Hampi is located in the state of Karnatika which is not too far from Goa. It was about late afternoon when I began to cycle for Hampi which is around 15 km from the Hospit rail junction. As I passed the last shops at the edge of town, street lights made way for an unlit road. I stopped along the road side, scrambling around, trying to find a head light in one of the bike paniers. Then after a minute or so, a group of inquisitive onlookers appeared from nowhere.
The
number of people speaking all at once made the encounter a blend of
nice-to-meet exclamations and nonsense questions. Closing the
pannier, I headed for the a near by lit up tea stall. However even
this did not deter, as they followed me and continued with a melody
of interrogatives and exclamations. Eventually, they went their way,
and I was left to search for the light.
It
was either head for Hampi or turn back to Hospit. I decided to press
on because finding hotel accommodation is a challenge at the best of
times, and particularly in areas not set up for the foreign tourist
phenomenon. This is due to the requirement that hotels must have a
special license to host non-Indian citizen tourists. So I checked for
the turn-off, and then by coincidence a passer-by confirmed the
directions. Though he ended up indicated that getting to Hampi is
'no'. So on reflection with my recent encounter I decided to turn
back to Hospit and brave the accommodation scene.
There
was a shelter next to a temple where Indian pilgrims and the homeless
had set up to take rest. In emergency situations, train stations, and
even bus depots can be rough but safe enough to stay if valuables are
secured and no deep sleep, so keeping a high stress level in such
areas is a basic requirement. The caretaker agreed that cycling to
Hampi should best be done in day light.
The
next morning I set off early into fresh air and pastoral scenes of
plantation cane, bananas and livestock followed by their
keepers. About 4 km into the ride the scene suddenly suddenly broke
into a series of large boulders strewn across the field. As I
proceeded to ascend the small hill, a series of monolithic rock
temples appeared, then hordes of tourists, street stalls, and upon
descent a river with lots of circular paddle boats, and a couple of
ferries with one packed but the other nearly empty. The oddity was
that both were heading for the same side of the river, leaving lots
still to catch a ride.
I
was told on the Hampi world heritage side of the river that the ferry
ride across the river is frequented by travelers', so I decided to
take the ferry and check it out. This short boat trip turned out to
be a lesson in political economy. Only two licensed boats operate
(each by different company) and although at times one side of the
river has a large crowd needing transport only one boat will pick-up
whist the other boat will return empty and only pick up from the
other side.
This
is due to an agreement each company has struck up the other. Its
based on some economic principle so to avoid the downward slide where
competition would make it worse for both groups if they competed for
market dominance. The duopoly is not so good for consumers because
there's an extended wait for a ride, and a relatively high price for
a short ride across a narrow river.
It took a day to settle in with all the usual demands of tourist life (article with 10 pages, scroll to view all). Where to eat, what to do, how to find stuff, when to catch the ferry. This side of the river offers a host of side adventures like boulder climbing, themed cafes, musical instrument playing, therapies, street art.
It took a day to settle in with all the usual demands of tourist life (article with 10 pages, scroll to view all). Where to eat, what to do, how to find stuff, when to catch the ferry. This side of the river offers a host of side adventures like boulder climbing, themed cafes, musical instrument playing, therapies, street art.
The
first days world heritage sojourn was on foot. I roamed around
aimlessly, with a vague intent of being anachronistic, in a
social/cultural historical sense, but most likely was just a need to
take rest in nostalgic spaces.
The
next day I cycled around the vast area of restored and crumbling relics (article with 10 pages). There were electric vehicles that zoom around, though a bike
gives lots more independence. Around five pm its a dash for the last
ferry ride.
I have created a website of the photographs from this period as well as a site that relates to the artworks generated from this encounter.
