Exploring the Realm of the Monkey Gods (Hampi, Karnataka, January 3-7, 2009)

According to my Lonely Planet guidebook, "The fascinating ruins of the 15th-century city of Vijayanagar, near the village of Hampi, are set in an extraordinary landscape of giant granite boulders, lush paddies and banana plantations. The clock seems to have stopped at this World Heritage site, and you can spend a surprisingly large amount of time gazing at the weirdly balanced rocks, wondering how millions of years of erosion could achieve such formations...In the Hindu legends of Ramayana, this area was Kishkinda, the realm of the monkey gods. In 1336 the Telugu princes Harihara and Bukka founded the city of Vijayanagar, which over the next couple of centuries grew into one of the largest Hindu empires in Indian history...This all came to a sudden end in 1565 when the city was ransacked by a confederacy of Deccan sultanates; it subsequently went into terminal decline...Although it was declared a World Heritage site in 1986, only 58 of the 550 monuments in the area hold heritage-protection status" (919-920).

Over the next few days, I take short day trips to the attractions Hampi has to offer. I try to do a little something each day, but not too much as I need to rest. At this pace, it will take me a while to see everything here. On the one hand I feel I am wasting time, but on the other hand I don't really know where to go next. I have nothing pulling me!

One of my first destinations is Anegundi. My Lonely Planet indicates that it is less commercialized and more residential than Hampi Bazaar, and I am instantly drawn to this place. Plus, it is within walking distance from Virupapur Gaddi, and I do love to walk. According to my Lonely Planet, "North of the river is the ruined fortified stronghold of Anegundi...an older structure than those at Hampi; within it you'll find a charming village...Much of the old defensive wall is intact and there are numerous small temples worth a visit" (922-923). Here are some photos from my walk:

It is a hot, sunny day--like most days here--and I am tired when I finally arrive in Anegundi. The place is quite sparse; I try to orient myself using the small, over-simplified Lonely Planet map and the bits of tourist signage posted at key locations in town. I try to make it to all the significant temples and historical sites. It's really not that impressive overall, but I do like this religious shrine and iconography:On my way back from Anagundi I visit the whitewashed Hanuman Temple, perched atop the prominent Anjanadri Hill. The temple is just a little ways off the main road from Anagundi to Virupapur Gaddi. There is maybe an less than an hour of sunlight left, and I'm a little worried I won't make it up and down in time for the last bus back to Virupapur Gaddi. The climb to the top of the hill will take maybe 30 minutes. But it seems many travelers are gathering to view the sunset, so I go on. Atop the hill I meet some travelers who are willing to split the cost of an auto-rickshaw with me.

The temple is aptly named, as monkeys abound (Hanuman is the monkey god). I take my shoes off to walk on the holy ground and argue with the shoe guard, who seems to indicate that a donation for watching my shoes is mandatory. I sneak away and explore. Here are some photos of what I see of the temple, and views of the temple's surroundings:I watch the sun descend, a little worried about missing the bus and not being able to find the people who offered to share a ride with me. Most travelers are grouping up to watch the sunset, but I am alone. I enjoy hopping over crevasses and exploring the rock's structure, all the while people-watching. I leave a little before dark, so I can make it down the stone-carved staircase before the rush. Luckily, I run into the people with whom I will share a ride. At the bottom of the hill, I buy a coconut, as I am so thirsty. I make sure to have the coconut-walla slice it when I am finished drinking, so that I can eat the flesh.

After a long day of sight-seeing, we head back toward Virupapur Gaddi and my bungalow. In the evening, I usually go to a particular small restaurant near the entrance to Virupapur Gaddi. It is the cheapest place I can find. I usually order the thali and a hot ginger lemon honey. They give me a whole bottle of honey to use freely, and I use more then they'd probably like me to because honey should help my lung infection and cough.

One night, there are a group of French people and one Israeli woman who is living in France with her boyfriend. She speaks negatively of Israel, and of places like Hampi that attract so many Israelis. These travelers seem to be newer to India, and I help them translate the menu. I try to use a little of my French. I appreciate their conversation and friendliness. Like me, they seem to be at a loss for deciding where next to go. We exchange ideas, but ultimately both they and I end up staying in Hampi a bit longer as we dream up the next leg of our journeys.

Amidst Ancient Ruins in Hampi (Karnataka, January 2-7, 2009)

I arrive in Hampi in the early evening. Uncle Mike sent me an email telling me to cross the small Tungabhadra River from the Hampi Bazaar to Virupapur Gaddi. The latter is more laid-back and quiet, and supposedly lodging is less expensive. Unfortunately, I arrive after the last boat shuttle departure at about 6pm. Almost all of Hampi's rooms are full, making bargaining almost impossible. I am at a loss for where to stay.

Finally, one hotel owner suggests I stay at the restaurant above his hotel--a roof restaurant. There is covering, and the weather is warm, so I don't technically need a room. I won't have a shower, and I'll have to wait until the patrons leave for the evening to fall asleep, and wake in the morning when the noise of the street starts. I am disappointed, but it seems like my only choice, and the restaurant owner agrees to let me stay for a fee. It is illegal, and I have a feeling I won't sleep well being so exposed. I decide to leave my bag at the restaurant and take a walk around to make sure this is the only place I can find. Without my heavy bag, I'll be able to do a more thorough investigation.

Finally, I come across a grim option--I think it's called the Krishna Guesthouse. I cannot recall exactly, but it is something like an above-ground cellar, with concrete walls that are painted a bright blue-green, and a series of small cells with bars across the windows. I can't bargain, but it's reasonable, so I go back to the restaurant, pick up my bag, and move in. At least there is a mosquito net over the bed.

The next morning, I am anxious to get across the river and find a place in Virupapur Gaddi. If Hampi Bazaar is so full, I figure I'll have to get there early to find a good room at a good price. While I'm waiting for the boat to arrive, I find a great photo opportunity of some Indian girls doing their ritual bathing and grooming in the river.

The river is quite narrow; I can easily see on the other side the small motor boat that is to shuttle the crowd slowly gathering around. It touches either side about every thirty minutes. Finally, it arrives. I climb in, being careful to balance with my pack on. In addition to the young man operating the motor, a young boy works to collect Rs 10 (and a little more for luggage) from each passenger.

We arrive at the other side and disembark. Up a short hill of dry mud, and I begin to see the first signs of tourist hostels and restaurants. It seems Hampi exists purely because of tourism, and I can't help but be disappointed. This trip has taught me that although Uncle Mike and I have been to many of the same places, we seem to be drawn to and satisfied by different facets of these places. It is clear that Hampi is a climber's paradise--it is a tourist town surrounded by boulders and ancient ruins carved out of and into rock. After a day of climbing, the climber can return to his comfortable, cheap hostel, order all types of cuisine at little expense, or buy hashish easily from one of the many dealers whispering in ears trying to make a sale. But this scene is not for me.

Nonetheless, I am still a bit ill with my lung infection contracted while at the ashram, and I reckon this will be an easy place to get some rest. The pace is relaxed, I'm surrounded by more tourists than Indians, and there's not too much to see, so I don't feel like I'm missing out. Plus, rooming here is very cheap, as most of the rooms are thatched-roof bungalows or huts.

I walk down a long dirt road lined with places to stay and eat. I try to find a place to stay, but many are full. Finally, near the end of the road, I take a right onto a side road, and find a small cluster of thatched-roof bungalows. All but one are vacant, and I stay here. It is one of the cheapest places I've stayed, so I feel good about using Hampi as a resting location.

The only other person staying at this same place is a man who has been coming here since before Hampi was on the tourist trail. I think he's German, if I remember correctly. He is a rock climber and, apparently, an old hippie. He's very angry that Hampi has sold out, and is preparing to go into nature for a while, away from the impurity that Hampi has become. I don't like his energy, but he's the only person I have to talk with. The man running the hotel (who takes my money, sweeps the bungalow with a broom of straw, and makes sure I have a mosquito net) seems to indicate his wife is sick. Something with her lungs. I wonder if we have the same thing. The angry climber said she used to make wonderful meals, but she can't this time around.