Wanderlust Heaven!

Wound things up in Hampi before moving on. Victoria was heading off to Goa for a week – I advised her to spend part of that week in Agonda, the nearly-deserted beach I’d visited not long ago. Victoria had been good fun and I’d miss her.

My last night in Hampi I went back to the state-run hotel in Kamalapura for beer & meat, given Hampi’s lack of both. It is somewhat distressing to comprehend the nature of my genetic destiny…I can go a few days without either beer or some form of flesh, but not both simultaneously, and really not either for long. I read somewhere that Inuits (aka Eskimos) ‘need’ to consume whale blubber and meat or they become nutritionally deficient – if they’re taken away from their home environment, they have problems. Not too sure how that works, but the speculation is that Inuits evolved with that sort of diet and now they’re programmed to need it. My root-stock is in Eastern Europe, and I can only imagine the diet my ancestors had in centuries past in the little towns of that region…

After a fine meal of chicken manchurian (just chunks of spicy chicken – better than it sounds), a bunch of chapattis, and a couple 650ml Kingfishers, I felt a lot better. Decided to top it off with a ‘special lassi’ over at the Bamboo Rooftop restaurant, a place Victoria had scouted out previously. There were a few Indian dudes hanging out there, along with two very pleasant Swedish girls. We had a couple of the lassis and felt pretty fine. Things close down in Hampi early, so we didn’t linger long, but I certainly had a better night than expected.

Have noticed a relative lack of Japanese tourists – in Hampi, and even in India generally. And those you do see are almost all young – old Japanese tourists are hardly found here. I’m not particularly surprised – India is not the easiest place to tour, and the poor level of hygiene here would probably scare off older Japanese folks. The younger ones tend to be more adventurous, but even they’ve been raised with the full range of anti-biotic products (soaps, toilet seats, etc.) and India is about the polar opposite of Japan…in hygiene and in nearly every other manner. The food is messy and spicy…the people don’t queue…people stare at foreigners…the Indian state is, needless to say, not the nanny state that Japan is…I could go on and on. Interestingly, there are loads of French here – but we already know the French can be quite flexible in their hygienic practices!!

Spent my final morning in Hampi going farther afield. Hadn’t yet crossed the river, so took a little boat across, then walked around the village/backpacker ghetto of Virapapur Gaddi for a while. Wanted to go over to the Hanuman Temple, but that would be cutting it a little fine, so rented a Hondo Hero motorbike from a guy in town and rode that out. First went to the fort-town of Anegondi – this place has older ruins than Hampi’s, and is set in a nice little village. Then turned around and rode to the Hanuman Temple, which I climbed to in the searing heat. That was a good little excursion. Unfortunately, the motorbike had dodgy gears and wasn’t much fun to ride…and I suspected the owner had cheated me on the petrol. So I didn’t ride that fast and just admired the lush scenery all round. A few shots from my wanderings that day – Hampi’s unique blend of flora and huge boulders:

Got back to Hampi late that afternoon, and got my stuff together. I was taking a late-night bus to Bangalore. Went out for a run in the waning sun, it was still brutally hot and I only lasted about 15 minutes. There were dozens of Indians running too – just kidding. I was the only one pounding the pavement, and I think that every person I passed stared at me like I was insane. I’m used to that by now…

Got back to Gopi Guesthouse, and as I unlocked my door Victoria comes up the stairs. At the last minute, she had changed her plans and spent a night across the river in Virapapur Gaddi. Random. Was kind of funny to see her again – ‘the Return of Victoria’. This time she really was off to Goa. I gave her my just-completed Number9Dream by David Mitchell. Another brilliant effort by that novelist – I need to see if he’s got anything new. If you’re wondering what to get me for my birthday in June, well, gift certificates to Amazon.com are a good idea.

At 9 that night, got a ride to Hospet town, where my Bangalore bus would commence. The bus showed on time…we boarded…I called friend Harsh in Bangalore and we planned our rendezvous…I took a pill and fell asleep. I had my own (small) sleeper cubicle and it was far better than the ride to Hampi, where I’d shacked up next to some bloke and the bags were dumped in the aisle. This was a proper bus/company, our bags were put in a rear compartment and it was reasonably organized. Of course, we left 45 minutes late, but for India that’s pretty close.

Got to Bangalore. Called Harsh. There was a bandh (strike) that day, and things were a bit messy. He told me to take a tuk-tuk over to Bangalore Club, he’d come get me there. That was a solid plan, and before I knew it Harsh was gliding up to the club entrance in his late-model Toyota. Bingo.

The last time I’d seen Harsh was in Luang Prabang, Laos, where we’d gone back in August. Harsh and I used to work together at Monitor, we were officemates 11 or so years ago. Now he was heading up Fidelity India’s research group and I was looking forward to catching up with him again.

Went to his flat to clean up and unpack. Harsh and his family have a great place – it must be 4,000 square feet, and Harsh’s wife is a talented interior decorator. I stupidly asked if the place came furnished, and Harsh said it was all their own stuff…and that his wife had done all the decorating. Recalling the cluttered office that Harsh and I used to share, that sounded about right. Living that well in Boston would be pretty difficult, methinks. I wouldn’t be that quick to walk away from the Bangalore gig.

Harsh took me for breakfast at a local place specializing in 1) southern Indian food and 2) nuclear coffee. We each had 3 of the latter, and ate a full range of fried, spicy Indian breakfast food. Idlis, dosas, and some other things I can’t recall right now. Very nice…woke me right up. We later went for another coffee in a shopping district of Bangalore. Needless to say, I did not suffer from any form of constipation that morning…

Had to pick up a few pharmaceutical products. India is heaven if you need any of these – the only issue is that possibility of getting counterfeit stuff. So it always pays to ask around and find a credible chemist. Harsh took me to one near his flat, and I got my stuff. No prescription form required, but the clerk did ask me which doctor had prescribed me these products. I was about to spit out a common Indian name (Sarma was on the tip of my tongue), but Harsh answered ‘Shetty.’ Deal done. We walked outside, I told Harsh that was fast thinking, and he told me that there’s a real Dr. Shetty, who’s a big shot in Bangalore. Got it. I had thought the name Shetty was from a laborer caste, but that isn’t the case in Karnataka state (of which Bangalore is the capital), and anyway these days in cities the caste system is slowly crumbling. So Dr. Shetty it was.

Spent some time with Harsh’s family, including his adorable 8-year-old daughter, who I’d last seen when she was little more than an infant in Boston. Then Harsh and I walked around town for a couple hours…I was pleasantly surprised by Bangalore. I’d read about the strained infrastructure, the traffic, etc., but Bangalore is a pleasant place with lots of good places to eat and visit, and without Mumbai’s or Delhi’s madness. I suppose having a cadre of IT and other corporate people in the city created demand for a cosmopolitan lifestyle.

That night we went to a great spot called Blue Ginger, in one of the 3 Taj Hotels in town. Had a very nice meal, with all sorts of fusion dishes. Another couple joined us – the fellow was half-Indian half-Swedish, his wife Indian, and the two of them were pretty funny. She gabbed non-stop (but was highly entertaining), and he had a dry sense of humor. We soon moved over to the bar – things shut down in Bangalore at 11:30 p.m. sharp, believe it or not. The one major drawback of the city…there are lots of pubs and nightspots, but for some dumb reason the government has kept the clamps on. I think you can sit in a hotel bar and drink till 1 a.m., but that’s sort of cheating.

The next day Harsh took me to a brunchspot called Olive Beach. I have mentioned in this slog my lack of restraint around buffets, and this was a case in point. We were waiting for Harsh’s friend Chris to join us, but by the time he showed (fairly late, mind you) I’d already had 3 glasses of champagne and two plates of (excellent) food. Yet another fine Bangalore establishment. Just goes to show what happens when you get your act together and create a solid business platform – other good things follow. That said, Bangalore is bursting at the seams and already many businesses have located elsewhere, such as in Hyderabad. So you can’t sit and get complacent.

Chris finally showed. He works at Goldman Sachs in research, so he and Harsh are mates in that regard. Harsh had warned me that Chris is a motor-mouth – guilty as charged. I heard a lot that brunch about the state of the global economy, who’d emerge in one piece, and so forth. Chris was pretty bearish, but that didn’t really bother me – no one knows what will happen, and there are tons of talking heads out there, each with his/her own prognostication. I just kept drinking champagne and smiling.

We must have spent 3 or so hours in there – as a good brunch should be. Went back to Harsh’s flat and took a nice long nap. Ah, the classic Sunday – haven’t really had one of those in some time.

I’d gotten my mail package sent to Harsh’s, so started digging into my pile of magazines, hoping to lighten my load before leaving town. And Harsh and I had gone to the local Crossword bookshop, where I’d picked up a couple more books. Dangerous.

Hadn’t exercised in a couple days by now, and had been stuffing my face (at the behest of Harsh, of course). And that night we all went out to the Leela Hotel for some East Asian food – sushi for me. Harsh’s daughter also likes sushi – not something you often see in kids (of any nation besides Japan). I did find out that night that she likes ‘veg sushi,’ i.e. California rolls and such. Not the real deal, but still pretty good for an 8-year-old girl. One day she may graduate to raw fish…

I was still pretty stuffed from our long brunch, but summoned up the appetite for a sushi platter, which was quite good and by far the best sushi I’d had in India. The only other time I’d ventured was at a place in Mumbai which was not that good. I have heard that the Taj’s restaurant Wasabi, in Mumbai, is very good, but I’m sure they charge outrageous prices, and I’m used to grabbing plates off the kaitenzushi (conveyor-belt sushi) in Tokyo at a buck or two a plate. Spoiled, that’s me. And Harsh and his family were certainly spoiling me in Bangalore – I won’t even begin to describe the contrast in living standards between my stay in Bangalore and those in Gokarna and Hampi…

Read till 4 a.m. One of the new books I’d bought was The Road, by Cormac McCarthy. I’d been meaning to read this for a while, and saw it at Crossword that day. It’s about a man and his son who wander around a post-apocalyptic America, just trying to survive. Very dark, with McCarthy’s trademark terseness. It was so good I finished it in two nights. Also mixed in some magazines – got to read all over again about the Patriots’ Super Bowl loss. For some reason it bothers me more now than it did then.

Got up the next morning a bit late. Harsh’s parents had just arrived for a visit – they took an overnight train from Pune. I hadn’t met them before, so we sat at breakfast and talked for a while. Very nice folks. Harsh’s dad took me under his wing and booked a city tour for me, something I’d been too lazy to manage for myself. Then I booted up my laptop and did some travel planning – Harsh has wireless so I got a lot done. After taking care of business, I went out for a run around nearby Cubben Park, where I sweated a lot and got stared at by hundreds of locals. Mission accomplished.

Was in a bit of a hurry because my tour started at 2 p.m. Harsh’s cool driver Khan dropped me off at the state tourist office, and the tour soon kicked off. It was quite good, there’s more to see in Bangalore than I expected. So far I’d really only toured bars and restaurants, and that’s a good start, but I had felt a bit guilty about skipping town without seeing the sights, so this worked out well. We spent an hour at the quirky Industrial and Technological Museum, where they have displays of auto engines and all sorts of pullers, levers, etc. A good place for adults and kids. Then went to the city’s other spots – Lal Bagh, which is a huge park/garden, the Tipu Sultan palace, the Bull Museum, and a few other places. Five or so hours, just right. I saw a secret message inscribed on a rock at Lal Bagh, see for youself:

Got back to Harsh’s flat and washed off the dust. Harsh and I went out by ourselves that night. First to the Bangalore Club, an old British place which has been kept up nicely and which still has a public record of Winston Churchill’s 13 rupee debt to the club on display. Then went to Sunny’s, a California-style place with a good vibe and a great wine list. We knocked back a couple bottles of South African pinotage – Harsh and I have both spent time in that country and are fond of it. I had a great salmon fillet and Harsh went with a pizza. The food was excellent, and I was realizing that Bangalore is probably the most cosmopolitan of Indian cities. I’d had great food in Mumbai and Delhi, but not this sort of stuff – looking around while at Sunny’s, I could have been anywhere. You might think that’s not such a good thing, but after spending time in crappy dhabas and modest restaurants, a bit of bling sometimes ain’t bad. Did I mention the salmon was terrific?

Next morning, had to take care of some tax paperwork that had arrived in my mail package. I had all the documents on hand, so just compiled them and filled out some forms for my Boston-based accountant Joann. Relatively painless, but let’s see how much I owe. I never have any clue about the outcome from year to year – sometimes Joann tells me I owe US$10K, last year I owed US$20. Maybe this year she’ll give me something back – do I qualify for the ‘fiscal stimulus’ that Congress just passed?

I was soon to depart Bangalore and fly to Jaipur. I spent my last few hours in town taking care of errands – going to UPS and sending off my tax paperwork, buying some DVDs in a dusty little shop where the clerk kept pulling wads of DVDs from behind the counter. I ended up buying 10 and those will probably last me for months. Said bye to Harsh and his family, who had taken such great care of me. Harsh and I had discussed meeting up somewhere in Central Asian, so our next beer together is likely to be in Tashkent or Almaty. Stay tuned.

Bangalore’s airport was small and modest, but easy to navigate. A new airport is opening next month – the usual 21^st century job, i.e. huge, complex, and an hour or more out of town. I suppose new airports need to be large enough to accommodate growing demand, and the larger planes coming out…but I hate adding all that travel time. What to do?

I was looking forward to touring Rajasthan, a major Indian state with loads of history and color. It’s famous for its forts, the attire of its residents, its warrior culture, and its deserts & camels. I’d never been there before, despite its proximity to Delhi. I’d start in Jaipur, the state capital, and spend about two weeks running around the state. For my first night in Jaipur, I booked a room at the Hilton, because Hilton threatened to pull my points unless I used some of them. Many airlines and hotels are now forcing you to use them at least every 1.5-2 years or face the music. So I caved and booked a single night at the Hilton, to be followed by a couple more at a mid-range hotel in the Bani Park area.

My flight first stopped in Goa – pretty funny. Thought about getting off the plane and breathing the Goan air, but fell asleep and didn’t wake again till we were taking off for Jaipur. Landed in Jaipur, got my pack, and went to get a ride to the Hilton. Prepaid taxis were too high, so walked outside looking for freelancers. Taxis outside still were too high – one guy said ‘you’re staying at the Hilton, what’s a few more rupees?’ Typical mindset. Getting ripped off is OK if you’re spending lots of money elsewhere. I found a tuk-tuk which was much more reasonable, and set off. The Hilton is a bit out of town, on the Amber Road, and it took us 40 minutes or so to get there. Nice ride, by some beautiful temples and forts.

The driver pulled up outside the Hilton – evidently the hotel doesn’t allow them in. Its reputation might be sullied, after all. I was already giggling a bit – I suspected the Hilton’s regular guests are overweight foreigners (well, there I qualify) who are significantly older and on package tours. Bingo. I checked in and went to my room, which was nice enough. Had a mellow night – went for dinner downstairs (lots of silver-haired foreigners, natch) and had a beer. Then read a bit and turned in. I do have to say that the beds in 5-star places are heavenly…when I’m staying at these places I probably get a better sleep than I do elsewhere. My usual solution is just to sleep more, and that seems to work fine.

Wired Magazine had a two-page overview of how blogs work – after publication, they’re trolled by Google and other search engines, other sites create links to blogsites, etc. A cool overview of the process. Here’s a photo of the Wired spread – if you blow it up you should be able to see everything:

Next morning, I got up fairly early and decided to walk to the (supposedly) nearby Amber Fort. This place is a highlight of Jaipur, and if I saw it myself, I’d be able to take a shorter city tour the following day – it takes time to get out to Amber. The doorman told it was just 3 km, not bad, so I got going. The road leading to the hill was easy, just took about 25-30 minutes. Then you reach a hill leading up to the fort. My guidebook said the hill road was just 10 minutes, so I started walking up. Guidebook incorrect. The road was incredibly long, with endless switchbacks, and it took me at least 30 minutes to get up to the fort. By now I was under some time pressure, as I had to checkout of the Hilton by noon. I gave myself 30-40 minutes at the fort, then would need to find a ride back to the Hilton – walking back would take too long.

Superb views of the countryside, other monuments, and the city from Amber Fort. Jaipur has some majestic buildings, to be sure. A few shots from the walls of Amber:

It took some doing, but I finally found a cab back to the hotel. As I said, it seems Jaipur isn’t geared toward indie backpackers like me…most people are on package tours and thus most taxis are sitting there awaiting the return of their tourists, not waiting around for a solo random like me. Anyway, things in India always work out, it just takes a bit of work. Got back to the Hilton, showered, and checked out. Walked out of the hotel to get a cab to my next hotel, the Anuraag Villa in Bani Park. Doorman was clueless, as usual. No, I didn’t want an Avis car, I just wanted a taxi. They don’t just sit outside waiting here, he told me. Finally he walked me down to the road and hailed me a tuk-tuk. Sexy. Remind me not to stay at the Hilton ever again – this place is in the middle of nowhere and if you’re thinking of going anywhere it’s a real hassle (unless, of course, your entire schedule is pre-planned and you’ve got transport all set up). For us backpackers, it’s actually a major hassle staying at places like this. Thankfully I wasn’t paying for the privilege…

Got to my new hotel, checked in, and went to take care of some errands. Wanted to book a bus to the town of Pushkar a couple days hence, and wanted to book a full-day Jaipur city tour – I had realized the extent of the sights to see and had decided to devote a full day to seeing them. Was accosted by a guy on the street – ‘I know a good travel agent,’ he said. I followed him into a shop. They told me the government city tour price had gone up (from 150 to 250 rupees). This agency would do a tour for only 200. Of course they would. By now it was obvious that the guy who led me there was a tout for the agency. I told them I didn’t believe the government price would rise that much – my guidebook data was pretty current. They tried the hard sell on me – how do you know the government tour is any good? I’d heard from friends that it was. How do you know our tour isn’t better? Well, how the fuck can I answer that question, I’ve never heard of you? I walked out.

Jaipur does seem to have more than its fair share of touts and liars – not nearly as bad as Delhi, mind you, but far worse than in the south. Jaipur is part of the Delhi-Agra-Rajasthan ‘triangle,’ so you’d expect shenanigans. And you get them in Jaipur. I was lied to by several people, prominently tuk-tuk and bicycle-rickshaw drivers – ‘the old city is 4 km from here,’ when it was less than 1 km away. I visited another travel agent – no tout brought me in, so I hoped for a better experience. But no. I wanted a bus to Pushkar – they said that wasn’t possible, but they could get me a private cab for 1,900 rupees. Yeah right. I walked out.

Shameless liars, but probably desperate. Or greedy. Anyway, I keep my own counsel and am not really in a hurry, so I have options.

Walked to the bus station. I generally prefer to just go to a travel agent, but apparently those in Jaipur are in league with the devil, so going straight to the source is the best bet. Found the station…found a government tourist office…booked a daylong tour with them, for 170 (not 250) rupees. Easy enough. And they told me I could get a Pushkar bus ticket right next door at the bus booking window. Did that – 97 rupees. Good thing I didn’t spring for the 1,900 rupee taxi to Pushkar. And am now resolved to go to bus and train stations myself, to avoid aggravation and extortion. Note to self…

Walked to the old city to see a few sights before embarking on the official daylong tour the next day. The old city’s buildings are pink, colored that way by a maharajah to commemorate the visit of Prince Albert of Britain. Walked through a gate and into the city…walked through a part of the city that specializes in sculptures of religious figures. Certain parts of town specialize in different crafts, there’s a section with watches, another with shoes, another with flowers, you name it. Pretty cool, a bit like Hanoi, but far more chaotic. In the sculpture section they work with serious power tools, and passing one shop I was nailed on the arm by a piece of rock shrapnel. Just a flesh wound.

Some kids led me through tiny alleyways till I reached the entrance to the famed City Palace. I gave them a few rupees. It was already 5 p.m. so the palace was closed, but that was OK. I was exhausted from my perambulations and negotiations, and I’d see these sights the next day. Got a ruk-tuk back to my hotel and lay down for a while.

Got up and practiced yoga for an hour – that felt great. Was now hungry, so asked around and heard about a good kebab/tandoori place called Handi on MI Road – went there and had a very nice spicy seekh (shish) kebab and some rotis. Walked around afterward and noticed a McDonald’s nearby – hadn’t seen one of these in 4-5 months. Couldn’t resist – despite being full already, popped in for a McChicken, fries and Coke. The Lord will absolve me. Or maybe the Lord is just preparing me to spend a couple weeks in the Philippines in April, en route to the States. In the Philippines this sort of meal is considered gourmet…

Watched the movie ‘Michael Clayton’ that night. Pretty good, worth the 90 minutes. Slept very well. Got up the next day and walked over to the railway station, the start of the government’s city tour. En route noticed lots of old woman sweeping dust around/off the streets. Was momentarily thankful that I wasn’t doing the same.

Found the tourist office easily enough. Had a chai to wake up, and a veg burger as well. The city tour got going and we visited the major sights in and around Jaipur. The bus was full – locals and foreigners. There was some sort of contingent of 20-year-olds on board – some were British, the others seemed American but turned out to be Canadian. Two of the Canadian guys were the definition of torture – they got on board at 9:15 a.m. and immediately started singing songs about Indian gift shops and the bus itself. Was I that annoying when I was 20? Perhaps – probably. Anyway, I inured myself to deal with it and looked out the window as we sped around Jaipur. We saw a stunning old temple, the major sights in the old city – including the City Palace, the observatory, and the Hawa Mahal (a building where court ladies used to sit and watch the processions on the street below). A few shots from the old city:

We then went outside town to the Amber Fort (aka Jaigarh), the Tiger Fort, the Amber Palace, and a few other spots. I was most taken with the classic views and buildings in this area – here are a few shots I particularly like:

The tour was comprehensive and I felt like I’d seen the major spots in Jaipur. Our guide was solid and helpful, not the usual Indian government clown. The tour finished after 6 p.m., and I went back to my hotel to relax. The next day I’d be off to Pushkar, a little town to the west. Hopefully Pushkar will be lower on the tout/liar quotient and more chilled – I expect it will be. Main reason – Jaipur population: 3 mill vs. Pushkar population: 20K. I think I’ll sign off here – see you next week for more mishegas (Yiddish for ‘confusion’). Over and out.

My blog provider, BootsnAll, has stepped up and kept me in the fold. When I last left you I was arguing with the boys there – they had just ‘upgraded’ their system, the details of which entirely elude me. In addition, there was no warning given, at least not one that you didn’t have to go search for. To make a long story short, my complaining yielded results – my photo capacity, previously at 200 megs, then reduced to 50 megs during the upgrade, is now all the way up to 500 megs. By my calculations, that should allow me to post photos until I’m about 70 years old. BootsnAll works in mysterious ways, but for now I can call them MOST WISE AND BENEVOLENT BLOG HOST.

The point of that was to tell you that I went back and added a bunch of photos to last week’s entry. Mostly of beautiful beaches, ones that you should see, so please page down after this entry to see the photos in last week’s.

I’ve been reading like a demon, as you can probably discern. This has to be the most sustained reading binge of my life…largely driven by the desire to lighten my load while traveling. Books are ridiculously space consumers and sometimes quite heavy. Friend Al and I have discussed this issue in some depth, but both of us are reading junkies (the best kind of junkie to be) and I think we’d both rather lug books around than get caught out in an Indian dhaba staring only into our cup of chai…

I finished In Spite of the Gods by Edward Luce, which I mentioned in last week’s post. I’m now working my way through Number9Dream by favored author David Mitchell, a Brit who lived in Japan (Hiroshima) for many years. It’s set in Tokyo and is a sort of coming-of-age novel – Mitchell is a great writer and his stories have the craziest plot turns. Will finish that shortly, and then my book pile will have dwindled (for now) down to just a couple.

When I was a little guy my parents seemed concerned that I wouldn’t develop ‘normally.’ I would bring a volume of the World Book Encyclopedia with me to dinner (in a restaurant), where the waitron would stare at me as I sat there reading. That stage lasted for a few years, until I discovered the wonders of girls and beer. That stage never really ended…but these days I do find myself reliving my early bookworm years, in that I usually have a book with me and there are nights when I sit at the bar or restaurant and read. I do hope that I’ve developed ‘normally,’ and have rudimentary social skills…for a while, in university and afterward, I was probably ‘overdeveloped’ in that sense.

Wound things up in Goa. Went for a last road run, dodging cows en route. The cows of India never cease to amaze me. Got back to Bean Me Up just in time to see two monkeys vault over the wall and onto the roof of the hotel. Not something you see at your usual Holiday Inn. Made my final rounds and took care of loose ends…tipped out my peeps at BMU, wrote last week’s blog and posted it, saw a doctor who gave me an Rx for the pharmaceuticals I carry with me, did some laundry, made some bookings. My last day in any spot where I’ve spent a good stretch tends to be super-busy…not much fun but probably no getting around it.

Noticed an alumni email from my old employer, Monitor Group – apparently one of the founders of the firm’s Johannesburg, South Africa office, Sheldon Cohen, was shot and killed in his car in Joburg as he waited for his son’s soccer practice to finish. Seems a group of thugs robbed someone nearby, and then saw Sheldon talking on his mobile – and thought he was calling the cops. They walked over and shot him right there. Unbelievable. I don’t think I met Sheldon, but heard his name when I worked in the Joburg office years ago. South Africa obviously hasn’t gotten its crime problem under control…and with the World Cup soccer finals coming there in 2010, I really wonder how they’ll assure safety.

Lisa, Richard and Lisa’s family gave me a very nice send-off that night. We pushed a few tables together, ordered some French wine, and sampled the best/priciest things on the menu. All gratis, of course – I did spend thousands of dollars at BMU over the past few months, and have named myself Customer of the Year 2007-8. Lisa did her impersonation of a Thai bargirl, we shared a few last dirty jokes, and talked about the future. I may return next season, need to see where I am and what I want to do. As it stands, I’m trying to get a speaking gig for Lisa at my b-school (Darden, UVA), I think she’d be a terrific speaker on entrepreneurship, marketing/branding, running a small service operation, etc. We’ll see if that comes off.

Richard and I ‘in our cups’:

Couldn’t sleep that night, was a bit too excited about finally setting off and seeing more of India. Got up and did my final packing…went for a ride and decided to stop in at Munches to eat something. Then went back to BMU and caught a few z’s before getting up at 8.

Said goodbye to the gang – bittersweet farewell. I’ll miss Lisa and Richard, Bini, Tupi, et al. They made me feel right at home again this season, and these sorts of experiences are why I love to travel. You don’t know precisely what will happen down the road, but you can almost count on good things happening to you, especially if you keep your eyes open and do a bit of homework. Which is more than many travelers do, to be candid.

Took a train south to Gokarna, literally ‘Cow’s Ear’ in Hindi. This is a beach town on the coast of Karnataka state, just south of Goa. It’s a holy town – hence loads of cows everywhere. I’d heard good things about it, that it was like a slice of Goa but not as flash/popular. My train was 2 hours late leaving Goa…I didn’t fret, I had a couple newspapers and sat there reading. Got to Gokarna around 5 p.m., caught an auto-rickshaw to my hotel, the appropriately named Namaste, located right on Om Beach. I should mention that Gokarna’s real draw is that it comprises a string of 5 beaches separated by rocky headlands. Om Beach is the most famous, where most people shack up, but you can walk or take a boat to the others nearby. Hanging at the beach and smoking dope is basically all there is to do, aside from spending a couple hours seeing the temples in Gokarna town.

Was tired from the journey, dropped my bags and went for a walk on Om Beach (I love that name). Long enough beach – lots of cows and dogs. Saw one dog straining VERY hard to take a dump on the beach – it almost looked human as it crouched in the sand, squinting from the effort. And there I was without my camera…

Got to the south end of the beach…the sun was setting. Appropriately enough, there was the Sunset Bar perched on the beginnings of the headland. Went up and in, ordered a cold Kingfisher and a grilled cheese sandwich. Had been a very long time since I’d eaten one of those…I recall living in Washington, D.C. and being so broke that all I could afford to eat were grilled BLTs, which I’d cook up in a pan. Greasy delights.

Watched the sun set…cows ambling down the beach…stoned Israelis talking jibberish at the other end of the bar. Had another beer, then wandered back to Namaste to hang out (did I mention there’s not much to do in Gokarna?).

Shots of Om Beach & Sunset ‘refuge’:

Gokarna in general is grittier than Goa – you don’t get the (semi)flashy Mumbai/Delhi crowd, you get foreign stoners and some middle-class Indian holidaymakers. I met some tourists who had been there for a few months, sitting around smoking chillums and ‘existing.’ That did not sound appealing to me…no real choice of place to eat, mediocre accoms (although there is one pricy resort now on Om Beach), slow Internet connections, etc. And the beaches are good, but not exceptional – I much preferred the beaches in northern Goa (Morjim, Mandrem, Arambol) and southern Goa (Agonda, Patnem, Palolem). So 3 days was enough for me in Gokarna. Spent a day walking from Om to the southern beaches – Half-Moon and Paradise. I actually thought that Om Beach was a far better ‘half-moon’ than Half-Moon Beach itself, which was pretty small. As was Paradise Beach. The attractions of these two beaches is that they are remote, and that if you truly want to escape everyday life you can shack out there and subsist on virtually no money for months on end. I swear I saw foreigners on these beaches that had missed 1-2 steps in the evolutionary process. Anyway, here are some pics of Half-Moon and Paradise Beaches:

The hike over the headlands was a bit harder than I anticipated, with some rocky cliffs, and I was pretty tired when I got to Paradise Beach. Ate lunch there – had a chicken curry and a Swiss rosti, which was a hash brown topped with mushrooms and cheese. Mixed everything together – absolutely delicious. That, plus a lime soda, set me back 120 rupees – about US$3. And I was living it up. I imagine some foreigners live for 3 months in the shacks on these beaches and spend US$150/month, or even less. A bit too gritty for me, but it works for them.

Decided to take a boat back to Om. Hopped in one along with a bunch of French tourists, and on the way saw the tail of a dolphin come out of the ocean…the rudder guy tapped my shoulder, but I had already seen it. I idly wondered about the possibility of sharks in these waters, but decided not to think about that. I put my faith in Vishnu and Om to protect me from all monsters…

Walked along Om that night, looking at the meandering cows and the feral dogs. One dog had dug itself a hole in the sand and was bedded up in there. Hard life, but better than nothing. Was this dog being penalized for wrongdoings in a past life, or was it on its way to a better incarnation?

Next day, got my act together for my next destination, Hampi. Hampi was the center of the Hindu Vijayanagar kingdom, which was probably the largest Hindu kingdom of yore, and one of the inspirations for Angkor Wat, Ayutthaya, Bagan, and Borobodur. It was sacked by the Moghuls in the 16^th century and lay abandoned for hundreds of years. Now it’s a tourist hotspot and I had always wanted to see it.

Booked an overnight train ride to Hampi from Ankola, near Gokarna. And made a hotel booking too, I heard that Hampi was a bit crowded in-season. Having spent so long in Goa, I’d gotten rusty and it was good to get my travel-planning hat back on. I’ll need it given my wild schedule over the next 5-6 weeks in India.

Went for a beach run that night on Om. Started out fine – then a couple wild dogs started tailing and harassing me. I could not shake them, even when I went into the surf a bit. Finally slowed to a walk, and made it clear I wanted them gone. Walked around the bend, out of sight, and resumed running. No dogs. Restricted my route to back-and-forth on this half of the beach – a little annoying and repetitive, but I could at least get my workout without tripping over rabid mutts.

Had dinner at Namaste’s café that night. Not too many appealing options around, this was the best. Had a very nice kingfish tikka – not quite up to the standards of the Goan legend Souza Lobo, but good enough. That, plus a couple large Kingfishers, promised to send me off to a great night’s sleep. At one point I looked up and noticed the lamp hanging above my table gently swaying in a circular direction. And as I looked around I saw all the lamps in the café doing the same. Might have been a bit of breeze, but might have been the rotation of the earth too. As a kid I’d go to the Boston Children’s Museum and watch this exhibit with a sort of stick hanging from a rope, swinging like a pendulum, all the while etching on sand on the floor of the room. The stick’s etchings moved over time, indicating that the earth was rotating. I don’t know how they got the stick moving in the first place, or how they kept it moving…perpetual motion isn’t possible, if I remember my physics correctly. Anyway, the lamps at Namaste reminded me of that. Any science geeks out there who can clarify??

I had one more day in Gokarna, and decided to hike to Kudle Beach, to the north, and then check out Gokarna town itself. My guidebook said it was 20 minutes to Kudle, and another 20 to Gokarna. Was expecting a leisurely stroll to Kudle, but no. The path was OK at the start, but after 10 or so minutes it seemed to head into a nearly impenetrable thicket. I decided to descend, down to boulders near the water, and try to find another path or way through there. That didn’t work so well, there were some hairy moments as I negotiated across some spaces between large rocks. Found semblances of a path again, and headed back up the headland…and again was dead-ended. I ping-ponged between taking the low road and the high road (neither of which were clearly the proper path), and at one point I grew concerned – I had to scramble up a steep bit with loose gravel and nothing to hold on to. Got some cuts and scrapes. I had obviously strayed badly, and my misstep was probably forgoing the thicket route early on. Hadn’t seen a single marking, by the way. Oh well. I finally decided to head to the top of the headland. That was the right move – I saw a motorbike up there, then a small temple, and finally a path leading to a road. Followed that for a minute and then Kudle Beach loomed off in front/below me. Nirvana.

Another 10 minutes brought me to the beach. Total time, Om-Kudle – 80 minutes, not the 20 expected. Ugh. I got right in the water to clean off my scrapes – it stung like the bejesus but soon I was clean and the bleeding had stopped. Does that count as ayurvedic medicine?

Got some water, cleared my head, and set off north down the beach. I saw the path to Gokarna town heading up the next headland, and it seemed a lot more reasonable. And it was. It was a clear path, not steep, and I walked for 20 minutes over farmland and scrub until Gokarna and its town beach loomed.

Walked into the town and checked out its sights. There are a few Hindu temples, dedicated to Ganesh and other gods. And there’s a huge bathing/ablution tank/reservoir used by Brahmins (and other castes?). Here it is – mind the sign, oh ye pilgrims:

Gokarna is pretty small and an hour or two suffices to see the sights. I was pretty hungry from my unexpected travails, and had lunch at a place on the town beach. There were some hardcore foreigners in there…dressed like Indian sadhus (holy men) and eating like Indians. One dude was eating a masala dosa with his right hand (the correct hand) and working a Palm Pilot-like device with his left. Modern-day India for you. I had a dosa and a biryani (veg – no meat in holy towns like Gokarna and Hampi, and finding a beer isn’t easy either). Walked out to the beach – which gets a bad rap in the guidebooks, as it’s probably a bit dirty from the town’s garbage – but it wasn’t bad at all. Perhaps in comparison to Om and the other beaches it suffers, but I can’t recall seeing a longer and flatter beach anywhere – Gokarna Beach was much longer than Agonda in Goa, which itself is probably 2.5 km. Here it is:

I walked off my lunch, but didn’t even get close to the north side of the beach, then turned back. Had to head back to Om to pack and get moving.

Took an auto-rickshaw back to Om – was not about to retrace my steps over the headlands. Told myself the main reason was bathing suit chafing and not abject fear over being lost forever on the Om-Kudle headland. Happily paid the 100 rupees for the ride back to Om.

Packed my stuff, paid the bill, and read for a bit. My bus wasn’t leaving till late, and I planned to take a cab with another traveler to the bus stop, one hour away. Got a call from brer-in-law Dave…he told me that the son of my high school classmate had died suddenly, he was 3 years old and had caught some sort of bug that quickly got worse and he died in hospital within a day or so. Absolutely awful…how (and why) do these things happen? Every time I hear about something terrible like this, any iota of religious belief that I have left shrinks a bit more. There’s nothing good in a loss like this – and nothing can convince me that it’s ‘God’s will.’ Bullshit. Just behind life’s pleasures lurks danger and death, and while it helps to put this out of your mind most of the time, it’s always there.

Met my fellow traveler, Victoria, an attorney from the UK. She was traveling round India for a month or so. We shared a taxi to Ankola, where we’d meet the bus to Hampi. Ankola turned out to be a real dump, at least the bus stop area was. At least I was familiar with this – almost all India bus stops are depressing places. We had a chai in the dhaba (cafeteria), which was fairly grim. At one point a feral/diseased cat leaped up on our table, putting us off our chai. We went back outside to wait for the bus…which was late…and then later. We had no news from the bus company, Paulo Lines. I called Namaste, our Om Beach hotel, and asked them for some news – they called Paulo, then told me that the bus would come in an hour. Finally, it came at 2 a.m., three hours late. Torture. The torture was compounded by the fact that I had popped a sleeping pill two hours earlier, when I expected the bus at any minute. The pill worked very rapidly and within minutes I was stumbling around spouting gibberish. Somehow I stayed awake, and on my feet, till the bus came, but it was a close call. I joked with Victoria that she’d have to lug me onto the bus and lay me out on my sleeper.

The bus, as usual, was less than advertised. A real junker, with double sleepers on either side. I had the privilege of bunking with some random guy, who was unobjectionable except that he wasn’t an attractive woman. I went right to sleep and apparently missed a hilarious episode in which we got stuck in traffic and various lassies on our bus got out to pee in the bushes while the bus was in stop-and-go. I was out till we got to the town/city of Hubli, where we pulled to the side of the road for a few minutes. Urine flowed and we moved on.

One final way-stop, at (yet another) dumpy dhaba. Had a couple milk coffees – couldn’t bring myself to eat anything there, not while half the guys in the place were clearing their nasal/throat passages and depositing loads of phlegm on the floor. Took a good look at my coffee first too, but it was fine. I could imagine an older Jewish couple – like the Slarzes from Florida, whom I met in Mapusa, Goa, in a dhaba like this, fretting and covering their entire bodies with Purell sanitizer. Some people simply should not visit India…

Pulled into Hampi well past the scheduled hour, it was now about noon. I was met at the station by a guy from my hotel, and Victoria came along with me. The station was mobbed with rickshaw guys and hotel touts and escaping was a wise move. We both got rooms at Gopi Guesthouse, a decent little place with a rooftop restaraurant, right in Hampi Bazaar.

I already wrote a bit about Hampi and its history. The place was deserted for a couple hundred years or so, and people started streaming back about 70 years ago. There’s still only 3,000 or so people in the town…whereas when it was the capital of the kingdom, half a million souls resided here. You really couldn’t name many other places in India where the population dropped over that period – I think that when the Brits left in 1947, there were 350 million Indians, now there’s 1.1 billion. Anyway, you already know my POV on population counts…

The guesthouse manager told us we had to register at the police station, all foreigners have to do this. We walked over to the station…which is set at the end of the long main street, and is itself in an ancient stone building with columns in front. Probably the weirdest police station I’ve come across, and I am something of an expert on the subject. Registered and left.

Went for a stroll around Hampi Bazaar, around the incredible Virupaksha Temple, which is over 50 meters high and dominates the landscape. Here’s a view of this from our rooftop:

We had lunch at the brilliant Mango Tree, which is a few minutes’ walk from Hampi Bazaar, and which overlooks the river. Classic spot – comfortable, good food, nice vibe.

Went back to Gopi and did some errands. Bought a bus ticket to Bangalore, my next stop, where I’ll stay with my old friend Harsh, also formerly of Monitor Group. He runs a group for Fidelity Investments in India. Also worked on getting a tour of the Hampi ruins – went to the state tourist office. The fellow there told me that every day there’s a tour starting at 10 a.m., cost is 155 rupees. Asked him to sign me up. Just outside I had been accosted by a rickshaw driver/tout who wanted me to go with him on a tour – 500 rupees, but it would be a private tour, unlike the state one. I told him I wanted to check out the state tour situation first. This tout followed me inside, stood there while the state office clerk tried to call and reserve me a spot. Phone didn’t work. I smelled a rat – perhaps the tout was in league with the clerk, and would get a cut of the 500 rupees. I told the clerk I’d return at 9 the next morning. I told the tout I’d think about his deal, and walked on. I had plenty of time on my hands, and no real worries.

Ran into Victoria – we made plans for dinner. Went back to my room, rolled out my yoga mat and practiced for the first time in weeks. Felt tight and heavy from the bus ride/lack of exercise. Had a good hour of flexing and sweating, then showered and met Victoria. We were both dying for a beer, and Hampi is a holy town so no booze or meat. I had heard that a few km away, in the nearby town of Kamalapura, there’s a government hotel that has chicken and beer. Bingo. Took a rickshaw there, went in, and feasted on Kingfisher and chicken. Really hit the spot. I enjoyed talking with Victoria, she’s quite switched-on and well-traveled. I can admire a woman who’s not afraid to travel round India by herself. Victoria seems more than capable of holding her own – sassy and sharp. I like that.

Got back to Hampi – considered a ‘special lassi’ at a rooftop joint but decided against it. Was pretty tired so read my Mitchell book for an hour, then crashed. Slept like a corpse and woke up refreshed.

Next day, met Victoria for breakfast atop Gopi, then walked over to the state tourist office. Another clerk was working – he told us ‘no tour today.’ Again, it felt fishy, but I suppose that was that. Asked him about a private tour – he went outside and found a licensed tour guide. Cost was noticeably higher than I’d heard the day before from the rickshaw driver/tout, but this fellow, Wasu, was a real guide and we decided to go with him. He gave us a solid 4-hour tour of the ruins – many of which are stunning. The Indian government has worked hard to excavate many structures, and the landscape around Hampi itself is a wonder – there are huge piles of boulders, many balanced precariously atop one another, which apparently spewed out of long-extinct volcanos. The net effect is a series of vistas and plains which comprise old Vijayanagar temples and palaces set amongst natural piles of boulders and lone trees holding out against the elements. Really odd and compelling. Here’s an assortment of pics I took during the tour:

As I often do, I wondered why I hadn’t visited Hampi years ago. I think it’s one of the more interesting tourist spots in India – besides the sights, the town itself is chilled and people ‘get stuck’ there for longer than anticipated. Not a lot of great food, not many diversions, but walking around and hanging out seem to occupy enough time. I only had 3-4 days, but could have spent a bit longer. Hampi seemed oddly familiar in a sense, and I worked out that the town was a bit like an Indian Cordoba – Cordoba, Spain being the city where my friend’s wife is from. Cordoba is also dominated by a building, in that case the Mezquita fort/chapel/former mosque, surrounded by little side-streets with hotels, cafes and shops. Hampi is a bit like this – obviously Indian, a world away from Spain, but there are similarities and I think that’s why I like Hampi so much.

I’ll wind things up here, it feels like time for a chai. I’ll see you next week, by which time I’ll have spent a few days in Bangalore, and will by then be up in Jaipur, the capital of the state of Rajasthan. On the meantime, donate a few dollars to the Obama for President campaign and keep it cool. Over and out.

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