Happening Hampi

It’s been three days since we arrived in Hampi and it’s been very interesting, almost overwhelming at times. By a stroke of luck we’ve arrived for a big festival being held in the town to celebrate the 500th anniversary of the most popular King of the Vijayanagara Empire coming to the throne when Hampi was in its pomp. At a guess around ten thousand people have come to this small town from a 200Km radius. As a result, Hampi is happening, not only full of backpackers but Indian people from villages and towns all over the state and beyond.

Luckily we arrived the day before and quickly made our way over the river which is more scenic and chilled and the price of a guest house hadn’t gone up by three or four times. The first thing that strikes you about the place is the landscape. Hills made up from huge boulders surround the town as far as the eye can see. A small river runs along the side of the town and in the valley it creates are palm trees and rice paddies. As soon as we checked into our hotel we quickly made our way up into the hills, clambering up some rocks to get a view of the place at sunset.

It’s this landscape which was backdrop for when Hampi was a huge city back in the 15th century. It was centre of power for the Vijayanagara Empire and was so wealthy it might have been richer than Rome with its markets full of precious metals and stones. Half a million people once lived here, but all that now remains are the ruins of temples to the Hindu gods and the palaces built for royalty. These ruins stretch over an area of several kilometres from the small town that exists today.

On our first day we walked around the town, with the final preparations for the festival being made as more and more people arrived. We checked out a rehearsal happening at one of the five stages, before making our way up stone steps into the hills to walk around one of the major sites, the ruins of the Achyutaraya temple. It’s the combination of the unusual landscape and the large buildings made entirely from stone that make them so striking.

Afterwards, we headed back in the town to sit down for a snack at one of the local restaurants, an authentic looking place run by a particularly friendly old man who recommend that we try their speciality, Thali. This was my first Thali and fortunately a particularly good and authentic one served up on a banana leaf. They also served up a mean masala chai, full of spice and flavour.

Once fed and watered, we headed to the temple which is located in the centre of the town, which also dates back to the time of the Vijayanagara Empire but is still an active part of the modern Hampi. It’s an expensive business heading inside, paying to get in, paying to use your camera and making donations as you collect your blessing from various shrines. You’ll notice evidence of our blessing on our foreheads in the pictures. We probably shouldn’t have drank any of the holy water given to us after one blessing since the tap water for our rooms is coming from the river, but it’s doesn’t seem to have had an adverse effect. Yet.

With the Hindu gods on our side, we walked around more of the town to see how the festival was shaping up. People were arriving in droves with any vehicle, even a scooter, struggling to get anywhere. The only form of transport that could be guaranteed a clear path was the group of elephants we encountered as we walked around. With plans to spend the night at the festival the following day, we headed back over the river and up into the hills to enjoy another sunset, this time armed with a couple of cold, illicit Kingfishers and made a few new friends who were doing the same. This is the first routine we seem to have formed whilst staying here.

Another thing that seems to have become routine is Maren bumping into people she has met elsewhere in India. For example, purely by chance we have stayed at not one, but two different places (Om Star in Arambol and Shesh Besh here in Hampi) who have staff that were working in Kerla last season at Maren’s favourite cafe. And whilst travelling we have bumped into people at markets, at restaurants, on boats and simply in the street that Maren had met weeks, if not months ago in various parts of India and had no idea that they would be in the same place at the same time. Perhaps the chances are more likely than I might imagine, but it continues to amaze me in a country so big, with so much to see.

The following day we started early and hired bicycles so we could explore more of the ruins around Hampi. Despite a steep hill out of town it’s a nice way to get around and see all the sights. Some of the ruins are more impressive than others, be it in grandeur or the state of conservation. The first temple we stopped at was not notable on either account, however across the road several hundred people were gathered under cover enjoying a late breakfast. It turned out this was being provided for free (as well as lunch and dinner) by the sponsors of the festival. As we headed away from town the size and scale of what was the old city became clearer. The remains of the building impress because of the sheer amount of stone and brick required for their construction and artistry in the stone carving which are everywhere. Sadly in some places, this is being lost and damaged as whilst Hampi is a world heritage site not all of the ruins have protected status. By early afternoon we were also ruined having cycled several kilometres and walked around many temples in the midday sun, so we headed back to rest up so we would be ready to take on the full craziness of the festival at night.

Just after night fall we made our way to the ferry to cross the river. The ferry whilst normally operating during daylight hours was running a special service to accommodate all the people who wanted to go to the festival. Unsurprisingly they were charging a special price, 30Rs, which was double the 15Rs during the day, which is also triple the 5Rs locals pay. The ferry man assured us that they’d be no further increase in the fare on the way home and that the ferry would be running until at least eleven.

As soon as we made it to the other side, the evening started badly. Maren was groped by an unidentified assailant as we stepped of the boat despite being well covered and obviously with someone. It wasn’t long before it happened again in the crowds of people, so I had to try and walk behind her at all times. Despite a break in the afternoon, our patience was wearing thin having already dealt with far more than the usual attention you get as westerners due the hordes of people that were in town for the festival. The most benign forms are normally pleasant and easy to deal with. Young people often just try to get your attention by saying “Hi” or “How are you?” as you pass and want shake your hand. With older people, this then invariably leads to the two most popular questions, “What is your country?” and “What is your name?” No big deal, even if you have to do it many times. The next most common request is to pose for a photo. I lost count a long time ago how many family holiday pictures we have featured in or the times Maren has been requested to pose in a photo with group of young Indian guys. This can be a little more time consuming, but again it is in good humour. Perhaps more unsettling, but I believe free of any real nastiness, is when people stare at you or burst out laughing as you pass. Whilst this doesn’t happen all the time, it’s probably more common with people who perhaps have rarely, if ever, had much interaction with westerners and with the festival on Hampi had a lot more people who might fall into this category. The only aspect of attention that is difficult not to react negatively to is the more sexual kind. This is generally very rare and normally just an incredibly cheeky pinch on the arse. However, in the festival environment with thousands of people in large crowds, made up of predominately male groups it was a concern and it became difficult to really relax and join in with the fun. That said, we didn’t find a lot of fun, the first two stages we visited had been taken over by local politicians and religious leaders so they could speak at seemingly great length. We instead, decided to focus more on finding as many interesting snacks been served up along the streets. Once accompanied by a local English teacher at one of the schools we started to relax a bit more and enjoyed sitting down for a chai and watching people enjoy the night. The town did look amazing as well, with the all the temples and statues lit up by multicoloured lights which made them look even more special.

The real drama of the night however had yet to unfold. On returning to the river, we noticed a distinct lack of boats making any crossing and a large group of people that were stranded on our side of the river. It was difficult to find out what was going on as the boats were parked on the other side, but after speaking to one police officer he seemed to suggest that the boat would be running again in an hour so we decided to wait it out at a restaurant. After far more than an hour and having just gone eleven (which was the latest the ferry was going to run till anyway) there was still no sign of activity and it seemed unlikely that there was going to be any.

Time for plan B. We had watched people wading across a shallow part of the river all night, but it wasn’t easy or well lit. If we fell over then we were going to get wet, which wouldn’t normally be much of a problem except I was carrying my camera. However, with no other option we were going to have to try. Getting to that part of river was the first challenge. The only access we could see was to make our way along the river bank. This would have been straight forward if one part of the river bank hadn't become a public toilet for those unwilling or unable to pay for the privilege of using the facilities nearby. There didn't seem to be much choice though, so walking very carefully along with another couple we set off. Soon enough we spotted evidence of human “activity” and even some in progress. Having successfully negotiated all obstacles we reached what seemed to be a dead end so we decided to walk back to try and find another way round. We were half way through again when someone called out to us to come back and they would show us the way through. I felt sorry for the poor man squatting in the bushes who we walked past not once but three times in the process. This time however we were through and now at the river crossing where some young Indian guys were helping people get across the river seemingly for free. I was relieved that it was a fairly simple walk across but Maren was touched up a couple more times for the privilege of being escorted across. Somewhat traumatised by our ordeal but happy we’d soon be in bed we made our way home only to hear the noise of a boat starting its engine! We got the full story on the other side of the river and were told the ferry had been shut down by the police since they were illegally operating at night. Obviously they had not paid enough baksheesh, so they were waiting for them to leave so they could resume the service. A small consolation was that we’d saved ourselves 60Rs each (the price doubling again), just less than a pound.

Check out the photos at http://picasaweb.google.com/kris.lander/Hampi