The drive up is the first pleasure — the plains give way, the air changes, and somewhere past Hassan it starts to smell of coffee.
We stayed on an estate. Our host walked us through the rows in the morning and explained the difference between arabica and robusta in a way that finally stuck.
The second day was Belur and Halebidu, which no photograph prepares you for. The Hoysala carvers worked in soapstone, soft enough to cut like wood, and the results are closer to jewellery than to architecture.
On the last morning somebody made us filter coffee from beans picked forty feet from where we were sitting. I have not enjoyed a cup as much since.
