Fort Kochi

Days 53-55
It is our final day in India. Tonight we leave the great sub continent behind and fly to Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia. We fly from Kochi ( or Cochin as it used to be known) airport and have spent our final day meandering the quiet streets and absorbing the atmosphere of colonial Fort Kochi.

In truth it feels like we have already left India as Fort Kochi is a laid back little town in the midst of the busy port of Kochi and has the feel of a forgotten colonial port. Which is unsurprising considering the Portuguese,  Dutch and British have all controlled it for significant periods. Unlike the rest of India, which has surged on relentlessly from the colonial era leaving it behind with barely a noticeable residue of influence, Fort Kochi seems to be firmly routed in the past.  The burning of rubbish rather than tipping it in the street means less rubbish lying around and consequently the absence of scavenging street dogs and cows. In their place are mellow goats and cats, which along with friendly locals who allow relatively hassle free walks, all contribute to an easy going atmosphere. There are numerous Christian churches along with mosques and even a synagogue dotted around the town as well as the usual Hindu temples. At the head of the island there are operational Chinese fishing nets, and the colonial architecture can leave you wondering if you have been transported to the Cotwolds in England or to Delft in Holland.

Because of its port status Kochi has always been the cosmopolitan place that it remains today. A major flood in 1341 lead to the creation of a natural harbour on the Malabar coast and the locals wasted no time in creating a befitting port that was soon trading with the Middle East and China. In the 16th century the Portuguese discovered the harbour and began their imperialist routine of trade and religon. The Dutch came to Kochi in the mid 17th century at the request of the deposed Maharajah and they in turn lasted until the early 19th century when the British took control until Indian Independence in 1947

The numerous hotels and lack of tourists led to a "How low can you go" senario and we got a room for 400  rupees ($7.50/£4.70), our cheapest yet and surely our cheapest of our trip. However there was a gap at the top of the wall to provide air circulation that made me worry about mosquitos. However my tried and tested methods of mosquito bite evasion were working well so confidently I told myself I would have no problem here either. How wrong how I was proved. The next morning I awoke to find my feet itching like crazy, I pulled off my socks to find my feet covered in bites! I couldn't believe it. The mosquitoes had bit through my socks! A quick inspection of my socks revealed why, they were almost threadbare and any mosquito worth his salt could easily reach the tender skin on my feet for a fulfilling meal. Last night I pulled out my thick hiking socks and sprayed them in repellent before going to bed. This morning, success! No additional bites, although the existing ones still itch like crazy.
On Monday (15th)  evening we attending the nightly performance of the traditional Keralan art form of Kathakali. Translating as "Story Play" Kathakali developed in the 17th century and takes place in the form of acting out a story from Hindu mythology via dance, mime and music. The costumes and make-up are some of the most extravagant parts of the performance which are a lavish and dramatic display of colour. There are nightly performances and the application of the make up is done on stage before hand and takes an hour. A short demonstration before the performance began displayed the style of acting, it is actually like another language with numerous hand and eye movements replacing the lines. The performance we attended was the story of the Killing of Dussasana form the Hindu epic, The Mahabharata featuring legendary Kings and the star of the show, Lord Krishna. The play was mimed out to the music which played a crucial part in the performance, much of the movement was done in time to the drums and symbols and it was all the time creating an ambiance suitable to the stage of the story. Although the miming itself was difficult to follow you could follow the story via a helpful narrator and it was very enjoyable, without a doubt one of the best prearranged performances we have seen in India.

On Tuesday (16th) we wandered into a few churches including the Church of St Francis, which held the remains of Vasco De Gama before he was moved to Bellem in Lisbon. Following this we crossed the island to the neighborhood of Mattancherry which contains an old Jew town with the 450 year old Paradesi Synagogue. Jews have existed in Kochi since the 1st century AD, but have been in terminal decline since the end of the colonial age and the foundation of the state of Israel where most Kerala's Jews immigrated in the middle of the last centruy, only 51 remain in Kochi today. The old Maharajah's palace which was refurbished by the Portugesse and Dutch isn't much in comparison to other palaces in India but at 5 rupess we couldn't complain. With that said the heat and fatigue from cultural tours made it a very fleeting visit.

After a quick bit of research I found that Hindus are actually not in the majority in Kochi, which has a significant population of Christians and a scattering of Muslims. We asked our Rastafarian waiter at our restaurant were the best place for a beer was and he pounced on the opportunity immediately. Soon enough we were plodding off with him and the restaurant owner to a poky little bar. The waiter as it turned out was actually a Muslim Rastafarian! But it didn't prevent him from downing a glass of rum and taking off leaving us with his boss, who was also a Muslim. We had a couple of beers and despite his limited English it didn't stop him from dominating the conversation which he seemed to be mainly having with my wife! He did seem like a genuine friendly chap though and having a beer with a Muslim is not an everyday occurrence so that's another life experience ticked off. But maybe its not that rare, after all I have also had a beer with Oliver Gibson who is a Free Presbyterian, another denomination that requires tee-totaling!
Since we acquired our Lonely Planet from our Australian friends it has been a godsend, with its advise and maps. The Eyewitness guide was practically useless for travelling with, but as my wife pointed out it was useful for getting an idea of what you want to see in India. We exchanged them this morning with a few extra rupees for a brand new "South East Asia on a Shoe String", which will be our new bible to live our lives through for the next six weeks.
Our last day in India should really form some sort of review. My main review will be at the end but I will also do a few more India Diaries posts in the coming weeks, which I have been working on throughout the trip. But I will try and give it a small review here. The marketing campaign for India has the slogan "Incredible India" and we would agree with that. My wife on a postcard wrote " We are having an Incredibly good and incredibly bad time in Incredible India" Which sums India up pretty well. Its a land of crazy contrasts, some spectacular things to see, but there are some things and places you never want to see or experience again. Ironically? As i finish this post, what blasts out over the radio in the internet cafe? Hotel California! Soon, but not yet! Our India odyssey is at an end, let the gallivant through the well beaten tourist path of South East Asia begin. Next stop. Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.

Keralas Backwaters: Alleppey

Days 51-53
We have arrived in our final destination Fort Kochi before flying out to Malaysia. We came here straight from our cruise on the house boat on Monday (16th) morning, which was a lovely experience floating around the famous backwaters of Kerala.
On Saturday (13th) morning our train pulled out of Varkala and we had our final journey on the Indian railways to Alleppey. In comparison to some of our train rides it was a gentle affair lasting only a few hours, however one gentleman decided to treat the giant verruca on the sole of his foot with some cream right beside my wife. It was both disgustingly funny and unsurprising at the same time and provided ample vindication for not wanting to take our shoes off when entering places of worship in India. It was also a perfect example of the supposedly conservative Indians having little or no shame when it comes to certain things. Our Bhutanese waiter from the previous evening also told us a few things about Indians most of which we already knew. He had came to work in Varkala to earn a little extra money, its 5 days by train to the Himalayan Kingdom that he calls home. I asked him  how many local workers and he was then very quick to tell me that the locals can't work there because they don't have the manners or discipline required.We laughed knowingly at this as he continued to tell us that any locally owned restaurants fail very quickly as they tend to scare off customers with their over eagerness to befriend tourists and their manners are very poor. But on the other hand they are keen to earn and jealous of the money that he makes on their turf. Just another example of the many contradictions that infiltrate India.
One verruca treatment later and we were in Alleppey, a small town centred in the Keralan Backwaters. The Backwaters are a mixture of brackish lagoons and inter-connecting canals. The waterways form the infrastructure for the quiet villages and towns that line their banks creating a relaxed rural idyll. However the relaxed nature of the backwaters attract tourists in their thousands. Luckily though the tourists are pretty much confined to the houseboats that wander the waterways and these are limited to a slow pace all helping to still give the impression of being undiscovered.

As I mentioned previously our planned trip to the Andaman Islands went belly up so we decided that we would splurge on one of the famous house boats for a Backwater's tour. On the recommendation of a French couple that we met in Kumily, we went with a house boat operated from our Home stay  In western terms it was never going to break the bank, but one night in the houseboat could have kept us going for two or maybe three nights of standard travel. But we had been told it was worth every penny and we would get our 3 meals cooked up by our own chef and we would also have a boat captain to boss around.

The houseboats are based on the native rice barge design that was used to transport goods and people for centuries, but inside they can have every creature comfort you want as long as you are prepared to pay for it. We had an upper and lower deck, bedroom and attached bathroom, which would have put a lot of our previous accommodation to shame. We cast off on Sunday 14th at midday and we encamped on the upper deck watching the canals drift by. I was a little disappointed by some of our route as it crossed the wide coastal lagoons and lakes where there was not a lot to see. Also the sheer number of house boats on the water was a little annoying at times, especially when a boat load of Indian tourists would break the calm with some Hindi rave music, shrieking and dancing their way past. Mostly though its just another boat floating past silently while the roosters crow, laundry ladies pound their garments and children lap and splash in the water.
We moored up for the night next to a small village and after another blood red sunset it routinely started to rain once the light left the sky as it has done so in Kerala since our arrival. After dinner we had only the mosquitoes to worry about, which are malarial in this part of India. Our room was pretty much air tight though and the mosquitoes seemed to be successfully excluded. Anyone who has encountered mosquitoes before will be aware that they love to bite you on the feet, which drives me bananas with itching. This along with the thought of sun burnt feet has lead to me sporting a trendy pair of socks on this trip. They are pulled up my legs as high as they will go and they are never off not even in bed. So the socks, the air tight cabin, and some mosquito spray all helped to keep me bite free on our night on the back water, something I feel quite proud about. A small victory for mankind over mosquitoes in their domain!

After breakfast we were on the move again and all too soon we were back to our boarding point and we were land-lubbered once again. We boarded the bus to Kochi and as the bus took off a fat man and his friend demanded our seats. He was in for a fight if he thought he was going to shift me, but shift me he did! He called the conductor and after a conversation between them in the local language the conductor told us that the bus was not going to Kochi, this I thought strange as 3 other passengers had told us that it was. On hearing this another foreign tourist couple on board bailed out so despite my suspicions what could we do only the same thing? If the conductor said it wasn't going to Kochi how were we going to pay him to get us there? The fat man's waist line was the biggest clue as to what was happening. In India, as in a lot of poor countries being fat is a sign of wealth as you have access to a lot of food. I suspect that he was going to bribe the conductor for our seats and they both seen us as an easy target. We got off in bad humour and walked back to the bus station where there was another bus waiting, with plenty of seats and no fat men. That's the great thing about India is that there is always another one, whether it be a bus, rickshaw, or restaurant, if your not getting what you want, you can always go along to the next one as there is an endless supply. We lost about 20 minutes so it was no huge issue. This type of corruption in India is endemic at all levels from the fat man on the bus to the coal tycoons and their minister buddies. It must leave the general population demented with frustration.
Another few auto rickshaw rides and a ferry trip that took us past an Indian navy instalment and we were at our current and final location in wonderful relaxed Fort Kochi. It is old colonial port and the atmosphere is leaving us having difficulty to believe we are in India at all.

Varkala

Days 48-50
Our present location is the clifftop resort of Varkala on the Keralan coast. Similar to Goa we have spent our time here relaxing and rebuilding our energy levels before continuing on the rest of our journey. Also we leave India next week and we are determined that our last week at least should be an enjoyable one. One of my regular readers commented on my Madurai post "why all the back of the head shots?". The reason is simple: anonymity. We don't want our faces plastered all over the internet and being used for God knows what. It might seem a bit prude or paranoid in the age of facebook etc but this is a public blog and that's the way we feel. For the record, we both look the same except we are both skinnier and my wife is much more brown than usual, I am the usual reassuring ghostly white!
As we passed the half way point on our trip we are now on the slippery slope back to work and real life. We also plunged for the final time from the Western Ghats after criss-crossing them several times as we journeyed south. Our bus driver was intent on making it a memorable journey as he made his way through the steep roads and around the blind corners that snake through the tea plantations by using the bulk of the bus to intimidate anyone that was going to get in his preferred route. "Fly at the Speed of Fear" is the marketing slogan for  the Tatsu rollercoaster in California and this journey could also have lived up to that billing. I tried to capture a few "What's happening next?" moments from road in front of us but they seemed to rectify themselves as quickly as they had arisen.

Just like Tatsu we survived and the bus stopped in Kottayam and we boarded our train to Varkala. The sun was setting as we arrived at our hotel and the dusk conjured up a strange errie red hue. We were pleasantly surprised to find that our ocean view hotel room was going to set us back only 500 rupees ($9.50/£6.00). The off season definitely has its benefits but the on set of evening drizzle displayed its downside too.

Varkala like Goa is backpackerville. Tettering along a clifftop in the form of restaurants guest houses, souvenir shops and (expensive!) internet cafes catering for everything modern long term budget tourists require. There are two pretty beaches at the base of the cliffs, the smaller of the two, Black Beach was our beach of choice. It is pretty much deserted save for a few tourists, fishermen and an enterprising gentleman who rents beach umbrellas. He also acted as a sort of guide as well, pointing out to us dolphins feeding off shore and the sea eagles trying to scavenge on the dolphins bounty.

Beach dwelling and wandering the restaurants for fresh shark, tiger prawns and red snapper are our main objectives in Varkala and as result I have nothing as exciting as leeches to report. Our days have been spent reading which I shouldn't bore you with, but I would like to say that I have just finished Micky Harte's latest book for the 2nd time on this trip. Fantastic read, more of a motivational or self improvement book than anything else, but a great read none the less. Of course it would help if your a GAA fan and even more so a Tyrone supporter, but I think anyone could apply the lessons from it in their own life, whatever they are doing. It is especially sad the number of stories he has about his daughter Michaela who was obviously the light of his life, the book was written before her tragic death.
In the world of cycling it looks like poor old Lance Armstrong has proved that his super human feats were after all, superhuman and that he was indeed using blood doping, drugs and hormones to boost his and his team mates performances. To me it does seem like a bit of a witch hunt on Lance as probably all the winners of the Tour de France for 50 years prior to him were guilty of the same thing. But I guess the correct message has to be sent out and means correcting the biggest wrongs. One thing remains though and that is Lance was an incredible athlete and he had a super desire to succeed and that he no doubt would have won lots of Tours, although maybe not quite as many.
Apologies to those who enjoy reading my extra long posts for this brief one, hopefully it will give those of you who have being telling me they are falling behind a chance to catch up. Tomorrow we are back on the road and on to Alleppey at the heart of the Keralan backwaters. Since the Andaman islands are now off our itinerary we have decided to splash out on a night on a house boat wandering the coastal canals of Kerala. An activity that to me sounds like a mosquito orgy, but everyone we have spoken to have told us its a fantastic experience.

Kumily: Periyar Wildife Park

Days 45-47
As stated in my earlier post we are now in the village of Kumily in our final state in India, Kerala. Our reason of visiting this mountain resort in the Western Ghats was to visit Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary. It is a comfortable temperature in the hills and the town is relaxed and easy going and to my wife's delight it has lots of Italian restaurants. However we have returned from our safari empty handed without a tiger sighting (or little else!), but we had a hilarious time.
Throughout our travels in India, Kerala has received a lot of glowing recommendations from our fellow tourists. It has been painted as a laid back and beautiful place unlike much of the rest of India and the polar opposite to the oppressive crowds of the North. So it has a lot to live up to as we near our final week in India, lets hope it can. Our first town in Kerala is Kumily, a relaxed little place with the wildlife park seemingly the sole reason for its existence it is settled in the hills among the picturesque cardamon and tea plantation.

On settling into our homestay on Sunday (7th) afternoon we also booked a safari into the Park. I thought that this was as good of chance of seeing wildlife as any. It was an all day trip with a morning jeep ride through the park. Although we hadn't heard any direct feedback on the safari it seemed popular and comprised of three activities as well as two meals so it didn't seem bad value at almost £25/$40 each. We spent the evening watching the West Indies beat the host Sri Lanka in the Cricket World Cup Final. After a shaky start and a partisan crowd they powered easily to victory. We set our alarms for our early rise on Monday (8th) morning.
The 5:15am start meant that  we could enter the park at dawn when most animals are on the move. Being realistic I was under no illusions of seeing a tiger, even though there are around 50 tigers in the park, wild tigers are famously illusive, still though I was hopeful of some wildlife such as wild elephants the park is famous for. Our transport was an open top jeep with two other couples and following a delicious cup of tea we entered the park as the sun was just lighting the sky. There were 3-4 other vehicles on a safari as well and each car teamed up to sight the animals. Our driver had a strange technique for driving and sighting at the same time, which involved standing half in half out of the jeep with one foot inside controlling the accelerator and one hand on the steering while while he observed the forest for animals. Soon the vehicle stopped and the driver told us to be quiet, he spotted a Giant squirrel. A creature that was running and jumping about the trees much as you would expect a giant squirrel to do. Great we thought, this should be start of many sightings. And so it was, many more sighting of giant squirrels! I am not being completely honest there as we also saw black monkeys but they don't count as they were outside of our restaurant this morning and my wife was feeding monkey's in Darjeeling.

Just then one of the cars up front sighted an elephant. Not quite sure how he did as it was about 2 miles away on the top of a mountain. I had been prepared for this safari though as I had brought with me a pair of binoculars. Not the best move in hindsight as they have been weighing me down the entire trip but at this moment they came to the rescue and rewarded about 8 people with a sighting of the elephants as they were completely indistinguishable to the naked eye. Again after feeding an elephant in Hampi, sighting a few from 2 miles off through binoculars left us a little deflated. However, the best part of the safari was yet to come.
After breakfast we set off on our "walk" The guides idea of a walk was a little below a run but we kept our own pace and he had to wait. After coming to the top of a hill he decided he had seen something and so he took off down through enormous grass that was twice our height and into the jungle proper. He was continuously turning around and telling us to be quiet, like he had just sensed an animal we were going to scare off, however only one type of animal turned up on the entire "walk" and there was no chance of scaring it off: Leeches! It had just rained the night before and lurking beneath the dead leaves on the damp forest floor were hundreds of the wriggly little bloodsuckers. All making a bee line for us! I had encountered leeches before in Nepal during a trek and they become an obsession. You are constantly looking down flicking them off, you become paranoid that one has climbed up your trouser leg, down your back or into your shoe and this experience proved no different. Eventually we make it clear of the damp forest floor to the safety of a rocky river. So with completely inadequate footwear we made our way downstream. After several slips and falls I made my feelings known to the guide, "This is not a walk, this is gorging" and "Our shoes aren't any good for this, its too dangerous" or "Hey, my wife has a broken toe, we thought we were going on a walk" To be fair he then tried to help us (but was actually hindering us more!) and he still seemed convinced that there was a herd of elephants just around the corner.
There wasn't of course and to top off the "walk" he decided that at it would be a good idea to march us up to the top of a mountain for nothing other than what appeared to be the view. So after a sweaty half hour slog up the steep slope it was back for lunch.We munched down the lunch and then it was of on our final activity: a relaxing boat ride on the lake, yeah right! The 7 of us performed a group balancing act to squeeze into the tiny boat as the light rain started to fall. Our guide rowed us to a waterfall where he proceeded to give himself a full10minute shower in the waterfall, soap and all!. The other two men in the group decided to join him however my wife and I had decided that we would go for the safe-room approach to the rain and donned our water proofs so I was staying put. For the return trip in the boat the rain gradually got heavier and turned into a real downpour. I felt vindicated with my choice of clothes, however my expensive Marmot jacket was once again proving it worthlessness in heavy rain and I along with everyone else got thoroughly drenched. Until we reached shelter I could only laugh as our entire "safari" was turning into a complete farce of the type that John Cleese would have overseen in Fawlty Towers.

The jeep trip back out of the park did provide us with another animal though, a herd of deer. But it was a classic example of too little too late, our minds had been made up, the safari was a disaster. I harked back to my safari in the Kruger National park in South Africa of how there were antelope around every corner and every hour there was at least an elephant, giraffe, buffalo, or lions to be seen. It was back to the hotel to shower off the rigours of our "walk" and a full body inspection for leeches, none for either for us except for some suck marks on my leg, at least we had something to be thankful for.

Today we have just spent relaxing and recovering from yesterday activities. Tomorrow we leave the cool Western Ghats and head for the beach town of Varkala.
Also congratulations to Beragh's neighbours Errigal Ciaran on winning the Tyrone County Football Championship with their amalgamated team.

Madurai

Days 44-45
I am actually writing this from Kumily, a mountain resort next to the Periyar Wildlife Park. We went on our a hilariously farcical Safari yesterday, which you will be able to read about in my next post. For this one I will just concentrate on the temple town of Madurai in Tamil Nadu that we visited following Mysore.
The platforms at Mysore train station were extremely clean, they could almost have been mistaken for a non Indian station, but while the smell from the tracks was not quite as piercing as other stations there was still no doubt that the odd passer by used it to relieve himself. The train with a substantially higher number of cockroaches pulled out punctual as ever through the countryside before filling up with passengers at Bangalore from where we were given our bed sheets for the night. These though were pointless for myself as my bed bug bites were starting to tickle and itch making sleep impossible. The more I ignored them the worse they got until I would scratch, which of course would make the itch worse still and would start of the itch on some other area of my body. For the record the swells from the bites have died down and I estimate I got somewhere between 200 - 300 bites.
The train pulled into Madurai on Saturday (6th) morning more or less on time and we soon found a suitable hotel small, but clean, which proved to be a little pricier than we have been accustomed to in the south. India's most southern state of Tamil Nadu has its own language Tamil and is also home to Dravidian architecture, perhaps the most recognisable style of Indian architecture with its vivid colours and carvings. The Meenakshi Amman Temple in Madurai is considered the peak of this architure and is typical of a southern temple complex. It is also the sole reason for our stop in Madurai. Maduari is an ancient city and the temple has always been at its centre. It has been destroyed, rebuilt and expanded, but its current form was shaped in the 17th century. It forms a huge square complex slap bang in the middle of the city and is surrounded by 14 Gopurams, which are wedge shaped gateway towers that are adored with a bewildered display of deity and demon statues.

After trying to recuperate a few hours rest in our hotel we set of into the city to visit the temple. Madurai is a busy city, more hectic than most in South India and the cycle rickshaw even made an isolated reappearance. We arrived at the temple and as usual we had to remove our shoes, only this time for some unanswerable reason we had to remove our socks as well. We attempted to wander the temple complex in our bare feet but the ground was just too hot and dirty, so we broke the rules and stuck our socks back on. We worked our way around the temple until we got closer to the core. Within it there are smaller temples, halls and pools. The pillared halls in particular are lavishly decorated with murals and sculptures, although the inner sanctuary is off limits to non-Hindus. Impressive and all that it is, a few hours is enough to see the temple and we were soon back through the searing heat for lunch. To be fair Madurai has other sights, but the Lonely Planet guide did not make them sound very enticing so it was just the formalities of dinner and sleep in Madurai before we were off again for a 4 hour bus journey into the Western Ghats and the Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary.

Every bus in  India has an incredibly loud horn and some have ridiculous melodies to go with it. Our bus on Sunday (7th) morning had a another unique feature to the horn; it seemed to be turned to sound on the inside! This and our position at the front of the bus prompted my wife to make use of her ear plugs for the length of the bus ride. I declined but I may have reduced by hearing by 25%. The bus was very crowded and for the final hour of the trip I had a companion who took great delight in striking up a conversation. His English was not that good, but this did not deter him from blaming his lack of understanding on my pronunciation after each statement I made. To increase communication, for words that he didn't understand he had me type them into his phone, however this did not usually help his understanding. However as we zigzagged our way into the hills we passed by huge water pipes and my new friend was able to tell me was that at the heart of Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary is a dammed lake built by the British. The lake, along with tunnels through the mountains provides irrigation to the Tamil Nadu side of the watershed. These days the head of water from the lake also helps drive electricity generators for the towns of south west Tamil Nadu.
We continued to climb into the mountains and we reached the small resort town of Kumily just across the border in the state of Kerala. The bus stopped at the border and we walked across the state border to Kerala, our final state in India.

Mysore

Days 42-43
Once again I am writing this post as we waiting to leave our latest destination. We have only spent 1 night in Mysore but, to be honest, it is enough. We came here for one reason, the Maharajah's palace and also to avoid the world's outsourcing capital of Bangalore, which we hear doesn't have a lot to offer. But despite Mysore's long history and relaxed atmosphere it doesn't have a lot either. Also at this point we are sort of "bagging destinations" as quickly as possible before we reach the state of Kerala as within two weeks we will be leaving India and we want to spent as much time in tropical Kerala as possible.
Our last hours in Hampi were spent frantically trying to remove a  virus on our pen drive, which didn't delete our photos but made it impossible to access them. The internet cafe owner wasn't much help either because as soon as he realised what happened he took off and left his eleven year old sister in charge. Using the IT experts favourite problem solver, google.com I eventually got access to the photos again, although I am not sure if it has actually got rid of the virus but we shall see...
Our journey to Mysore was in one of the demonsied night buses from the nearby down of Hospet. We had chosen the lean back seats instead of the much slated overhead compartments and they were quite comfortable. That is until I started getting bites. Firstly, I though it was mosquitoes but then the location of the bites around by back and stomach area didn't make sense and I realised it must be bedbugs. This was confirmed after I caught one of the little black mites as it was going for a crawl on my leg. Miraculously I slept for a few hours,, but I got absolutely crucified by the bed bugs. My arms, back, stomach and legs all got a touch and they are ferociously itchy. I have no idea how many bites as I react quite badly with huge red blister like welts making it impossible to tell when one bite starts and the next ends, but I know there are a lot! As we are moving further south into the tropics we have to suspect increased insects and bugs and inevitably more bites, but still, bed bugs on a bus! Its the last place you expect to get them! My seat seems to have been the only one infected as my wife has only a few bites and she was in the seat next to me. However she now has her own problems as her adventurous food and drink habits seem have caught up with her and she is feeling sick, nothing in comparison to our previous problems in Darjeeling though.
After a much needed morning nap at our dingy hotel we took off in search of breakfast and train tickets. For a city of almost a million Mysore is relatively easy going, the traffic is not too chaotic and the people are friendly and unobtrusive  This seems to be the theme the further south we go the more relaxed and prosperous India becomes. As a demonstration of the increased order, at the train station instead of a queue that would encourage Indian style bunching, much to our surprise there was a ticketing machine. Another sign of the increased prosperity is the fact that I don't think we have seen a cycle rickshaw since we left behind the Gangetic planes in the North. After securing our train tickets to Madurai and a omlette in our stomaches, we headed for Mysore's premier tourist location, the Maharajah's Palace.
The Maharajah's Palace in Mysore was the seat of the Wodeyar Maharajah who ruled Mysore for over 500 years. They established their Kingdom after the fall of the Vijayanagara Empire at Hampi in 1565. They formed alliances with their would be rulers such as the Mughals and later British (whom they had initially fought many wars) and remained in some sort of power until the Independence of India in 1947. The Palace  was completed in the 1912 after the original wooden one had been destroyed in a fire  in 1897. To demonstrate the cosy relationship they had with the Raj the Maharaja comissioned English architect Henry Irwin to build it. What he designed and built was the much vaunted pinnacle of Indo-Sarcenic architecture, that blend of European and Indian styles.  The palace is definitely the grandest building in Mysore, but it doesn't really blow you away in the same way that Mumbai train station does. However to be fair it does get better the more you see of it on the inside which, unfortunately I do not have any photos as they are banned in the inside of the palace. The highlight of the palace for me was the Wedding Hall, which is based around a huge iron frame which forms a sort of huge octagonal gazebo, decorated with stained glass and tiles and the wall surrounding is lined by paintings of the Dussehra festival.

Along with a few other sights to see in Mysore, which we didn't fancy much is St Philomena's cathedral, which we did. Purely for the reason that to a lot of people in Ireland St Philomena is this lady. However the lady that inspried her name and of that of the cathedral was the young Greek Saint who was tortured and killed at the hands of the Roman Emperor Diocletian after she declined his hand in marriage to keep her holy vow of  virginity. The building is a Gothic Cathedral and despite the out of proportion spires is still a pretty nice church. The familiarity of it was most welcome and last we felt we were on some sort of home turf here and the local tourist were invading our space. Curiously it was white in the inside which reminded me of a Lutheran church and also it had a series of inscribed of names around it, who I presume provided donations to the founded of the church. I had a great time going over these names and found a few interesting ones, which you can see in the photos below.

Our night train to Madurai leaves this evening and it will almost certainly be our last night journey aboard an Indian train, which brings both relief and sadness. Madurai like Mysore is also being visited by us for a single night so we also intend to spend only a night there before heading for Peyiar Wildlife sanctuary. Hopefully I will be able to pick up from there and perhaps I may even have some news of sighting a certain carnivore that this country is famous for.
Just seen the draw for next year's Ulster football championship. Best draw possible for Tyrone, pretty sure that we owe Donegal 1 or 2 so it will be a great time and place to take them down!

Hampi

Days 39-41
We are currently preparing to leave behind the bizarre landscape of Hampi in Karnakata before heading further South on one of those dreaded night buses to Mysore. It has been a relaxing few days viewing the ancient ruins and gawping at amazement at the unlikely landscape.
The last night of the Ganesh festival in Goa was more revelry. More Ganeshes got launched to the sea, more fireworks and more Indian dance music was the order of the evening and the locals danced like drug fuelled ravers, although it seemed to be the exclusive domain of men.
Our early start the next morning brought us to Madgoan train station bright and early. The train launched its way up through the lush Western Ghats until we reached the Deccan. Once there as with our last visit a vast agricultural landscape awaited us. Maize and cotton were the main crops, but much of the land was being worked and in a landscape so vast I was amazed to see that it was being worked by animal power, two oxes and a harrow was favoured, no diesel engines required. Although they do have tractors here, and Massey Fergusons no less! I forgot to mention on our last excursion to the Deccan we passed through a region were these crops were dropped in favour of the most unlikely replacements; vines. I had actually heard that there is a healthy wine industry in India and of course it also claims to be making world class wines, before coming to India I would have had no reason to disbelieve that. Now I am in India, well, lets just say I am not sure that the Bordeaux Chateauxs need to be quaking in their boots quite yet. Its not that I have tasted the wine its just that Indians tend to amplify things that favour them quite a lot. A good example is the replacement of the phrase ¨very good¨ with ¨best¨ A typical conversation would entail ¨Goa is best place in vist¨. I might reply ¨What about Kerala, I hear it is very nice?¨ But this would be meet with ¨Oh yes, Kerala is best also¨. Try working that out in logical English!

With my nose in a book on the train journey a hand probing me in the side and a husky voice declared "Hey, give me the money" I looked up and give the square faced woman only a glare while another passenger quickly dug out a a few coins for the group of ladies. They strode off down the carriage and  suddenly it dawned on me these were eunuchs. These were the out-cast cross-dressers of India society that perform certain rituals at Weddings and Christenings. Eunuchs or the Hijra are usually men but some may be of indistinguishable gender and are not usually castrated like a true eunuch. They are involved in prostitution and beg for money in exchange for not showing their bits, which must have been what they were up to when they passed us. Good job that our fellow passenger was on hand otherwise we could have got quite an eyeful!
Early this year my wife and I attended the Olympics in London and to shield us from the inflated hotel prices we were kindly put up by my cousin who lives there. One day we were walking towards London Bridge I spied a pub that I liked the look and sound of, it was named The Glad, after the British Prime Minister William Gladstone who tried at great political risk to give Ireland Home Rule. We entered and were soon exchanging life stories with the barman. He had an accent that I couldn't quite place but it turned out  that he was Irish and had spent his Primary school days in Gibson Primary school in Omagh. His father was a Church of Ireland Minister and had spent a few years as Chaplin in the army Garrison in Omagh, they moved around quite a bit, which I presumed accounted for his strange accent. He also was keen to hear of our trip to India. He had been earlier that year and insisted that we should go to Hampi. Never hearing of it before we agreed, partly as we were looking for ideas what to do in India and because our new acquaintance was spoke so glowingly about it.
As the train got closer to our stop the crops were changing to banana plantations and coconut groves but more interestingly the landscape itself started changing, huge sandy coloured boulders started appearing. On our auto-rickshaw ride from the rail-head at Hospet to Hampi they were strewn everywhere, varying in size from suitcases to schools and occasionally forming huge mounds of granite laying next to and on top of each other in sometimes gravity defying poses. It was suddenly apparent where the Flinstone´s baby came from on our previous train ride to Aurangbad. We were in the home place of the Flinstones, Bedrock! I couldn't believe my eyes and every time my wife mentioned the rocks all I could say was "its totally bizarre". Science of course has its theory on the formations. Allegedly the wind blew the top soil from the rocks and exposed the granite bedrock. Then as the sandy wind continued to blow over the milena it wore the rocks down and gradually exposed fracture lines which made them crack into separate boulders. The sandy colour is actually rust as the rocks contain iron ore. Anyone that knows me will be well aware that I frequetly question scientific theory and well, to be honest, this one sounds rubbish. If this landscape existed in Ireland we would have had a much more plausible story as to how it arrived, involving giants and the like. I am quite disappointed in India, a place full of mythology and tall tales has not come up with a better explanation. I will let you judge for yourself from the photos.

The rock formation aside Hampi also has a human history. When the Islamic Northern Empires started to expand their lands south the Hindu Kingdoms had to band together or face defeat. Their alliance became know as the Vijayanagara Kingdom and their capital was founded as Vijayanagar on the current site at Hampi. The empire grew and controlled most of southern India and as a result the capital expanded and was built complete with Royal enclosures and Temples in amongst the boulders. Eventually it all came to an end when they were defeated by a confederation of Deccan Sultanates. Who, not content with victory plundered and razed the city of Vijayanagar to the ground. Today these ruins remain and in the intervening years Hampi Bazaar grew up between the ruins and the boulders. However Hampi Bazar is now also being razed as the area where the homes and shops is on is too close to the ruins and has to go in the interest of archaeology. In the worldś largest democracy hundreds of people who live and work here will be rehoused and where all the budget tourists will go, I don´t know.
We spent a Monday (1st) sightseeing ruins, but for me they are in second place to those bizarre boulders. The highlight of the ruins for me was the stone chariot at the Vitalla temple. This chariot apparently at one time actually moved on the stone wheels. I don't think that it could have moved very far, not because of its weight as elephants were in abundance, but because between the stone axel and the stone wheel hub there aren´t any stone bearings! So as any engineer will tell you soon enough they would have had a pretty worn shaft and wheel and very lumpy ride.

I am pretty sure though that my wife's highlight was on Tuesday (2nd) morning when we went down to watch Lakshmi the Virupaksha Temple elephant get her bath. We caught her before she carefully plodded her way down the steps of the ghat to the river where we found her hanging around getting fed and we also duly obliged with a few bananas.

The rest of today we will spend killing time before the dreaded night bus to Mysore, to make matters worse Hampi´s single ATM machine isn't working so we have to wait until we get to the bus station before getting any money, which leaves our activities rather limited.
Back on the sporting front I see that Killkenny have no doubt bludgeoned (I didn't see, but I can imagine!) their way to another All-Ireland title after they beat Galway in the replayed final. Still thought congrats to Henry Shefflin on his ninth All-Ireland, a great hurler.
Also most of you have probably never heard of him but Kevin O'Brien must be one of the most famous Irish men on the planet. Don't know who he is do you? Well he is a cricketer and every single Indian seems to know who he is. The cricket world cup in Sri Lanka is currently at the semi final stages and its on every evening and the tip of every Indian's tongue. Although parts of County Tyrone are a cricketing hot spot my interest has waned somewhat since my brother and I used to watch test cricket on summer afternoons (No wonder my father used to go crazy at us when there was turf in the bog to be won!) Cricket in its 20/20 form is considerably more exciting than Test Cricket and I have also surprised myself with how much of the rules I still know. Any interest expressed in cricket to an Indian is met with "Kevin O´Brien best batsman" Last night though, even with a population of a billion to choose from India were put out of the tournament, and who progressed at their expense? Pakistan of course! This will rankle hard with Indians as they actually beat Pakistan earlier, but more so because of the sizzling rivalry between the two countries. We were treated to an interesting sectarian outburst from our waiter about Pakistan a few evenings previous. Ah sectarian nationalism infused with sport how could I ever get home sick in this country?