Breakfast at seven? Rather impossible ...
I have booked a room in the best hotel and when the man at the reception tells me the price, I have to check. 450 Rupees? For a good room with fan and TV and a clean bathroom with hot water? Almost outrageously cheap.
I feel a bit like a colonialist.
Then I set off to organize the last part of the journey. I've got to give up the train, because the trains are either fully booked or drive by night. No good for me, I want to see the landscape. Everything. The slightly better luxury buses also run only at night, so once again I have to take the local bus which will take me to Goa tomorrow. Joy prevails.
Sanctuaries and sacred cows
The Hindu sanctuary in Udupi is the reason for the many pilgrims who coming from far away. Strange buildings in strange shapes form the center, well-fed holy cows stray through the alleys around the sanctuary.
I take a few photos and notice that a certain backlog of pictures and impressions has slowly built up. I don't like it anymore, I have seen enough. All I want is a quiet place somewhere with good food, a book and lots of silence.
But the small town has a long tradition as a cultural centre. This includes the ritual theaters performed in temples. Bhuta kola, Nagamandala and Ashlesha bali, the dance theater Yakshagana and the annual festival for the Siri spirit Siri jatre (© Wikipedia).
More light
Dinner in the hotel restaurant, in a darkened room ("more light? No, there isn't"), which barely enough light to read in my travel guide.
The reason is probably the TV running in the background, very loud with an exclamation mark. All eyes, including those of the waiter, are drawn to it, it must be an Indian soap opera, and the guy is quite dismissive when he is interrupted and called to work.
At least he confirms the question of a possible breakfast the next morning. Maybe he didn't understand me correctly, in any case one of the wonderful stories possible only in India will happen the next morning …
The last Bus
I'm up early, the bus is leaving at 08.00, and since I've come to know and appreciate the unexpected punctuality of the Indian trains and buses, I know I should be at the bus station on time.
Breakfast Indian Style
The promised breakfast room is closed (I'm not really surprised), only a small, semi-dark room, in which a resident pokes into a barely visible meal, seems to be open. I sit down at a table and look around for the waiter, who obviously has something else to do at the moment.
After several unsuccessful calls I get a little impatient, so I go to the reception and inquire about the breakfast ("Breakfast at this Time? No, no") and about the waiter who actually comes along.
I ask for a Continental Breakfast, but he just stares at me rather stunned and points to the Indian's food.
But I don't want that, so I go to the reception again. "At this time only one piece for breakfast. If you wait 15 minutes, there will be two pieces ".
Whatever he means by pieces, it's definitely not what I'm looking for. So I order a black coffee, nothing to it, and indeed, after a few minutes I get a glass of steaming hot coffee, but without sugar and without spoon. So back to the reception again, the man at the reception knows and fears me in the meantime, but finally the shuffling waiter arrives with sugar and spoon ...
However - the spoon is so big that it doesn't fit into the glass.
I give up, I can only just suppress a Homeric laughter.
Just wonderful. This is eternal India.
Northbound
The bus leaves indeed at 08.00, I'm one of the few passengers and am finally looking forward to a leisurely last day on the bus. The journey to Kumta, the transfer point, will last at least until noon. For the second-last time I let the vast country fly past me at a hell of speed.
P.S. Matching Song: Lorna Bennett - Breakfast in Bed
And here the journey continues ...
