The Prangan Mango may well be the noisiest hotel in India. The foors are galleried around a central atrium that seems to function as an amplifier. There appears to be a wedding party in residence and they are up for an all-nighter. Add to that the All India Door Slamming Championship and you have a recipe for a disturbed night. But enough whinging.
We don't have to walk far before an auto stops and offers a ride to Lingaraj Temple, the daddy of them all. Non Hindus are not admitted but a viewing platform outside the boundary is provided so that the structures within can be seen. Most of it was built around 1100 AD but some of it is 500 years older than that. The main building is an impressive 54 metres high. Lonely Planet warns of hustlers who can be quite pushy in trying to get money from people using the viewing platform but gives advice to ignore them as the money does not go to the temple. Our auto drops us at the main gate which is a bit underwhelming. We negotiate the traffic and find the viewing platform where an old boy produces a scruffy exercise book and tries to tap us. "Not official" D pronounces in a lordly fashion and walks on. It seems to work.
The buildings inside are quite amazing and very well preserved. We are glad that we made the effort. Photography is somewhat stymied by the position of the sun but even in perfect light it would be difficult to catch it all in a photo. The old boy joins us and attempts to provide a guide service in very broken English. He doesn't tell us anything that isn't covered in LP. We decide to move on to see some of the other temples which are non-live archaeological sites without restriction on who can go in. The LP map is a bit vague, not helped by a page join right where we are, and the Maps app doesn't show these lesser sites. We probably take the long way round but this does go via an ATM that issues 500 and 100 notes in quantity. We hug the shade as far as possible until we see the entrance to the temple complex that we seek. This is smaller but with some very ornate carving in the sandstone blocks. Although not really a live temple people take their shoes off to enter and so do we. The main deity here is a snake goddess, Nagarani, but one side temple is dedicated to Ganesh, R's favourite. There is an Indian lady here who is very keen to have her photo taken with us, not just once but twice. She doesn't seem to have any English so we have no idea why.
It is getting hotter and we are almost templed out. We visit one more site where we see another pink couple who have a car, driver and guide. She is very keen to photograph a lingam. Time for us to move on. We ask an autodriver to take us to the State Museum where we expect to find peaceful shade and perhaps A/c and a cup of tea. But no. The gates are closed despite a notice to say that tickets are on sale from 10 until 4 daily. There are about a dozen staff inside the gate, sitting on plastic chairs and soaking in the sun. Eventually one stirs himself and comes to say 'Closed for festival". Bum! Another disappointed culture seeker tells us that it is Saraswati Pujo hence the closure.
As you can imagine we are totally gutted. This museum has 'Odisha's best collection of palm leaf manuscripts' and maybe other stuff as well. Best go for a cup of tea. There is a respectable looking hotel over the road where we are directed to the restaurant. Black tea is no problem and very good it is too. The A/c and the loos are also of good standard. We linger and work out what to do next. Our entertainment of last resort when in India is to kill an hour or so in a Big Bazaar supermarket. Maps locates one an autoride away and in the direction we want to travel. We ask for the bill which is a very reasonable Rs50 and D is rather surprised to have his cash rejected. 'Debit card please sir'. Luckily we have a card that does not charge a fee for foreign transactions or this would have become a very expensive cup of tea. On the way out we see the large notices that explain that Ashok Hotels are proud to participate in Cash Free India. God knows how we missed them on the way in. Cash Free India seems to be catching on. Even autos and street food stalls have signs saying that they accept PayTM. Forget questions about railway tickets. Indian Mike will be flooded with queries about how a tourist can get a PayTM account.
Cash is still king for degenerates like us and our auto man indulges us when he drops us at the Forum Mall. Big Bazaar require you to leave bags at a kiosk by the entrance but not if they contain items of value. What is a battered four year old copy of Lonely Planet worth? Bag checked, we seek directions to the utensils section. We neglected to pack the small stainless steel bowls that we carry for decanting packet snacks so we need to buy a couple. The choice of brands is extensive but they are all the same price so we buy the ones with the least sticky looking labels. Job done, we browse. R is not impressed by the quality of the ladies' clothing on offer but does spot some natty lounge pyjamas for D. As we debate whether a Large will fit an assistant appears with a size XL in his hand. Sale made! The girl on the till is not keen to change a 2000 note for a 399 purchase but D smiles ingratiatingly and she quickly counts the change to be rid of him. Time for lunch.
Our target is once again the Odisha Hotel. We walk the scorched streets, pausing for a herd of water buffalo to be driven by, and once more enter a deserted restaurant. This time we are waved to a table and told that today is Pure Veg only. Nae problem pal. There is a chalkboard menu that is utterly unintelligible to us but the waiter offers thalis, which we go for. After a bit of difficulty we manage to order a bottle of water to go with this. After a while an older man with a proprietorial air appears. He has a bit of English and asks where we are from, where we have been in India and where we are going. He supervises the delivery of the thali, which is served on plates covered with banana leaves. We tuck in to rice, daal and assorted veg as more dishes arrive. One is easily identified as paneer with capsicums and another as aubergine but the third has us baffled. The owner reappears to tell us that it is fried pumpkin squash. It is hot and delicious, as is the roasted aubergine and the paneer. D is not normally a fan of either but the Odisha Hotel seems to know how to cook them. Eventually we have to admit defeat, turning down the offer of dessert. The bill is Rs 640 including VAT, about a quarter of what we paid last night. And the food was better too.
We are pogged and it is hot so we hop an auto back to the hotel for a snooze in some cool air. When we wake up it is starting to get dark. Neither of us is hungry and we need to pack for an early start tomorrow so D is dispatched to the rather smart Foreign Liquor Off Shop along the street for a couple of cold beers. Our laundry is due back at 7 p.m. At 7.30 we are told half an hour. At 8.10 we get a call to ask if it is OK to bring our laundry up to the room. At 8.35 a delegation arrives with the laundry, apologises for a missing pair of socks and asks us to check the rest. It is all there and we tell them not to worry aboit the socks. In 7 years this is the first time we have had a laundry problem.
As we prepare for bed we hear fireworks and open the blind but it is all sound and no light.
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