Sorry about the silence! I have not given up on the blog and I have not run-away to a commune or a cult as some have presumed.
I’ve just been cycling from London to Lisbon… and maybe I underestimated how tiring cycling around 80 to 100km each day for a month would be. I can be quite naive like this sometimes. Another example is when I offered to cook 5 different tapas dishes for 40 people that all needed serving at once - I was sensibly talked out of this and went for a big curry instead.
After riding each day there wasn’t much time, energy, or desire to be writing. Eventually I will share the stories from the bike trip - but first I want to finish India because I’m only half way through.
So… where were we?
Hampi
This story starts a few days in to my time there and I’ve been doing the travel staple of watching the sunset with a few people who I’ll introduce later on.
After the sun has gone hiding we set off back to the Homestay. We’re walking down a muddy… grassy… stoney path. No, not path but a track. And whilst it’s not dark it’s also not light. A band of blue is still on the horizon and the wind brings a welcomed chill from the humidity and the heat
There are thousands of frogs ribbitting in the darkness over the farm fields that surround us and the small bits of silence in between are filled with the sound of crickets. It sounds like holiday. But every so often the hounding of the wild dogs sends us all in to a bit of an anxious frenzy. The lack of talk proves it but nobody wants to admit it.
Should we keep walking towards those hounds? We have to. There is no other way back home.
Eventually we reach a stretch where street lamps light the way. But they also illuminate a pack of walk dogs who all look a bit zombie’ish from a far. Circling in the middle of the track ahead.
I pick up a stick and get ready.
“Are you for real?” a friends asks. I shrug my shoulders - I dunno what else to do?
But just as we stroll closer the hairdryer echo of moped motors from behind gets louder. We turn to be blinded by headlights.
There’s three scooters. There’s three of us.
“You all want a lift? someone shouts threw the glare.
Saviours!
The guy I jump on with looks like a surfer dude from down under. He’s got long blonde hair way below his shoulders. I expect a “g-day” style greeting but I’m treated to the sweet sounds of the Geordie accent.
“Alright pal, where ya from?” he asks, as I make myself comfortable on his scooter.
We set off and he’s wiggling all over the road, hitting bumps too hard and drawing lines like the arms of Mr. Tickle in the dirt. I almost fall off and I realise I’m still holding my dog-attack stick in one hand. I want to drop it but feel it would be foolish until we are out of the bush.
“Sorry there… ah mate, I’ve swallowed a lot of Hampi seeds today…. 70p each hahahahahahahaha… class though, sound though. Just like mescaline. Didn’t work at first but oooooh they’ve kicked in now.”
It’s a precarious ride - sometimes he’s going so slow I feel like something is wrong. I mention it but it seems he’s just forgetting to accelerate. At other times he’s going way too fast I can feel the bike skidding under me. Am I gonna fall off in India for the first time as the result of a Geordie? It feels like it as he swerves off the road all together and we’re lifting our legs up to avoid the thorns.
With one hand on the handle bars but going full power he turns to face me… black discs glaring through his glasses and a massive smile on his face.
“Want some? I’ve had like 7. Only 70p… hahahahahaha”
“No, I’m ok thanks”, I laugh off.
He turns back around but carries on shouting to me over the scooter engine: “No worries kid… India is crazy enough right… hahaha. I was here 6 months ago - went South East Asia afterwards. Sound there too yano but not like India. Had to come back. Sure you don’t want any? Fine… you can just imagine it then”.
So that’s what I do.
I imagine they would kick in quite fast. And I would quickly pay close attention to the wind on my ears and the rattling an’ revving of the bike. I imagine my senses would be heightened and suddenly the feel of this guys t-shirt in my one free hand would become novel in my fingers. Hmmm the seat actually isn’t that comfy. I imagine my senses would be heightened. Did I already mention this? I imagine I’d probably feel a little giddy. Light would be absorbed with a new focus. I’d probably feel momentarily paranoid but the feeling would swing the opposite way in to a loss of inhibition and probably wouldn’t care about falling off the bike anymore. Imagine. Imagine all the people. Imagine John Lennon. I haven’t seen a Beatles mural for a while. What a day. Imagine.
But as I say I didn’t try them so it’s just all imagination.
As Geordie pulls over I’m broken from my daydream. The road felt longer than I remembered. It’s so dark I didn’t realise we’d left the bush and are at the main road. My friends are stood waiting as their riders were a lot quicker. Within seconds of me getting off the bike and there’s a CRAShhhhhzzzzz oh shit! Prang. Wtf.
Geordie has only gone and fucked it hasn’t he.
Smashed his scooter right in to an Indian guy on a motorbike. Middle of the pitch black road.
The sausage.
I run over and he is profusely apologising. The situation feels intense but luckily the Indian guy doesn’t care… as calm as a nugget he looks around and looks to my hand.
WHY AM I STILL CARRYING THIS STICK?!
“Everything is ok… What are you apologising for? You only touched the front” he finally says.
I mean… it looks cracked to me but who knows if that’s from now or a previous crash. So it goes.
Through our apologising he bluntly interrupts us: “This is India Har har har, me you smash crash happen all time. This is Hampi. Relax brothers. You ok? I ok. We ok? Yah yah haaar. good bye har har. Silly English… always apologising.”
Off he goes in to the darkness at lightning speed. Engine the sound of thunder. His back lights drawings lines in the road.
Geordie looks to me. I think it’s for validation or for comfort.
“Yeah that really happened - but all is well” I say, shrugging my shoulders, “get home safe!”
Off he rides in to the darkness of the road shouting back “Ayeeee I’ll try hahaha - lucky there wasn't we”.
Like magic a bus shows up exactly where my friends and me are stood. The doors open and the driver does a backwards nod, signalling for us to get on the bus. It’s mainly full of school children, some of which are hanging out the middle doors that remain open. They all shuffle to make room for us to get on. As we bobble down the dark road I realise we’ve caught up to Geordie on the scooter. Poor guy is going about 20mph to avoid any more surprises. We all know I’ve been there.
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Back at the homestay I climb in to the hammock thats strung between a tree and a cracked concrete column. Ribbitting frogs are all around here too. But it’s just darkness all around and orangey glaring lights creating shadows close by. I put on The Brian Jonestown Massacre on low volume in background, close my eyes, and gently swing to sleep.
Imageon that.
I welcome you to Hampi. The best place to come and do nothing.
Around the 16th century, Hampi was the second largest city in the world, after Beijing. Its name is mentioned in the ancient Hindu texts and was once the capital of one of the largest Hindu empires to exist. The place became a ruin after the Hindu empire was attacked and defeated by a coalition of Muslim sultanates but they didn’t want to stick around - they pillaged and scarpered.
It is said that some architecture of the temples showcases great innovation and design by adopting both Hindu and Muslim styles. Zzzzzzzzz.
This is all interesting stuff but let me be straight with you - I had no idea of any of this when I was there. I learnt barely anything about the early modern history of Hampi.
I was too busy just riding a scooter around in the sunshine and simultaneously trying not to melt in the heat. The area is so undeveloped and expansive, all around is just calm, beautiful, and unique scenery. The roads roll up and down shallow hills, they twist and turn and aren’t at all busy. The breeze is cooling and there’s just a feeling of easy going freedom in this rocky desert. There’s nowhere to be. There’s not much to do. Just enjoy being conscious of your own time. For me, the history lesson took a backseat for a bit.
What fascinated me more than any sultanates was due to the lack of petrol stations I had to stop off at these little roadside shops that sell petrol in plastic drinks bottles. I’ve never really thought what the colour of petrol is but I didn’t expect it to be the same as lucozade. I appreciate how things function without too much regulation.
And we can talk about architectural styles until I go grey, but if you drive or walk or roll around these part you’ll come to the same conclusion I did: it’s looks like the Flintstones have been visited by one the last largest Hindu empires ever to exist. Wrap these images together in your head, transport all this to the modern era, then draw a line down the middle and we’ll call that a river. Throw a load of hippies on one side of the river and a load of tourists visiting the temples on the other side. You’ve got it.
Except it’s not so simple anymore. Because you go to the other side. And by ‘other’ I mean Hippy obviously, you’ll find it’s all been destroyed. Reduced to a rubble. And this only happened in the last couple of years.
It was once a small village known as Virupapur - but most people called it Hippy Island. Families had worked the hostels and eateries for over 20 years but a lost court case and the arrival of COVID the state council moved fast to finish the job of smashing it down. It’s slum clearance all but in name.
The ‘lost court case’ is a wee bit sketchy too. It sounds more like a rich businessman with financial interest in the area had a strong influence on the decision making. So it goes eh. You can read more about the situation here.
It is still not certain how this will impact Hampi in the future. It was long considered a haven for backpackers and climbers but that might be coming to an end in lieu of a more lucrative market. Already there is a dispersing of where people can stay and I heard some of the more low-budget hostels might just give up and move to another location completely.
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The homestay that I was staying at had also suffered a similar fate to the structures on Hippy Island. When I arrived for the first time I wasn’t sure if I was in the right place due to the rubble and signs of destruction. It was once a homestay of 6 or so huts. Each constructed from dried and woven leaves and tree trunks. The huts surrounded a communal shaded area. After being demolished for a second time by the authorities what remained was one dorm hut and two private rooms. An outdoor shower and sink had been rigged up a few meters away with breeze blocks and spare pipes. It was that haphazard I once I hung my towel up on a live electrical wire without realising.
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But the simplicity and the reduced number of guest created its own unique intimacy. Anyone staying there are forced in to each other’s company for good or for ill…
It was a lovely place to stay. I felt so comfortable and happy there, but no matter how strong and resilient the owners, Rambo and Bala, where… it was hard not to feel a level of sympathy. Together they used to run a homestay close to the Hippy Island area but moved out of the way after that was destroyed. The same thing has happened repeatedly as they move further and further away from the main sites, each time thinking they are far away enough not to be hassled. But the same thing happened at their current location even though they are no where near the protected areas. Why is this happening I asked? Corruption. And financially they are poor. They can’t afford to fight the court battles. Because of the reduced income from the homestay, Rambo, has left to another state to find farming work, leaving Bala to run the Homestay herself whilst also caring for her two sons. They plan to save some money and move to the next town.
One night their little dog was ravaged by a much larger street dog - I could sense the stress of them all as they had to prepare vet visits, injections, and extra care. But they also stayed conscious of everyone staying there and wanted to ensure they got what they needed.
They were a really beautiful and kind family.
Let me finally introduce the people I’ve been hanging out here with.
There’s Tjaša (pronounced Tasha), from Ljubljana, Slovenia. And there’s Tom from London.
I first met Tjaša in Bombay through Couchsurfing. I saw on her profile she liked films… and more specifically films like The Bicycle Thieves and Another Round. If you know, you know. I was really missing my weekly cinema trip and needed to get the fix somehow and thought she’d be a cool person to hang out with. She was in India for a wedding but had a couple weeks either side to explore.
Tom I only met for the first time in Hampi but within a few hours of knowing each other it felt like we’d been friends for years. He was also on a three month sabbatical (at this point my extension hadn’t been confirmed) and was working his way north.
The three of us quickly fast-tracked in to that part of friendship where you can be silent with each other and it not feel like a conversation has to be forced… but when energy levels are right you could chat shit without it being taken too seriously.
Tom and I once got caught in a bit of a thought game planning what would be India’s next biggest music festival to take place right here in Hampi. It was hard to get out of it once we’d started, each new detail or idea becoming more and more ridiculous than the previous.
They both had an easy going self decrepitating humour but without the attention seeking, and a confidence that they didn’t need take anything from anyone else to be themselves.
Over the days we hired bikes to explore the village but mainly we searched for the best rivers and lakes to go wild swimming in.
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One of these swimming places was a supposedly crocodile infested river… meaning someone probably saw one small crocodile about 10 years ago, but that didn’t stop it from being a little bit scary. The river ran through a gorge type of area. Sharp pointy rocks either side. You didn’t know how deep it was but the water was so black you knew it wasn’t shallow.
Whilst here, sun bathing after a swim, listening to What A Life by Scarlet Pleasure, watching the sun drop through the gorge. Hearing the silence of the evening set. I got quite reflective. Hampi was the last stop along the 6 weeks or travelling solo. I was once apprehensive about this section of the trip - in between James and Sarah leaving back up in Varanasi and meeting Maria down in Kerala. That feeling faded away not long after I arrived in India, eventually disappearing altogether. But even though it had disappeared somewhere within me I still felt a weight lifted being in Hampi. It’s interesting how deep that delusion of fear set itself in to me... how to reflect on feeling relaxed due to the disappearing of a fear that I didn’t know was there?
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The reflection was broken by the ever so silent sound of a guy floating down the river on a conical boat dropping fishing nets down in to the deep. The sky turning to a darker shade of blue, once again taking with it its daily prisoners who yearn and wonder.
Looking out from any of the view points its not hard to see why people have been attracted to this landscape and this place. At any point in the day a mantra sounds out from large speakers on one of the temples… I can’t remember exactly but the closest thing I’ve found is Shiva’s Morning by Pawan Krishna. It’s on a loop for most of the day and if you tune-in, it does exactly what a mantra is suppose to do. In other moments of silence you can hear the cracking and creaking of someone drinking a plastic bottle over 30 meters away.
I think about the changes this place has seen and what it might look like the next time I visit. What weather patterns had to combine to create these giant boulders? Or did a giant in the sky drop and lose their stone marbles? I wonder if I’ve changed in the last two months. I have no reference but I feel good… there’s no doubt about that.
It starting to get warmer as the sun rises. Taking off my jumper I make it in to a little pillow and follow Tjasas lead in falling asleep high up on a temple peak.
Once again, there’s nothing I need to do today.
Coming up over the next few weeks I will be writing about exploring the state of Kerala in a hire car, taking a 48 hour non stop train, attending the Holi festival, visiting the India-Pakistan boarder, my visit to the Sikh Golden Temple, about the month I spent in the Himalayas (firstly in the home village of the Dalai Lama and then working as a carpenter on a farm) so lots more to come!