Manny says "another noisy city, where you can't walk and breathe at the same time"… and he is right. From 8.30am to 7.00pm, Mangalore presents the same toxic blend of autorickshaws, interstate and local busses, private passenger cars and Jeep lookalikes, bicycles and trucks and pedestrians; you breathe only shallowly, and return to your sleeping place smelling of diesel and dust, which sweat and sun has pretty much baked into your clothes and layered on your skin. For someone who has recently ventured into India from the snowy north, it is challenging.
But the gritty reality of transportation also masks the subtle differences and flavors of the various communities we have visited, and to me, Mangalore is a beautiful and growing city, off the tourist track and away from the distortions which tourism and poverty inevitably create in a community.
First, the population is not great — even if our somewhat inaccurate Lonely Planet guide is off by thousands of inhabitants, we are only talking a half-million in this seaside city; probably some hundreds of thousands more in outlying and connected villages. The diminished weight of population and the corresponding smoke that follows their movement can be keenly felt here. The pressure is down. Here is a city going about its business, with nothing really to attract travellers and tourists: the beaches are for the Mangaloreans when they are off-work. No one seemed to know where the Sultan's Battery is — the only real point of interest claimed by the Lonely Planet guide. The shops are to clothe and feed Mangaloreans, and the services to keep them healthy.
The winding streets and well-arbored areas out of the city center add a charm and a flow to the buildings that is gentler — maybe southern, maybe an art that follows a fortunate lay of the land — than those we have found in the denser cities of Bangalore and Mysore, whose promise of attractions come at a fairly high price. Penalty, I should say.
The city, in fact, reminds me a great deal of Porto Alegre, the southern Brazilian city I called home for seven years. There is an optimism in the air, one that follows a booming economy and (reputedly) reasonably high standard of living, and there is an ease to the people I had not expected to sense in city life here. All seem somewhat but not overtly curious about ourselves as foreigners. "Hm. A foreigner."
We agreed that this was a town of business and not leisure, that the numerous hotels are clearly expecting visitors who are looking for large companies, and the upscale restaurants are waiting to sign against expense accounts, not foreign banks. The streets are packed with textile and jewelry shops, the prices fixed for the locals; if I were to open a company and wanted a good place to set up shop, with services for families and reasonably educated workforce, I would look very carefully at this southern coastal town.
Food
Not to forget the local delicacies! The best Indian meals I have eaten this trip were here: at the restaurant of the Hotel Mangalore International — Naideyam, I think was the name, whose North Indian specialties were absolutely delicious, at $1.50 per meal. The other was the Southern Indian fare offered in these parts, apparently famous in the lower states for their cuisine. If shops open before our train this afternoon, we may try to find a few more items for the trip home… otherwise we will try our luck in the southern beaches of Goa, where we look forward to "a little vacation" after this wonderfully intense study tour.
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