My sabbatical: A typical conversation in Hampi times: "What did you do today?" "Oh me? I built some temples. You?" "Temples."

25 - 28 October

“Paradise” gets thrown around, and written about, way too easy. Too many times in my travels, I have been told, “You need to go here”, or “This place is amazing”.

Hampi falls squarely onto the typical tourist trail and I was not expecting much from this place, but I had it on some good authority (from some of you kids back home) that it really is a place worth seeing, and the first-hand reviews from travelers having just been there seemed to confirm this. So, with little expectation and it being (kinda – but not really) on my route down south, I made my way to the fabled town of monuments and ruins.

An overnight bus, filled with loud Israelis (are there really any other kind) was not a good omen, and this continued when we arrived at 5am, we could not get off the bus because of all the tuk tuk ~~drivers~~ vultures preying on the bus entrance, vying for our business.

Tuk tuk drivers are notoriously conniving, but I gave them the benefit of the doubt on this occasion (because I had few other options really), and asked a few where the buses where. Obviously, because tuk tuk drivers are the worst, I was told over and over again that were no buses. I knew though that they may not be the most objective or reliable source of information, when I saw two buses parked about 100m behind him, while they were lying to my face.

Bad mood fully set in, I figured what I should have known all along, that I would need to leave the tuk tuk area for some truth (#deepinsights). I walked over to a tour agent who explained that I could get to where I needed to go, but it would take me over an hour and 3 buses to get there. After verifying this information with a policeman nearby, I decided to take on the adventure, as a means to cool off.

After a little getting lost, and missing the first change over, I got to the village I was staying – Sanapur – indeed after about an hour and a half later, and 3 different buses. The journey though was worth it, because it gave me the opportunity to get my bearings of the region, but more importantly, to see the beauty of what draws so many people to the area.

Waiting for my bus, some locals walked by.
Some crossroad near Sanapur

The bus was taking a while, and some other passed.
Just as helpful as the last.
Some crossroad near Sanapur

Some locals doing their washing.
Streets of Sanapur

The region is divided by a river into two main sections: the monument side, which falls into the town that is actually called Hampi, and “across the river”, which is filled by lots of far smaller little villages. I was told by both travelers and my friends back home that across the river was better to stay: less noise and hustle, and more beautiful. The reason for taking 3 buses was to get over the river and specifically to a backpacking hostel in Sanapur, which had been recommended by some French people I had met in Goa. Normally getting to the other side of the river is a lot easier, but the large amount of rain that had fallen in the last few months meant the river was too high to cross by the small boats that normally ferry passengers to the other side, and therefore the only accessible route was an hour’s drive out of the way.

Why you stay across the river.
Sanapur

Legendary juice stand man.
Sanapur

Walking down the streets, across the river.
Sanapur

The great thing about Hampi (which from now on means both sides of the river) is that there are over 1,000 temples and ruins scattered across a massive area (over 40 km²), and in between these is very little development. So you never feel crowded and even touring is a pleasure because there is just so much to see over such a large area. If something is too crowded (which it never really was), you just move onto the next sight. Even the main temples are relatively uncrowded and adjoined by vast areas of palm trees, rice paddies, and boulder-covered hills.

I arrived at Rambos (I mean, who does not want to stay at a place called Rambo), and was greeted by the owner – Ramu – who had apparently been given the name Rambo years ago and just stuck with it. I was expecting a Rambo-themed hideout, but a chilled, laid back vibe would just have to do.

Not exactly themed like the movie franchise, but very nice still.
Rambos, Hampi

Had a very decent view.
Rambos, Hampi

That afternoon I walked around to orientate myself of the area and ended up climbing the 575 stairs to the Monkey temple on my side of the river to watch the sunset. Here I met two travelling Indians, who invited me to join them on a temple tour the next day. By the time I got down it was dark, and walked most of the 5 kilometres back to the backpackers in the rain, before getting a lift on the back of a lorry for the last 2km.

The view from Monkey temple.
Hampi

India has some of the best rules.
Monkey temple, Hampi

In case your legs were not sure.
Monkey temple, Hampi

Playing with the monkeys, at their temple.
Hampi

Sunset at Monkey Temple.
Hampi

My new Indian friends had hired a tuk tuk driver, who actually turned out to be quite a legend, and restored my faith in the devilsh profession (at least temporarily). We spent the whole day, literally from 7:30am – 6pm, going around some of the main monuments and ruins of Hampi. Hampi arose as a powerful centre of trading, and was one of the biggest and richest cities of its time. But as we went from temple to temple, I still could not comprehend how a city could actually build as many sites as there were, each with such size of construction, but simultaneously intricate detail and carving on each, individual stone. Not sure how anyone got anything else done, as everyone must have been on permanent temple building duty. Though, one forgets the power of a good old set of slaves.

Our tuk tuk driver for the day.
Hampi

My new friends for the day.
Hampi

A full south-indian thali.
Hampi

Fully stuffed, but finished it.
Hampi

Temples and ruins and ruins and temples.
Somewhere in Hampi

The monkeys have learnt to copy the humans.
Watching the sunset on Hemakutta hill,
Hampi

Virupaksha temple at sunset.
Hampi

Coming home from a long
day of temple seeing.
Hampi

In any event, after a long day of temple seeing, and eating at some local places our guide took us to, we got back to my friends’ place as dark was setting in. I bode them farewell, and set off on my 2km walk home. This time I was not rescued by any lorry when the heavens opened, and arrived home for the second night in the row drenched.

It was not the best time for Rambo to ask me a favour, as I walked in, looking to just get dry and warm. The backpackers had been overbooked, and he needed my bed. He asked if I would not mind moving into his house, just a few hundred metres down the road. Without much other choice really, I agreed, and relocated to his house. The next day I called in my favour in return. It was the semi-final of the Rugby World Cup, and there are not exactly many sports bars in Hampi (a place that does not sell meat or alcohol), let alone places to watch rugby. He had a television in his house, and satellite, and he squared up his debt by letting me watch at his. Just a normal day in India – watching a rugby game on the floor of a guesthouse owner’s house in the middle of an Indian village.