Off the Grid in Hampi

After cooking school (the blog for which I haven't published yet), I decided to go a bit further into the interior to a town called Hampi which is a bit difficult to get to. This involved a car to the airport with a stop at an elephant training camp, a plane, a taxi, a sleeper train and an auto rickshaw. It was a long day, but Hampi was worth it.

Hampi was once the capital of one of the largest Hindu empires from the 14th to 17th century. In the 16th century the population was over 500,000. It was over taken by the Muslim Moghuls in the 17th century when the country was united for the first time (the second time was under the British in the 18th century).

The city is home to one of India's largest area of ruins. There are active excavations going on in several locations and some day soon it will be a major tourist attraction. In the meantime, the city has a very charming air to it because the city doesn't have any really high end tourist accommodations or infrastructure -- instead there's an element of roughing it a bit. One of the airlines just started daily flights to a city about 30 km away (which I didn't find out until I was already on the train), so its probably only a matter of time until it changes.

Aside from several magnificent temples, Hampi's most unique feature is its setting amongst huge boulders. At one point, the area must have been underwater, because the boulders are 30 feet tall and I can't imagine how else they could have gotten there (unless there were glaciers in India?). My first reaction to seeing the area was that this is what Hanna-Barbara must have based the backdrop for the Flintstones on. I know it sounds strange, but the boulders were magnificent and I'm not joking when I say it was very easy to spend an entire afternoon "boulder watching".

The combination of the setting and the fact that people live amongst the ruins gives the city a bit of a time-warp feeling to it, like not much has changed in 500 years. The old city, or main bazaar area is largely unchanged from how it was when the city was inhabited. In the last 50ish years, the area has been re-inhabited by local squatters. They live in the ruins along what was the old market street, adding walls or thatch roofs to replace the originals as necessary. Their animals are either tied in the front of the houses or simply wander the streets. (More than once, a cow actually came into the restaurant I was eating in, but the owners usually shoo them away before they start eating.)

The best accommodations I could find cost 280 R or about $6.50. Needless to say, while adequate, it was no frills (and hot water is a "frill"). The whole old city only has dial up connections and no cell service. The touristy places have a hippie feel to them and play reggae music and the number of tourists who have decided to sport dreadlocks is astounding. I did not.

The meals at the restaurants along the main bazaar cost about 35R or $.80. I had a meal with someone who was complaining about how they over charge the tourists by about 10x what the locals would pay for the same food. Of course, most of the locals don't eat out and if they do, they eat "street food," sold by equivalent of a NY city hotdog vendor, which would make any tourist sick. I can't imagine what she'll think when she makes it to Delhi.

Assuming you don't mind the "tourist prices," the people were great. The locals, especially the kids, have no problem coming up to you and (trying to) have a conversation. For the most part they ask your name, where you are from and giggle a lot. I did have a really nice conversation about India with a few freshmen college students. However, since the only industry in the town is tourism, they is also a lot of presumption that you are rich and will give them things, especially from the poorest children. At one point, a young girl came up to me and said hello. She saw my water bottle and said "water bottle". I said, "yes". Before I knew it she had taken it and emptied the water, so she could take the bottle. It hadn't occurred to her, I had it so I could drink it. Another boy came up to me and pointed to my watch. He said, "you give me?" And he looked disappointed when I said, "no".

In order to get to some sites, or more accurately, the shortest option to get to some sites, is to take a boat. The boats are coracles, or a large baskets, similar to those my mom had when I was growing up, except big enough to sit in and waterproofed, rowed by a local who seems to be sitting in a very uncomfortable position. The boat ride through the canyon of boulders was one of the highlights. I went with one other person in the boat and we were lounging as we went along. When we came back to the dock we saw 10 Indians getting into the same boat, but it didn't look as comfortable. In general, whether its a scooter, car or boat, the Indians put more people into vehicles than we would ever consider was possible.

The whole place was very relaxed and I wouldn't have minded spending a few weeks there, reading some books and just hanging out.

Instead I decided to take a seven-hour drive to a town called Badami. The town is famous for its cave temples which are cut into the sides of some large mountains. They date back to the 13th century. I'm still considering whether I'd recommend the drive, but overall I liked the caves.

I continued with my driver to a city called Hubli which sees very few tourists, but is a major crossroads for the train system. I arrived 6 hours before my overnight train so I had a lot of time to kill. My very sweet driver helped me bring my bag to the trainstation, luggage lockers and then made sure I was happily seated at an internet cafe before he left. I thought I was set to fill my evening. Unfortunately, the cafe was only open until 6:30 and I had another 5 hours to wait.

When I left, I noticed there were no other westerners wandering about and that literally, everyone was stopping and staring at me. Although people have been staring at me for about three months now, I still look down to check my fly instinctively. I went into a restaurant, sat down and ordered something to drink. Nobody spoke English, but with some pointing I managed to get some tea. I eventually realized I had sat in the all male section and that the "family" section was upstairs. This probably didn't help with the staring.

The best available car on this particular train was a third class AC sleeper. I was a little worried about what this would mean. I'd been on first and second class sleepers and slept relatively well, but wasn't sure this would be a good thing. In the end, the only difference seemed to be that there were three tiers of beds. Naturally, since I don't understand how the reservation system works, I got the upper bunk. Somehow, all the Indians knew that I had that seat even before everyone had arrived to our cabin. When I've talked to other tourists, they've said the same thing, that the train reservation system is the impossible to understand unless you were born here. Luckily one person in my cabin spoke good English and the others were getting off at my stop so I didn't have to worry about over sleeping.

I arrived in Goa, beach capital of India, and was suppose to only have 6 hours before my flight. Sadly, my flight was cancelled so I had to spend another day at the beach. The chaise, the umbrella and the cocktails were just like any other paradise resort -- the waterbuffalo was an added bonus. Tonight I arrived back in Delhi to wrap up the end up my adventure.