Temple run @ Hampi

We came to Hampi to see the ruins of the 14th century empire of Vijayanagar.

Decaying temples are spread all over this vast arid landscape, with mountains of boulders and lush areas of palm and banana plantations and brilliant green paddy fields.

Each morning we took a rickshaw to explore different temples. In the depths of the underground temple a sense of spirituality is hard to ignore. We went back the next day, and the temple was submerged in water! 

Charlie climbed the 572 steps to the top of Anjanadri hill to the Monkey temple, the possible birthplace of Hanuman, the monkey God. 

I wimped out at about 200 steps and sat looking at the stunning view of the river under a tree. Suddenly a rustling sound and a troop of monkeys swung through the tree, one carrying a tiny baby and I just missed getting peed on by another! 

The village is divided by the river Tungabhadra, you cross to the other side by boat or coracle. Chill out zone extraordinaire...a road of little restaurants with low tables and a mix of music from lounge to reggae, snippets of conversations from travellers from all over the world, all dressed in the universal uniform, which we as pseudo ageing hippies have also adopted! 

Goa...old and new

Decades ago I dreamt of going to Goa, but then our life took different directions, and most likely we would never have come if it had not been for an early morning coffee in Portugal last summer with an artist friend who said she was writing a proposal for an installation at the new Goan museum of contemporary art (MOG) near Panjim. 

Charlie told her he also had a proposal for a fringe show at the Marrakech biennale, both opening in February. So we made plan...if Silvia was accepted we would come to Goa and if she was rejected we would all go to Marrakech! 

Guess what happened! 

Our first few nights were in a restored guesthouse in Fontinhas, the crumbling old 'latin' quarter of Panjim, where some buildings still have floors made from Portuguese ship wrecks, and the old colonial language is seen on all the signs and shop fronts. 

We met Hanuman Kambli, a printmaking professor from Goa College of Art, who took us to the Vasco de Gama club for lunch.

For the next couple of nights I'd found a guesthouse with a little pool nearer the beach. It turned out to be Benidorm meets Moscow, the whole street full of multi coloured flashing lights, sausage and mash, karaoke, quiz nights and pink tourists.

This must be where the UK OAP's spend winter now, these are not the ageing hippies I expected to rub shoulders with in my patchwork pants! 

The opening of  'Morphology of Archive was amazing, the diversity of art work incredible, and we felt proud to support our friends. I was introduced to the 86 year old Goan father in law of the director who was delighted to speak Portuguese with me!

There was also a series of hand colours sepia portraits by Waswo X Waswo of the 'Longtimers' , the Europeans who have been coming to Goa for the decades I haven't. They arrived to the opening on a bus from Arambol. Almost like a family. I felt sad to think what they must feel about what some parts of Goa have become.