We arrive at the temple entrance at 9:30am. We buy jasmine from the ladies selling it from big woven basket at the left of the entrance and ask them to put it in our hair. The smell is lovely. While chatting and selling, the lady is vivacious and born to sell with a massive grin. I ask to take her photo, she agrees, and immediately she replaces her smile with what you could only call ‘resting-bitch-face’. I don't understand why, but she's not the first Indian that we have taken photos of, or with, who have kept a very straight, unimpressed face. The temple is so beautiful and colourful. The colours are what stands out the most to me because all of the other temples haven't been coloured. Inside the temple is just as impressive. As I walk into the temple infront of me is a beautiful dressed elephant. She has a colourful headpiece coming down her face, big eyes, a bell around her neck and a matching piece of colourful material over her back. Her trunk has speckles of pink, as does the edges of her ears. I cannot believe how close I am to an elephant. I watch people walk over to her and hold out coins, coconut pieces and banana, she takes them with her trunk. The coins she hands to her minder and the food she eats and then she returns her trunk to the giver and rests her trunk on their head. She blesses them. I gaze at her like a child and Chandra tells me that I can be blessed if I want to. I do want to. Beth films it for me as I walk over with 10 rupees. Her enormous trunk gently reaches out for my hand, I realise that this must be how people who don't know how to feed horses feel when they feed them for the first time, the pointy part of her trunk scoops the money and I feel moisture from her nostrils the size of golf balls, on my hand. She hands the money to the minder, tucks in the end of her trunk and rubs my the top of my head to my forehead. Best. Moment. Ever. The rest of the temple is a colourful blur. 

On our way to the Gandhi museum we pit stop at a fair trade shop and James buys two beautiful scarves. One for his mum and one for Stacey. They try to persuade Beth and I to get some, but the last time I bought scarves, in Dubai, I wanted one and left with three. The Ghandi museum was interesting but awkward. 36 six-foot-by-six-foot displays talking about how terrible the British are and all the terrible things we did. James and I agreed it was probably better that I tell people I was Australian that day. As I walked out the museum I saw a quote on how he handled his death, that was the first and last thing I had heard about it, and I was so confused. They intentionally didn't have any information on his death because Ghandhi had encouraged forgiveness. Chandra seemed a little anxious proposing this but he suggested that we eat at a local place if we were up for it. We were. The chain was called Sree SabareeS. It was modern décor. But that was the only thing modern about it. The café was crammed and bustling. People hollering at one another trying to be head over the rabble. Booths lined each side of the room and multiple groups of diners were squeezed into them. Food was served on big banana leaves and men walked up and down the room holding handled pots of different dishes and ladled them onto the leaves. Rice, popadoms, lentils, veg curry, tamarind curry, all heavily flavoured and with an undertone of coconut. As soon as you finished your serving of lentils it was immediately replenished. The ladle necks were crusty with dried versions of the dish they were carrying. We stuck in with our hands, eating with the locals with jasmine in our hair, they all stared, smiled and head wiggled in approval that we were getting stuck in. As an experience, it was my favourite meal in India. The enormous buffet cost 70 rupees and we left I bought some sweet, milky South Indian coffee from the coffee counter of the café for 7 rupees. That evening we had an overnight train so we grabbed snacks, went back to the hotel to chill, watched ‘Welcome to the Jungle’ (good cast but so average), walked to the station. On the walk to the station there was a small stage set up. Only two feet from the floor, ten foot by ten foot with communist bunting, a sound system blaring out traditional music and some guy dancing like no one was watching. Beth and I stopped to watch him. I don't really understand what was going on, maybe he had hijacked a stage for a quick dance? But it was a nice send off from Madurai. When we were buying snacks Beth and I spied Uno so we each bought a pack and with each pack we got a free toy car. On the train, sleeping opposite us was a family with a little boy, who was so whiny. We gave him our toy cars and his face lit up which settled him for a while. Beth and I played shithead until she finally won a game and then we slept.