Sunday, March 29, 2009

Hampi and then there was one...

Although we were pelted with colors and Andrew has sworn to return with a paint-ball gun in 2010, Holi was a fun festival to witness. It seemed to carry on days after we'd left Belgaum. Taking a round-about route to Hampi (see map), we stopped briefly at the Badami caves and Patadkal ruins. The former were really spectacular, being carved into the mountain side.

Warning signs in the car park mentioned monkeys, and before too long we witnessed the hilarity of a small fury hand grabbing a woman's handbag and scampering back up the rocks. The cheeky animal sat on a ledge above our heads, and proceeded to rifle through the handbag, inspecting cards, paper and finally the purse. Anything inedible (basically everything) was then dropped carelessly into the crevice below. Seconds later another scream indicated another unlucky Indian tourist had lost her bag too. Brilliant entertainment. Patadkal was a brief stop at yet another World Heritage Site. Although it seemed to be about 40 degrees Celsius in the shade, Andrew, Paul and I wandered about and again were amazed by the architecture. It was a short stop though, we were still trying to make Hampi before dark. A few km's on a fairly good road, then onto an excellent, smooth tarmac, only to find ourselves sharing the space with hundreds of trucks carrying dirt, garlic, motorbikes and other goods. Some trucks are very fast, weaving in and out of the traffic with relative ease. Others are painfully slow, and Andrew becomes the weaver, taking advantage of their height as they wave us past on corners we would normally avoid.

We made it to Hospet, the city 15kms before Hampi quite late (early evening) and as it was dark we decided to stay there the night. Full of mosquitoes and with men playing drums out side, it was not the most restful evening. We left early for Hampi, a slow paced, hot and dusty town. The outskirts are make up of huge boulders, hills of ancient carved stone that look impossible, yet there they were. How did anyone have the patience to break each massive boulder (and using which method?) and then carve the intricate shapes that became the pillars, baths, windows and walls of the various temples, stables and accommodation? We hired an auto rickshaw for a morning and the driver took us on a tour of some of the ruins, explaining briefly what we were looking at and what it was used for. Our photos don't do Hampi justice, but this one is of a bathing site which was made of hundreds of perfect stone steps. The orange blur is me (Amelia). Because Paul was only with us for 2 weeks, we decided after our

week of culture to head back to Goa (via Belgaum again...) and subsequently the beach.
We passed many trucks laden with crops, as well as massive piles of chillies (see photo)
and cotton by the side of the road. It's been interesting to see these products at their source.
Back at Palolem, with over 40 beach restaurants for us to try, fresh seafood and cheap beer, we very quickly relaxed into swimming and reading with intermissions of food and drink.
Paul may regret this slightly as he says his guts are STILL not back to normal.


Unfortunately, for 2 of us this idyllic break has had to come to an end. Paul is back in London having started his new job, and Andrew has been flown back to Melbourne for two weeks for work.

So, as I sit under the bamboo shade cover with my new friends Amie and James, 50 meters from the water's edge with a fresh lime soda, I contemplate the next few weeks here in Goa by myself. I have fishing trips, shopping and lovely dinners to occupy me in the interim. We have secured a spot on the beach where a cocktail, Kingfisher or quick dip in the sea (or an hour lying on a flotation device, Amie) are at our fingertips. I must remember, Andrew is earning, I don't need to be constantly spending...

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Right. We have fallen behind and need to get this up to speed. Where do the days go? Andrew's ear infection was not cured by the antibiotics so before we left Mysore we visited an Ayurvedic 'holistic health' doctor who prescribed sandalwood oil in the ear twice a day. Skeptical, but prepared to give it a go, we got a little bottle of oil. We then made tracks for Sriangapatnam and camped for free by a river that advertised 'Beware of the crocodiles'.

Next stop was Sravanabelagola where there is an ancient Jain statue of a fully naked 'Gommateshwara', erected AD 980. It is 17m high but you climb up 700 hot granite stone steps to reach it!

In Belur we camped in a hotel ground near a rubbish heap for 150 rupees - it is famous for a temple that took 1000 years to build with 644 carved stone elephants around the base of the central temple. So many incredible carvings in one place was very impressive.

A drive through forested hills to Belhonnour and we got our cheapest room yet (120 rupees = $4). The hotel had a busy bar underneath with the usual dodgy characters including a hairdresser with the worst comb-over ever seen. Extremely horrible veg broth was dished out constantly as 'bar snacks'.

The drive to Maravanthe on the coast took us through coffee plantations to the Turtle Bay resort where we stayed for two nights. After standing in the mid-day sun for nearly 2 hours while local mechanic-type men tried to widen the holes in the chassis using 'utterly incompetent' methods, including using drill buts tht didn't fit and throwing water at the drill to keep the metal cool... we were grateful for the beach.

Amelia was bitten 20 to 30 times on back and legs by some type of mosquitoes that reacted badly and needed antihistamines. Although it was a beautiful spot, right next to a nice beach, the water was so warm it gave little relief from the heat, let alone the bites. We did an oil change in a hot and dusty car park outside a 'mechanics' and we met the owners of the resort who invited us to breakfast and gave us advice on where to go scuba diving.



We debated about travelling straight up the coastal road which looked like a good road, or venturing back inland again, towards Jogg Falls. Of course we chose the convoluted, often difficult to navigate route. Only a trickle of water fell from top of the falls compared to when the monsoon comes, but the spot was still very beautiful. We stayed at a hotel there which was virtually deserted due to the lack of tourists, and looked like a prison. Loads of monkeys were playing about and we still enjoy watching their antics.



We were also treated to a young girl's Bollywood style dancing contest. The next day an unintended route led us in a cirlce, and meant our 'couple of hours drive' to Goa turned into an all day mission. Crossing the border into Goa, our fourth Indian state and the first with hassle from the police asking for 'boxes' ie. cash.


Just over the border into Goa is Palolom. Our guide book mentioned it as a small beach-side town but it was a bit of a shock to all of a sudden be surrounded by 'Whities', some not wearing much. Women and men in bikinis/topless (men) on motorbikes hooning around the roads... and all the Indian people speak excellent English which makes travelling life very simple. Palolom is also very expensive. Food and drinks are all cost so much more than the non-touristy places and was the start of our 'budget blowout.' Quite excited to have a new face in the car, we picked Paul from the airport and headed for the
recommended Agonda Beach for 2 nights.
A spot of unsuccessful fishing (we think Paddy's rod in jinxed), a day of swimming and sitting in a bamboo hut catching up with Paul, a nice change from days on the road in the heat.

An uneventful drive north to Old Goa, we visited the Bom Cathedral where a saint's body has been preserved in a casket since the 1500's. Every 12 years they open it up and have a look - just to prove it's him. As you walk by you can see his skull, and Paul had his first experience of Indian tourists asking for a photo with him. The list of UNESCO sites in India is huge, and we are so lucky to be able to visit many. Andrew found a ferry and a concrete ramp that looked like it would take us further north (he had the maps at the time). We lined up, drove the car on to the ferry and enjoyed the short ride across the river. Once there, we zoomed out on the GPS to look at our position and I heard Andrew moan 'Oh bloody hell we're on an Island!". No bridge, so we did a circle, drove back to the ferry and sailed back to Old Goa and along the river to a nice local restaurant for lunch.

Ajunta beach, known for it's dance parties and hippies was our next stop. We made our way south along the beach to 'Curlies' bar, and found a place to camp before heading out for a drink. The bars are all situated about 10-15 metres from the water and have sandy floors. Curlies was pumping loud trance music and the place was full of 50-60 year old hippies, plus some 30 something families with small children. What a different atmosphere to that of Agonda and Palolom. Fishing boats were pulled in and up the sand, gypsy women and children sold dresses and jewelry, and the dogs actually looked like they belonged to someone. We camped for free in the area normally reserved for the flee-markets.

The next morning the boys were feeling a little under the weather, so I was allowed to drive... and we headed to Belgaum. The Holi festival, also known as the 'Colors Festival' where people (men and boys) pelt each other with colored powder. The was a Wonderful atmosphere and it was entertaining to see men totally pink or purple. We stayed the night and when we left, Andrew made the fatal mistake of keeping his window down while the boys demanded money/gifts. A simple beep of our new improved air horn and the foot down would have sufficed. Paul and I had already put our windows up and were locking our doors when a handful of pink powder was thrown through Andrew's window. His face, neck, shirt and the front half of our car were instantly transformed pink.

Outside of the car is now green, pink and purple. The festival celebrates climax of Spring, and tended to send the young men a bit crazy. In the small villages they put huge rocks across the road so that vehicles had to stop, and we adopted the 'straight through' approach. Some of the locals had faces sprayed silver and looked at us with crazed eyes. Paul locked his door.

We have now made it to increadible Hampi, but that's the next post....

Monday, March 9, 2009

This blog buisiness takes quite a bit of time, and so this is officially our appology for the lack of personal emails. We just can't be bothered spending more time at internet cafes! It already feels like more than a week ago that we had dinner in the mosquito infested restaurant of our hotel in Udumalpetta. As we headed once again to the mountains, the temperature dropped thankfully. Our guide book and many fellow travellers recommended the city of Ooty (Udhagamandalam) as a base in this area, but I read about the smaller city of Coonoor and it seemed more appealing. The picturesque hills around the town are covered in coffee and tea plantations, and at nearly 2000m there are no mosquitoes!


We drove around searching for a hotel that would let us sleep in the tent and use their facilities, but space was at a premium in the mountains and only the super expensive hotels seemed to have any grass or car parking area vacant. The landcruiser is a little to conspicuous to allow us to camp. By complete accident we happened upon a YWCA guest house which was recommended in our book. In an idylic location overlooking the city, we decided to take a room and spoil ourselves. Winding lanes, chickens in cages next to sari shops, small rivers full of sewerage and a market where a goldsmith re-shaped and resized a sentimental ring of mine in 5 minutes for less than $1. A lovely Indian couple we met had highly recommended a French restaurant near the YWCA - typically we read the menu and began to salivate. Non-Indian food - NO Curry! A lovely change from our usual diet. We chatted to the woman who owned the place about why she could no longer live in Paris, or France for that matter, and compared experiences we'd had in the much more spiritually aware India.

An old steam train runs up the mountain to Ooty - 4 rupees for the normal seats and 70 odd for 1st class. On the advice of the French woman we bought 2 first class tickets and caught the 7:45am train as "the 10:30am train is full". It was a bit ridiculous actually, us and a Scottish/New Zealand couple in 1st class, and about 10 others in the normal cheap carriages.
Ooty was for me a bit of a let down. Spoilt by the Cardamon Hills, the Tea Plantations and forested roads, Ooty was a bit dirty, busy, touristy in comparison. The Nigrils (the mountain region we've been in for the past week) are plastic free. Way ahead of their times in many ways, the area declares plastic bags illegal, and instead shop owners offer bags made from old newspapers. Ooty compensated for it's lack of plastic with cow dung everywhere and less well-kept streets. We did have a fun encounter with a large black cow at a jewelrey shop where we were looking at antique silver jewelry. I wandered into a wonderful shop while Andrew was using the internet where old statues and jewelry and sun dials were sold. I bought an Indian elephant mask in the style of Ganesh - son of Siva, for Andrew's birthday. I also bought a CD of MP3 files - Indian Hip Hop but unfortunately they refuse to play in the landcruiser...
Although Coonoor was a gorgeous spot we are aware of how fast time is passing and know that if we are to make Goa by the 7th March to meet Paul C, we need to make tracks north. We'd hoped to find an equallly nice and special place to spend Andrew's birthday on this journey northwards, and 'Jungle Trails' was it.


A short stop for snacks and to ask directions inadvertedly led us to Farook. He seemed to know 'Mark', the owner/manager of Jungle Trails well, and wrote down excellent directions for us. An hour later we were faced with a sign reading 'Private Property - No entry'. A little unsure, we slowley rolled the landcruier to the end of the dirt track where we were met by a friendly dog called BoBo and his warey owner Mike. Mike began by telling us that there was no restaurant anymore, and that to stay at his place would cost us 1000 rupees per person. To put this in perspective, we normaly pay about 400 rupees for the 2 of us in a city hotel room and the guide book had quoted 100 rupees per person. We were invited to sit on the porch of what looked like the main bamboo hut for a while to decide. Within 10 minutes spotted deer and wild boar wandered within 100 meters of us and Mark mentioned the monkeys and wild elephants he needed to provide water for in the dry season. He'd only just finished his sentence and I had our stuff out of the car and up into our bamboo hut. By 7pm we'd enjoyed a cold beer and seen samba, an elephant, monkeys, huge peacocks, pea hens, jungle squirrels, many birds and wild boar. What more could we ask for. We even had to move the landcruiser so that the elephants had a clear passage to water during the night. Mike mentioned that he saw tigers monthly, but was going to start throwing rocks at them to ensure they kept hidden from humans (poachers).




Mysore certainly was in contrast to Coonoor and Mark's place, and we both really liked it. The famous cilt beholding the Maharaja's Palace and silk and sandalwood production was well layed out with huge roundabouts featuring massive statues of Ghandi and an enourmous clock. Still, we are baffled as to how the law applies to using a roundabout. It seems that if it is a small one, say only 3 metres across (diameter), then you can cut in front of it, instead of travelling clockwise.
We found a nice hotel which is central but quiet, an allowed us to park the car safely off the road. On opening our morning paper Andrew spotted an article about a March against Terrorism that was taking place in the palace, though it was difficult to ascertain which palace. We asked a few people, and in the end assumed the protest was schedulled for the Maharaja's Palace, which we were keen to see. Given that the last few 'getherings' in India have lead to small bouts of violence, I was hoping we were wrong. Chatting with a guy who teaches 'clowning' in London, we walked around the northern perimeter of the palace grounds. Touts followed us for a while, selling sandalwood fans, plastic and wooden flutes and religious bits and pieces. The palace is certainly grand, with remarkable features such as a glass Bohemian chair, 2 preserved elephant heads (I did not like these), increadible carved teak doors, stained glass ceilings and to top it off, the palace is lit up with 50,000 light bulbs on each Sunday night.