everyone looks like someone else

Which is the opposite, I suppose, of everyone looking the same. We've taken a giant leap into the tourist community, and I am starting to relate everyone I meet to someone else I know. I met a older German woman yesterday who looks like my godmother, an Israeli hippie type who looks like Wes Atkinson (Wes, where are you?) with a beard. Every other Bristish man looks like Don Mabley-Allen. This may be the method I use in order to make myself feel comfortable in strange surroundings. Which brings me to a very important point, which is that list of things I need has become much more practical. Instead of lofty airline tickets and self-knowledge, I'm finding myself needing:

a hot shower
clean clothes
the sand out of my towel
a copy of the train schedule
some new books

We got to Hampi this morning after taking a sleeper coach overnight. The first fifteen minutes of the ride were nice - I stretched out, opened my window, looked at the stars and listened to Elliot Smith. Unfortunatly, the comfort did not last long. I had to suspend all sense of fear and love of life for the next 10 hours of speed bumps, slightly tilting bus weight, and screeching halts. We pulled up into the middle of a village at 6am, and spent the next four hours talking to some Israelis (plus a Norweigan and a Turk), watching them smoke cigarettes, and eating toast - waiting for check-out time at the Shanthi Guest House. Luckily, it was well worth the wait, and we were given a clean room with our OWN BATHROOM. I treated myself to another in a series of cold showers and now I'm off to explore the ruins of Hampi.