Checking into our hotel (the Pushpa guesthouse) we couldn't help notice the photos of the manager in a bodybuilding contest, bronzed in speedos etc - no messin' 'bout. What is rather odd is that, on entering Hampi, tourists have to register with the police: not wanting to join the long list of those who had signed their occupation as "unemployed", we vouched for "poet/artiste". It was a little disconcerting to find the police watching a CSI program on tv, perhaps.
Too hungry to sleep but not too tired to eat, we had a cracking dinner at Mango Tree (very cool destination despite having to walk through a creepy banana plantation) and headed to bed. Our friends from London - Sarah, Issy and Tali - were supposedly joining us the next morning, if they survived their night drive from Goa...
Enough suspense. They made it, although one of their wing mirrors was not as fortunate. Having overcome our disbelief, we headed for banana pancakes (possibly our first actual breakfast in India?!) at the Gopi rooftop.
At the police station I was kindly likened to one of the "wanted" bandits by a policeman - Issy, in one of her "is the black guy from Blue Lemar?" moments, was sure that one of the thieves worked at our hotel.
We then spent the rest of the day exploring the ruins that lay amongst the boulders that are piled throughout Hampi - an amazing landscape apparently formed thousands of years ago when the area was submerged. It would've been the most magnificent feat to build the ancient city here. We visited the central temple, skirting the rabid monkeys and making a beeline for the temple elephant: not only did she throw our offered bananas into her mouth, but she would pass our money to her guard before "blessing" us with her trunk!
As alcohol is illegal in Hampi, we drove outside of town for a KF - to a government restaurant where every tourist looked sensationally in need of a strong drink - and then returned to the Gopi for pizzas at dinner. After dinner we played cards until we were hustled into our rooms by the bodybuilder - I thought of ripping my shirt off to match him, but I thought I'd keep the beach bod under wraps until Goa.
Early the next morning, after soggy pancakes at the Gopi, we decamped and settled on the north side of the river at Shanthi hotel - huts set amongst paddy fields in an extremely relaxed location. We spent the rest of the day exploring Virupapur Gaddi: far more laid-back and hippyish, with the smell of weed lingering constantly in the background.
We were somewhat intimidated by the hordes of tattooed, dreadlocked spaniards who stared at us as we strolled on the search for gap trash - I think I fortunately blended in with my bearded face, as did Sarah with her penguin tattoo.
We ate dinner in a restaurant whose staff were considerably stoned - perhaps explaining the terrifying, hallucinogenic wall hangings. On leaving, we discovered that one of Sarah's converse had gone AWOL: at first we thought it was a practical joke, but then it dawned on me - I'd left the remainder of my choc croissant in her shoe, and so a hungry monkey must've taken the whole thing. Things became tense very quickly. Half-expecting to see a converse hanging from a palm, we wandered/hopped back to bed.
The next day was spent exploring the main ruins - the Lotus Mahal and Elephant stables were highlights; boiling in the midday sun, we vouched for some radioactive-looking ice creams - Tali couldn't stomach hers and so put the licked lolly back into the freezer for somebody else to enjoy. We ate lunch in the grim government restaurant, in the company of a mangy dog whose companion was most likely the meat in our curry. Having fruitlessly searched for a replacement wingmirror for the crapmobile (we considered smashing the other off for good measure), we returned to Shanthi.
Rarely have I seen a girl eat as much as Lissy did that night - trying to impress the waiter, she gorged herself on pasta, pizza and combinations of the two. For a few seconds I could swear she took on the shape of Bruce from Matilda.
With love
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