Nat and I took ourselves off in search of some temple action yesterday, with the services of an avuncular taxi driver whose name is probably somewhere in my subconscious but, for the life of me, I can't drag it into the vast empty cavity formerly known as my memory.
En route to the temple, we went elephant riding. I know, I know - I'm here to live in the real India, part of a proper community, a signed up member of the saree-wearing, chapatti baking, weaker sex that is Indian woman... but sometimes you just have to do the tourist thing. Once I'd got over the initial terror, it was fab, or soooo-pair, as the Indian girls say, usually followed by a fit of the giggles.
Oh, and we met the cutest baby elephant as well. As soon as my various bits of kit are re-charged, I'll post some pics.
On to the temple, where two hours of hanging around with a load of giggling women and excitable kids was followed by the spectacle of not one but three decorated elephants, a 20-strong troupe of Indian drummers, a brass band in white suits with fringed epaulettes AND a spectaclarly attired local girl as the incarnation of Saraswati, complete with peacock feathers and pore-defying make-up. Hindus definitely have the most fun.
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