From Goa, I took a day train (unusually for me, but it's more or less the only way to get to Hampi) to Hospet, the nearest railhead. For once, it was stuffed full of foreigners, and I teamed up with a friendly UK couple who have retired to Greece, Alf and Liz.
Hampi was absolute mayhem, even by Indian standards (which are high). The president of India[1] was due to inaugurate a new railway carriage (or something) in nearby Bangalore, and was nipping up to Hampi for 20 minutes by helicopter. Her plans kept changing, but the biggest problem was that a terrorist was discovered in Hospet the week before the big event. So they decided to close Hampi. For 3 days. Completely. To everyone except the locals. Foreigners out from a 3km radius, Kashmiris out from a 50km radius. I'm not sure if we were the threat or if it was to protect us: either way the locals were just thrilled, you can imagine; bad tempers abounded and rickshaw negotiations were a trial to everyone.
Anyhow, we arrived on Thursday afternoon, her excellency was originally expected on Saturday, but fortunately was rescheduled to Sunday - with "evacuation" planned from Saturday morning. So my original plan of 2 nights in town looked like it would be feasible. However, they[2] decided that from Friday they would shut down Hampi Bazaar and the ferries - from 12, officially. I assumed this would be an Indian 12 and went off sightseeing anyway. Most of the tourist accommodation in Hampi, including my base, is actually across the river.
Alf and Liz decided to take a night bus out on Friday, and first we took ourselves to see the sights - by happy side effect of the visit, they were almost deserted, apart from occasional police cars. The whole area is a mix of ruined architectural stone and ruined natural stone - there's a lot of stone to look at. The old 15th century city extended over many km, and I feel as though I walked most of them between 1030 and 1430 - not the best time of day to be out in India. Fortunately there was a very light cool breeze, so I didn't get too uncomfortable, and even better, my arms didn't burn (everything else was covered). As it turned out I was going sort of the wrong way (it was the right direction as the crow flies, but the bridge is closed - under repair, you can't get across in vehicles, they have to go all the way back round), happily some very kind American tourists gave me a lift back to the ferry point.
Oh yes, I took a few pics of the ruins, I will post them as soon as I find a computer with a USB port thtat works and have my camera with me at the same point in time!
Wouldn't you know that for once India kept proper time: I got back to Hampi bazaar to find that the ferries really weren't running. I found a friendly Zuricher to follow, and we set off for the wet route. The recommended route isn't the obvious ones across some (I hear) exceedingly slippery boulders, but a wider (and mysteriously deeper) crossing point just round the corner. The river was delightfully cool. The pebbles were extremely sharp underfoot, and as we got to the deepest part some local lads - for a nice change genuinely friendly - came to help us. They were so keen to show how easy it was that they slipped more than we did, but anyhow, it was nice to see where they trod before following, I was just about up to my trouser pockets at the worst. I didn't bother rolling my trousers up, they were already filthy (the same ones that survived the railway incident) and are easy-dry nylon. I have since donated them to a beggar.
Back at the hotel, the Friday afternoon train crowd turned up in dribs and drabs - some had taken the long route round (an extra 20km or so by rickshaw), some had caught the special ferry at 1500 (wouldn't you just know it!), and one intrepid individual had waded across with luggage - and ricked his back in the process. Among the group was an American girl, also Sarah, who didn't want to pay for a whole double room on her own, so we teamed up together.
On the Saturday night we travelled together (well kind of) to Bangalore. This could have been a major adventure for her - the train was booked solid, I had a confirmed bunk (fortunately I had booked it before leaving Goa), but everything else was wait list only, and one of the vagaries of the Indian rail administration is that you can't book a waitlisted ticket on the day of travel: instead you buy a general (unreserved) seat in the 2nd class carriage (actually the lowest of about 6 possible classes of travel), and then upgrade once you're on the train. If there are any spare berths, of course. Fortunately we also met up with some South Koreans in the station, one of whom was in the same position and would keep her company. However, 2nd class was sooooooooooooo full that the police were supervising the scrum and wouldn't let any foreigners on it (or was it passengers with luggage?) - Sarah and the South Korean tried several carriages and ended up in sleeper class (which is quite similar to 3AC, except that you have to bring your own blankets. And of course, there's no AC).
We arrived in Bangalore at 6am on Sunday, which as it turns out isn't a good time to be in Bangalore. The shops don't open until 1030ish and our next train was at 11. On the other hand, in a strange city in India you don't often run out of stuff to do - it basically took us all of 4 hours to find an open restaurant and have Dosa for breakfast, then get back to the station to pick up our luggage.
We had a short journey to Mysore, which is a wealthy town by Indian standards - partly trickledown from Bangalore, partly tourism, and mostly due to Infosys (which is actually here, not in Bangalore). Sarah asked our rickshaw driver what difference Infosys had made and the answer was "very better", "much clean", "much safety". I can't argue with two of those, but the cleanliness... I've been wanting to take pics of the "other" side ofIndia for a while, but don't usually feel comfortable waving a camera around in them. So I took advantage of the relative safety here and my new Salwar Kameez to show you some of the ordinary bits. Well I will, once I find a #*% USB port.
You can tell that Mysore is wealthy because
Hampi was absolute mayhem, even by Indian standards (which are high). The president of India[1] was due to inaugurate a new railway carriage (or something) in nearby Bangalore, and was nipping up to Hampi for 20 minutes by helicopter. Her plans kept changing, but the biggest problem was that a terrorist was discovered in Hospet the week before the big event. So they decided to close Hampi. For 3 days. Completely. To everyone except the locals. Foreigners out from a 3km radius, Kashmiris out from a 50km radius. I'm not sure if we were the threat or if it was to protect us: either way the locals were just thrilled, you can imagine; bad tempers abounded and rickshaw negotiations were a trial to everyone.
Anyhow, we arrived on Thursday afternoon, her excellency was originally expected on Saturday, but fortunately was rescheduled to Sunday - with "evacuation" planned from Saturday morning. So my original plan of 2 nights in town looked like it would be feasible. However, they[2] decided that from Friday they would shut down Hampi Bazaar and the ferries - from 12, officially. I assumed this would be an Indian 12 and went off sightseeing anyway. Most of the tourist accommodation in Hampi, including my base, is actually across the river.
Alf and Liz decided to take a night bus out on Friday, and first we took ourselves to see the sights - by happy side effect of the visit, they were almost deserted, apart from occasional police cars. The whole area is a mix of ruined architectural stone and ruined natural stone - there's a lot of stone to look at. The old 15th century city extended over many km, and I feel as though I walked most of them between 1030 and 1430 - not the best time of day to be out in India. Fortunately there was a very light cool breeze, so I didn't get too uncomfortable, and even better, my arms didn't burn (everything else was covered). As it turned out I was going sort of the wrong way (it was the right direction as the crow flies, but the bridge is closed - under repair, you can't get across in vehicles, they have to go all the way back round), happily some very kind American tourists gave me a lift back to the ferry point.
Oh yes, I took a few pics of the ruins, I will post them as soon as I find a computer with a USB port thtat works and have my camera with me at the same point in time!
Wouldn't you know that for once India kept proper time: I got back to Hampi bazaar to find that the ferries really weren't running. I found a friendly Zuricher to follow, and we set off for the wet route. The recommended route isn't the obvious ones across some (I hear) exceedingly slippery boulders, but a wider (and mysteriously deeper) crossing point just round the corner. The river was delightfully cool. The pebbles were extremely sharp underfoot, and as we got to the deepest part some local lads - for a nice change genuinely friendly - came to help us. They were so keen to show how easy it was that they slipped more than we did, but anyhow, it was nice to see where they trod before following, I was just about up to my trouser pockets at the worst. I didn't bother rolling my trousers up, they were already filthy (the same ones that survived the railway incident) and are easy-dry nylon. I have since donated them to a beggar.
Back at the hotel, the Friday afternoon train crowd turned up in dribs and drabs - some had taken the long route round (an extra 20km or so by rickshaw), some had caught the special ferry at 1500 (wouldn't you just know it!), and one intrepid individual had waded across with luggage - and ricked his back in the process. Among the group was an American girl, also Sarah, who didn't want to pay for a whole double room on her own, so we teamed up together.
On the Saturday night we travelled together (well kind of) to Bangalore. This could have been a major adventure for her - the train was booked solid, I had a confirmed bunk (fortunately I had booked it before leaving Goa), but everything else was wait list only, and one of the vagaries of the Indian rail administration is that you can't book a waitlisted ticket on the day of travel: instead you buy a general (unreserved) seat in the 2nd class carriage (actually the lowest of about 6 possible classes of travel), and then upgrade once you're on the train. If there are any spare berths, of course. Fortunately we also met up with some South Koreans in the station, one of whom was in the same position and would keep her company. However, 2nd class was sooooooooooooo full that the police were supervising the scrum and wouldn't let any foreigners on it (or was it passengers with luggage?) - Sarah and the South Korean tried several carriages and ended up in sleeper class (which is quite similar to 3AC, except that you have to bring your own blankets. And of course, there's no AC).
We arrived in Bangalore at 6am on Sunday, which as it turns out isn't a good time to be in Bangalore. The shops don't open until 1030ish and our next train was at 11. On the other hand, in a strange city in India you don't often run out of stuff to do - it basically took us all of 4 hours to find an open restaurant and have Dosa for breakfast, then get back to the station to pick up our luggage.
We had a short journey to Mysore, which is a wealthy town by Indian standards - partly trickledown from Bangalore, partly tourism, and mostly due to Infosys (which is actually here, not in Bangalore). Sarah asked our rickshaw driver what difference Infosys had made and the answer was "very better", "much clean", "much safety". I can't argue with two of those, but the cleanliness... I've been wanting to take pics of the "other" side ofIndia for a while, but don't usually feel comfortable waving a camera around in them. So I took advantage of the relative safety here and my new Salwar Kameez to show you some of the ordinary bits. Well I will, once I find a #*% USB port.
You can tell that Mysore is wealthy because
- most of the streets are tree lined
- they have horses (mainly small tonga ponies, also some stylish police mounts)
- they have identifiable parking spaces, some of which are for cars
- they sweep the pavements
- they have a couple of small but identifiable supermarkets complete with mini trolleys
However, although you don't have to watch what you are treading in as much as in most of India, only an Indian rickshaw driver could think the place spotless. In spite of the litter, I hugely enjoyed my tour, especially when I discovered a really great shopping street (Urs Road) which is mainly patronised by rich Indians, and therefore has Indian, Western, and fusion couture all at reasonable prices. It made a lovely change from the tourist tat you get on the Kerala and Goa beaches.
I also had a lovely time at the station - including two almost-conversations with groups of local girls who spoke about as much English as I do Hindi. One of them kindly plaited some jasmine into my hair, unfortunately I didn't get a proper pic of this but I will try and repeat the experience.
[1] http://presidentofindia.nic.in/ It's an honorary position, not political, so you probably haven't heard of her
[2] It's not at all clear who they is, apparently some form of authority, possibly the police. All the news we heard was second hand from disgruntled hotel owners.
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