Goa to Hampi- a train ride through the Western Ghats; arrival in Anegundi

Our much anticipated journey to Hampi started from the busy town of Margao about an hour from Panaji. It's not an easy journey to Hampi, there are no rail or air connections and it's a long way from any large town. Hospet is the nearest train station, we couldn't get a direct train from Margao so the big railway crossroads of Hubli was the first stop, we knew that the connecting train we needed from Hubli to Hospet was fully booked,what to do?  Stay in Hubli for a night and go by train the next day or get a taxi to our destination in the village of Anegundi immediately?
We were so excited, for years Hampi had been a place of magical attraction, Lucy had been brought up with my fascination and we love the Frédéric Fougea film, Hanuman which is typical of his style with some documentary techniques and wonderful cinematography, all filmed in Hampi.
Once we were settled on the train we tried to work out which side would give the best views of the Dudhsagar waterfall, after about one hour we found out that in fact both sides gave good views as the train track was on a huge curve so we saw it from a distance and then as we went through a tunnel and over the bridge quite close up. The waterfall is on the course of the same river that flows down to Panaji, the Mandovi, it has a 310 metres drop in four tiers, at the end of the monsoon it was really a stunning sight.

After this excitement we could relax and enjoy the scenery through the Western Ghats, endless emerald paddy fields, mountains and jungle.
As we approached Hubli it was already after 8 p.m. After much thought we decided to push on to Annegundi by taxi, knowing it would take a further 3 hours. A little alarming negotiating with the taxi drivers, not simple as most didn't want to undertake the long journey there and back at that hour. Finally we found our man but we had to argue that he would be the only one coming with us, didn't fancy being in the car with two guys. Then we had to go through a  rather silly pantomime of pretending to call ahead to a totally fictitious  husband who was waiting anxiously and needed us to take a photo of the taxi registration.........which we did with much assurance from our driver and 6 friends that we needed to feel safe, there were still qualms but after agreeing the price of 4000 IR (52€) for 300kms we hopped in and off we went. The first 100 kms were spent with me grabbing Lucy, grabbing the front seat and quietly whimpering or actually shrieking at some points much to the amusement of Lucy and driver. I thought my hands would never un-clench again as we overtook convoys of lorries with horn blaring, whizzed through villages dodging cows, pigs and small children, speeding through the night with radio cheerfully blaring Bollywood hits. Soon I realized that our driver knew what he was doing, he was young with fast reactions, seemingly second sight and overwhelming confidence as we covered the kms with headlights blazing and  horn still very active. As we reached Hospet after 3 hours I knew the agony was nearly over, we left the main road and drove at a relatively sedate pace on country lanes through amazing scenery, towering rocks and endless banana plantations. We reached Annegundi  after 11 p.m., all was peaceful, was so happy to go to bed in one piece. We were staying in Peshegaar House, one of the houses in the village owned by a cultural trust http://www.urammaheritagehomes.com/uramma-cultural-residency  We were met by Siraj the manager who proved to be super helpful throughout our stay, always there to answer our many questions and help us to organize our time to the best effect.
In the early morning light I explored our space and saw that although the house was ancient with some really interesting features like huge slate slab floors and ceilings, a walled garden and a covered porch, it was all beyond shabby and terribly basic, the rooms were clean but the bedding was very scanty and a bit grubby. It reminded me of early days in Morocco.

We went off to breakfast which was in the main property of the trust, Uramma cultural residency which is set in a tropical garden. After a gentle moan about our rooms we were shown one of the cottages and decided to move immediately for the rest of our stay, more expensive but really great, a spacious bedroom with en-suite bathroom, in Peshegaar House the bathrooms were outside in the garden and the monkeys were very curious as they played in the overhanging trees.
 After a substantial breakfast we asked Siraj to find a guide for our first foray into the Hampi sites.

                               
All was arranged, we were to meet Mr. Ghopal on the other side of the river and then walk along the river to the first temples. We decided to explore the village of Anegundi later as we couldn't wait to wander through the wonders of  Hampi.

The walk from Uramma to the banks of the river Tungabhadra took only 10 minutes but was so wonderful, just a narrow lane through the paddy fields ablaze with marigolds, small ancient pilgrim houses were hidden among the coconut groves.

A little way from the village was another small community which we learnt later was the settlement for the untouchables,  the cast system is still taken very seriously and these people were literally outcasts, their humble houses were clean and tidy with many small children coming out to see us and practice their English words. There was a humble shrine by the road with some smashed coconuts as offerings. Women were sprinkling chalk dust in precise patterns on their doorsteps to welcome any wandering deities into their homes. Cows with blue horns in honour of Shiva grazed where ever they felt like it.

We arrived at the riverbank where an old boat went backwards and forwards all day taking people, motorbikes, bicycles, goats, sheep,dogs and luggage. The boat was low in the water but it was a short distance, fabulous views while on the water to the Hanuman temple and further up the river.

We arrived safely and there was Mr. Ghopal waiting for us, a calm amiable man who proved to be an excellent guide, mixing historical fact with anecdote and even sharing some personal details which gave us insights into the Hindu religion, culture and its reaction to modern times.
We walked at a leisurely pace by the banks of the river, this was a wonderful introduction to the more spectacular splendours of the ancient city of Hampi.

PART 2 - ANCIENT HAMPI - OUR EXPLORATIONS COMING SOON!

A little video update on Finca al-manzil for 2017

Birds of Extremadura

Leaving Mumbai - Panaji and Goa Velha

After four nights in Mumbai we were overloaded with city life and looked forward to the long train ride down to Goa. We left at 07.30 from the Victoria Terminus and arrived in time for dinner, it takes 12 hours on the Konkan route.
We were well aware that Goa is considered "India light" but our main interest was exploring the Portuguese heritage in the small part of Goa with the most intense vestiges of Portuguese culture, Panaji and Goa Velha.
We were staying in Panaji/Pajim at a guest house called Afonso which I must say was the least simpatico place we stayed, it was run with a myriad of petty rules and the Portuguese/Indian owners were really blah. However, it was well situated in the heart of Fontainhas, the oldest part of Panaji with small streets full of Portuguese era buildings from the 18th and 19th centuries, so typical that one could image being in a Portuguese port town like Portimao or Lagos but with an exotic twist; the colours more vivid, the opaque oyster shell shutters more delicate, the air more humid.

Besides the Portuguese architecture there were evidently many Portuguese names surviving on shop fronts and signs, faded and rusty, echoes of a lost colony left behind in 1961.

It seems nowadays the Portuguese language has almost died out, we found one old lady at the Braganza house who happily rattled away in Portuguese describing the past glories of her huge mansion in Chandor, a village near Margao. The 17th century house was stuffed with furniture and artifacts from centuries of collecting, trash and treasure arranged in a haphazard manner in rooms of dilapidated charm. Quite amazing that the collection has survived since the source of the Braganza Menezes Pereira family was vast agricultural estates all confiscated by the Indian state on the departure of the Portuguese in 1961.  With little help from the government the family rely on the "voluntary" tips left by visitors, a box inlaid with mother of pearl is indicated and ones tip immediately inspected, our offering was deemed insufficient so another few notes were added until the mistress of the mansion was smiling again and hustled us out with many "obrigadas e boa viagems".

We spent an afternoon in Goa Velha only a short tuc tuc ride from Panaji along the river. The first impression is of the vastness of the churches, simply massive structures and so many of them.
Goa, as the city was known originally was taken from the Sultanate of Bijapur in 1510 by Afonso de Albuquerque the first Portuguese viceroy of India. Jesuits and Franciscans started their missions and work started on building the first huge edifices. Sadly the inquisition arrived in Goa in 1560 and the previous tolerance of Hindu and Muslim religions was disrupted, there must have been great fear and indignation at the destruction of temples and mosques. I can't imagine the feelings of the Hindu and Muslim workers and artisans employed in building these huge symbols of Catholic power. Although the exteriors follow a traditional 16th and 17th century European design for churches, the interiors have distinctive Indian elements, the beautiful carving and features of the saints, the painting of the altarpieces and furniture.
All the churches and monasteries were built in the glory days of Goa but by the 18th century trade was declining due to competition from the Dutch and British, several waves of plague and the silting of the river Mandovi all contributed to the viceroy moving to Panaji, New Goa, in 1759 and finally Goa Velha lost its capital status in 1843

We became quite fond of the Panjim Inn which is still owned by decedents of the founding Portuguese senhor, Francis Assis De Silveria through his two daughters who both married local Goan men.

Mr. Sukhija, the great grandson of the founder, is still to be seen every morning sedately reading the newspaper and drinking his coffee. His son  Jack Sukhija now runs the business and has added two other heritage houses as well as an art gallery specializing in Indian artists.

Dinner on the verandah was very pleasant, good typically Goan food.

One morning we took a tuc tuc ride up to the hill behind the town where there is a small community called Altinho. It seems that this was the favoured residential quarter for Portuguese officials, there are haunting abandoned ruins set in wild gardens, once grand villas. One of them has been restored and made into an art centre, Sunaparanta, and café called Bodega run by Vandana Naik, a good place for breakfast with delicious home made cakes and good coffee.
http://www.cafebodegagoa.in/pages/about-us

And last but not least our inevitable visit to the local Khadi bander, a particularly dusty fusty example where I bought some excellent hand woven linen waistcoats for me and Manfred.