Hampi or bust

 

Hampi remains, many years later, one of the best experiences of my life. 

We stayed one night in Hospet - not the most inspiring of towns - mainly a stopping-off point for Hampi - as demonstrated by a couple who were daytripping to Hampi every day.

My diary refers to it, over and over, as 'Indiana Jones-like'.  The enormous boulders, strewn across the landscape.  The thirteenth century temples, Elephant Stables, Queen's Bath and singing stones.  The 'main drag' of a few shops and stalls with an enormous temple and town 'water tank' at the far end.  And Gopis - our hangout of choice.  And the cheapest room I've stayed in in my life - RajSingh's (or something).  A small cafe and a few bare rooms.  20 rps a night.  Monkeys everywhere.  But at least the place had hot water which you threw over yourself with a bucket.

J amused himself somewhat with some British Girls  that we'd met.  One, he maintained, was the spitting image of Patsy Kensit.  Lots of 'caram' in the cafe and bikerides out into the desert.

We both had 'daytrips' into Hospet for trouser-making, ticket booking and money-changing.  Mine was dominated by a chap called Vittl who insisted on escorting me everywhere, pissing in the street, ordering double for lunch and insisting that I came to his house for dinner.  J displayed his usual supportive charms by saying that he'd have happily let me go alone whilst he feigned illness.

 

I'd imagine that Hampi is a bit more touristified these days.  Then it was the last stop saloon.  Fights in the street between hammered indians and stoned hippy travellers.  Waves of dog barking in the streets, heralding the approach or departure of a visitor.  Monkeys coming into your room to steal things.  An ever-increasing entourage of visitors, every morning, from Shankar the massage and chillum guy through to the bread/pie/cake guy.  And every day marked with breakfast at RS's, chillin' in the room, climbing up to the temple and dinner at Gopis.



We'd spend hours, sitting on the side of a mountain, talking nonsense, writing postcards and poems, smoking and drinking 'bang lassis'. 

My diary shows signs of irritation on both sides.  J's womanising, 'go it alone' attitude and miserliness might have, in fact, caused problems further down the line - but it didn't because we were only together for 18 days. 

But all in all - a remarkable week - fondly remembered.

And indeed - after a quick trip to Mysore and the now-famous Bangalore, he was gone.  I was on my own.

PostScript.  I've just discovered, in looking for pictures online, that Hampi Bazaar is gone - bulldozed in 2011 as part of a government order to 'protect' the historic site.  The pictures online are truly sad and shocking.  All gone.  Never to return.