The night watchman woke me at 5.15. He carried my bag up the steep path on his head, from Namaste to the rikshaw stand, where my rikshaw driver was waiting to take me to the bus station in Gokarna. I caught the bus to Mangalore, which, I discovered, went all the way to Hassan, the nearest town to Belur. So I got a ticket to Hassan. We travelled through thick forest, interspersed by the odd village and small town, from Gokarna to Mangalore. The road used to be shaded by beautiful old baobab trees, but all along the way the trees had been cut down and uprooted, to make way for road widening.
From Mangalore the road twisted and turned up the mountains. Thick forested hills rose up on all sides and from time to time I glimpsed mountain peaks. The road deteriorated into a dirt track with deep craters, which the poor bus drivers had to navigate, their buses creaking and groaning alarmingly. They had also to contend with lorries carrying gas and flammable liqids, slower buses, rikshaws, cars and motor bikes. Somehow our valient driver managed to pass everything going slower, take the poor bus rattling and clanking down the steep sides of the craters and up the other sides, using his claxson the minimum amount any decent bus driver can possibly get away with. We arrived in Hassan in the evening. I took one look at the place and decided to catch a bus to Belur.
We arrived in Belur in a huge cloud of dust. It was just another little scruffy town, and I wondered why I had come all this way and hadn't stayed on the beautiful beach at Gokarna. But hauling my luggage after me, I went off in seach of lodgings and found the cheapest and cleanest room of all the rooms I have stayed in, in India. Then I headed for the Vishnu Regency Hotel for a bite to eat and ended up drinking gin and lemon juice with two very well informed French tourists. They told me about the twelve temples in the area, a few of which they had seen, and took me to see photos of these temples on the walls of the hotel lobby. The hotel will provide a taxi to take people round all the temples for a fee of 2,500 rupees (nearly forty pounds), way beyond my budget.
A third French tourist had booked a car and a driver to take him round India for three months. He booked from France through a tourist agency and paid five thousand dollars in advance. When he arrived in Calcutta he discovered that his driver did not speak a word of English, had never been out of Bengal and could not read a map. After a month and a half he was stopped in Mumbai by a policeman who asked his driver for his tourist permit. He didn't have one. The policeman said that both driver and tourist would have to go to jail. The driver bribed the policeman and he let them go. The Frenchman says he will never go back to India again! I'm glad I am travelling by public transport.
This morning I woke early. The town was smokey in the dawn light, as people burned rubbish. The sweepers were already stirring up te dust. At the end of the road, rising out of the smoke and dust, the temple appeared. As the sun rose, the temple glowed in golden light. The part of the temple that I was looking at was the pyramidal structure over the entrance, carved with figures, many of whom are naked, in various different forms of sexual congress. From the entrance a great wall extends on both sides, forming a large square. Inside the temple walls there are several small temples, built at different times. Most have finely carved black pillars inside and carvings of Hindu gods round the outside.
Behind the temple and on one side are rows of single story old houses, many of which are derelict. Those which are still in use are charming. The rest of the town has fallen victim to the great god concrete.
I'm going to catch a bus to Halebid now, to see another one of the Hoysala temples.
From Mangalore the road twisted and turned up the mountains. Thick forested hills rose up on all sides and from time to time I glimpsed mountain peaks. The road deteriorated into a dirt track with deep craters, which the poor bus drivers had to navigate, their buses creaking and groaning alarmingly. They had also to contend with lorries carrying gas and flammable liqids, slower buses, rikshaws, cars and motor bikes. Somehow our valient driver managed to pass everything going slower, take the poor bus rattling and clanking down the steep sides of the craters and up the other sides, using his claxson the minimum amount any decent bus driver can possibly get away with. We arrived in Hassan in the evening. I took one look at the place and decided to catch a bus to Belur.
A third French tourist had booked a car and a driver to take him round India for three months. He booked from France through a tourist agency and paid five thousand dollars in advance. When he arrived in Calcutta he discovered that his driver did not speak a word of English, had never been out of Bengal and could not read a map. After a month and a half he was stopped in Mumbai by a policeman who asked his driver for his tourist permit. He didn't have one. The policeman said that both driver and tourist would have to go to jail. The driver bribed the policeman and he let them go. The Frenchman says he will never go back to India again! I'm glad I am travelling by public transport.
This morning I woke early. The town was smokey in the dawn light, as people burned rubbish. The sweepers were already stirring up te dust. At the end of the road, rising out of the smoke and dust, the temple appeared. As the sun rose, the temple glowed in golden light. The part of the temple that I was looking at was the pyramidal structure over the entrance, carved with figures, many of whom are naked, in various different forms of sexual congress. From the entrance a great wall extends on both sides, forming a large square. Inside the temple walls there are several small temples, built at different times. Most have finely carved black pillars inside and carvings of Hindu gods round the outside.
Behind the temple and on one side are rows of single story old houses, many of which are derelict. Those which are still in use are charming. The rest of the town has fallen victim to the great god concrete.
I'm going to catch a bus to Halebid now, to see another one of the Hoysala temples.
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