Our stay in Hassan was just a quick overnight, as it’s a great hub to see the temples at Halebid and Belur. These Hoysala temples are supposedly the pinnacles of artistic temple architecture during one of the most artistically interesting periods of Hindu cultural development.
The temples are extremely detailed, intricately carved stone pillars, ceilings, walls… the stories told in the stone are passionate and complex, and the sheer thought of capturing these stories in architectural structures blows our minds.
After a ½ day of seeing the temples, we hit the road for Madikeri. Our journey took us again through tiny rural villages with colorful homes. We then hit twisting hill roads that wound through forest. The surrounding mountains are terraced with rice paddies, a bit crispy and waiting for the monsoon rains. Madikeri is a town based in the coffee, cardamom and pepper estates. Tall lush mountains jut upwards, and give way to steep, deep valleys below. There are elephants up here, but they don’t make it down to graze in the rice paddies until the monsoons kick in, so we haven’t seen any just cruising around. We passed illegally through a Tibetan settlement that takes paperwork, and exorbitant amounts of time and patience to get ay approvals. Our driver said that occasionally there/s a ‘good’ Tibetan Buddhist at the gate who will tell him whether it’s safe to park and enter the Golden Temple. However, today the guard said the police were lurking and handing out fines of 2,000 rs per person, so we went into town searching for accommodations for the night.
The search and securing of our rustic lodge is a story in itself. Driver Raj parks the car, tells me to stay, and Darrin to come. They disappear into the back windy streets. Arriving at a small room in the back of another Hotel, a man sits in a dark dingy room, at a table. Only things in the room are a table, two chairs, and a phone. He summons Darrin to come in and sit down. A whole business ritual unfolds as he places the all-important call to see if a booking is available. Voila, yes sir, your booking has been secured. Pleasure doing business with you- the formal handshake. Apparently this is the only job this guy does… he sits, waits in the dark room and waits for passer-bys to come through to book a room. He must get pretty bored… it’s the low season now, and our rustic mountain lodge was pretty empty.
Our lodge was pretty darn rustic, and the bed defines hardness – like sleeping on a wood plank. Our bathroom facilities are the typical Indian mid-level – shower over the toilet, all in one shit, shower and shave experience. At least we have our own facility – our travels in developed countries we couldn’t afford that luxury most of the time! But I must mention in this fine rest room there’s not even a shower drain, although there is a hole in the wall a couple centimeters above the floor – I guess if we use so much water that the bathroom floor becomes a swimming pool, it might drain out the dirty water, but with the cold water showers, we don’t anticipate filling up the room. We had some friends sharing the room with us; two large cockroaches. Ah, the wonders of rustic cabins. The outdoor deck made up for all the shortcomings of the room; it was perched off the cliffside, overlooking the deep valley and rice paddies below. We tucked in for a sound sleep, hearing the sounds of the forest, after a tasty traditional Indian vegetarian meal.
