Still on the road to Mysore.

7/1 - Having been prompted by my brother, just a quick note to all you commenters. Thank you for posting comments. I definitely do read them all and always smile. I have trouble keeping up with the blog, so don't get time to answer all comments. HONEST!!
I do appreciate them. It is like receiving mail when I was away from home in the Army. Always waited for expectantly and always a boost when received, so keep posting them, good or bad. They are a boost from home. Thank you all.
And now to continue the waffle.
Into Bengalaru/Bangalore on the overnight train to get the connection to Mysore. My Mam and Dad must have been up and watching out for me, as the platform for the Mysore train was next to the one we arrived on and only one step with plenty of posts to lean on. I was expecting a bit of a hike and took a deep sigh when I saw most people disappearing down a subway, but nice one Mam, my Dad would have told me not to be so soft.
The train to Mysore is not one seats can be reserved on. It is called a fast passenger train. I think that is because you have to be fast to get a seat. I did not bother with the hassle, just dumped my rucksack on the floor at the end of the bogeys, as they are called over here, by one of the doors and sat on it. There was only 2 of us there and it is good to look out the doors at the passing scenery, good and bad scenery.
Then Mr Murphy showed up along with 10 or so young lads in high spirits. They were around 20 years old and out for a day trip, or so it seemed. They were a good laugh, but the scenery went missing as they jostled for position to hang out the door. Another lad was in his last year training as a doctor. He must have just had a session on muscular dystorphy. When he asked what was wrong with my walking etc I told him and he started to schpeel out some fact on dystrophy and give me advice on walking sticks. He is a canny lad and typical Indian in his concern. He wanted to carry my rucksack when we got off, but I told him to bugger off, in case my Dad was watching.
I used the Queens English though, which he spoke better than me.
I met 2 English lads too in the party end of the bogey and jumped a rickshaw with Denis into Mysore. Might I add that I bartered him down from 100 to Rs40, another 80p to the good.
We stopped at a hotel of Denis's choice. He liked the description from the Lonely Planet. He would not have liked the description of his face as he walked down the stairs after checking the room out. It is the cone thing to check them out first. The cost was about 2 quid a night. Denis said "You would not have liked them Gil." They had squat toilets too.
So off we went. The rickshaw driver was determined to take us to a hotel of his choice, nothing to do with the commission he would receive. He wanted to take us there all the way from the station, but we held strong. Does that sound macho??? It can be bloody hard work
We came out the rickshaw driver hassling to take us to his hotel, but I opted to walk and Denis came along and so did the rickshaw driver tooteling along beside us. He is a determined lad. 20 yds up the road a right and there was a big hotel with a big name Dasaprakash, I think. It was less than a fiver a night. A Kiwi lass in reception checking out said the rooms are great, but Denis likes to look, so off he went. I booked in anyway, the Kiwi lass was bonny, so she must be right. No wonder I am single. Denis came back and upgraded to a double. He wanted a balcony. He is not fussy for a fiver !!! And he wanted it west facing. He is a good character though.
The room was just the job, not flash, just enough and the first thing I did was put some dhobi in, much needed, less than 3 quid. (There's no pound sign on the keyboards here). There is even hot water in the mornings and the staff are friendly and helpful, although I wish someone would steal the pea out of the car park attendants whistle. 2 beeps for come on, lots of little ones for "Slow down you idiot" and a long blast for WHOA!!.
I had a good kip on the train, so was showered and back on the busy, noisy streets of Mysore by 11:30. There are lots of persistent hawkers, too many for a place this size, 1,000,000, which did surprise me, the size. I wandered around a bit and made my way to the Maharaja's Palace. When I told Paige, the granddaughter, I had been to the Kings palace, she asked if he was in. Alas no, but the Palace is magnificent inside and the gardens are impressive too.
A hawker got me outside, there were one or two. "Sandalwood incense sticks? Only Rs200 for a pack, these are my last 3 and I have to go back to the factory"
"No thanks" (Best Queens English, that I can do anyway).
"2 for 200?" He was particularly persistent.
"No thanks" Still polite.
150? No, 2 for 200, No, 2 for 100, No, 2 for 50, No.
A bit of a come down in price, but I held out too long, or just long enough really. I didn't want any, but it was interesting.
It was not allowed to take pictures inside the Palace, which is a shame, because it is spectacular. The police guard on the entrance tried to get me to divi up Rs20 because I still had my camera in my bag. A bit of a try on I reckon. When I just kept playing dumb, which was easy, he said "OK sir, carry on". Although after thinking about it, "sir" ??? It might have been someone else.
The inside is magnificent and there is a parade here, annually, that marches through the grounds and performs on the parade square in front of the Palace. I bet that is something to see. I was told it gets booked up very quickly.
Mysore is worth a visit, just to see the Palace. The hawkers can take off some of the gloss, but I am getting used to them now, unless I am tired.
Wandered the other way back around the outside of the Palace. There are odd beautiful buildings scattered along the route. It is the Milton Keynes of India, in the respect that I have never seen so many roundabouts, but the cows in the streets here are real. The roundabouts usually have something of interest in the middle too.
Wandered back into town and found the cake shop that is famous. I stumbled across it, honest guv. Tried a few. They can be bit sickly, but go well with black tea. I might have to come back.

Around places such as the bus station, there are lots of street sellers, mostly selling fruit and snacks. It give the place a warm feel. Don't ask me why it just does. Perhaps because they are friendly and smile a lot.
Some of the back alleys are full of fruit stalls, usually of one type of fruit. No thought to aesthetics, just piles and piles of bananas or cucumbers or whatever.
Other alleys have stacks of clothes stalls. It is an interesting little place. I did get lost at one point in some back alley. At first I felt on my guard, but then the kids run out and people say "Hello sir, where you come from?" and put you at ease. Then I got mugged.
Only joking Val, pick yourself off the floor. Found my way back to the hotel. INTACT.

Showered and back on the streets. Which reminds me, I forgot to tell you, in fact 2 things. I have been offered earwaxing, travellers cheques scam, pot, several times and today FINALLY, I got tapped up on my way to the Palace, very pleasantly I must say, but I did not fancy him. I'm glad I realised before he asked which hotel I was staying at.
The other thing, when I was getting hassled for rickshaws on the way to the palace, I was told it did not open agan until 15:30, so could they take me to see something else. I am sure I checked my watch, then declined. I had a break after a few hundred meters and when I went to check my watch, it wasn't there. BLOODY HELL!! I thought. I sat and tried to figure out where it had been lost. I was 90% sure I had lost it, as the strap was dodgy, but by the end of the walk I was convinced it had been purloined (just in case that is spelled wrong, I failed English O levely. Twice). I couldn't figure out who had taken it, but they must have took pity on me, because they left it on my bed in the hotel room. Paranoid or what after the wallet incident ????
So back on the streets. Went for a thali, lots of little dishes served up with rice, just in case you didn't know. There were no utensils or plate, or food. Joking about the food. There is a banana leaf on the table. It was smashing, a bit like a transport cafe, the food is slapped on the banana leaf then a couple of great laddles of rice and the lads keep coming back and offering more. A Malaysian friend, Arifah, showed me the knack for eating with your hands, so I didn't do too bad and I enjoy it if I am honest. I am not sure how to eat the yoghurt though. There was a teaspoon in that, so I used that.
Back to the communal balcony, or outside corridor, for a read and a relax after a long pleasing day. It would have been more pleasing if the bloke had been a lass.

No pictures yet folks. I'll add them later. This internet cafe has no CD player or USB ports.