Hampi, Gokarna, Mangalore and Mysore - phew!

And so we dragged ourselves away from Goa. This was a very difficult thing to do, especially leaving our new found family at Agonda and the chilled out day to day life we were all enjoying. Lazing in a hammock after riding warm waves in the Arabian Sea, playing carrom (an indian game involving an edged board with four pockets, smooth circular pieces and a sprinkle of flour) and long easy chats with new friends. Life was good.

Onto Hampi, along red dusty roads in a bouncy jeep with Kay, Guy and Martin and the four of us. Our driver's organiser (who hitches a lift to near the Goan border, kindly informs us we may have to tell the police we are Rajesh's friends if we get stopped at the border. It becomes clear he doesn't have an interstate permit for tourists. Amazingly we experience numerous lucky moments (including a back road through a hotel grounds and some distracted police officers) and avert a potentially difficult situation. It turns out to be rather fun. We drive for 8 or 9 hours, getting lost a few times and taking in an excellent darbar in the middle of endless fields filled with chillis and sunflowers. We arrive late in Hampi and miss the boat for our plans to stay across the river. Turns out this is a good thing too. Hampi is an ancient walled village with narrow alleys between whitewashed houses and mesmerising columned walkways and more temples than you can shake a joss stick at. This is a holy place and it feels like it too. The people are friendly and helpful and we decide to stay in a new little guesthouse with lilac walls and huge mosquito nets.

The landscape is awesome (and dusty hot). Huge boulders perch on hillsides scattered between 400-500 year old temples on almost every horizon. Huge walkways with ancient pillars and giant slabs of sandstone outline this ancient and atmospheric village. Have a wonderful evening watching the sunset from The Mango Tree. A beautiful restaurant with a swing and a mouthwatering menu, watching men in coricals swirl down the river.

Our driver is waiting to take us to Gokarna in the morning, so another long dusty journey. It's my birthday the next day so I was hoping for some more beach life and relaxation.

We arrive on the North Karntakan coastline late in the evening again and take rooms at modern hotel in town. Gokarna beach is nothing to write home about, but we want to take a boat to the other bays. No boats today, so myself, Guy, Kay and Martin walk over the headland to Kudlee. Nice enough beach but the accommodation is distinctly unbirthday-like! Oh how I hanker for some SE Asian craftmanship, local materials, proper thatching... Not this concrete, poor thatch, low roofed, no windows, no fan, no nets, no balcony (not that there's much point when they all seem to face away from the sea) and as for the blue tarpaulin that scars the tree line - my word that stuff is ugly!

The others book into Shanti and we return to Gokarna where I hop a rickshaw to Om beach. This is not such a nice place. Very isolated, you can't swim in the sea because of the depth and currents and the travellers here are a tad unfriendly. More crappy accommodation. I return mid afternoon exhausted and baked, and feeling very unbirthday-like.

Lee cheers me up with a lovely silk dress as a pressie and then heads off to Kudlee and manages to get lost. Several hours later he returns baked and exhausted and we decide that we are too tired for all this hiking about and given that the beaches aren't that great, we decide to head further south. We spend the next day exploring Gokarna, lovely sleepy indian fishing village, very religious and the best homemade curd we've tasted in India. We feast on dosas, thalis, lassi and ice-cream. Then take an afternoon local train from the laziest station where even the air seems to be snoozing, to Mangalore, hoping for an R&R treat at the Summer Sands resort.

Mangalore is a grubby busy city, not many foreigners, alot of muslims and pervy men who stare too much. Too much attention - it's not a nice place to be as a woman. Maya feels the same. Lee has a better experience enjoying the freedom from street sellers and he sells English coins at a favourable exchange rate to a group of friendly locals.Starting to feel like there is a distinct relationship between religious fundamentalism and the men with their perverted staring and attempts to grope. As for Summer Sands resort - it's a tropical housing estate with lofty tatty cottages and a manky pool. The beach is ugly and no swimming allowed. More blue tarp, no breakfasts other than idli, and no alcohol (I officially postpone my birthday!).

We leave the next day. We travel with Maya, our new Canadian friend (and Rocky mountain guide to boot). Unfortunately, the time has come to take the dreaded sleeper bus. We soon find out why no-one likes these things as the Indian woman on the opposite bunk flies out of bed and only wakes up as she crashes to the floor. I also suspect these buses may play a role in bladder infections. No-one should have to hold it for that long!

We are fabulously rewarded when we reach Mysore. A wonderfully busy town, few tourists but lots of smiles and the best bit.... we are staying at a fantastic eco-hotel. A former palace of the Maharaja's sister, beautifully restored and maintained, well though out and tranquil gardens (from the mosquito eating fish to the abundance of butterfly attracting flowers). The staff tell us this a great place to work and you can see it in there faces. Much smiling and chatter and the best service I've seen so far in India. A waiter tells us they give job opportunities to tha poorer families, with great training and fair pay for everyone. All the profits go to local health charities. Solar panels, recycling, traditional (dobi) laundry, energy efficient lighting, and crikey this place is clean!

We all decide it is time to celebrate my birthday and so we are staying here for a while. Mysore has much to see from the old palaces and wonderful markets, to museums and art galleries, and some of the best food in India, oh, and internet.