Hampi, Indian (ancient ruins)

Now for the bus ride. I didn't know quite what to expect. I would have rather taken a train to Hampi, but the schedule didn't work, so I got a ticket on an overnight sleeper bus with a private bus/tourguide company. They use only Volvo buses, they tell you emphatically in their brochures. And they make a big deal about the "air suspension", whatever that is. If it has to do with making a smooth ride, then it's definitely a misnomer. My god, that bus ride was the bumpiest experience of my life. I don't know whether to blame the bus (it was pretty old and beat up) or the roads (probably the real culprit) but there was no way I was getting any sleep on that bus, which is too bad because my sleeper compartment was actually pretty comfortable. But the bumpiness was insance. Sometimes we would bump so hard that I literally caught a foot of air. Add to that the fact that this "modern, luxury" bus doesn't come equipped with a toilet, and you've got one uncomfortable rideWith a train there is only one place the train can go: forward on the tracks. And if you know where the tracks are, then you always have some idea where you are. In a bus you have no idea. You could be anywhere. I've been on buses before where the busdriver got completely lost. I-95 was shut down in Connecticut due to a tanker explosion, and my Chinatown Bus on its way from Boston to New York got totally lost in the suburbs of New Haven. The bus was supposed to arrive in Hampi at 6:30am. It was running at least 2 hours behind. At least with a train you can track your progress. For all I knew this bus was on its way to Timbuctoo.

Day 15

Anyway, I got off the bus before 15 km before Hampi in Hospet because that's the closest railway station to Hampi, and I wanted to get my ticket to Bangalore for tomorrow all taken care of. Small town railway stations aren't so bad as the ones in the big city. No special tourist queue. Once that's squared away, I take a bicycle rickshaw to the bus station, and a local bus to Hampi. Hampi was once a great city full of fortresses, temples, and other signs of an advanced urban civilization, circa 15th century. The Mughals sacked it in the 17th century and now it is ruins. Oh, but what fabulous ruins they are. I'm pretty sure Hampi is a UNESCO world heritage site. 26 square kilomteres of ruins, all free to explore (only a couple charge entrance fees). I rented a bike and rode all around the ancient city, which is interspersed with banana trees and palm trees. The landscape here is spectacular. We are in the middle of the Indian subcontinent, halfway from either coast. Great landforms, boulders, mountains of red and orange. It actually bears a striking resemblance to the National Parks of the American southwest. And in the middle of it all is the town, Hampi Bazaar, where the tourist infrastructure lies. It's really quite small, but it's got plenty of guest houses, restaurants, and shops selling everything you'd need. The nicest thing is that things really do feel relaxed here. There are no crazy drivers, motorcycles hoking their horns, and only a few rickshaws. I can walk around or ride a bike and feel safe. Cows mingle with humans, goats, chickens and monkeys. There are monkeys all over the place. You actually have to be careful because some monkeys are aggressive and dangerous. But some of them are really entertaining to watch. This afternoon, a whole family of monkeys invaded the patio of my guesthouse and did tricks for us until the proprietor had to shoo them away. Just to the north of the village is a beautiful river valley. I can't really do it justice with words so I will post pictures on the next chance I get. Hampi is the most beautiful place I've been in India yet.

I have a whole brain full of philosophical musings and observations and theories about culture and globalization and all that I've been meaning to voice in this blog, but I've already been writing for three hours so that will have to wait till next time.

Day 16

Breakfast at one of Hampi's many rooftop cafes. I ordered the lemon pancake. The pancake came served in the pan in which it was cooked, with a whole lemon which I was to squeeze myself. Many of the buildings have solar water heaters on the roof. I checked out of the hotel then spent another full day exploring the spectacular surroundings of Hampi, this time by foot. I wandered along the river trail and veered inland through an ancient promenade with shaded columned arcades running along either side. The Indian Archaeological Survey was conducting a dig, and the laborers carting the excavated dirt away were women, in saris of course, and they were carrying the dirt in small bowls on their heads. I had thought the carrying of goods on ones head is only in Africa, but it is done all over Hampi. Women wear a small pad atop their heads which I suppose makes it more comfortable and helps to balance the load. Men never carry things on their heads.

At the end of the promenad is a grand 14th century temple, mostly still intact. I swear this entire place seems like it's straight out of Indiana Jones. I know how culturally depraved that sounds. It would probably be better to say that the settings in Indiana Jones were inspired by Hampi. The temples with exotic and forbidding images of gods and demons. The spectacular desert scenery and otherworldy rock formations. The jungle. And the risks and dangers around every turn (violent monkeys, snakes, bandits, and, unfortunately, rapists). Rising just to the south of the temple is a steep mountain with a temple on top. I knew I had to climb it even though my guidebook warns that rapings and muggings have occured in the recent past. So I began my ascent, armed (only half jokingly) with a whistle and swiss army knife. With all the hidden caves and hidden curves in the path, I could see how naredowells could hang out here, but when I passed a family of about 30 Indians on their way down the mountain I stopped worrying. At the top I met a British woman named Wendy and together we took in the breathtaking 360 degree views. We could see for miles in every direction, desert and mountain punctuated by jungle and river and ruins, and very few of India's 1,000,000,000 people. Wendy has been traveling in India for nearly a year, as a solo female traveler. We climbed back down together and shared a chai at the chai shop (yes, there are chai shops even along trails).

Another mile or so down the river trail I arrived at the Vittala Temple. This is one of the few temples in Hampi that actually charges an entrance fee, and even though the cost of admission is ridiculously overpriced for foreigners, I paid it because I figured I'd gotten enough enjoyment out of all the free sights. They charge Indians 5 rupees but foreigners $5 or 250 rupees. Since $5 is actually closer to 220 rupees, paying in dollars was a better detail. I handed them a $10 bill and they gave me a fiver in return. My first transcation with US dollars since leaving home.

Vittala Temple is famous for its "musical pillars". The pillars of the temple each produce a different tone when tapped, supposedly emulating 56 different Indian instruments. I don't know about the emulating the instruments part, but there definitely were several dozen different sounds. Since everyone there is busy tapping the pillars, it all adds up into a sort of spontaneous cacophony of sound. A great tree with twisted branches and white bark stands solitarily in the middle of the temple courtyard, reminding me of the white tree of Gondor from Lord of the Rings. There is a woman whose sole job it seems is to sweep the fallen petals from under the tree. There is also a sunken chamber surrounding an underground temple. Tiny holes in the ceiling allow sunlight to stream into the chamber in narrow, focussed rays. Again, it was like a scene straight out of Indiana Jones. What a great bunch of movies those were!

My next goal was to cross the river and see the famed monkey temple. But the boatman wanted 20 rupees which I thought was too much so I set out to find another crossing. This turned into a sort of wild goose chase as I thought the next crossing would be much closer than it turned out to be. I also thought I would be clever and simply walk along the river's edge instead of taking the road which detours inland. Taking the river route proved to be far more time consuming because I had to climb up and down and all over giant boulders and through bushes. At one point it looked like I could cross the river by jumping from stone to stone, so I did. Yet when I got to the crest of the next rise I realized that I had only crossed a small derivative of the river and that the real river still lay ahead, and was definitely not crossable. After scampering over rocks for a while I spotted a bridge in the distance. Upon arrival I realized the bridge was still being built. Nevertheless, I finally found the "boat" which is a big basket made from palm fronds. I was rather skeptical when three motorcylists joined me in the boat with their cycles, but the contraption proved surprisingly seaworthy.

I had been able to see the monkey temple from the first hill I climbed. It was rather close, but on the other side of the river. Now I was on the right side of the river finally, but I was several kilometers past the monkey temple. I set out on foot, a bit nervous about making my train connection that evening. But then two Indian guys offered me a lift on the back of their motorcycle. Not only that but they treated me to a cold drink at the roadside shop. They dropped me off about 1 km from the temple where their road split off. I walked through banana fields where farmers were busy harvesting bananas and where Indians were hovering in the treetops of coconut trees, tossing coconuts down. The monkey temple sits atop another mountain, and the ascent is up a very steep flight of 500 stairs. I had been forewarned about the monkeys, some of which can be quite threatening, so I loaded up on bananas at the base. Whenever a monkey accosted me, I tossed it a banana and that seemed to keep it preoccupied. Except for one monkey who didnt even wait until finishing the banana before he grabbed me and asked for more. The bananas got to be a bit of a problem because the higher I climbed, the more monkeys there were, and I clearly wasn't going to have enough to feed them all. But most of them seemed pretty peaceful, and I just walked right past them with no trouble. Monkeys are amazingly humanlike with their facial characterisitcs and the way they grasp things with their hands. Of course, they can also do amazing things that humans could never do, like scampering up near-vertical cliff faces. One baby monkey used the hand railing on the stairs as a silde, sliding down, head first,. arms outstretched, and clearly having a lot of fun. At the top is the temple to Haruman, the monkey God. This actual spot is the supposed birthplace of Haruman. Amazing that the monkeys today still know it.

I had a long way back to go, but a bus came rumbling along and that helped to shave a few kilometers off my return hike. I then walked through an entire village on the opposite side of the river from Hampi Bazaar that I hadn't even realized existed. This village is more remote than Hampi Bazaar but the tourist infrastructure is beginning to creep up, with several guest houses and restaurants. Most guest houses are clearly still working farmers' homesteads, that just happen to rent out rooms. One very rustic looking place had a big sign advertising itself as a "CHILL OUT ZONE". The boat ride back across was motorized this time. I had enough time back in the bazaar to shower, surf the (incredibly slow) internet, and chat with some Australian women. I really wished I had stayed longer than 2 days, 1 night in Hampi. It's a glorious place. Most people go there and stay at least a week, and I can see why.

Waited at the bus stop for about 45 minutes along with several other backpackers, most of them also trying to catch the same train back in town (12 km away) as me. The bus was supposed to come every 30 minutes, but there was no sign of it. Someone explained that the rickshaw mafia pays off the bus driver to not show up and cart the backpackers to the train station, so that they are forced to hire rickshaws instead. Real nice situation.... So I paired up with an American guy and a German girl and we bartered our way down to 100 rupees split 3 ways (less than $1 each) for the 40 minute ride to the train station. Turns out they were in the same compartment in the train as me.

I was surprised when this train didn't have the hawkers going up and down the train selling "chai chai chai chai", "nescafe nescafe nescafe" and everything else. On this route, you can only buy food and drink when the train makes station stops. That makes for a quiter train ride.