Hampi.


the bus journey to hampi was interesting as it was our first proper bus trip in india. we took a taxi to some god forsaken middle of no where bus stop in Cancona for nine and waited patiantly for our bus. we met an english guy who said he had tried to get to Hampi yesterday, but had given up waiting at 12. the bus had eventually turned up at 3 in the morning. this filled us with a certain sense of apprehension. after calling the bloke who we bought the tickets off a few times and having our new english friend Olly, shout at him, we found out that the bus was “on its way”. a bus eventually turned up but when we showed our tickets we were told that it wasn’t our bus. our bus, as it happens, was on its way. there was a big crowd of disgruntled israelis waiting with us who were kicking up a fuss, as is their wont. the bus man was getting flustered and retreated back into the bus with a couple of people who had the apparent good fortune to own the correct kind of ticket. Olly wasn’t having any of it and tackled the busman when he emerged, stressing the fact that he had to wait for the bus the day before. the busman relented and he leapt aboard suggesting that i do the same unless i wanted to wait for another three years.


selecting a vapid grin, i sidled up to the busman and pretending that he hadn’t already checked and rejected my ticket only five minutes ago, i thrust it at him. he looked at the ticket then looked at his roster sheet. he nodded apparently satisfired by some obscure criteria i had passed. we were on. we evicted Olly from his bunk just as he was getting comfortable and sent him off to sleep next to a largish bloke of questionable hygene. the bunks were large enough for a slim person of short stature. having to share this small shelf with someone is pretty insane. i was hanging onto the lip of our bunk the entire way, the only thing stopping me from spilling out into the corridor when the driver, taking a speed bump to fast sent the bus skywards in bone shattering leaps, was a thin metal bar cunningly positioned near my face and shins. sleep was a fond memory that i mused on as we bounced our way to hampi. lucy seemed to sleep fine.


Hampi is a very picturesque place. the mountains of boulders look strikingly like small piles of pebbles. defying gravity in an eyepleasing manner. clambering up the mountains was good fun and i did a spot of light rock climbing as well. not strictly allowed we found out later. not much, apart from being dociley herded around temples, was allowed because a tourist had something stolen once about five years ago and this was still big news. we had to go the police staion to regester our presence and we were shown a picture of the dreaded criminal and were told that he was still at large and hiding in all the cool and interesting places so we simply musn’t go there. by ignoring this drivel we had ourselves a pretty good time.it was really nice to just stroll around and chill out in the shade of an ancient ruined temple. we also took some bikes out and saw even more temples, most undergoing reconstruction, presumably with original escavated stone. lucy got bored of this edylic lifestyle fairly quickly so we booked a ticket to mysore.


it was only after we had bought our ticket that we met a bunch of australians we had befriended in palolam, who told us of the absolute epicness of Hampi across the river. far more relaxed atmosphere and a lush lake to go swimming in. blast!


the less said about the train journey the better. i will say that it involved getting up crazy early, changing trains, lots of frantic running around and panicking and the loss of a ticket. naming no names but it was lucy.


Mysore, after Hampi was a bit of a disapointment. apart from the eformentioned hill, there was really not much to do apart from drink in the choking trafic pollution. we visited the famous maharaja’s palace. it was an eceptuanal peice of vulgarity. a farely large building, with crenelatioins and pointy onion bits on the top. what sets it apart from most buildings is that every surface had been coated in tacky lightbulbs.


presumably this is meant to be pleasing on the eye at night, but during the day it was hidious.


not so much gilding the lily but gilding something which should never have been brought anyones attention in the first place. and not so much gilded but galvanised rather cheaply.


possibly im going over the top here, but i had had a bad day and it offended me.


anyway after all this fun we decided to go to Bangolore.


our arrival in Bangalore as chance would have it, coincided with a massive international engineering/mechanical/political expo which happens only once every five million years and only when all the planets are aligned according to nostradamus’ pamphlet entitled when not to go to bangalore. this meant that we spent the first three hours or so trying to find anyone who would put us up for the night.


emotions ranged from amusment to mild irritation to disbalief as we called everyone in the book, visited countless hotels, even ones beyond our budget by miles. by the end i was nursing a deep hatred of the place that had gone beyond the rational.


we decided to go back to the station and get the next train out, no matter where it was going. we were even prepared to go back to Mysore. (shudder) our taxi driver though had taken it on as some sort of personal challange to find us a room. eventually we ended up down a dank and fetid side street, forking out an idiotic amount of money for the worst room i have ever had the misfortune of spending the night in. desperation had us in its grip however and my glazed mind bairly noticed.


after five minutes in our fully payed for room, we began to notice however. lucy noticed that the bed smelt as though it had already been slept on by ten sweating men with unquestionable dicey hygene. also there was no shower. this may account for the smell of unwashed bodies on the bed. the smell of sewage that permeated the air i attributed to the heavily stained sink, which cleary had at some point been used as a latrine.


we had to get out. nothing was in walking distance so we took a taxi to the city center to find somewhere nice to eat. we didn’t, so we had a mcdonalds. i felt a cold darknes nibbling at my soul as we made our way back to our palatial residence.


at some point we stopped at a traffic jam and i watched in detached interest as womans face appeared out of the side of a autorickshaw and vomited with wild abandon onto the tarmac. with the attitude of a natural philosopher disecting a new specimin, i evaluated the size and consistancy of the chunks that flew out of her mouth with such velocity. she didn’t appear to be enjoying herself.


i regarded the spectacle with a bleak eye. i wasn’t suprised. it struck me that Bangalore was just the sort of place that it is almost impossible to ride in a taxi through without being violently sick.


very little to do in Bangalore apart from try to get out. to do anything you must first drive through about an hour of choking trafic fumes and after you have done whatever you wanted to do, you have to drive back. the unscrupulus taxi driver then atempts to swindle you. rather trying.

we went shopping and saw two movies. Blood Diamond was pretty good. we couldn’t sleep in our awfull room on acount of hords of indian business men, here for the expo, shouting at each other in the corridoor outside our room untill the small hours. this lack of sleep coupled with the squalid conditions contributed to it being the worst room ever. so we left. all trains to Goa and Hampi (our fist choice of destination) were booked upfor the next week, but we managed to get a couple of seats to Mumbai. a paltry 24hours. pah! i could do it in my sleep! we had been mulling over the idea of heading to south east asia early for a while now, and this proved to be the catalyst. as soon as we get to mMmbai we will change our flights accordingly


arrived in Mumbai. now my fourth visit…


can’t say i missed it, but its quite nice all the same.

so this is to be the last post from india. we went to the Taj hotel which housed the singapore airlines office, and got our tickets changed to tomorrow. the we felt out of place strolling through the glittering Taj, being peered at by besuited chaps who where no doupt wondering who let the the riff raff in.

no pictures im afraid, this place has no usb slot and i only managed to extract this blog through a bizzare form of osmosis.

i will blog a final summery of India as a whole when i have thought of one.

love julio

As big as cats

I would be glad if Shantaram was made up. That would mean the tidal flow of rats he encountered one night in his slum weren’t as revoltingly large and all-devouring as he suggested. Nevertheless, concerning rough justice:

“In India it’s true, in Egypt it’s true, in Malaysia, Indonesia, sometimes China. When a truck or a bus hits a pedestrian or bicyclist and if the driver doesn’t run away from the scene of the accident, he gets lynched … “

Shantaram

I filched this from the author’s website:

Q. When did the idea of an autobiography, with the city both as a character and as a backdrop, first strike you?

A. With respect, Shantaram is not an autobiography, it’s a novel. If the book reads like an autobiography, I take that as a very high compliment, because I structured the created narrative to read like fiction but feel like fact. I wanted the novel to have the page-turning drive of a work of fiction but to be informed by such a powerful stream of real experience that it had the authentic feel of fact.

Also, from a bbc story:”Roberts admits that the novel very closely mirrors his own extraordinary life.”

I suspect it’s liberally embellished truth.

Apparently, Johnny Depp is going to play the main character in the film version

hail!

in mysore at present. not much to do here apart from struggle to find someplace nice to eat. walked to the top of some suposedly good karma inducing hill today. 1000 steps to the top, only to find, much like everywhere else that the top is infested with shops, hawkers, tedious temples, ect.

had an icecream which tasted like i was slurping on a lepers weeping sore. i chucked it down the mountain. the taste clung to my mouth so i had some water melon from a roadside minion. best i have had so far, very refreshing. the fruit in india has been pretty dissapointing, cheap but not very good. getting a fruit juice is such a gamble as to whether its nice or not that its easier to stick to the good old minaral water, which i now hear is laced with pestacides. nice!

 

 thanks for the letter ma! sounds like that trip home was pretty grim. hopefully my flights will run smoothly. i strongly refute the charge that i get up at 1.00pm! its closer to 12.30 than anything else! sleep is reletivly tricky at present, last night in perticular an indian family camped in the corridor of our hotel at around 4.30am. their children (of which there were many) played some sort of running and shouting game outside our door, which was apprently one of those games that can be played tirelesly and without sceaseing for many hours. all in all i don’t sleep that well.

on a good note hampi was really nice. only problem was we left too soon. might head back after bangalore. 

will blog properly when we get to banglore.  

love jul

 

p.s actually shantaram is true, or at least as true as papillion, which i have just read. rather good.

Leaps of doom

Oh come on Liv, a true dare devil such as yourself who can traverse the Leaps of Doom with barely a grimace would have no trouble at all on a crappy bungee jump – all you have to do is jump and put your arms out, and even a stone can fall 134 meters! I’m going sky diving on my birthday.

Also, Dodman, it should be noted that Shantaram is actually fiction and anyone involved in a road accident isn’t actually pummeled to death by a crowd of rabid locals – although I’m sure it has happened on occasion. Otherwise there would be about 100,000 murders every day in India.