In this blog: I do the two biggest travellers cliches by seeing temples and a waterfall, but in a amazing old abandoned city.
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'Goa, is India for beginners' my friend Shaun recently said. I tend to agree - the former Portuguese colony generally lacks the noise, hassle and bustle, poverty and chaos of the rest of India, which is partly why it attracts so many people I guess, as well as the beauty. The huge number of tourists in Goa was no more obvious than when I was sat in Palolem waiting for the nightbus inland to Hampi, along with a huge huddle of western backpackers of various ages, but no locals whatsoever - quite the reverse of most other journeys I've been on India, where I've often been the only foreigner.
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| Vitthala temple |
Hampi, a town in the neighbouring state of Karnataka, is a pretty remarkable place - various ruins of an abandoned sixteenth century city, litter a landscape of banana plantations and paddy fields, along with rolling hills covered in huge granite boulders which look like they've been dropped from the sky like pebbles. A really stunning and quite unique area which I found really enchanting.
25th Feb
Despite doing my best to travel by other means, I once again ended up taking a dreaded night bus from Palolem to Hampi, only managing to get about two hours sleep. I was sat by an interesting bunch of folks though. Behind me a young guy from El Salvador on a study trip to India, and beside him a guy from Brooklyn, New York, who works on Sesame Street as a stage manager - cool job! Beside me, a very pleasant girl from Bolivia also on a study trip who told me all about her interesting little country. Amazingly, a guy who I first met in Rishikesh over two months before, also out of the blue got on at a later stop; small world.
Around 7am we reached Hampi and the chaos began. And I mean real chaos. Indians are usually pleasant and patient people and out to make a wage in a fair way, but the moment you reach a tourist area where they smell the scent of money in the air, they mutate into something completely different, much more rude, pushy, and loud. Money really does corrupt their minds, and rickshaw drivers are often the worst affected. My case in point was proven the moment the bus stopped just outside Hampi. Immediately, it was surrounded by twenty to thirty rickshaw drivers, all trying to snare potential passengers into using their services for the short ride to the village, but more lucratively into hiring them for the whole day afterwards to explore the area. Normally you might be accosted by a few of them whilst getting off a bus, but here, whilst we were getting ready to leave our seats, these guys were literally climbing the side of the bus, sliding open the windows, and leaning in to give the unsuspecting passengers the full sales spiel. Total greed and desperation, they certainly didn't get into my wallet.
Amongst this madness I managed to loose track of the nice people I'd just met on the bus, which was unfortunate as I didn't really end up meeting other travellers for the couple of days after. I ended up staying in a homestay just out of the village, partly cause of it's quiet and lovely location in the middle of a banana plantation, but also for the first time in India a little out of charity. The owner and his family had taken to renting out their own bedroom in a little concrete house, whilst they slept in a makeshift bamboo and palm leaf extension on the patio outside. The room was basic yet clean, but I was not too impressed with the squat toilet, nor the lack of shower, sink, or in fact any running water inside. But after the guy introduced me to his wife and kids and said he'd need the £4 (400 rupees) charge up front to go shopping, I didn't feel I could leave, it was obvious they needed the money much more than I needed a sink. So for two days I showered literally using a large bucket of cold water and a scoop, and brushed my teeth with water from a plastic urn they refilled from the tap outside. It was all clean and tidy enough but felt a bit degrading to be honest. Everyday life for many Indians, and for me an experience nonetheless.
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| Virupaksha temple |
Hampi struck me as pretty amazing straight away, the five hundred year old abandoned buildings and stark rocky landscape were reminiscent of both Ephesus in Turkey, and Petra in Jordan, two similar abandoned cities. I'm not particularly interested in Hindu temples generally to be honest, but in the context of Hampi, they're very much part of the landscape, and interesting for their craftsmanship and history. After a little doze after the lack of sleep on the bus, I set off on foot around some of the nearby sites, starting right by the village with Virupaksha temple, where once under the 'gopura' - the tiered tower - and inside the walled site I spotted the resident elephant named Lakshmi, painted up with Hindu markings. I watched with a smile while people took their turn with his magic trick before I went for it myself, placing a 10 rupee (10p) note in the end of it's trunk, which it passed to its master before turning back and touching me gently on my back with her trunk. Very impressive.
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| The stone chariot |
I walked down the old bazaar, a long street of empty granite post and slab buildings, and found a rock roughly the size of a tractor carved into the shape of a bull, of some sort of Hindu significance. Over the hill was Achutaya bazaar and temple - what would have been a large settlement now completely abandoned and starting to fall apart, and really striking at first sight. A mile or so on, after passing many more old temples, I reached the daddy of them all, called the Vitthala temple complex. The various carvings on the granite columns were pretty impressive, as well as some stones that were musically tuned when you struck them, but the most striking bit of all was a stone chariot complete with wheels that once turned.
A late lunch was in order back at the village, which took forever thanks to the woman having to go off to the market to buy ingredients, something that happens all too often, and I passed the time talking to a couple of quirky French and German chaps. Refuelled, I hired a bike for the next few days (50p a day!) and finished the afternoon by heading a couple of miles south, cruising around some of the other sights including some old elephant stables; like the horse equivalent but four four times the size. In the evening sun the landscape of the area was even more dramatic, with rocks bigger than houses, and temples on hill tops silhouetted against the colourful sky.
I've mentioned before many times, both the curiosity Indians sometimes have towards us foreigners, and their uncouth manner in speaking with us. Hampi was no different, with two or three groups stopping me over the day and asking the usual questions - 'where you from?', 'where is your wife?', 'what is your profession?', before saying 'one photo please', which always means ten, then putting their arms around my shoulders or doing a cheesy hand-shake pose, before swapping around so all of them get a turn. One of them, with no concept that it's polite to ask, just grabbed my sunglasses from my head and put them on for a photo, asking 'how much this cost?'. It's a question that also regularly gets asked about my camera or tablet, neither of which are particularly flash in our eyes, but because salaries are low and the rupee is so weak, what we see as everyday affordable items, are something to be looked at in awe here. Fortunately I've got used to all this strange behaviour now and realise it's just their way. If any of you want to know what it feels like to be famous, head to India.
26th Feb
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| Not exactly a Fendt, but he's still ploughing |
After two nights in a row of very little sleep, waking up after a fantastic ten hours of kip, and seeing nothing but banana trees out the window was just great. I set off on the bike again, soon bumping into the Sesame Street guy I met on the bus, who told me about a waterfall hidden away down some lanes, so I thought I'd cycle down and try and find it. For the couple of miles along this lane there was nothing but banana trees, all roughly ten feet tall with huge leaves, some of which had huge bunches of bananas hanging off ready to pick. I stopped for a few minutes and watched a boy of about ten ploughing a small paddock with his two bullocks, before reaching the end of the lane and headed off on foot to find the waterfall.
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| Swarmi, the guide |
Stood half way across a mostly dried up river bed, I was stumped, having no idea where to go. Conveniently a local then showed up, whom I'd passed a few minutes before and offered his services as a guide. He wasn't your typical guide I must admit, being a small twenty-something with no shoes, torn trousers, a mud-stained t-shirt, blood red gums and a number of teeth missing. But he was a friendly guy and I was lost, so I agreed to pay him a bit to lead me to the falls. Swarmi, as he was called, told me he lives in a palm leaf hut with nine other family members, and works 9-11am on a banana plantation, then more lucratively guides people to the falls the rest of the day. His English was poor, but he was very helpful and patient, and a lovely guy.
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| Wild swimming |
The falls were quite interesting in that the water disappeared down a big gap between a pile of massive rocks, only to reappear ten metres away from some other rocks. I learnt that an Israeli girl died a year or two back swimming in the dangerous pool just below the falls, but was told it was safe to swim in another pool just upstream. With no togs I initially dismissed his suggestion, then thought what the hell as it was so hot that day, and went in in my boxers anyway. I was the only one in the deep pool surrounded on all sides by boulders, and it was the perfect spot for a cool down. Daftly, it was only later that afternoon when I cycled past a place selling bags of Urea fertiliser, that I questioned how clean the water might have been... no harm done though.
I cycled on, stopping in a yard where local farmers were bringing sugarcane across the fields on bullock carts, and loading it onto lorries ready to take to the mill. An interesting sight, and they were eager to try and strike up conversation. I went on through a small village, and some young kids jollily ran alongside, initially being friendly before demanding 'some rupees' and getting annoyed when I refused. I passed many more fields of sugarcane and bananas, with the odd temple and huge rock in between - it was a fascinating and beautiful place to be. It didn't even worry me that I got a puncture two miles out of town, and I carefully rode then walked it back and exchanged the bike. I finished off the day by riding to a large area of ruins to the south of Hampi, much of which was the royal enclosure - a huge complex of walls, foundations, wells, water ducts, temples and monuments that made up the palace complex and all very nice to to wander around.
27th Feb
A half day on the bike again, this time exploring the quieter area across the river. There's no bridge across, so the only way is reach the other side is to take it on a small motorboat, along with many other people. There was more agriculture and less ruins on the north side of the river, most of which were paddy fields surrounded by palm trees and big rocks - absolutely stunning to cycle through. I went off road for quite a while, on a track beside an irrigation channel which feeds the paddy fields and banana trees, waving back to some farm labourers having their lunch who were a bit surprised to see me there. Seeing a set of steps leading up a steep hill to a temple, I went up for the view. It was very sweaty work in near 35° with little breeze but worth it for the fabulous view over the surrounding area.
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