I woke up early Christmas morning, as sunlight swept through the window across my face. I looked over at Lizzie, sleeping peacefully. Amarilli and Fionn were also sleeping, as were the rest of the travelers on the overnight bus to Hospet, Karnataka. Santa wasn't able to stop by our speeding chariot overnight, so when everyone woke up I offered my own gifts: dried cherries and mangoes for breakfast. Lizzie gave me half of her energy bar and we toasted to Christmas.
Hospet is the drop point for tourists going to Hampi, a boulder-filled landscape along a trickling current. Scattered across the wide landscape are many temples and ruins, and modern day Hampi Bazaar is a tourist trap nestled right in the middle of it all. Amarilli had remembered it as a tranquil spot off the beaten path, when she first visited a decade ago, so we were all surprised and more than a little disappointed to find ourselves in what Lonely Planet calls a "traveler's ghetto"; a sea of tye-dyed, dreadlocked hippie wannabes. We went across the stream by boat to the neighboring town which was supposed to be a bit calmer, but found it equally built up and catering to an impressive community of Israeli travelers on their year off after military duty.
We persisted, if somewhat crankily, and did manage to find a lovely Guest House (Hema's) and had a fine time. Hema's offers a limited amount of bungalows with a single comfy hammock swinging off the front porch, and has a scenic dining area overlooking the boulders and grasslands. We spent a lot of time lounging around, soaking up warm weather, sunny breezes and reading in our hammocks, but our second day in Hampi we did venture out on rented bicycles to explore the landscape. Lizzie and I hoofed it up to Durga Temple, where we listened to a school of children chanting in a large classroom, and watched monkeys scurrying through some ruins. We met back up with Amarilli and Fionn in Anegundi at Hoova Cafe for chai and a chat, before cycling 15km back to Hema's.
On the 28th of December we boarded a bus from Hospet to Mangalore, en route to picking up Lizzie's boyfriend and another friend and continuing to Kannur for some beach adventures. Lizzie and I rather unfortunately were stuck in the last sleeping compartment at the very back of the bus, on the upper level behind the wheel well and found the ride to be more like a dangerously unsafe roller coaster than a bus. As there was no guardrail to prevent Lizzie from falling out, she tucked in against me when we even on the bed itself. Because apparently the drivers to Mangalore consistently pursue off beaten paths to that city and we were repeatedly and painfully thrown around our compartment ceaselessly throughout the journey. Literally airborne. We'd either go up and apart, my knees and hands slamming into the metal bus and windows, Lizzie towards a steep fall out of the compartment. It was pretty brutal, I have to say it's the worst ride I've been on in my extensive bus journey experience.
We stumbled into Mangalore, battered and sleepless, only to find a deeply unpleasant town full of misogynist hoteliers. Disconcerted, Amarilli, Fionn and I headed out of find a taxi to Kannur, while Lizzie fled to the airport to await Gareth's arrival. Only four bumpy hours later, we three travelers were deposited on Thattoda Beach, not sure where we would stay or how long. As we paid our driver an older gentleman came up to us and asked us to follow him. We did, into his very small beach front resort, Satin Sand, where he showed us two beautifully simple and airy suites and said we could have each room and full board for 2,000 INR per night. An absurd bargain to be sure. We snapped them up, and then later asked for a third, as I splashed out for my own room instead of sharing with Lizzie and Gareth. The couple arrived a few hours later and we rejoiced in our good luck as we watched the sun set over the Arabian Sea.
Satin Sand is our New Years Eve home, and we went big, sabering and drinking two cases of Kingfisher Blue, enjoying a spectacular meal consisting of King fish, dal, curries, rice, salads, raitha, a yummy homemade cashew chutney, ice cream, and my own contribution: a pineapple cake I bought that morning in town. It was admittedly, not very good, but I'd also bought a kilo of ladoos, so we went to town on them whilst drinking the night away. At midnight we cheered on the other guests and all the local Indians who came to hang out at the Satin Sand bonfire, and we ran to the beach for a midnight dip while the occasional firework exploded overhead.
It's been a deliciously lazy week of beaches and bicycles, reading and laughing, but I have to say I'm ready for the next adventure.
