Market stalls line either side of the street, chickens squawk, cows exhale heavily and children run forwards and backwards dodging tuk-tuks.
My eyes strain against the last of the sun as we meander through Hampi’s chaotic yet somehow calm centre. My hands grip my wilting Lonely Planet – whose pages keep trying to escape with the Easterly breeze.
I glance back over my shoulder at a vast Temple which I later find out to be the Virupaksha and then we continue onwards to The Mango Tree.
“Hey, hey you,” an excited voice sounds behind me, “Hey I know you.”
I’d dealt with my fair share of shop assistant ploys, but this one was new. Father sighed as I turned back to investigate.
“Wait a second, I know you too.”
It was the guy from Manali who’d had the amazing gold necklace I had wanted to buy. His shop was next door to the music shop – to Jonnie’s shop! Out of a population of 1,241,491,960 I’d managed to bump into one individual twice – I really had been in India for a long time.
We went in.