Well the Night Ride (remember John Peel?) was interesting. On the, say, 50 berth bus from Goa the passengers were 98% youthfully unwashed backpackers. They were all double berths, and the bus was full. The night was long, the air conditioning, set at gale force, was unadjustable, and though I'd "made sure" a couple of times before we left, it wasn't long before I needed to go again. The bus plunged and swayed through interminable darkness.
So quite by chance I have arrived in Hampi at the beginning of a big three day Music and Dance Festival, sponsored by Vodaphone, which has sent the already High Season rents through the roof.
Eventually strike a deal on a room and start to unpack...and realise that the special travel pillow I'd bought in September (for the pain in the neck) was still on the fucking bus, presumably heading back to Goa. Soddit just doesn't say it enough, even though, in order to travel lighter, I'd shed a load of unwanted gear and posted a few things back to UK, and given other stuff away. The pillow had become a sleeping habit even when not travelling, and a comforter. It was a great loss.
Oh well. Rien à faire. (I turn to Beckett at such moments.)
I'll just get on with washing the clothes I've stood up and lain down in these past 24 hours.
It is then that I discover my mobile, ironically once powered by Vodaphone, lying in the bottom of the bucket...
Indian phones are extremely difficult for furriners to get hold of, and yes, I know worse things have happened - like the car I once left in a car park in Laugharne that was "subject to flooding on some spring tides" - but I reckon washing mine in a bucket of cold water almost equates with that :-(
So quite by chance I have arrived in Hampi at the beginning of a big three day Music and Dance Festival, sponsored by Vodaphone, which has sent the already High Season rents through the roof.
Eventually strike a deal on a room and start to unpack...and realise that the special travel pillow I'd bought in September (for the pain in the neck) was still on the fucking bus, presumably heading back to Goa. Soddit just doesn't say it enough, even though, in order to travel lighter, I'd shed a load of unwanted gear and posted a few things back to UK, and given other stuff away. The pillow had become a sleeping habit even when not travelling, and a comforter. It was a great loss.
Oh well. Rien à faire. (I turn to Beckett at such moments.)
I'll just get on with washing the clothes I've stood up and lain down in these past 24 hours.
It is then that I discover my mobile, ironically once powered by Vodaphone, lying in the bottom of the bucket...
Indian phones are extremely difficult for furriners to get hold of, and yes, I know worse things have happened - like the car I once left in a car park in Laugharne that was "subject to flooding on some spring tides" - but I reckon washing mine in a bucket of cold water almost equates with that :-(
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