elephant trumpets and draws my attention. Sacred Trails There are several more temples in the town, and quite a few in the villages surrounding it that have religious significance.
unique experience At the hilltop Murugan Temple in Swamimalai (10 km/15 min west), I pay my respects to the deity and enlist his help to find the idol-makers. I am looking for Srikanda Stapathi who featured in William Dalrymple’s book Nine Lives. Instead, I find his brother Swaminathan who shows me around the workshop close to the temple. The craft dates to the 10th century and deities are carved according to rules in the ancient Shilpa Sastra texts. He describes the moment when a statue becomes a god: “Until the eyes are opened, they are just pieces of art. After that, they are gods to us” (to visit, ask at Murugan Temple or contact the idol-makers through www. sthapathi.com).
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dinodia (boys), v. muthuraman/age fotostock/dinodia (elephant)
16 shrines. When I had arrived there the previous evening, it was resounding with music and speeches from a political rally. In the morning, though, it has transformed into a picture of serenity. I stand there watching people at their morning prayers. The waters reflecting the clouds and the gopurams of the 16 shrines cut a pretty picture against the treeless landscape. According to legend, when Brahma’s pot (kumbha), containing the seeds of life, was destroyed at the end of an epoch, its nectar flowed into this tank giving the town its name of Kumbakonam (the corner where the kumbha fell). Once in 12 years, the massive Mahamaham Festival takes place here, when millions of devotees gather to take a ritual dip in the tank. It is often described as the Kumbh Mela of the South; the next festival will take place in 2016. At the Kasi Vishwanathar Temple next door, there are only a couple of priests. The silence is soothing.
Short Breaks | from bengaluru
Great Living Chola Temples The most
breathtaking moment of my trip is when I stand in front of the Airavateswara Temple in Darasuram, just four kilometres from Kumbakonam. This chariot-shaped temple located in the middle of the village is nothing short of poetry in stone. Miniature carvings that narrate stories from the epics, fill the walls and pillars of this shrine built by Raja Raja Chola II. This 12th-century temple is one of three accorded joint UNESCO World Heritage status. The other two Great Living Chola Temples are Brihadeshwara at Thanjavur (40 km south) and its incomplete replica at Gangaikonda cholapuram (35 km north). Brihadeshwara Temple is Raja Raja Chola I’s masterpiece. The inside walls of its 216-foot tower are painted with frescoes. His son, Rajendra Chola aimed to better it at his new capital Gangaikondacholapuram but left the structure incomplete. I’m humbled by the grandeur of the deities carved on the walls. This is my personal favourite, perhaps due to the mystery behind its incomplete structure or the
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melancholy that resonates around the town— a grand capital that once brought kings to its knees, now lost on the highway. Shopping Spree I am fixated with local
handicrafts, so not surprisingly, I’m like a kid in a candy store in the markets of Kumbakonam. The bustling by-lanes have shops selling brass, bronze, copper, and lead vessels. The pots, lamps, and davaras remind me of my childhood. My grandparents used to cook in huge pans, drink water in tall tumblers, and prepare coffee in brass filters. I browse happily, looking for something that will add a traditional touch to my home. I get lucky in the market near the Nachiyar Temple in Thirunarayur (10 km/15 min south) where local artisans are applying finishing touches to brass lamps. Enamoured by one shaped like a graceful swan, I struggle to make up my mind, until I see another lamp designed like a woman who appears to give me a charming smile. Together they are irresistible (lamps and vessels cost from `500 to several thousands). In the town of Tirubhuvanam (7 km/10 min northeast), I go in search of the eponymous pure silk saris that are woven there. I get a chance to meet some of the weavers whose families had settled here many generations ago. In nearby Darasuram, where the craft is also practised now, I’m invited home by weavers to see their looms. There are several shops in Kumbakonam’s markets that sell these saris, but buying from the weaver is special. I purchase one in shades of peacock blue with golden motifs on it (saris from `3,000; to meet the weavers, just ask at any of the shops).
In Kumbakonam and the towns around it, visitors can see and purchase bronze sculptures and lamps (left) and handwoven saris (right) that have been made the same way for over 1,000 years; The Mahalingeshwara Temple at Thiruvidaimarudur is over 2,000 years old and has numerous shrines (bottom). Facing page: Lord Vishnu is said to have descended from heaven in a chariot. Hence the central shrine at the Sarangapani Temple, dedicated to him, is shaped like one. dinodia (lamp & temple), eric lafforgue/age fotostock/dinodia (weaver)
Even if you’re not too interested in them, the drive offers a glimpse of the countryside. Amidst the green fields and clusters of small shops, there are quiet villages that were once the abodes of gods, saints, and kings. Each village has an ancient shrine with artistically carved pillars and massive mandapams. Whether you are a pilgrim or a heritage enthusiast, the melange of art, architecture, culture, and myths is fascinating. Of the many temples around Kumbakonam, the Navagraha trail of nine temples, dedicated to the planets, is most popular.
kumbakonam STAY & eat Kumbakonam has several small hotels, and there are some resorts and homestays in the nearby towns of Swamimalai and Darasuram. Rayas Grand is a three-star property, located
in the heart of the city near Mahamaham Tank, while still being away from the melee. Rooms are clean and neat. Rayas has other properties around town as well (98429 23170; www.hotelrayas.com; doubles from `1,875). Kasi International Hotel is a budget
hotel located close to most temples (89032 32027; www.hotelkasiinternational.com; doubles from `550). Mantra Located at Veppathur, 10 km/15 min
north of Kumbakonam, this eco-friendly set-up on the banks of rivers Kaveri and Veera Chozha has a relaxed resort-like ambience (98412 88000; www. mantraveppathur.com; doubles from `7,000). The food in Kumbakonam is largely vegetarian and visitors can get a plate of idli-sambar almost everywhere. A handful of eateries serve nonvegetarian food. Try Maami’s Mess at Bhakta Puri Street for its simple homemade food (`150 for two) and the vegetarian restaurant at Rayas Grand (`300 for two). Don’t miss the Kumbakonam Degree Kaapi at Murali’s Café, located on Mutt Street, well known to most auto drivers.
Orientation Kumbakonam is located along the banks of the Kaveri and Arasalar rivers in Tamil Nadu’s Thanjavur district. It is about 40 km/1 hour northeast of Thanjavur town, 400 km/8 hours from Bengaluru, and 280 km/ 5 hours south of Chennai.
Getting around Local buses are available, but renting a cab is the most convenient way to explore some of the offbeat destinations around town (rentals start at `8 per km for eight hours). Autorickshaws are available for short journeys within town. There are no fixed rates so prices depend on individual bargaining power.
Getting there The closest airport is at Tiruchirapally, 100 km/ 2 hours south of Kumbakonam Taxis charge `3,000 for the one-way journey, which is why most people prefer to rent a cab for the day. There are trains to Kumbakonam from cities like Chennai (6 hours) and Bengaluru (11 hours). There are frequent buses from the nearby towns of Thanjavur and Tiruchirapally.
Seasons Kumbakonam is pleasant in winter (Oct-Feb), with the temperature hovering between 20-25°C. Summers (Mar-May) are hot and humid at 35-40°C when travel is best avoided. If you don’t like crowds and don’t mind the rain, you could visit during the monsoon (JuneSept) as the rain is not very heavy. Sometimes, there is heavy rainfall in Nov-Dec when the northeast monsoon hits the town again.
TAMIL NADU
Kumbakonam n
Sarangapani Temple Gangaikondacholapuram Temple Swamimalai
Adi Kumbeshwara Temple superstock/dinodia (temple), gaurav ogale (map)
The Guide
Mahamaham Water Tank
Airavateshwara Temple, Darasuram
Thanjavur
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