Hampi: Stream of Semi-Consciousness

For this post, I'm going to transcribe pretty literally some of what I wrote in my journal over the last day or so, regarding Hampi.

Thursday, 5pm:

Holy fucken shit. The India quest hits its first rough patch. Exhibit A -- OK, so here I am in that crazy sensory overloa beggars-and-touts India I've heard so much about. Exhibit B -- I've now "moved on down" to a dirty room full of mosquitos for roughly the same price as my sweet-smelling bug free beachfront hut back in Goa.

Oh, and not only the usual OMG India is crazy! issues, but apparently I've arrived 3 days before the whole town is due to shut down in order to accommodate a presidential visit to the ruins (apparently this maze-like rat's nest is a huge security hazard, what with all the Kashmiri trinket hawkers and their possible terrorist connections), making a mockery of my plans to stay for 5 days. What am I going to do between here and Pune for 2 days?

Oh, and to top it all off, the moment I set foot out of my guesthouse I got lost in the maze of identical alleys that is Hampi Bazaar. And also forgot the name of the place. I had to wander around, confused, until I happened to run into it again.

Deep breath... I'm going to take a wander, find something to eat, let the mosquito coils work their magic, and try to find someone who actually speaks English and is in the know about this whole 'Hampi Is Closing In 3 Days' debacle.

~~~~~

Thursday, 10pm:

And yet again, as it happens, everything's going to be OK. Hampi is not shutting down until the 29th, which is the day I was planning on leaving anyway.

Also, it's been another dose of the big lesson I've been gradually learning in my two weeks traveling around a third world country on the cheap. Everything seems a thousand times more dire when you're tired, hungry, dirty, hot, stressed out, etc and in a new place. It's good to remind yourself of this often and try to keep it together until you can get at least a few of the above sorted. Fresh from the train [as you will recall from above] I was ready to turn tail and run back to Goa or into the arms of friends in Bombay or Calcutta ASAP. Hampi was a dirty town full of cow shit, scary monkeys, irritating children begging for the hell of it, mosquitos, venal schemers who'd scam you out of your last rupee, piles of garbage, guesthouses that all look identical and even have virtually the same name (was mine next to the Sita, the Sneha, the Sweta, the Swati, the Sandhu, or the Shamshu?), oh, and also outstanding temples and ruins and ruins of temples but that's besides the point OK because the place sucks, take my word for it, and I have to get out of here.

Then I took an evening walk out to this really good restaurant I'd heard about, met some new friends along the way, had a lovely biryani and sweet lime soda, watched the moon rise over the river, looked at the stars, etc etc and realized everything was going to be OK. It also helped to find out that every reasonably priced room is crappy in one way or another, and that once the mosquito coiles got to work my room turned out not to be that bad. Spartan in the extreme, but lacking in the bells and whistles that hide a true shit hole. And I came here to rough it, after all. Ooh, boo hoo. Squat toilet, power cuts, dirty floor, hard bed. I have my own bathroom, multiple windows (cross breeze!), working ceiling fan, and honestly the candles are a romantic touch.

~~~~~

Thursday/Friday, Midnight:

Some new India "firsts" -- first monkeys! first squat toilet in my hotel room (surprisingly clean and easy to deal with). first jaw-droppingly amazing temple. first rangoli (intricate designs made with rice powder or chalk on the ground at the entrances to buildings). first meaningful (i.e. annoying) power cut. first emergency trip to the corner shop for candles.

~~~~~

Friday, 2pm:

Hampi is the sacred center of Star Wars' desert planet, Tattooine. Deserted sandstone temples echo a landscape of mountains that look like piles of rocks. There is dust everywhere. Pilgrims of every conceivable type mingle in the dusty bazaar -- Israeli hippies in bikini tops next to saffron-clad sadhus, stodgy middle aged brits in floppy hats and khaki, women ni their best saris and jasmine in their hair, troops of school kids chasing troops of monkeys. A dozen languages are heard, from Telugu to Finnish.

I get my first taste of celebrity at the Vittala temple -- scores of kids (most on school field trips) descend upon me, chatting me up in newly minted English and wanting to shake my hand. Some even want autographs! This is weird, to me, but I go for it. Miraculously, none of them ask for "one pen!" or "one rupee!", probably because they are under adult supervision, or maybe because they're simply polite human beings.

~~~~~

Friday, now:

I spent the rest of the afternoon running some errands. Trading in some books at the secondhand book stall (official opinion: 90% of English-reading tourists to Hampi have really bad taste in literature). Buying a warm woolly shawl because so far exactly one guesthouse has actually provided a real blanket, and I'll need it anyway in Darjeeling. Looking at T-shirts, but not knowing if wearing Ghandi's face across my chest is completely insensitive or what. Trying to do a little shopping for non-sarong presents for you people, but not finding anything worth hauling across continents. Picking up my laundry, which to my surprise has been hung to dry over a grungy fence on the busiest and dustiest street in the village (thank GOD I've been doing my own underwear!). Getting kulfi all down the arm of my shirt and even on my pants.

Onward and upward, folks!