A racist elephant and the Hampi GP

Two valiums and a sleeper bus later and I woke up in Hampi.

The landscape is just staggering. It does not look natural. It’s as if giant boulders have been piled by a giant pair of hands.

The rocky terrain is interspersed with 500-year-old ruined remains of the Vijayanagara Kingdom. The entire region is a world heritage site and I’d whole-heartedly recommend a visit to anyone.

The best way to explore the place is by moped, particularly since our visit coincided with fresh tarmac roads being steamrolled. It was as if it was purpose built for us to enjoy a 4-day jaunt.

Every corner you snake around holds new natural beauty. Lakes and rivers and reservoirs, boulder mountains, coconut palm forests and paddy fields.

With the majority of the ruins on the opposite side of the river to us, we loaded our bikes, along with a shitload of others, on to a ‘ferry’ and took a tour of the many spectacular sights.

Having got separated from Dave (I took a wrong turning) I scooted further towards the enormous Virupashka temple. 



It was there I met a racist elephant. After watching her bless Indians in exchange for a single rupee coin, I returned the entrance gate, paid up the 20-rupee camera charge and found an Indian boy to record a video of me receiving an elephant blessing.

Instead, the video is of me arguing with a 2-ton critter that it’s not fair to ask white people for 10 times the amount Indians pay for the privilege of having a holy trunk placed on your head. Then the camera battery gave up, and so did I.

I found a place to eat byriani and got locked into conversation with 3 Londoners. Watchless, I asked the time and suddenly it was 5 past 5.

Without lights on my bike, I was locked in a race home against sundown at 6. I was like Cinderella, only sweatier and powered by petrol rather than pumpkin.

In terms of pure unadulterated enjoyment, it was incredible. There was a point where, racing along at 50mph, I had no choice but to stand and shout at the top of my voice to relieve my glee and prevent my head from exploding. 

The last time I can remember this happening to me was at leasta year ago after witnessing Darren Ambrose score a 40-yard wonder-goal against Man Utd at Old Trafford.

I made it home before dark. And even had time to pick up a stunning Israeli girl and give her a lift home, since her bike had no tax and there were coppers round the corner. After I dropped her off at her guest house next door to ours, she agreed to bring herself plus 2 more girls round for a beer with me and Dave that evening.

The following few hours would make a fairly good sitcom pilot and are a good deal funnier to me now than as they unfolded. I’ll try to tell the story as accurately as possible.

As we drank in our guest-house bar and waited for the girls to arrive, our half-cut chef got an enormous green emu egg from the fridge, and offered us the chance to cook up an omelette. Shortly after, he revealed himself to be racist and launched into a passionate verbal assault of the entire Israeli race. So we didn’t take up his offer of the egg and warned him to be nice to our expected Hebrew visitors.

A couple of Kingfishers bolder and at Dave’s assertion that the girls wouldn’t show, I shuffled round to find them. In Basil-Fawlty-style I did not mention the war chef.

Then followed a lovely evening where beer and conversation flowed. That was until our now-very-pissed chef reared his racist head and launched into a spectacularly offensive anti-Israeli rant. It was humiliating and one of them justifiably stormed off. Still, we arranged to hang out the next day.

Luck can be a bitch and unfortunately with Dave ill, I was forced to spend the day sunbathing with 3 bikini-clad beauties.

For the Indian pervert-paparazzi, this represented the equivalent to Debbie Does Dallas. Several times I had to shoo away groups of men and their camera phones, explaining that it really is quite rude to take photos of girls in their swimwear.

Then I took some pictures myself.

Next day, with Dave back to health we took the girls over the river and biked the sights again. A fun day and this time, I paid up for a blessing from the hustling holy elephant. Video evidence here.

Pressed for time, we shot off to catch a sleeper bus to Goa.