"HAMPI" NEW YEAR!

Saturday, January 3, 2008 10:00 AM

Idalis:

Kevin and I spent the week between Christmas and New Year's in Hampi, a beautiful city in the state of Karnataka, surrounded by golden-brown boulders, green banana fields, and large, abandoned temples. It was a place highly recommended to us by other travelers, and we're definitely happy to have taken their advice.

We chose to stay opposite of Hampi proper, on the other side of the Tungabhadra River, which divides restrictive and chaotic Hampi from more laid back Viru. We crossed the river in a tiny, crowded, metal hulled boat, trying not to choke on the stinky fumes or get wet, since the weight in the shaky raft had sunken the rails to almost water level! After getting off at the muddy bank, we made our way up to the guest houses on the main dirt road in Viru, trying to find accommodations. After inquiring at four different places (“Sorry, all full! Many people for New Year!) we began to get nervous, thinking we should have made reservations ahead of time. While walking down the road we met Mark, a friendly Canadian who was going to a guest house to cancel his reservation, as he had found accommodations elsewhere. We quickly took the little bungalow and thanked our lucky stars for having met him! Although our room turned out to be less than perfect (broken toilet and science experiment growing in the sink), we were happy to have somewhere to lay our heads down after the long trip from Bangalore.

That afternoon, Kevin and I hiked up some of the outlying boulders with signs warning us to watch out for muggers, observed novice rock climbers try to ascend without gear (“Trust your foot, man!”), and watched the sun set until the sky was filled with pink, purple, and orange.

We spent some of our time in Hampi visiting a few of the famous temples there. Virupaksha temple, at the end of the bazaar, was quite an experience. Crowds pushed their way through to get a glimpse of their favorite deity's statue, placing garlands of flowers or coconuts before them as offerings to the gods. The smell inside was a mixture of incense, oil, flowers, and poop. Whether the last came from Lakshmi, the temple elephant who will bless you if you put a rupee in her trunk, or from the cows, I don't know. Kevin and I would not have lingered too much longer, but everyone was whistled out of the temple by guards with big mustaches in safari suits anyway. We recovered our shoes at the entrance and made our way (exhaustively) through the bazaar saying “No, thank you” every three seconds (“Yessssss? Rickshaw? Map of Hampi? Postcards? Hashish? Good stuff, clean. Fruit? Madam, come look my shop!”) We made it past all the touts to the end of the road and gazed at Nandi temple with its large bull, where an older British tourist quipped, “My wife is staring at the bull's backside. It's well-endowed.” Outside of a small shrine, we met three young German and Swiss visitors who are doing volunteer work in India for a year. We were so impressed by their youth, intelligence, and commitment despite it being so tough here. We climbed up Matanga Hill (well, at least Kevin went to the top) and got a beautiful view of Hampi.

The next day, Kevin and I went to a small neighboring village, Anegondi. We loved our quiet walk and admired the tall rice paddies and leafy banana trees along the way. We walked up the 600 steps to Hanuman temple, a tribute to the monkey god, and got another great view of Hampi. When leaving, we had an old man yell at us for not giving him money to “watch our shoes” while he slept (“Baba! Baksheesh!”), and tried to dodge the mischievous red-assed monkeys, known for stealing food from your hands and leaping over your head. We crossed the river in a coracle, a circular basket boat. We had to haggle for the price, since the punter wanted us to pay more than three times what the Indian family who had just gotten off paid. We walked to Vitthala Temple, a World Heritage Sight, but just admired it from the outside, as we felt that the 250 rupee “foreigner entrance fee” wasn't worth it.

After the previous day's conversation with the young, positive volunteers and the beautiful vistas of the last two days, Kevin and I vowed to open our hearts more and complain less while in India. Unfortunately, I broke my promise on the way back when the thousandth rickshaw driver asked me if I wanted a ride and I lost my temper.

We spent the rest of our time in Hampi eating, reading, and trying to find a quiet spot not overrun with the Israeli stoner scene. We had to chuckle quietly in disbelief while one morning at breakfast, a young Israeli gentleman rolled up a joint in front of a sign that said “Drugs strictly prohibited.”

On New Year's Eve, we bought a small bottle of “Old Monk” and I commented to Kevin that the bottle looked unsealed. Without missing a beat, he said, “I guess that's what I get for buying rum at a chicken coop stall.” Only in India.

We rung in the New Year in a tepee, with a mixed crowd of drunk Indian musicians that couldn't handle their liquor and tourists from around the world. It was a bittersweet night. We had a really nice conversation with two girls from France and Holland, the music from the drums was exhilarating, and Kevin and I kissed and hugged tightly when midnight struck and the fireworks began. But we did feel a little bit sad. We missed our friends and family at that moment, and the campground fire was missing one of Erik's famous blazing Christmas trees.



We miss all of you very much! We wish each and every one of you a prosperous and joyful new year! May 2009 bring you all many blessings!