I left Hampi, I'm in Bangalore on route to Kodagu

I left Hampi, in Bangalore on route to Kodagu

I finally escaped from Hampi. It was harder to do than I thought. It is very peaceful, with none of the hassle of the city in India. The "other side of the river" was very pleasant. I really enjoyed staying at "Laughing Budha"; but I don't think you can go to wrong at any of the places on the other side. The "other side" means: The sidewalks don't roll up at 10pm; you can drink a beer and have other enjoyments; the police don't randomly hassle tourists about some triviality; you are living in the midst of rice fields; you are only asked to buy a trinket or hire a rickshaw the first time you walk down the lane - after that they recognize you and don't ask; you are minutes by foot, bicycle, or moped from South Indian village life; you can go to a lake for swimming or visit modern temples and ancient temples (but not the main ones in Hampi); most places show movies at night; and in general things are peaceful and "shanti shanti", as they say.

I took the overnight bus on "Indira Travel" from Hospet to Bangalore. I actually tried to get on the 7.50pm train, but I had not made a reservation because I decided to take it the same day. When I got to the station, the train pulled in and it looked very, very full. It is the end of several festivals here, including Diwali, and another local one. I scrambled from car to car asking the conductor; "Full, full" is what each one said. A little bit dejected after waiting so long, I went back out the tiny railway station. A genuinely kindly old gentleman pulling a bicycle rickshaw sat me down. "Shanti shanti," he said, seeing my frustration I was trying to hide. He took me directly to the "Indira Travel" office and made sure I was all set. Sometimes I get tired on travel days: my hackles are up and I'm prepared to fend off any annoyance, from waiting in the unreserved railway ticket counter where people constantly try to cut the line; to people all along the street trying to sell me something; to running alongside a train at a platform with full bags trying to find a coach with an empty seat. Then something like the arrival of the bicycle rickshaw driver happens. Genuinely happy, calm, peaceful: all this radiated from him. I suddenly just felt cared for, as if my happiness was the most important thing in the world. With a smile on the driver's face, we slowly rolled down the station road while I clutched my bags to keep them on the small seat. I took a deep breath and realized that I did feel tired and stressed. Nothing like forced stoppage to make me realize there was nothing to do but let me be cycled down the street.

The driver stayed while I made sure I was doing the right thing at the bus office. I gave him a bit extra. It still was a pittance. The bicycle rickshaw drivers work the hardest, are the poorest, the skinniest, and they seem to care about the money the least, compared to the auto-rickshaw drivers who always have a scheme to connive another fifty rupees out of me. Can this bicycle rickshaw driver's life be so idyllic? I'll never know, but it was a pleasure for me to have him deliver me to the bus travel office.

An hour-and-a-half until the bus would leave at 10.15pm: more forced decompression time. No reason to stress now: there was absolutely nothing to stress about. I couldn't find anything: I tried for thirty seconds. A phone call to brother Joe, through the miracle of a freshly recharged mobile, so we could talk about anything. The words from my mouth traveled to the tiny phone, and signals bounced around the local air to the mobile tower, then presumably to a station somewhere in the country to bounce to a satellite, then by reversing the process bounced back to my brother's ear in small-town U.S.A.

Then on the bus, it was a sleeper berth. The bus is actually better than the train it turns out. The train takes a jagged route, and actually enters into the neighboring state of Andhra Pradesh. It leaves two hours earlier and both arrive in Bangalore at 6.00 am. The deluxe bus has "air-suspension" and the ride is down paved road. It is a big contrast to the government bus with the hard-backed chairs down the dirt roads that came to Hospet from Mysore.

Traveling in a sleeper berth on a bus in India is an act of meditation. The single berth I was in was just wide and long enough for me to recline in it. Sitting up is not comfortable; the ceiling is too low. There is nothing to do but lie there. Reading is a possibility, but some effort, and I needed a working flashlight. More forced relaxation. It is like the yoga pose savasana performed at the end of a practice. Nothing to do but recline, with the eyes closed or open. If they are open I can look at the passing Karnataka countryside as it is covered in darkness. Can one attain the perfect peace on a sleeper bus?

The plan now is one night in Bangalore, then off to the Kodagu region by bus. Soren Kierkegaard wrote that returning to a place forms a kind of circle in one's life. (Walker Percy explored Kierkegaard's idea.) It makes a sense of completion. The mind thinks of the departure and arrival to the same place as a unit of time. My return to Bangalore completes a circuit, from Bangalore, to Mysore, to Hampi. Now, Bangalore city seems a bit more mundane. Today was rainshowers off and on. I am running errands buying things I can only get here and not off in the bush. So today Bangalore seems plain, in contrast to the four weeks I spent in it before.

Tomorrow morning I have a bus ticket for 9.30 am on the KSRTC (Karnaka State Road Transport Corporation) Bus to Madikeri. Madikeri is in the Kodagu region, which is supposed to be wildlife reserves, spice plantations, and local ethnic groups of people. It is near the Kerala border, in the high hills at the state border that form the rise from the coastal plains to the Deccan plateau.

After that I plan to go to the backwaters of Kerala and Kochi. The backwaters are famous for houseboat tours; Kochi is famous as a former Portuguese colonial port. Then from their I want to circle down into Tamil Nadu, and at least get to Madurai (temples) and Pondicherry (French colonial town). I may try to step up the pace of my travel now and cover some ground in short time. Travel through the hills is not easy, though, and entail some uncomfortable bus rides down rough roads, as far as I can ascertain.

I left Hampi, in Bangalore on route to Kodagu