Have you noticed how you don't go somewhere for ages, and then you go twice in short succession?

Last month, we walked up to the Indian temple at Matang (for the first time since 2021). And today, setting out well before it was light, we headed up there again, this time with a couple of friends.

Last month, I ducked out of climbing the steps to the actual temple (my feet are soft and wussy, and you have to take your shoes off). But this time there was an added incentive to make the effort, as the Chitra Pournami Festival is taking place at the moment.

Which is what? I quote: "Chitra Pournami refers to the full moon that falls on the auspicious first month of the Tamil calendar known as Chitirai. This day is particularly dedicated to Chitra Guptan, the keeper of deeds and the official bookkeeper of Yaman, the god of death." This year, the actual day is Monday 12 May, but the festivities have been ongoing since Thursday.


Our venturesome little party discussed logistics yesterday evening. "My feet will complain if I do the steps," I said, pathetically. "Wear socks," they said, briskly. "I only have one pair of hot-weather socks," I said. I have no idea how this sock crisis has arisen. I think a few that were on their last legs (so to speak) when we put stuff into store last September were booted (so to speak) at that point, and somehow have never been replaced. "Well, I'll LEND you some," said one of the friends. She'd have been justified in eye-rolling, but she didn't.

Then I woke up in the middle of the night, which was silly, because it was a short night, departure time having been set at 0500 -- but I woke up thinking: "I DO have socks. I still have the socks Turkish Airlines gave us for the flight..." And, miraculously, I tracked them down at the first attempt.

So, no excuses. After climbing the hill, pretty much in the dark, I donned my plane socks, and we tackled the steps.


This is always an atmospheric place. I gave a bit of the history here, but when we visited back then, we couldn't actually go in (because of covid restrictions). And this time was special anyway, because the site was gorgeously decked out for the celebration:













Backgrounding our admiring little tour of the temple is the kind of music that makes you long to go back to India...

And PT's food-sensitive nose was becoming more and more aware of some delicious milky-buttery thing, the source of which we were shown by the kind priest from Kuching, who's up here for the festival:



Outside, the light has been pouring back in:



But we can't stay too long.

So then it's the path back down. And the road to Kuching, which is surprisingly busy for a Saturday. And chicken porridge at the Sunco Food Centre.

We were home by 1000, still feeling buzzy from the temple visit, and thinking how nice it was to have done all that, and still have the day ahead of us.