Tuesday, December 5 Hampi

I woke up early (meaning 4 am) on the train to Hospet in Karnataka. Karnataka is a state on southwest India, stretching from Maharashtra to Kerala and Tamil Nadu, and historically was part of the Buddhist, Jain, and Hindu empires. The capital is Bangalore, a rapidly-growing city, as a result of the IT industry, and the state used to be called Mysore, now only a large city in the south. It was renamed Karnataka, to reflect the Kannada-speaking population. I caught a rickshaw in the dark to the small bus station, and left my luggage with the clerk so I could enjoy my day with no bags attached. I took the first bus at 6:30 to Hampi Bazaar. As the sun was rising, the rickety vehicle rattled by closed shops with signs in Kannada, which looks like a bunch pf 3’s, B’s and 8’s flipped every which way. The ride took us through a bunch of sugar, coconut, and banana fields, with villagers hard at work right from the crack of dawn. Bullock carts piled with hay clinked from the bells placed on the oxen's horns, sticking straight out of their heads. I got to the tiny Hampi Bazaar bus stand. I walked through the main drag, terminating with the Virupaksha Temple. Hampi was once the capital of the huge Vijayanagar Hindu Empire from the 1300s to the 1600s, but was later conquered by Deccan Sultanates. Today all that's left of Hampi is a collection of ruins set in a boulder-strewn landscape. I first climbed up huge round sandstone boulders that seemed to defy gravity, sitting and leaning on one another's round surfaces. It was amazing; there was something magical about it, really. Ruins with columns and sculptures littered the place. I took a walk down the main drag, of course all shops selling travel services, Israeli and continental foods, souvenirs, and camera film. I climbed yet another hill, basically from boulder-to-boulder. Whole hillsides were nothing but cacti grasses, and boulders. I felt like I was on the real-life set of the Flintstones. I hiked a lot, with only my sandals. I saw some pigs, water buffalo, lizards, chipmunks, and hares. The views from every angle were picture- perfect. I walked through the deserted Sule Bazaar, a walkway of empty columns, and to the Achyutaraya Temple, surrounded by columns, also. I walked down to the river, where columns again led to another temple, the Vittala temple, which is the finest and best-preserved of the Hampi ruins. It featured some covered intricately-carved temples, mostly with lions along the walls, in a small stone courtyard. The highlight was the stone chariot in the center, whose wheels used to move. I got in for the Indian rate because I was able to fake speaking Hindi; I love non-Hindi-speaking South India. Actually I hate it; six months worth of Hindi classes are effectively worthless now. Actually, the Dravidian south refuses to speak Hindi because Hindi is a North Indian Indo-European language that they believe has been forced upon them as a means of homogenization in a pluralist India. So, English is widely-spoken to supplement the Dravidian mother-tongues, like Kannada, Tamil, and Telugu. A walk along the river was nice. Round boulders stuck out of the water like hippos, and bathers washed themselves, their clothes and huge pots at the rocky ghats. I was taking a picture of myself using self-timer as usual, and was too rough on my glasses, so I have one end now missing, so I look like the ghetto version of a spectator at the phantom of the opera. I rented a bike for 50 cents and rode through the winding bazaar & through a shaded banana plantation to a nice restaurant overlooking the river, called the Mango Tree. After lunch, I rode my bike south through the blistering sun. It's a good thing I haven't showered for five consecutive days and have mud caked on my face; otherwise I would be getting extremely sunburned. A random German woman in a bucket hat asked to tag along as I went to the 'Royal Enclave' group of monuments. I didn't talk the entire time, so that she’d get bored & leave, which is exactly what happened. I saw the Krishna Temple, the underground temple, the Queen's bath, and the Zenana enclosure featuring nicely-manicured lawns (because teams of workers toiled from dawn to dusk keeping them that way). Most of the laborers worked harder than I will ever have to, with this backbreaking labor in the heat of the day, plus raising children and doing household chores, earning half as much as their husbands, and 5% of the average American. It's just not fair. It’s funny, before this trip, I was expecting to become more compassionate towards those having less than I do. But I have become the opposite, because no one should be complaining in the United States, where there are so many means to make a comfortable living and so many resources are available to everyone. After seeing so much unfairness and inescapable poverty and yet such friendliness and generosity here, people born lucky (like those born well-off in the first world) can complain to someone else; you don't have it bad at all. I decided to take a detour. I went down some dirt roads, where I got some weird looks and friendly 'Hellos'. All the men have moustaches and are small and dark-skinned, with high cheekbones & square faces. The women are also the same (but without moustaches). I have noticed people smell different here; kind of like oily coconut milk, obviously caused by a difference in diet. But this could also be attributed to the fact that South Indians are Dravidians the original inhabitants of the Indian peninsula, while North Indians are Indo-Europeans (also called Indo-Aryans) or invaders from central Asia that also populated Europe and the Middle East. A lot of people in the south also wear a dot or lines of tikka painted on their foreheads as a sign of Hindu devotion. Speaking of devotion, next stop was the Virupaksha Temple, with a huge detailed spire characteristic of South Indian Temple architecture. It featured an elephant named Laxmi, who if you gave one rupee, would bless you by tapping you on the forehead with its trunk. It's such a cool animal. The rest of the temple was working, with Hindu shirtless & hairless priests wearing sarongs with strings. I had an early dinner and took the bus back to Hospet. On the walk to the train station, a guy from Hyderabad spoke in good English, telling me that his Dad disowned him for not wanting to work as a teacher. So he ran away and eventually went to prison. Now he has come to Hospet in search of his friend, who has gone to Goa, and has been staying in ashrams since he doesn't have money. He asked me for money so that he could go to Bangalore on the train, legally, and go work in a call center. He said he had to hide in the toilet so the ticket collectors wouldn't catch him. Boo-hoo, you know how many people are sleeping on the floor or piled onto one person beds of those trains? Also, if you have been to prison, you can't just get a job in a call center! He said he wanted to be an entrepreneur, & refused to work in a restaurant, where the pay is bad. Sorry, dude, but you sound like a spoiled brat. Why should I give you money but not to the blind man, the leper, or the 13-year old rape victim who is a garbage-picker supporting her infant? I refused, saying you know, there are a lot of people who are in need of money. Why do you deserve it more than them? He cursed me, and loitered around the train station. So I had to sneak away to the well-lit enquiry room. I am actually really scared; what if this guy finds my name on the charts & tries some funny business? Waiting in the reservation room, a stray dog took my shoe and ran off; luckily I caught it. Then, as I was eating my crackers, dogs all sat around, begging. Then a shady young guy came and sat next to me. He asked my name and country, then asked if he could have any American money. I said I didn't have any, and then he demanded rupees, so I got scared and pretended not to know what he was talking about, speaking in a made-up Hindi-like language. He demanded again, and I asked if he had change, &, then he got confused and left. I think he was trying to rob me. So I left, being bombarded on all sides by all different types of touts. Then waiting at the train, a bunch of boys were playing and started talking to me in perfect English. I couldn't help but laugh; it was so weird to hear kids speaking English so well; I kept trying to answer in Hindi, because it was just so awkward for me to hear. All these touts made today drop from one of the best days I have had in India, to 'An ordinary good day' in India. Hampi was absolutely beautiful though, one of the coolest places I have seen in India. And when trying to explain to people why, I’m forced to say, “Uh, it’s this place with a bunch of rocks”.