Guindy National Park, Chennai, India

I happened to be returning from somewhere and was sitting in the back of the car, listening to OASIS on my iPod. We were stuck in the usual Chennai traffic. To my right, there was a high wall that seemed to go on for miles. It’s not unusual to see walls in Chennai (or anywhere in India) as walls are regarded here as a prudent way of protecting one’s property.

Anyway, the contrast between India and the West, suddenly hit home - a kind of epiphany. Here I was, riding in air-conditioned comfort through the chaotic streets of Chennai, totally immersed in music that was so incongruous to the region. The contrast literally ripped my eyes open and I suddenly could see beyond the wall to my right.

The song, ‘Wonderwall’, came on practically on cue and the picture on the cover of George Harrison’s 1968 album by the same title flashed in front of me. There was a wall there as well. On one side of it was a scene depicting a gaggle of young Indian maidens washing their long, black, hair in a lotus pond. On the other, there was nothing but a stodgy English gentleman dressed in black, wearing a bowler hat and carrying an umbrella.

I looked and saw monkeys happily scampering about atop the wall. Beyond them was a profusion of exotic trees - including Sugar and Wood-apple, Banyan, Peepal, Neem, numerous species of palm and cacti – reaching for the heavens.

I sat mesmerized by it. The random growth behind that wall looked as dangerously seductive as anything I had ever seen. It would turn out to be the Guindy National Park, an extension of the grounds surrounding Raj Bhavan, the official residence of the governor of Tamil Nadu. It extends deep inside his estate, consisting of beautiful forests, scrub lands, lakes and streams.

I looked it up on the net on reaching home and found that Guindy Park is contiguous with the Arignar Anna Zoological Garden which is directly behind the Gandhi Mandapam, Kamaraj and Rajaji Memorials. Guindy Snake Park is a relatively new addition right next to the Guindy National Park. There one can see king cobras, pythons, vipers as well as monitors, crocodiles, turtles and other reptiles. Animals, in a separate area and designated as The Children’s Park, include black buck, sambhar, spotted deer, porcupine, hyena, jackal, pelicans, night heron, cormorant, cockatiel, mongoose, bonnet monkeys and the common languor. The various parks have separate, but very nominal entry fees. Entry to the memorials is free.

As such, the insistently beckoning forest behind the “Wonderwall” was accessible. I would make it a point to go the next morning and explore.

Explore I did. And, as is always the case in India, the people are the landscape. My heart was so easily nudged away from its original intent when confronted with busload after busload of school children and orphans – the blue team, the red team, the yellow team – all vying for my attention. They wave, smile broadly and shout, “Hi! How are you? Take our picture. We are learning English. What is your native place? We like you…”

They are thrilled, of course. And so am I. I feel like a rock star. What was it (again) that I came here to see? Never mind. I feel good. I switch my iPod back on.

Peter Koelliker; pkoelliker8@yahoo.com

VGP Golden Beach Resort, Chennai, India

Most people from America go to India to see its antiquities. The U.S., after all, is only 200 some odd years old; this, compared to India’s millennia. Relative to what India has to offer devotees of antiquity, everything from Plymouth Rock to Disney World is kitsch.

But India too has kitsch. I’ve passed it often on the way down and back from Mahabalipuram, on the ocean side of the East Coast Road: VGP Golden Beach Resort. It consists of 33 oceanfront acres of family fun. There is an amusement park, hotel and restaurants. The prime attraction, of course, is the beach. It is there that most people gather after having paid Rs. 150 entrance fee.

I was reading about Six Flags Great Adventure in Jackson, NJ filing for Chapter 11 bankruptcy – not surprising with the recession and all hitting New Jersey especially hard. Still, I read that attendance at Florida’s Disney World is also down. Yet, by all accounts, they’re still hanging in. And I ask myself, WHY? So, I came up with a theory that has probably not much to do with anything, but here goes anyway:

Maybe, for a theme park to be successful – to give it the edge, so to speak – it needs to be character based. Disney has all those delightful Disney characters; ditto France’s Parc Astérix. VGP’s Universal Kingdom Amusement Park has the gods and goddesses from the Mahabharata throughout the park. There’s Shiva dancing; Vishnu reclining; Buddha meditating and all those voluptuous multi-limbed attendant maidens poised gracefully in stone. There are sculpted elephants, horses, mermaids, birds, etc. – all to make visitors feel comfortable thus surrounded by their traditions. Six Flags has six flags and rides, which is quite enough for the 13-21 set, but often leaves those paying the bill strangely empty – especially in the wallet.

The pictures I took at VGP (named for its founder, V.G. Paneerdas) were mostly of the characters that seemed to make the entire extravaganza come to life. It was interesting to see the families enjoying themselves under the lush shade of greenery. It was a garden like none I had ever seen before, opening up to a broad view of The Bay of Bengal just beyond a gentle rise. The warning flags were up the day we went. There was a storm out at sea, kicking up the surf. Still, the people were gathered at the waterline, cooling their wrists and ankles.

It’ll likely never be a tourist spot for the Asia cruise crowd unless they happened to bring the young ones along, but it’s nevertheless an example of how India manages to copy the West in so many ways without giving in to the impulse to totally give in to Western pressures, thus managing to preserve an essence of its own. The amusement park was specifically built to give the people of Chennai a world class amusement park – a boyish fantasy, perhaps – but nevertheless a dream made real by a twelve-year old who left his rural village to arrive in the city of his dreams (Madras) with only the clothes on his back and the drive, vision and endurance required to succeed. Today, VGP Holdings is vast and worth in excess of Rs. 5 Billion and growing every year.

Peter Koelliker; pkoelliker8@yahoo.com

The Great Swamp, New Jersey, USA

It is simply amazing to me that so many green places still continue to exist, all within a 50 mile radius of New York City. Having grown up on the Jersey side of the Hudson, I’ve heard my state regularly maligned as consisting mostly of smokestacks and asphalt. It makes for clever one-liners, no doubt; you can’t help but smile (even while you curse the traffic jam you happen to be stewing in) but, you know, it simply isn’t true.

Take The Great Swamp, for instance. It’s a protected area administered by the U. S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Barely 26 miles from Times Square, it consists of 7,600 acres of varied habitats and has become home to literally hundreds of species of birds and animals. Thousands of plant varieties make the refuge a lung for this highly populated region.

As the name implies, much of the area consists of wetlands with its own unique semi-aquatic vegetation which is lush and green in the summer and starkly somber in winter. Each season here has its own particular charm. There is a series of well-maintained boardwalks that give the visitor a chance to enjoy this unique habitat without having to muddy his boots. There are also biking, hiking and waking trails.

Some years back, developers wanted to drain the swamp and build an airport there. The local population - not without political influence and financial clout - rose up and successfully lobbied against the project. As a result, it was decided that the already existing airport in Newark should be enlarged - and another wilderness area was saved.

The animal population in the swamp routinely spills over into the surrounding suburbs. For people living there, it is not unusual to see fox, deer, rabbits, turtles and wild turkeys in their yards. Deer alone are so prolific, a hunt is held annually in an effort to control the population. This invariably brings animal rights protestors out, but logic does seem to suggest that if the animal populations are not controlled in some way, many will go outside the refuge in search of food where they are likely to become traffic fatalities.

The Great Swamp is primarily known for bird watching. There are hundreds of bird species who use it to rest and feed during their annual migrations. Sound-proof bird blinds have been built for the patient birder to observe his often elusive prey.

Curiously, on a recent trip to wilds of Vermont, we saw almost no wildlife – not even a squirrel. I asked the locals about it. They simply shrugged and joked, “The animals, it seems, have all packed up and gone down to New Jersey,” they would say. I have yet to hear a plausible explanation for why this should be so.

Located on 16 acres adjacent to the Great Swamp is The Raptor Trust. This is where injured birds are mended and cared for until they can be released back into the wild. It is a privately funded enterprise and is open to visitors who wish to see owls, hawks, vultures, eagles as these are recuperating from some unfortunate accident. A small donation may be asked for at the gate. For directions and additional information, check out their web site:

http://www.funsprouts.com/raptor_trust.htm.

Paul McCartney

Paul McCartney, troubadour, highly sought - even in the White House.

Museum Complex, Egmore, Chennai, India

Chennai’s Government Museum complex in the district of Egmore is comprised of six buildings and 46 galleries. Of these, we only had time to visit the Gallery of Bronzes and the adjacent gallery of coins. Reading the dates on the coins, one gets an idea of just how far back (BC) India’s recorded history actually goes. There was even a display of the light-weight alloy coins that were commonly used back when I was first here in the early 70’s. The Gallery of Bronzes contained mostly statuettes of the dancing Lord Shiva (the destroyer), his consort, Parvathi and their two sons, Ganesha and Subrahmanya; the meditating Buddha; and a handful of examples representing Jain statuary. It is said that without the Jain contribution of grammar to Tamil language, the Tamils would never have risen to prominence. I also noted a statue of the three faced Brahma, the creator and first god of the Hindu trinity. It is extremely rare to find any visual representation of Brahma anywhere in India. I did not take pictures of anything inside as this would have required an additional fee of Rs 200.

On previous occasions we had attended live performances of classical Indian music by top native talent at the Museum Theater. It is an excellent, air-conditioned venue with fine acoustics for music concerts of any type.

The entire complex appears a bit run down but this only adds to its ‘deserted cities’ charm. There is one building in particular that is an amazing example of indo-saracenic architecture. It is not being used because it has been declared unsafe. The book exposition building contains mostly books printed in Tamil and a modest ‘Learning English’ section. The gardens have some magnificent native trees – Mango, Neem, Peepal, Cannonball, etc.

There’s one thing that has always bothered me about visiting museums and historic sites in India. Foreigners are routinely charged ten times the normal entrance fee. Also, foreigners are prohibited entirely from entering certain temples. The cast system, though declared illegal by the government, is still being practiced in spirit by the majority of the population in that servants, drivers and watchmen are often treated rudely and denied basic human respect. All these are subtle examples of generally accepted practices that continue to marginalize specific groups and exclude others altogether. Indians tend to glibly gloss over it, pointing to what essentially amount to superficial federal efforts - in terms of government handouts and judicial rulings that favor the scheduled classes (another name for the ‘untouchables’); female children receiving free education up to 12th standard, whereas boys don’t; and blonde, blue-eyed foreigners being charged ten times the normal amount at government operated museums or (joint) India-UN administered heritage sites – to combat inequity.

Reverse-discrimination is still discrimination. It undermines the moral standing of a nation. It tends to desensitize the populace into being willing to accept much greater crimes - even genocide. After our museum visit, we had lunch at a new restaurant, called AZULIA at the GRT (International) Grand Hotel. The food was simply divine from the Greek salad, through the main course, to the espresso. The place was empty when we arrived. The chef, Joseph Chahine, a displaced Lebanese Christian, came out and introduced himself. He was friendly and broadly smiling as he proudly explained the intricacies of his culinary art to us. He told us how he personally had designed the (paper) menu, a virtual tome, giving much unnecessary information about the Mediterranean region. There were glossy pictures and maps. …only one problem: The map showed the names of every country along the Mediterranean coast, EXCEPT ISRAEL.* More people arrived as we were eating. Mr. Chahine claimed there were always good crowds at night.

*The menu has since this writing been changed. It is no longer offensive and the food is still great.

Peter Koelliker; pkoelliker8@yahoo.com

Grounds for Sculpture, Hamilton, NJ

A garden is a space of any size within which one can arrange things. Traditionally, a garden is a place for flowering plants or vegetables. In German, the genre also includes children (Kindergarten) or animals (Tiergarten). The underlying principle of a garden nevertheless appears to demand that it host some manner of living thing.

Perhaps, this is why New Jersey’s Sculpture Garden in Hamilton is officially known as Grounds for Sculpture. Only in America is there still sufficient space to put aside acreage dedicated solely to giving modern sculpture a platform and affording people of all backgrounds the opportunity to experience accidental encounters with contemporary art.

Since opening its gates to the general public in 1992, GFS has built a collection in excess of 240 works, including sculptures by renowned artists Clement Meadmore, Anthony Caro, Beverly Pepper, Kiki Smith, and New Jersey sculptor George Segal. Some of the works in the collection were commissioned specifically for the sculpture park, such as Magdalena Abakanowicz’s Space of Stone and New Jersey artist Isaac Witkin’s Garden State. Work on the park and sculpture acquisitions are financed by public tax-exempt bonds and private foundations associated with founder J. Seward Johnson.

The enthusiasm for modern sculpture seems to have spilled out well beyond the park’s accredited boundaries. Even before one enters through its gates, one sees numerous works by the side of the road and on the spacious grassy lots of corporations that comprise an adjoining industrial park. In fact, the brand new Hamilton Railway Station (only 5 minutes away by taxi) and the parking lot surrounding it contains so many mammoth installations, it almost gives the impression that the garden down the road can be no more than an afterthought.

I found the Grounds for Sculpture to be a fascinating piece of real estate. It is exquisitely landscaped with peacocks patrolling the perimeter. The sculptures are as varied as life itself. There are regal stone abstracts reaching to heaven; metal hard-wrought into tortured flights of fancy; well known classical paintings reproduced in three dimensions.

Unfortunately, I neglected to note the names of many of the artists whose works I was admiring. It would have necessitated the additional step of carrying a pad and pencil. The entire experience was so delightfully disarming; I saw no reason to dilute it with ponderous curatorial concerns. This just goes to show that there can be no possible excuse for not visiting this monument to human artistic inspiration. Even if you claim to know nothing of modern art; even if a previous visit to the stifling confines of some dusty museum has left you cold, Grounds for Sculpture cannot fail to uplift and guarantee a splendid time for all ages.

For directions and additional information about New Jersey’s Sculpture Garden including special events, tours, dining at its three restaurants, and shopping at its galleries, consult GFS’s website: http://www.groundsforsculpture.org/index.html.

Peter Koelliker pkoelliker8@yahoo.com

Alif Allah and Meesha Shafi

Pakistani popular music. Makes you want tomove your feet. Stick with this one.

Mysore, South India

How often have you heard it said that a song or a taste had taken someone back to remembering a place of his or her past? In most cases, many find that this may be the only way to actualize the precious memories of previous lives for, during prolonged absences, places tend to physically change and become unrecognizable.

I recently posted an article about Basel, Switzerland, in which I intimated that there are two cities I’ve become emotionally attached to. I can now reveal that the other is Mysore, India. It may serve to note that I spent only a short time in each initially. Yet, I had the opportunity to visit both again after decades had passed… and neither seemed to have changed all that much in the meantime.

In my junior year at college, I participated in the Central Pennsylvania Consortium’s ‘study abroad’ program. There were about a dozen of us from various colleges, most (but not exclusively) in Pennsylvania. Our destination was Mysore University in Mysore, South India.

We were all excited to be going. The Beatles, particularly George Harrison, had made India into a high-priority destination for us. Then, after landing in Delhi, the fun began. India simply overwhelmed us. The heat, the dust, the sights, the sounds, the tastes, the smells all conspired to overload our circuits. Though we stayed in one of the better hotels - close to Connaught Circle, the most westernized part of the city - our minds and bodies balked at what we faced. We continued to hear stories about Westerners going off to India with the best of intentions and leaving again on very the next flight out. We might have done the same had we felt well enough to organize two thoughts or more.

Some of us managed a trip to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. On the way, we stopped at Fathepur Sikri. Eventually, we headed south by train to Mysore, our new Indian home. By the time we were settled in at the Manasagangotri dorms, most of us were already feeling much better – physically, at least. We were given bicycles to tool around town with and told to remember to keep to the left-hand side of the road. It wasn’t so much of a problem; back in those days as there wasn’t much traffic anyway.

Mysore was an absolutely lovely, gentle South Indian town. It is where the Maharajas of Mysore – the Wodeyar dynasty - made their home. Accordingly, there are several magnificent palaces in town. The city lies at the foot of distinctive Chamundi Hill, which seen from a distance, at night, looks like it is draped with a sparkling pearl necklace, the illusion the streetlights along the road that leads up to the summit artfully maintains. A ride or climb (there are steps) to the top affords one a lovely view of the town below. There is also the Chamundeshwari Temple, a huge statue of Nandi, the bull, and another of the demon Mahishasura after which Mysore was named.

Famed South Indian writer, R.K. Narayan, lived much of the productive part of his life in Mysore. He wrote almost exclusively about Malgudi. Anyone reading his novels, who might have spent any time at all in Mysore, will easily make the connection between Malgudi and Mysore. They are one and the same. Narayan writes in English - not in Kannada, the language spoken Karnataka (State) – but writes as an English speaker in Mysore would speak. It gives his prose a deceptive simplicity.

It was British author, Graham Greene, who discovered Narayan and introduced his prose to Western audiences. To me, his genius is two-fold: First, he managed to capture the essence of Mysore with words (just as a smell or taste is capable of reconstituting a past life); and second, his observations in a philosophical/metaphysical sense, are nothing short of profound. I’m thinking primarily of his novel entitled, “The English Teacher” which some say is his most autobiographical effort. In it, he explores the here as it relates to the beyond. He is said to have been a modest man, often seen in the English Literature Department at Mysore University as guest, coach and observer.

Peter Koelliker; pkoelliker8@yahoo.com

Amethyst, Chennai, India

Colonial heritage is not necessarily something despised by all people. Often, colonial heritage sites are lovingly maintained for posterity. I remember way back in the mid ‘70s landing in Singapore after a wearying boat ride from Jakarta in steerage. Even in those days it was a sprawling modern metropolis with glass and chrome office buildings and shopping malls. There was also an Indian and a Chinese sector, both abounding in distinct ethnic flavors but otherwise unremarkable. At some point, I ran across the Raffles Hotel, a delightful colonial structure, elaborately appointed with wicker furniture and plush carpets and pillows. Raffles owes its celebrity to one of its guests: Somerset Maugham, who once referred to this particular hotel as the symbol for "all the fables of the Exotic East".
The Raffles Hotel is just one of hundreds such places that proudly celebrate colonial heritage throughout the Far East. These are points where travelers and ex-pats converge to share their tales of adventure, pick up a souvenir or two and eat a familiar meal.

In India, there’s Goa with its blindingly bright, whitewashed Portuguese style churches and its ‘swimming attire optional’ beaches; there’s Puducherry (see my previous post) on the opposite coast where an entire neighborhood is carefully being preserved to retain its distinct French demeanor.

Chennai has Amethyst, a beautiful colonial bungalow, the most famous of the many heritage buildings here that have been converted into art galleries coffee shops, boutiques and restaurants.

Immediately, after having entered through its tall gates, it feels like the temperature drops about twenty degrees. This is due to the profusion of well-tended tropical greens throughout the premises. The atmosphere is relaxed. People come with their laptops or to talk business over light stimulants like tea or coffee. Hookahs are brought on request. In addition, pastries as well as western-style meals are available - at inflated prices, I might add. But you don’t begrudge it - or the leisurely service - because the place is so exquisitely lovely – such a radical departure from the hectic pace outside.

I had a hamburger which tasted somewhat different from what I expected. It might have been the ketchup. I can’t say it was bad – just different. The coffee afterwards was excellent.

After our meal, we visited the boutique. The stuff there was first class (Indian) designer ware and fabulously expensive. There were clothes and leather accessories, jewelry, original art and dinnerware. Upstairs they had antique furniture for sale.

Amethyst is a great place to unwind from the apparent chaos of Asia. You can order a coffee and nurse it all day while reading a book about the Mogul architecture. Nobody will ask you to leave. If you remain there long enough, Amethyst’s ginger cat might even consent to make an appearance. She’ll be staring at you from underneath one of the unoccupied tables. You can find Amethyst on Facebook.

Peter Koelliker; pkoelliker8@yahoo.com

Jane Voorhees Zimmerli Art Museum

As a lover of the visual arts, I have a soft spot for museums. As a photographer, I am forever tempted to bring my camera along. Often, taking pictures inside is outright prohibited. Sometimes it is allowed, but only in specified parts of a building. In any case, I am told that any pictures taken inside a museum cannot be publicly sold or traded. This, I presume, is in the interests of artists or their agents who wish to make sure that any revenues derived from the distribution of their intellectual property will accrue to its rightful owner.

Once the taking of pictures inside a museum has been officially sanctioned, the photographer’s problems only multiply. As the lighting inside tends to fall below the threshold required (and the use of flash is always most emphatically prohibited), any pictures he might take will tend to be dark and grainy. Still, it has been my experience that, given one has made enough attempts, a small percentage of pictures will (sometimes, with the aid of photo shop) turn out tolerably well.

It is not my intention here to promote any particular artist over any other. The pictures presented as addendums to this writing are simply the ones that happened to turn out under difficult lighting conditions. My aim (if, indeed, there is an aim) is to promote the Zimmerli as a fine place to spend an afternoon contemplating a wide variety of the plastic arts and paintings. Many of the exhibits are here on a rotating basis which keeps the experience from becoming stale, inviting also future visits. We noted that the emphasis here was on Russian (non-conformist) art. I had to consult Wikipedia later to find out exactly what this means. There was also a wing in which contemporary Indian art was featured.

The Jane Voorhees Zimmerli Art Museum is located on Rutgers University campus in New Brunswick, NJ. It is within easy walking distance of the town where a number of very good restaurants and coffee bars beckon. The Museum itself has coffee and gift shops. It is neatly tucked away in a park-like setting near where the very first buildings comprising what is now Rutgers University were built. Rutgers is one of only two colonial colleges that later would become public universities. (The other is the College of William and Mary.)

The Zimmerli Art Museum serves as a research facility for students, faculty, and visiting scholars. It also provides educational and cultural resources for communities and schools throughout New Jersey, offering a wide variety of interactive programs for both children and adults.

For information about current exhibitions, programs, hours, and directions call (732) 932-7237 or visit the web site: http://www.zimmerlimuseum.rutgers.edu/.

Peter Koelliker pkoelliker8@yahoo.com

Pete Postlethwaite (1945 - 2011)

RIP

Murray Hill Square; Murray Hill, NJ

Writers and social critics have not been shy in expressing their distaste for modern housing developments that feature cookie-cutter dwellings in tombstone-like rows, stretching as far as the eye can see. The genesis of this, of course was Levittown, LI, NY, a vast tract of identical houses built all at the same time. There was a demand for relatively cheap housing immediately after WWII and it was found that building cost could be reduced if the product could be mass-produced.

The now classic joke involves a man coming home from work and wandering into the wrong house because all the houses on his street look the same. Satirists appreciate this narrative so much, it has now become urban legend, appearing in the lyrics of popular songs as in well as in the movies. The funny thing is, despite the ridicule, builders still build this way and people still buy homes in such neighborhoods, even if these are not at all inexpensive. In fact, the price of a home in a planned community is often entirely dependent on location and the ring of the high-sounding moniker the builder was able to come up with.

We ourselves live in such a community for a time. It was actually somewhat of a rarity in that it consisted of three alternating architectural styles: Tudor, Colonial, and Mediterranean. In our immediate vicinity there were other developments, all built roughly within the same timeframe, that contained no variance in style whatsoever and which often were even more expensive.

I can’t say it bothered me particularly, living there. True, the first time I got lost as we all did before the days of GPS.

Still, the idea of living in a house exactly as one’s neighbor’s is strangely troubling. Perhaps this is why one is usually expected to pay a premium for a custom built home, though it may be older and smaller than similar new construction.

The other day, I took my camera to Murray Hill Square in Murray Hill, NJ, an unincorporated area located within portions of both Berkeley Heights and New Providence. Built relatively recently (early 1980’s), it breaks all the architectural rules of planned community construction. Each home there is patently unique.

The accompanying pictures will show that these could have been taken in Williamsburg, VA or in any other painstakingly preserved colonial American village. The homes are expensive. The upkeep of the public areas itself must amount to a small fortune. And, no doubt, the community’s close proximity to a whistle stop along the New York–Gladstone (rail) line adds to its desirability. Also within easy walking distance is a modest shopping center with a supermarket, a couple of restaurants, a (albeit temporary) post office and a liquor store. There may also be a dry cleaners; I forget.

Peter Koelliker; pkoelliker8@yahoo.com