I made him pose with the phone. If he'd had his way, he'd have showcased his watch instead. 
On Fridays we wear white. ("Mean Girls" anyone?)
Click on the picture for a better look at the detail work. 
Me pretending to be Fazil. All I need is an iPhone and a pair of those amazing shoes. 
Not quite sure what was going on, but I took out my camera anyways. Being the only foreigner and, oddly, the only person with any kind of a camera, I quickly attracted attention and was singled out to go meet the "hero." 
It turns out they were filming a Bollywood movie. If you haven't seen one, rent one and fast-forward through all the talking and watch the song and dance numbers. For whatever reason I find these to be incredibly endearing and I'm always slack-jawed and completely in love with the Hero after two minutes of their synchronized dancing. 
Everyone was insanely, almost unbelievably nice. They found a piece of paper and did autographs all around, and the director insisted upon taking this "creative" photo of me and the Hero. He was definitely dressed way more Western than I was and I'm pretty sure his English was better than mine, too. Also note he's probably the only Indian man who put his arm around me the entire trip. 
I dropped off my bag in a little hotel (silk blankets, turquoise walls, drapey mosquito nets, elephant sheets, $7 per night) and walked down the steps to the river. 
Apparently he "doesn't really like his job, its just what his father did." Dad, if only you were an elephant washer! Her name is Lakshmi and she gets a bath every day. Her handler uses a rock to scrub her all over, but he has a special brush he uses on her trunk. She lives in the temple. I want to live there, too. 
Best. Moment. Of. My. Life. 
Meet Hussein Basha. He drives a rickshaw and showed me all around Hampi. He drove me around to temples, bargained down prices for me, and took me swimming in a river surrounded by giant rock formations. Best of all, he let me drive his rickshaw. Unfortunately there are no pictures because he was a little preoccupied with making sure I didn't destroy anything. I plugged in my iPod and drove him and his friend through the jungle listening to "Sweet Home Alabama." 
I visited a temple where the god Rama waited out the monsoon season before continuing his quest to rescue his wife, Sita (wikipedia "Ramayana" for more details). This particular place was built as a venue for weddings, and it features built in "musical columns." Each individual post has a unique pitch. It's been quite a while since my musical theory days, but I'm pretty sure they were relatively in tune. The flower in my hand fell from a tree where, apparently, Rama gave puja during his stay. 
Abass is charming, cheerful, and charismatic. He runs a little jewelry shop where he sells jewelry he makes himself. He also had a lot to say about Hindu-Muslim tensions which, it seems, run very deep in Hampi. 
These two boys are from Rajasthan, where fabulous, fabulous shoes are made. The one on the left is 18, and his brother to the right is 15. They live in their shoe shop and make the best masala chai. 
Elephants and temples and waterfalls aside, do you really need any other reason to come to Hampi?
Entrance to the outpatient department. 
Of course, a fabulous temple attached to the corner. 
Entrance to the respiratory ICU. Once a month they "fumigate" each ICU, note the sign on the door. 
Taken immediately after the fumigation, all squeaky clean and ready for new patients! 
Fabulosity. He wanted to wear them, I in no way encouraged this. And there were no patients around to see this, thank goodness. 
These people are no joke. Snake bites are common, as is fertilizer poisoning. 
And what would a fabulous Indian sweet shop be without a wonderful, jolly proprietor? His name is Maneesh and he exudes endless volumes of joy. Whenever I stop by he makes me a saffron lassi, which is best described as an orange julius but with exotic indian spices instead of oranges. Really, who needs oranges when you have fresh mangoes and saffron on hand? 
"Ummmm....I made some delicious sweets with saffron and pistachios and raisins but they all kind of look like brown balls....."
So thank goodness, Mysore actually has a pretty good public transit system. I never wait more than six or seven minutes for a bus and fare is 4.5 rupees. 
Sometimes the busses get so crowded that people use the yellow poles to hang out the doors. I did this once. It was similar to riding the trolley in San Francisco but faster and more complicated with the long flowey scarves everyone wears. 
Women and children in the front. 
Men in the back. A female passenger explained "we have the men in the back so we don't give them the opportunity to misbehave." You said it, sister. 
This guy goes around and collects fares from passengers. (That's why he's allowed in the front.)
Meet Jana, official roommate #3. 
In Mysore, at any time and any place, you can buy a garland of white and orange flowers to put in your hair. All the women wear them and they blow around when they ride on scooters and auto rickshaws and busses, sprinkling petals and making everything smell like jasmine. How do they think of these things? If I died and went to heaven..... there would definitely be garlands of flowers for sale everywhere. 