Saturday, August 26, 2006

Goa here we come!

I apologise for being so lax - my only excuse is that I'm in Goa. When there's sunshine, fresh fruit juices, beer/rum a-plenty, a blue sea... the last thing you want is to be in front of a computer! I'm now sacrificing my sunshine time to update... be grateful!

OK, back to Hampi - it seems like years ago since we were last there! Our final day dawned - we were determined not to waste it. It was another lovely sunny day, so we headed upstairs for breakfast and bumped into Karan, a postcard seller we had become quite familar with. His mum specialises in mehendi, so we agreed to come along with him and his friend. We headed over to the main bazaar, the assumption was that they were taking us to the shop - but as they led us into the back lanes we were more than slightly baffled. Turns out that seeing as we were "friends" of theirs instead they were taking us to their family home!

The majority of houses in India are much more simple than they are in England. The family home consisted of one main room where the television/bedroom/living room/computer was. They had some other rooms in the back that we didn't see. The family was Laxmi (mother), Karan (oldest son) and Ravi (the cheeky little one!). They bombarded us with food and tea, Laxmi did some fantastic mehendi on our hands and they also gave us necklaces, incense and little ornaments as gifts. The people here have so little, but they are so wonderfully generous. The mehendi was supposed to be Rs300 for both of us - but Laxmi didn't want to take our money. We had to insist that she take Rs500 to thank her for such a wonderful morning. They were so taken with us that Ravi hid our shoes and begged us not to leave, and Laxmi invited us for dinner!

We were supposed to go and climb a hill just up the road, apparently fantastic views over Hampi; but we were so hot, and loving the company so much we decided to hold it till next year. Instead we spent the rest of the day in a little cafe in the main bazaar with Ravi and Laxmi, drinking Sprite. The shop owners wife made juggling balls and pois, and the shop owner showed off his juggling skills. Even Ravi (who is only 10) has excellent ball skills - he tried to teach Lydia, who is sadly quite rubbish! Still she's great with a football, and you can't have everything!

We met another young boy called Umesh, he is 15 years old and has one younger brother. He works as a stone carver and his sculptures are absolutely fantastic. He lost both his parents and the rest of his family when quite young, so it's only him and his little brother. He sat with us looking through the pictures on our phones and listening to the music, whilst drawing beautiful pictures of birds in our notepad. In all the hotels around here there are notices saying not to befriend the local people. I can understand that there are probably some very shady characters around; but when you meet people as wonderful as Laxmi, Ravi, Karan and Umesh you wonder just how many tourists are missing out on meeting the real people and seeing the real India.

Lydia and I have been very fortunate with all the people we've met in the past two months and a bit. Naturally we've met a few people who were a bit dodgy so we've got rid of them as quickly as possible without seeming rude - like the Mafia men in Varkala! We like to think we're quite good judges of characters. But the amount of people we've met, even if only for a short time, who have special memories for us is absolutely amazing. Fred and John, Delphine and Gaelle, Valeska, Karen, Pip, Joan and Rathna, Vathsan, Nazir, Richie and Sabu, Eliza, Fanny and Natalie, Eva and Michal, Jothi and Durai, Vino - there are probably many others that we don't recall off the top of our heads, but they have all been wonderful for different reasons.

I'm waffling. Anyway, back to the Mango Tree restaurant for a lovely lunch of samosas with chapati and hummus; then to the hotel to catch a rickshaw to the train station. Next stop, Hubli - dinner and a couple of beers before catching the night train to Margao. Goa, here we come!

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