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Published: March 3rd 2014
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The day breaks in dusty disgusting Bijapur. I awake and contemplate the brown smears on the bedroom wall.....just what is that substance? Best not to think, get up shower, and give thanks that the bowels have held up after last night's delicious dinner – 1.5l of beer, 8 biscuits (cost 10p per packet) and six bananas. We could not face the food bizarre downstairs. We had tried room service; a man appeared with a grease stained menu card. “Is not our menu is someone else's, food not same prices not same but maybe similar”. Excellent salesmanship you will agree. We gave up at that point and took comfort in beer.
By 8am we are packed and ready to flee but Mr Ali the driver does not start till 830am. But at 825am we espy him and run to the car, flinging our cases in. The management do not even bother to check us out, and fortunately for them they did not ask us if we had enjoyed a pleasant stay or we would have unburdened ourselves.
Off we roll across more miles of God's ironing board, the Deccan plateau. The road is a good four lane highway and we
make excellent time. We practise that well known Indian custom of driving the wrong way down the dual carriageway when Mr Ali needs some fuel on the other side of the road. Add that one to the CV.
Aihole (pronounced “Ay –ho – lay,” sorry to disappoint) is a cluster of temples built from the 5
th to the 8
th centuries. Crumbling sandstone, but very evocative and with some beautiful carvings. In one place the temples are actually in a village, with houses and temples cheek by jowl. Pattadakal, a few miles on, is more sanitised as it is a World Heritage site, so better maintained. The villagers there were relocated. By the time we arrive the temperature has soared to well over 30C, and of course we are out in the midday sun as we are British, and that is what we do. We are grateful for the chance periodically to shelter inside the temples. For some reason, David's stylish hat occasions great mirth amongst a group of young Indian ladies. No idea why........our last stop is a Hindu temple complex out of town, clearly a Nandi shrine, as stone bulls are everywhere. The smell of incense hangs heavy
in the air. There is an ancient water tank, full of dozens of boys and youths messing about and shouting. We get a lot of stares here, as if we have stumbled into a world where we do not belong.
At last we reach out next hotel, a calm oasis in the countryside that is clean, spacious and welcoming. We settle gratefully onto our balcony, whilst keeping an eye open for the monkeys we are told will enter our rooms unbidden if given the chance, and just steal whatever they can lay their hands on......makes a change though doesn't it?
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