Sunday 1st February - Yellow Cows

We go down for breakfast quite early and are surprised to find the restaurant near full. Maybe the Neil Sedaka tunes on the muzak system are a big draw. Today the buffet has an international feel offering baked beans, hash browns and ratatouille alongside the idlis and parathas. 

Out of our bedroom window we can see Chamundi Hill and its temple, which feature high on every auto driver's must see list. Our suspicion is that they are really fans of the 14km fare that a trip there will earn them. We have a short discussion of the merits of an outing and settle for a photograph through the bedroom window. The winning alternative is a lazy morning packing in the comfort of AC before we have to leave and take our kit to the Left Luggage at the railway station.

This is all achieved without drama and we set out unencumbered from the station to visit the Mysore Rail Museum. D manages to find the long route from the station but we don't get lost. The ticket office is in a guard's van situated just inside the entrance. This is a small museum but there are some interesting exhibits of narrow and metre gauge locos and rolling stock. Most of these are in better condition than the exterior exhibits we have seen in Delhi,  Kolkata or Chennai. You are free to climb aboard most of the exhibits so we take full advantage. 

We have read about a cafe in one of the hotels that is run by and for the benefit of women from disadvantaged groups and decide to take a look. It's another pleasant courtyard,  virtually deserted. We linger over coffees and lemon drizzle cake before taking a turn round the hotel garden. There is a restaurant under a canopy and at one end we find the aforementioned knitting bee. There is not much knitting going on right now but we chat to one lady.  They are a bit miffed about some of the things written in the newspaper. Certainly they don't look as ancient as described. They are preparing to entertain a large group of children from a home so we wish them luck and depart.

We walk back towards town as far as a place called the Pelican Pub where we stop for beer and nibbles. Our plan is to eat a meal later in the afternoon as we have an early evening train up to Hospet, an overnight trip of 543 km. The Pelican has an interesting policy, operating separate men's bars and mixed areas. It isn't very busy and we have a table on a shady terrace to enjoy our 70/- beers and onion pakoras. 

All good things must come to an end. Discussing food has made us hungry so we decide to head back to the Park Lane as we know they do food all day and there is free wifi. R does a good job of haggling with the auto driver and beats him down from 100 to 60. The Park Lane may not have been the smartest idea as we are compelled to watch England's ODI cricket team being pulverised by the Aussies. The food is OK but not a patch on last night.

With time to spare we walk back to the station. We had earlier noticed roaming cows with yellow patches rather than white. This evening we see an entire yellow cow and ponder the reason. R subscribes to the view that it is a side effect of eating banana skins while D thinks it is because they have been painted or sprayed. But why?

The station is all hustle and bustle. Our train is posted on the boards as platform 1 and then switched to platform 2. We recover our bags, cross the footbridge and find the coach with the First AC compartments. We have missed out on the 2 berth coupe this time but have a 4 berth to ourselves for the three hour tip to Bangaore which gives us plenty of time to make our beds up and sort ourselves out.. Night is falling as we leave Mysore and we amble across the darkened countryside,  stopping now and again at dimly lit stations. Predictably we sit outside Bangalore City Station for 20 minutes. 

When we pull into the platform it is bedlam with crowds of people running in both directions along the platform.  Our TTE stands in the coach door repelling boarders. A group of young Indians come into our cabin, challenging our right to be there. They are in the wrong coach and we send them packing. A Chinese man arrives and he does seem to be in the right place. We show him how the seat back folds down to make a bed and find out that he is getting off one step before us. The TTE arrives to check his ticket and seems surprised that the fourth berth is vacant. We switch the lights out and turn in for a good night's sleep.