The first big holy site was the Hindu shrine Mahalaxmi Mandir. I was glad that I wasn’t expecting much, because it didn’t blow me away. I don’t know if it used to be really pretty, but now all the slums have grown up around it, or if it has always been unimpressive or what, but I wasn’t filled with the awe that I was filled with when I went to Buddhist shrines around Taiwan. First of all, I walked past the street that leads down to it, because there was no indication AT ALL on the main road that a major holy site was just a block away. So I wandered up and down the street a little, and finally asked a cop where to go. He pointed down a neighborhoody looking sort of street. I was a little skeptical, but I didn’t want to not go the direction the cop who was standing in front of me had just told me to go. So off I went. As I climbed the little hill, I was sort of stumbling around confusedly, seeing houses, not major holy sites, when a few monk looking guys walked up to me. One of them blessed me. He said some words and touched my forehead, and tied a red and yellow string around my wrist. I was confused, and wasn’t really sure what was going on, so I just stood there, letting him bless me, going with the flow, but wondering why they weren’t doing this to any of the other people walking by. When he was done, the monk said “100 rupees.” This brought me out of my daze.
“What?” “100 rupees.” “Why?” “Ok, 50 rupees.” “I’m sorry?” “S’ok, s’ok, 100 rupees.” “What?” He gestured to the string. “50 rupees. 50 rupees.” “No. No-wo. No.” “Ok, ok, hello. 100 rupees.” (Ah, now it all makes sense. You pay for your blessing, and I hadn’t been savvy enough to evade them, like all the people around me. Hmm, yeah, I don’t know about that. If you ask first, fine. But I don’t like being tricked, not even by wily monks.) “Take it off.” “50 rupees.” “You can take the string off” “50 rupees” “I don’t want it” “100 rupees” “Untie It And Take It Off.” With a gesture of finality, I shoved my wrist back at them. Waving, they said “No, no, it’s ok.” I gave them an irritated glare and stalked off down the road.
Mahalaxmi is the goddess of wealth, and I guess that having monks like that is part of how she maintains her wealth. Maybe she has a minor companion deity Vinnie- he sells things that fall off the back of trucks.
I don’t know if I offended some custom by not paying up, or if I was an ugly American, but I didn’t like the sneak attack. Maybe I should have known that it would cost money (everything here does) but they approached me, so I didn’t feel that I was under any obligation to pay them.
Incidentally, if you are wandering around alone, it is a huge pain in the ass to untie a string that has been tied around your own wrist. Also, the dye wasn’t fast, and I had a yellow stain on my wrist from the string a few days later.
A little further down the lane was the temple. The inside was ok, there were lots of stands where you could buy offerings. I didn’t, because I wasn’t sure how the whole system worked, and I doubt the goddess of wealth will be hanging out on my doorstep anytime soon regardless of how much fruit and flower I buy her. Inside the temple there were some stairs down to the shore, and a little fenced in area by the water that the shrine has guarded against the encroachment of the neighborhood. There was also a snack bar. I do appreciate it when a religion doesn’t always take itself too seriously.
Since I am not Hindu, I thought I would stay out of the actual shrine part of the temple. I wandered the courtyard a little bit, and was just leaving when a very kind man noticed that I had been walking around the courtyard, but not in the shrine itself. He must have thought I didn’t understand where to go, because he came up and gently took my arm, guided me over to the worship area, and explained clearly to me how to go inside. Apparently I had to go into the side marked ladies. . . not gents. I was concerned that he didn’t think I had realized that on my own. (To be fair, I probably did look confused. Or like an idiot. Seemed to be my lot that day.) But sure, ok, since the man was so nice, I dutifully got into line, waving and smiling and nodding and saying thank you. I followed the others in line up to the shrine. The shrine itself was very very shiny, with pretty gold faces, and flowers and fruit. But even watching the worshippers, I couldn’t quite figure out how the system worked. People came up with plates of fruit and flowers and handed them to the men behind the counter at the shrine. Sometimes the men took all the stuff off the plate, sometimes just some of the stuff. Then they handed back the plate with part of the original stuff or new stuff on it, and also often handed the women a small brown fruit looking thing, which the women seemed happy to get. I couldn’t figure out what it all meant. The counter guys were professionals though. They were smooth and efficient about moving the goods around, like Las Vegas card dealers, but at the same time were respectful of people standing and praying at the shrine.
I took a few pictures of little shops outside the temple that were selling offerings, and I got a decent shot of the outside of the temple from my next stop, but no pictures inside. Photography was strictly forbidden. Even in the food court.
I walked out a different way to avoid the monk-string trickers.
“What?” “100 rupees.” “Why?” “Ok, 50 rupees.” “I’m sorry?” “S’ok, s’ok, 100 rupees.” “What?” He gestured to the string. “50 rupees. 50 rupees.” “No. No-wo. No.” “Ok, ok, hello. 100 rupees.” (Ah, now it all makes sense. You pay for your blessing, and I hadn’t been savvy enough to evade them, like all the people around me. Hmm, yeah, I don’t know about that. If you ask first, fine. But I don’t like being tricked, not even by wily monks.) “Take it off.” “50 rupees.” “You can take the string off” “50 rupees” “I don’t want it” “100 rupees” “Untie It And Take It Off.” With a gesture of finality, I shoved my wrist back at them. Waving, they said “No, no, it’s ok.” I gave them an irritated glare and stalked off down the road.
Mahalaxmi is the goddess of wealth, and I guess that having monks like that is part of how she maintains her wealth. Maybe she has a minor companion deity Vinnie- he sells things that fall off the back of trucks.
I don’t know if I offended some custom by not paying up, or if I was an ugly American, but I didn’t like the sneak attack. Maybe I should have known that it would cost money (everything here does) but they approached me, so I didn’t feel that I was under any obligation to pay them.
Incidentally, if you are wandering around alone, it is a huge pain in the ass to untie a string that has been tied around your own wrist. Also, the dye wasn’t fast, and I had a yellow stain on my wrist from the string a few days later.
A little further down the lane was the temple. The inside was ok, there were lots of stands where you could buy offerings. I didn’t, because I wasn’t sure how the whole system worked, and I doubt the goddess of wealth will be hanging out on my doorstep anytime soon regardless of how much fruit and flower I buy her. Inside the temple there were some stairs down to the shore, and a little fenced in area by the water that the shrine has guarded against the encroachment of the neighborhood. There was also a snack bar. I do appreciate it when a religion doesn’t always take itself too seriously.
Since I am not Hindu, I thought I would stay out of the actual shrine part of the temple. I wandered the courtyard a little bit, and was just leaving when a very kind man noticed that I had been walking around the courtyard, but not in the shrine itself. He must have thought I didn’t understand where to go, because he came up and gently took my arm, guided me over to the worship area, and explained clearly to me how to go inside. Apparently I had to go into the side marked ladies. . . not gents. I was concerned that he didn’t think I had realized that on my own. (To be fair, I probably did look confused. Or like an idiot. Seemed to be my lot that day.) But sure, ok, since the man was so nice, I dutifully got into line, waving and smiling and nodding and saying thank you. I followed the others in line up to the shrine. The shrine itself was very very shiny, with pretty gold faces, and flowers and fruit. But even watching the worshippers, I couldn’t quite figure out how the system worked. People came up with plates of fruit and flowers and handed them to the men behind the counter at the shrine. Sometimes the men took all the stuff off the plate, sometimes just some of the stuff. Then they handed back the plate with part of the original stuff or new stuff on it, and also often handed the women a small brown fruit looking thing, which the women seemed happy to get. I couldn’t figure out what it all meant. The counter guys were professionals though. They were smooth and efficient about moving the goods around, like Las Vegas card dealers, but at the same time were respectful of people standing and praying at the shrine.
I took a few pictures of little shops outside the temple that were selling offerings, and I got a decent shot of the outside of the temple from my next stop, but no pictures inside. Photography was strictly forbidden. Even in the food court.
I walked out a different way to avoid the monk-string trickers.
3 comments:
I seriously doubt if you spend much time looking the part of a dazed and confused foreigner. Just the fact that after having spent this much time there and not being "beggared out" suggests you don't have the look of an easy mark.
It has always been difficult for me to judge when approaching strangers are just being friendly and helpful versus when they want something (usually $$). When I first left the south and moved north then west it took me a while to come to grips with the fact that any stranger who met my gaze or spoke to me probably wanted something...typically something with which I wanted nothing to do. Initially I put it down as a "yankee thing" but have since found similar behaviour in most of the rest of the world.
I think it is nice that you look sufficiently non-threatening that young people are comfortable approaching you just to say "Hi".
Have you noticed any inspirational holy types yet? Or just young men appearing to be monks?
p.
We found in Cambodia and Thailand that the following script, 95 percent of the time, is a prelude to begging or salesmanship:
Hello, what is your name?
(attempt to pronounce)
Where are you from?
(very nice, America number 1!)
Commence sales.
It really colored out experience, because the 5 percent who weren't doing this were some of our favorite parts of the trip. The kids who just needed to interview me for a school project for english class, for example. Or the monks who genuinely wanted english practice. How many of those experiences did we miss because we didn't feel like having something sold to us and ran away?
yeah. i am so tired of being asked for money that i just ignore the "hello" and keep walking. if someone starts walking with me and keeps it up, i walk faster. that usually gives them the idea, if i am running away i am not going to trust them enough to buy anything or give them anything. i havent had to get into a taxi to get away from anyone yet, but i will if i have to.
but sometimes people are nice. i hear that mumbai is seen as a friendly city here. a guy tried to get me to buy ridiculously overpriced postcards, and i said no, and went into a museum, and he called out after me to tell me which way to go, and smiled and waved.
also, you can stop people in the street and ask directions and they are nice about it too. i just have to make sure to ask someone young who looks like they might know english.
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