Gokarna

So we climbed aboard our luxury sleeper coach with our fellow crew of slightly inebriated Russians, and knowing what we know now we would have defiantly followed suite. The bunks were, well lets just say they optimised the space well, and as we tried to position ourselves as to make best possible use of our limited space we were hit by some more of the infamous SHITax. This time it was for the additional cost of the luggage we had put in the hold and we were swiftly relieved of 10 Rs per item (I'm actually now realising that the probably charge so little for these surprise additional taxes so that nobody kicks up a fuss and again not wanting to cause a scene over 12p I paid accordingly). So soon we were off bouncing and sliding around in our little compartment with privacy curtain drawn, although this was no deterrent to any little men who frequently peeked through. Feeling no benefit from our 'luxury' coach's suspension I got myself into a relatively uncomfortable position but one that gave me peace of mind that a stray pothole wouldn't launch me into the corridor or a sudden stop should send me shooting to the bottom of our cubicle.

After a few sleepless hours and numerous toilet stops, during which our non-privacy curtain was drawn back by bleary eyed Russians looking for their own bus cave, we arrived in the middle of nowhere where we were told we had to get off and wait for a connecting bus to go the final hours journey to Gokarna. Now I haven't frequented many roadside facilities even in the UK never mind in India but after standing for half an hour to no avail i decided the excessive water i drank on the bus was a mistake but just to man up and use them, after all how bad could they be? Fucking terrible, that's how bad they could be, absolutely fucking terrible! The normal urea pungency was absent from these toilets, it was instead replaced by a nose numbing stench of ammonia, more concentrated than anything available in any laboratory. The lights had seemed to succumb to the superior force of the stench which seemed only to reinforce my sense of smell but probably masked me from the sights of this cesspit and to be honest any possible source of ignition being added to the equation would probably have been unwise. Having survived yet another bog of eternal stench another bus load of gokarna bound travellers were turfed from their sleepless chariots and then we were all shoe horned into a tiny mini bus which had been sitting unassumingly in the car park the whole time. Bags strapped to the roof the driver took us hurtling through the countryside until we reached a deserted Gokarna bus station at 4am. The choice now was to pay the driver an extra 50Rs each to be taken to Om beach or be left to the mercy of the two rickshaw drivers who circled the delirious travellers like the prey we were. We chose neither and decided to walk the 10 minutes to the hotel we had half arranged. After a long trudge we were allowed early check in, having woken up most of the hotel staff who had been sleeping in the reception, and shown up to our, basic, room.

Gokarna itself seemed to have very little to offer, the large Town Beach had lots of potential but seemed to be used mainly as a rubbish dump. We spent the day looking for alternative accommodation on one of the other more tourist friendly beaches further to the south, Kudle and Om beach. Kudle was the first beach on the hit list so we set off on the 20 minute walk...which turned our was more of a hike, after hauling ourselves up a hundred stairs, and starting to wish we had taken the restrat owners advice and taken a boat there instead of walking in the midday sun, we reached a large open expanse at the top of the headland. We took what seemed to be a roughly beaten bath and eventually reached the top of what looked like a slightly dubious path downwards. We slipped and slided our way down, all the while wondering how the hell we would get down this path with our rucksacks never mind back up again! At the bottom we were greeted by one of the nicest beaches we had seen so far, enclosed by two headlands and having the whitest sand I had seen there was only one downside to Kudle, the accommodation. Now understandably there is restrictions on what you can bring down a rugged beach path and bricks appeared to be one of them, oh and toilet bowls too. Most of the digs were off the most basic variety, consisting of no more than a box with a 'matress' in the corner and a window if you were lucky, the shared bathroom didn't even merit a visit, all this could be yours for just 2 pounds, open to negotiation. We decided that despite it beauty we would advance to Om beach, tackling another headland and long walk through exposed scrub land. On arriving at Om we were to arrive at the only substantial solid structure on the beach, Namaste. We checked out the room and immediately put down a deposit, hoping they would honour holding the room for us we went to explore the rest of Om beach. Now during the majority of the time of our search I had been experiencing a gurgling in my stomach which as yet i had not felt since my arrival to India, and the basic/rancid facilities in kudle had not appealed, however when you gotta go you gotta go. Having pulled up at a beach shack, not known for their sparkling commodes, i was directed to the toilet, last shed on the right. Squat toilets can take a bit of getting used to and i had been advised not to take any risks and to derobe on the bottom half, a little tricky when your shed door is only 4 feet high and on a busy thoroughfare. 10 arduous minutes later and i returned to the smirks of me friend, unbeknown to her something much graver was brewing in her depths.

We had an uneventful evening in Gokarna dining in a bog standard eatery as recommended in lonely planet?! And in the morning checked out to head to Om beach where we would spend the next few days chilling on the beach and, one half of the party anyway, the nights on the toilet pan with only toilet bowl mosquito's for company.

Leaving Hampi

After a hot and sleepless night, and not the good kind, we headed out once again for a day of temple-ing. After persuading a rickshaw driver to drop us off at the further off palace complex, the drivers always being keen to double up as 'tour guides' are always keen to try and get your business for the day, we were off.

On entering the palace complex, being foreigners, we were relived of 250Rs (if you are lucky enough to be an Indian national you are admitted for a fraction of the cost, something which appears to be common around most of the big tourist sights!) we were met by a series of small monuments and the odd 'odd' museum. Far more impressive were the elephant stables which incidentally lay outside the palace complex and was therefor free to visit. The stables were positioned in front of a large green lawn which appeared to be tended to by a small woman, now the cow being a holy animal in India you would except it to demand a reasonable degree of respect from it's Hindu brethren and whilst these bovine deities can enjoy a free reign over any space from city center roads to beach side restaurants it would appear the common courtesy dis not apply to this woman's lawn. As the mother goddess strolled over the path and started to gorging itself on the lush greenery the woman started advancing towards it with great haste, arming herself with what she could en-route. With her arsenal of sticks and stones the beast came under a relentless aerial assault the woman advanced as fast as her restrictive sari would allow, the cow took the hint and made a quick retreat before the woman could make use of her newly acquired stick.

As our overpriced ticket allowed us entry to another temple on the other side of the sight we hot footed it, literally, back to Hampi town. Again finding ourselves walking around in the mid day heat we walked for what seemed like an eternity through a sparse, boulder strewn wasteland. After contemplating turning back we made one final push and stumbled upon the final temple on our tour, which possesed musical pillars which unfortunately after years of over/mis use were no longer playable in fear of complete destruction.

A long walk back and we had one last thing to tick off the list, to be blessed by the temple elephant at the main temple. Even the elephant appeared to be in on the tourist racket, she would happily dish out blessing to nationals for a coin (1 or 2 Rs) but a blessing, apparently, would not be bestowed on an international bonce for less than a 10 Rs note. On offering the note the elephant took it with its trunk and slipped it to her waiting handler, where it was slipped into his pocket, and you were dutifully bonked on the head.

Having been blessed and being pretty templed out it was time to leave Hampi behind and once again head beachwards. We had booked a sleeper bus to Gokarna and had been assured by the travel tout that it would be a 'luxury' bus, with suspension even, and would be a very smooth ride...

Hampi Part 2

Waking early we packed our bags and said goodbye to the circus, hoping that we hadn't picked up any passengers in the night. The guesthouse owner reluctantly handed over the money for the second night we had pre paid and we headed off to our new 'homestay' which we had visited and agreed on earlier that morning.

Laxshmi the temple elephant

We wandered down to the River Ghats in search of the Temple elephant Laxshmi who gets her morning bath each day before putting in her hard days graft blessing people at the main temple. Theres something quite memorising about watching this huge beast lolling around in the water whilst two men scrub away, clearly enjoying every minute, whilst in the background the locals are going about their daily routine of washing clothes, themselves and their teeth. After watching the first side being done we headed off deciding the second half would be much the same although being slightly disappointed that we did not see how this massive animal made it down the 50 or so steps to the riverside (although judging by the size of the dung on the partly squashed stairs I figure she just walks down, not via some secret elephant size passageway, the other theory).

Wierd rocks with Vipraksha Temple in backgrpund

Hampi's main tourist attractions consist wholly of temples, not so ruined temples and completely ruined temples. We spent most of the day wandering through them, in a sweat inducing (for m anyway) midday sun, for some reason, no matter how good our intentions, we always ended wandering around at the hottest parts of the day and Hampi being surrounded by massive boulder of unimaginable formations the heat just seemed to bounce around the sites with a fierce intensity.

After our hard day of temple trekking we retired to our room on hope of escape from the heat, unfortunately this was not to be. Again having looked for a room in a reasonably tired and agitated state we had not noticed that the room had no window in it and as a result was hotter than any of the places we had visited that day. In the corner of the room was an 'air cooler' which when turned on provided little relief and produced a noise which would have reverberated round Hampi's ruins (also, unbeknown to us, it was also very heavy on power usage and as our guesthouse ran on battery power when the frequent power cuts hit we were to wake in the morning to some unhappy hosts). We again settled down for what we knew was going to be a hot comfortable night! 

Hampi Part 1

As we were approaching the entrance to Hampi we were pulled over and stung with what I have christened Surprise Hidden India Tax (or SHITax for short), our rickshaw was surrounded by a group of around 8-10 men who were demanding 10 Rs for entrance to Hampi (the alternative was to walk the last couple hundred yards) after much hesitation and 'disscussion' we paid the SHITax and proceeded to Hampi bazaar, Once again we were set upon this time by prospective guesthouse owners, assuring us their rooms were cheaper and nicer than the others in the vicinity. Eventually we managed to get out the rickshaw and pushed our way through the crowds and entered the bazaar, leaving the money hungry guesthouse touts to pounce on the next rickshaw full of tourists.

Virpraksha Temple

Ambling through the winding streets of Hampi we eventually spied a guesthouse we recognised from the lonely planet (if my doubts of the Lonely Planet had not already to be confirmed a night in this place was to set it in stone...hindsight is a wonderful thing!) and so we found ourselves checked in to Vikky's Guesthouse. The room was small and it was verging on pricey by Hampi standards however after a long train journey and an hour of hassle we were reasonably content. 

Arriving late in the day we only had enough time to have a quick look around the ruins of Hampi. The main street  still has many of the original remains of the once mighty Vijayanagara capital, however they are now mainly occupied by locals who make their living from the steady flow of tourists. The huge Virupraksha Temple Tower dominates one end of the main street, untouched by the destruction of the Muslims on capturing the city and still a functioning place of worship today. 

As Hampi is a religious town it is a strictly meat and alcohol free, this provided for a reasonably limited menu, on visiting one of the many roof top restaurants which specialised in Korean food I was quickly warned off the Korean menu by the owner! (whether this was an attempt to safe effort in the kitchen or a genuine gem of advice I'll never know). We toasted are safe journey arrival to Hampi, with our mineral water, and sat in darkness for the majority of our time in the restaurant, this being a taste of things to come with Hampi's erratic power supply.

We headed back to our humble abode were it was only now, through slightly refreshed eyes we started to doubt our choice of stay at Vikky's. It was upon brushing my teeth I noticed that my feet were starting to get wet, looking down I was to realise that the sink just had a hose that led onto the floor where the water would slowly trickle towards the main drain at the other side of the bathroom, leaving toothpaste smears as it went. On return to the bedroom we decided to put out the mosquito net kindly provided, as there was nothing to hook it to we improvised with string and hairclips, eventually getting a stable arrangement we noticed there was already a variety of wildlife within the net, mainly bedbugs. After dispatching the 4 or 5 we could see (albeit knowing they would only be the tip of the infested iceberg) we decided to abandon the bet and take our chances with the mossies. It was at that moment a large ant crawled over my pillow further upsetting the dynamics. Deciding it was best to sleep with the light on (in a hope the bed bugs would be photophobic) I was almost drifting off when my friend leaped from the bed screaming and blazing screaming "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!?" and announcing she had had enough and was leaving, it was only once she had ran out of the room (disturbing the sleeping night man outside our door) that I spied a lizard had made its way in through the window. It left of its own accord and once again we put our heads down and decided that we would leave in the morning...

Train to Hampi

My friend, Ciara, arrived at Benaulim and after two days setttling in period (although I'm not quite sure she would have called them that) we were getting ready for our first experience on the famed Indian rail network. After saying a fond farewell to our hostess with the fishy mostess, Jessica, we bundled ourselves into a taxi and headed for Margao station.

The station was reasonably busy, and having both demonised the journey to the extent were we unnessecarily paranoid even about the smallest thing, two young guys scanning the passanger lists instantly became to us the pre-planned scouring of western names who would be opertune pickings. After some confusion and the asking of various members of staff who informed us of everything from delays and arrival times but not the requested platform we were to be on, a small cluster of westereners comforted us that we had actually reached the correct platorm (of which there were only two, how we would have faired at Mumbai central I don't know!)

Sleeper Coach 4

Our fine chariot the Howrah Express pulled in, around 25 carriages in all, and as we were designated sleeper coach 4 when we looked up to see we were in front of coach 12 we had an uncomfortable run along the platform fighting against other in a similar predicament. We found the coach and, once the two Swedish backpackers were ousted, we took our seats. The train is broken up into compartments of 8 people,. the larger having 3 bunks on either side and the smaller having 2 bunks which run parallel to the main corridor, we were in the latter seats. We had over 7 hours ahead of us and there was already an inkling that it was going to be an interesting one.

Not my photo unfortunately but you get the idea

The journey proceeded with relatively little of note for the first part, despite the constant wailing of the chai-wallahs and the samosa sellers. The train was also packed with beggars, children no older then 5 years old sweeping the train floor with their t-shirts and then looking for a couple of rupees before moving onto the next compartment and old men with various limbs missing or mutated, to say it was a bit of a slap in the face from the bubble of Goa is a little of an understatement. However, even a glance out of the window shows the contrast with the natural beauty at least of India, the train slowly chugging past the Dudhsagar falls, one of the highest in India which drops over 1000ft. 

The journey proceeded in a similar manner as this for the next couple hours until we hit one of the main stations and the train started to become a little busier. It was at this point my companion found herself sharing her seat with a little old man, much to her disgust. After a brief bit of jostling and and some various hand gestures the man, with agility far nimbler than his years would suggest launched himself to one of the upper bunks, he was swiftly dispatched back to chair class when the bumbling conductor arrived.

The fine facilities on board the Howrah Express

We were soon pulling into Hospet station, at which point there was a large influx of passengers on the train, all enquiring about our onward travel, unbeknown to us at this point they were all rickshaw drivers or hotel owners who "jump the train" in hope to pick up and probably rip off some naive tourists, much to the disgust of the driver who had picked us we shunned his advances, climbed in to what turned out to be the slowest autorickshaw in India and started making the journey to Hampi.

Benaulim

My time in Benaulim was probably the quietest of my misadventures and as I'm running pretty far behind and every 'Cyber Cafe' (I figure this just means a hot box room with 10 sweaty Indians trying to inconspicuously look at porn despite the 'Strictly No Porno' signs dotted about!) I go into seems to have a problem with the A/C and as its 40 outside its rather uncomfortable in here!
I "treated" myself to a rickshaw when I arrived at Margao to take me the final part of the journey to Benaulim, as per usual the taxi drivers are on a commission racket and will take you to their mates hotel, who may actually be a cheaper option if not for the taxi mans commission being slapped onto your bill. Although I was specific in my location I found myself at Sousagad's Guesthouse, an old bearded man lit a cigarette and looked my up and down, he decided he did have a room and I obligingly followed him through his tobacco reek to his small, musty smelly over priced room. I politely declined and then insisted to the driver to take me to the hotel I had originally requested, this game went on for another 2 guesthouses until a women, who looked like she had just rolled out of bed despite it being 3 in the afternoon, waved down the rickshaw and showed me the apartment with its princely price tag of 350 rupees a night (about 4 quid), this is how I found myself a tenant of Jesboa Mansions!
Jessica (aka Jesboa) was a friendly woman who lived there with her daughter, her husband and son had just left to go on the boats for the next 9 months, as it was her sons first time she was worried sick, as I result I found her adopting a mothering figure with me, bringing me regular cups of tea and pakoras and offering to cook for me at nights. I took her up on this offer now and again although that came to an end when she served me up a bowl of mackerel mayonnaise with rice, I felt bad as I snuck through to the toilet with it to reunite it once for with the water however it was by far the worst thing I had been served since I arrived.

The days were spent lazing at the empty beaches, the crowd was a little older then everywhere else I had been but it made for a pretty relaxed atmosphere and I quite happily quaffed fresh lime soda and enjoyed some OAP nagging for the week I was there.