Princess...with a palace to match

I'd forgotten, honestly, how gorgeous India is. I've been whining away these past few months about the dirt and the noise since our return from Iran, really getting bogged down in this bad attitude about the place I've chosen to live, specifically the last two years being in Bangalore. As it turns out I just had Bangalore-city-syndrome (yes, I made this up...).
India's expansive plains and farms, the big wide sky overhead capping the palm tree groves, massive green rice paddies dotted with the women who crouch over their work picking the tiny grains, the little villages along the road - it's amazing. My feelings about Bangalore are just a symptom of the Indian big city and I'd fallen into the trap of forgetting about all the other wonderful places this country has to offer.

As we drove out of Bangalore (it takes like an hour to actually get out of the city) I had the ridiculous and immediate realization that I was in India. I know it sounds strange, to realize you're in a place when you've been there anyway for ages - but that's just what happened for me. It's the places in between the cities that remind me of why I fell for this place to begin with and our recent road trip was truly eye-opening.
We've been traveling by plane so much lately, from city to city, I've missed out on the real nature of what India has to offer, which is an endless supply of adventure, natural beauty, and views you cannot conceive of even from the pictures below.

So, we ended up at literally the last minute deciding to go to Ooty (the real name 'Ootacamund' cut short by and for the benefit of the old British colonials who made their summer vacation homes in the best of India's hill stations).
Kodaikanal is a ten hour drive from Bangalore and I was loathe to sit in the car, as nice as our hired vehicle was, for such a long time. When our driver insisted that Ooty is a zillion times better than Kodai, that he'd been there every year for the past 14, and knew of any number of fabulous hotels he could put us and our darling little dog in we said 'What the heck!' and allowed him to drive off with us and our gear in the opposite direction.

The six hour drive to what is called the Queen of Hill Stations was great, we stopped for masala watermelon slices and coconut at the side of the road a few times, as well as to allow Mooshy to alleviate his sudden carsickness (poor thing!) and as we entered the southern Indian state of Tamil Nadu found ourselves in the middle of a huge nature reserve. We drove slowly past elephant families, monkies galore, and deer amidst a dry Indian jungle...gorgeous.













We reached the foot of the mountains that enfold Ooty and it's neighboring towns and looked up to see that we would be travelling 3,000 meters further, nearly straight up through 36 back-and-forth hairpin turns, to leave behind the hot desert air for the cooler forest air of the mountains.
With each turn the air cooled by at least two degrees and I was noticeably and blissfully cold just halfway up the winding hill.
Set into the amazing view from this narrow road were little brightly painted houses sitting atop terraced farmland - picture postcard darling.

We continued on in this way, the houses becoming more and more common among the hills, until we were among the people and their animals. A beautiful way of life. As I do with any place I fall for I began mentally calculating the possibility of taking up residence among the trees and crystal clear waterfalls, and squat little homes with outdoor fires smoking away under breakfast or lunch for whomever. But the inability to conceive of internet or even electricity in some of these areas quickly cut the concept down to realism and I settled for enjoying it all just for the weekend.

We passed through many deep, green valleys - craning our necks out the window looking for the best place to choose a hotel, but our driver insisted on pressing further, into a little valley area called Lovedale (quaint, I know). He pulled up in front of a hotel (the Sagar Cottages) that sat into one side of the most expansive valley I've ever seen, populated far below by little villages, a small train track (which would later prove to be a great source of entertainment as it rolled through beneath us a few times a day), and mountains above on all sides. We were led down a very long row of terra cotta steps to our room - a marble tiled wonder with a massive bathroom and an even more massive balcony that provided a picturesque view of our surroundings - a space truly fit for royalty.







I ran around the room with an equally excited Mooshy muttering happily to myself that I am a spoiled, spoiled girl and feeling very much like a princess in a palace.
We flung the doors to the balcony open, and left them that way nearly throughout our stay - even into the bitingly cold nights. The air was crisp and pure and clean and the sunlight poured forth onto my skin and it actually felt good for the first time in as long as I can recall, tempered by the cool mountain air.

I rearrange the furniture in our room toward some semblance of Feng Shui - perplexing the staff who are already making deliveries of sustenance and drink to our room, and we settle down into the plush sofa which I've pulled nearly onto the balcony.
We decide we can stay here for four days, never leave the room, and be perfectly happy - the view is that spectacular.

We will go out a few times to explore the area, the touristy things people are meant to do, taking Mooshy along with us everywhere we go to the dismay of the locals. For four days we soak in the atmosphere and laugh and eat too much and hike around inside the hills and get chased by insane bovine (another story for another day) and watch Mooshy frolick around and try to eat everything that crosses his path. An excellent vacation, to say the least.







Our last day there a thick fog creeps in slowly, starting at around one in the afternoon. By three it has taken over most of the valley beneath us. By six we cannot see the mountains across the valley or behind us. The villages below exist now only for the sweet tinny sound of village music streaming up to us. By seven we cannot see beyond the balconies beneath our own. It descended with a snap of especially cold air, and we were ensconced within the blanket of clouds - so thick we could feel them in our lungs, pulling them in with each breath.

Where we stayed:
The Sagar Cottages
Off season prices - Rs 1500 plus 12.5% luxury tax (about $40 U.S. per night)
On season prices - Rs 2,000 plus tax.
Luxury hotel or no, it's still India and this means endless phone calls to management to rectify the parade of dinner orders carrying anything from cockroaches to tea water full of floating whatnots along with the paneer mushroom masalas and biriyanis. A 'luxury tax' does not ensure anything when it comes to cleanliness in the hotel kitchen, but the view from our room and a learned understanding that this is 'just the way things are here' tempers any frustration.