Hampi

Hospet is the nearest town to Hampi, and this is where our train from Mumbai stops. As it pulls into the station rickshaw drivers wait eagerly at the end of the platform, waiting to leap into the moving train.

One guy spots me a mile off and begins to herd us to the exit as we disembark. He wants 250rs to take us the 14km to Hampi. We walk out of the station and past the long line of waiting rickshaws to his, which is parked around the corner out of sight. By the time we've reached it, we're down to 150rs. Although his ride's seen better days and he doesn't wear a brown jacket that all auto drivers seem obliged to wear, he seems ok and we've just spent five minutes talking the price down.

We get in.



Ramesh is a nice guy. We stop at a cash point and he chats to me while Alice gets some cash. Once we get to Hampi there will be no ATMs.

Before arrival we made note of a number of guest houses from Wikitravel. Running a few of these past Ramesh, we're told that they have been demolished. Allegedly, the state government knocked down half of Hampi's Janatha Plot several years ago because the buildings were illegal. It's not clear if this was due to them not meeting certain construction standards or if they were built without permission.

I am dubious about this. I suspect that Ramesh might get a kickback from certain places if he delivers fresh tourists to them. When we reach Hampi though, there are the remains of many buildings on show. Curiously, amongst the detritus is what's left of the government-sanctioned Hampi Dept of Tourism.

Hampi itself is a dramatic boulder-strewn landscape, home to what was once a major city. There are ruins and temples all around. It is still a holy place. Janatha Plot nestles among the boulders and ancient buildings.

We're not just talking a light sprinkling of boulders - they are everywhere. Before arriving here, I thought we'd find a field with some rocks in, wander about, maybe climb a few, and be on our way. I couldn't have been more wrong. The landscape is vast. Boulders alternately loom and squat in what must have been a glacial trough.They don't just perch in the valleys and on the hills - they are the hills - improbable stacks of rock, like the long-deserted sandbox of some ancient, giant child.

Ramesh takes us to a couple of alternative guest houses. In one street, we are set upon by four or five people at once, hungry for some off-season tourist action, each trying to get us into our guest house. We walk into the grandly named Lakshmi Heritage Tourist Home. It's a nice place - comfy beds, clean bathroom, quiet fan, even a TV. We pay for a night initially and then ask for a further 6. The owner knocks off 100rs a night, meaning Alice and I pay just over £2 a night each to stay.

Hampi's fairly quiet and once the locals have seen us walk up and down the narrow streets a few times, the level of hassle about renting motorbikes or buying bus tickets drops to pretty much zero. Nobody tries to sell me a scarf. In fact, it's becoming quite apparent that South India is a lot more chilled out than the North. Maybe I'm just getting used to being an incongruous whitey. Maybe it's a bit of both. Either way, I'm starting to like Hampi.

We decide to have a wander along the main road from Janahta in the general direction of some temples. A local tells us that we can walk up and around a large hill in a loop, eventually returning to our start point.

This is the view from the bottom. Not so bad, right?

Initially, the going's pretty easy. It's not until we get a short way up a stone slab stairway that it begins to disintegrate and we realise flip-flops were perhaps not the most sensible choice of footwear. Mine fall apart a couple of times along what becomes a strenuous climb up the hill in the baking heat. Somebody has mercifully decided that a stone shelter halfway up might be an idea and we take a grateful rest out of the baking sun.

Once we reach the top, the view from the temple is worth the climb.

The way back down sports a set of stairs that's a little more intact.

We find a restaurant called The Mango Tree that's built on the side of a hill around, you guessed it, an enormous mango tree. It serves tasty veg curry and we eat here a few times, sitting on bamboo mats, mopping up curry with roti.

Having been told by Ramesh on the way in that the train to Bangalore from Hospet is very busy, after a couple of days we catch a bus back into the town to buy our train ticket well in advance. Our bus is big and red - the best kind of bus - and the interior is decked out with faux Roman columns sprayed gold. It has a stereo and an LCD screen. The ride to Hospet in this pimped-out wonder costs a mere 15rs each. Halfway there, we have to stop at a railway crossing and wait a few minutes for a train to pass. When the barrier has lifted, the driver tries to restart the engine. No joy. He turns off the array of onboard electrical gadgets and tries again. Still nothing. A cacophony of horns and hooters blare in through the windows as vehicles try to squeeze between us and the oncoming traffic. The driver shouts over to a few blokes idling at a roadside shop. Over the next five minutes, a small army appears and I watch in amazement as the driver rolls the bus back down the incline to the railway and, together with the men outside, tries to bump-start a bus full of passengers.

The next bus from Hampi overtakes us.

The beleaguered driver flags down the next one and we all transfer. The new bus has none of the princely splendour of the previous but it has a running engine.

Onward to Hospet, uglybus!

Negotiating the chaos of the bus terminal and finding our way to the train station on foot, we get our train ticket and make the return journey without incident, apart from a massive herd of goats in the road that the driver shows no inclination to slow down for until the last minute. I feel like we are getting the hang of it.


A river runs through Hampi. As well as a small ferry with an outboard motor there are strange, circular boats called coracles that are used to cross the water. We pay a local what is probably far too much to take us across in one. They remind me of a sedate version of a fairground teacup ride.

Once across the river we jump a fence and wander through an arid, rocky landscape until we emerge onto the main road through a small cluster of dwellings. The locals stare a bit and we try to smile and wave. I feel a bit I've been caught walking through someone's garden. We find a ruined stone bridge and rest in its shade for a while. On the road in the distance, small buses pass with crowds of people clustered on top.

Alice has some more pics on her blog.

Too soon, it's time to leave Hampi. The silver lining is that we are moving onto the relative familiarity of Bangalore. After a string of alien places, I feel a bit like I'm going home.