I Heart Hampi followed by the Trainride from Hell

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We arrived in India on December 12th... here is our first chapter.

We traveled from Goa to Hampi via open air train. Caroline, my b-fri from Texas, and our good friend Jason, who David taught with in Hong Kong, were with us, so we were a foursome. We got off at Hospet, where we were informed by a gaggle of rickshaw drivers that there was a sugarcane strike blocking the road to Hampi, and that the only way to reach it was to go around a bit, and then back through some canals, adding an extra 100 rupees to the bill. TII (This Is India). So, after a 20 minute dusty rickshaw ride, we finally landed at the New Shanti Guesthouse in the heart of Hampi, where we were abruptly greeted by the resident guesthouse yogi, who also occasionally ran the front desk. Baba Yogi put us in our tidy little rooms($7.50/night!), and we went out to explore the World Heritage Site that Lonely Planet describes as ‘magical’. We’ll be the judge of that! Hampi Bazaar, which is the central trafficky part of Hampi, was surprisingly quaint and although it was not exempt from the ever-pleading shop sellers and excessive horn honking, it wasn’t nearly as bad as Goa or Mumbai. After a fantastically hot thali, complete with looming monkeys above us, we decided to enter the temple, which was free after 8 o’clock. Hindu temples at night are really great! There are only half as many people around, and the corridors are candlelit giving the Hindu deities even more allure. I was really charmed by the temple elephant, Lakshmi, who had cute Hindu head markings and was giving out blessings for one rupee (worth every paisa). After an average dinner, we all retired to our little rooms. Train travel is really draining.

The next day, we set off to explore the surrounding areas, which are strewn with ancient Hindu ruins, temples, and massive boulders. It’s the boulders that give Hampi it’s unique, mystical atmosphere. First of all, they are everywhere. Secondly, they are naturally balanced in all sorts of odd ways that make it seem like they are on the verge of tumbling. Thirdly, they have a beautiful copper color that looks beautiful in Karnatic light. And lastly, the temples and ruins outside of town, which are made of the same material, are camouflaged within the boulders, making them look as if God created them along with the landscape. Really cool! After a long string of temple observing, we headed to the famous Mango Tree restaurant, and had another thali and the world’s best mango lassi…perfectly sweetened with the perfect consistency. Caroline and I then proceeded to start what was to end up being a three day shopping spree. There are so many shops in Hampi! And the shop sellers aren’t nearly as pushy as in Goa. So, we returned to our hippy years, and began to buy all sorts of strange Indian creations such as the Ali-Baba pants, and the Indian moo-moo. We also both bought some fantastic shoes made of camel leather. That night, we ate at the Gobi restaurant, which was on a roof with temple view. What Hampi lacks in tasty cuisine, they make up for with ambiance. There are plenty of rooftop restaurants that make a 3-4 hour dinner the main nightly event.

The next day, we took a ferry over across the little river that runs through Hampi to the calmer part of town. From there, we rented four hilarious bikes and rode off into the boulders. It was a fabulous day! The quiet roads allowed us to return to childhood with races up hills, riding with no hands, and wheelies. It was also really convenient, as none of our breaks worked. We rode through rice patties, boulders, little villages, and even saw a HUGE snake. I swear it was a king cobra. We had lunch thalis at a nearby town, and made it back to Hampi by sundown. Another rooftop dinner and the day was done. Jason left the next morning.

The next day, Caroline and I decided to get Ayurvedic massages with hot fomentation, which is basically leaves and herbs wrapped in cloth, heated up over a frying pan, and then rubbed up and down your body. Pretty relaxing! That night was New Year’s, so we put on our party clothes, picked another restaurant, and got ready to party! Yeah right. Being a World Heritage Site, alcohol is not served in Hampi, and being in India, New Years is not really celebrated on December 31st. So, we ended up playing scrabble (Caroline won) and liar’s dice (a shared victory between all) and loaded up on fresh lime soda and ginger tea. We didn’t even make it to midnight! The next day, our train left at 6 PM, so we had the entire day to sit around and do nothing. Caroline and I decided to go for one last hike in the boulders above the temple. There, we were approached by a family of Indians who wanted to take lots of pictures with us. Each would take an individual picture with either me or Caroline, and the strange thing was they wanted to hold our hand! We couldn’t stop laughing.

Finally, we got to the train station and got ready to enjoy our overnight train in our 2nd class AC compartment (really nice by Indian train standards) to Bangalore. Little did we know that we were about to embark on what would be known as the train ride from hell. Caroline recreated the event in an email to her friends and family, so below is a guest exerpt from her. She’s a much better writer than I, and really hit the nail on the head with the hellaciousness of the event! Read on….

Caroline's tale of the trainride from hell:
we booked an overnight train at our hotel in Hampi to depart new years day for Bangalore. We splurged on 2nd class AC tickets - about $30 U.S. each and were really excited to experience a relatively luxurious overnight train after several days of communal living in budget hotels. The old yogi who booked the tickets for us (black and white photographs from his younger, more flexible days lined the wall behind him - in full lotus position, his eye sockets white in eye-rolling-back meditative ecstasy) had lost a few of his marbles from all that levitating, and listening to him book over the phone made us restate the vital information several times to make sure he was getting it right. He assured us the ticket was on its way - so a few days later on the 1st we checked out of the hotel and they called us rickshaws to go to the train station -

Long story short, we boarded the train that evening and found our seats only to discover another family sitting there. When we pulled out our ticket we saw the problem - Jan 3, 2008. The hotel had booked us the wrong ticket, and we had already paid, had all of our bags on board and were moving along the track. We called the conductor over and explained the problem, hoping for another seat or an extra fee to bump up to 1st class. No such luck. The train was full all the way to Bangalore.

There was another train coming from Goa that we might be able to find a seat on, so they kicked us off the train an hour down the track in Bellary, a town not in our trusty guidebook and not tourist-welcoming . When we got there Dave went to try and book us a ticket, and while he was gone Ana and I and our baggage were surrounded by 8 local men, who gathered around us in a semicircle and proceeded to stare, intently and not a little maliciously, until Dave returned. Do you yell, make a scene, or just pray they have never seen someone with Ana's blond hair before and are just fascinated? Dave returned with the only tickets available - general seating in the back of the train. The disparity in price from our original seats explains all: $2 U.S. - for an 800km ride across India!

Someone tells us we must hurry, and so we hump (the only way to walk with a big backpack!) over to the platform only to discover the train is three tracks over and will leave us if we walk over to and across the pedestrian walkway. The only way to make it is to run over the tracks. So we leap down from the platform onto the urine drenched gray rocks, step over the three train tracks hoping there's no electrified third rail, hearing rats scurrying under our feet but there's nothing else to do.... we reach our train and the doors are at least 6 feet up with no stairs and they're all shut.. mercifully someone opens the door and we plead with him to help us up - he hauls us and our heavy baggage up to the opening and we enter our general class car, which reeks of urine and smoke and grime - and there are no seats available.

The car is prison metal gray, hard, cushionless, dirty, and full of Indian men staring. At this point I finally lost it - I retreated into the tiny hall and started crying, out of frustration and fear and the prospect of spending the next 9 hours standing up against a gray wall splattered with piss and lined with garbage. That's when I realized how spoiled I am with the good life. It's a hard knock. Most of India can't even afford to travel in the car I found so repulsive.

Then something amazing happened - the men started standing up, offering us their seats. We declined at first but they insisted, and we ended up with two small seats by the window and one seat at the end of a sleeping berth. One man was fascinated by us - he'd been traveling three days straight from north india (translated by another man who knew hindi and english) and moved over to sit next to us, gaze at us and ask questions about our lives. Married? Kids? As the single one, I am always supposed to claim a husband, but that didn't come out right so I was translated to all the other men as a single samosa. Eek.

So passes the night. I don't think any of the men would have hurt us but one of us always stayed awake to watch our luggage. We attempted to sleep on the sleeper bed, which was vacated by a nice man who made a bed on the floor, but it was so hard (wood), and the train so lurchy (end car) that my bones ground into my skin and made sleep impossible. I spent most of the night sitting upright and staring zombie-like out of the window, because each time I looked up there was a man unflinchingly staring at me.

And it was cold - Deccan plateau cold - at least 50 degrees inside the car and none of the windows shut right. All of my warm clothing was of course deep inside my pack and unattainable as I would have to stand next to a seated man and reach up to the luggage rack to rummage through my tightly packed bag. Out of desperation I finally fished out a denim jacket, and Ana eventually lent me some deliciously warm socks for my block-of-ice feet. I tried to read, and tried to sleep with my head against the window but it was so cold - and the metal was covered in something at the same time liquid and pudding like - that I mostly just dreamed about a nice flat bed and a blanket and promised never to take them for granted again. At around 4am I was sure I was going to go crazy. The overwhelming and space-filling smell of farts, piss, and shit, the breath-holding response to constant coughing and sneezing, the inability to look anywhere but at my hands and feet or out the window, the blurred pages in my book no longer making sense.....

And finally we were there - Bangalore - IT capital of India, home to Intel, Dell, IBM, Texas Instruments, and countless Pizza Huts. What a world. It's 6:30 in the morning and we have to board yet another train to commute into the city center - it's packed full and we stand in the aisle facing backwards until our stop, where I am basically pushed out of the door while the train is still moving. Catching my balance with my heavy pack on and no sleep was definitely an act of will. As our plane left that evening at 6:40pm, our only option was to find a hotel and sleep the day away. We called around for hotel rooms and found one with three single beds for 950 rupees ($25 U.S.) - an outrageous price as it would be vacated by 4pm but what else could we do? We collapsed onto the hard beds, thankful for something flat and padded, consciously avoiding the cigarette holes in the sheets, dirt on the pillowcase, and greasy blankets.

We sleep, merciful sleep, and wake up at 2pm, take hot (!) showers with a bucket and then head out to eat our first meal in almost 24 hours and our first beer after almost a week of culture-mandated sobriety. When we finally boarded our plane (Kingfisher Air - named for South India's most popular beer - it would be like Southwest Airlines being called Budweiser Air - their logo, instead of King of Beers, is King of Good Times.) And a good time it was - we were given a newspaper, pen, hand and face wipes, a vegetarian meal, guava juice, bottled water and dessert on the hour-long flight. We landed in Kochi, Kerala at 9pm and took a 1940's era white taxi across a few bridges into Fort Kochi, where we've been ever since.

Thanks to our guest writer Caroline!

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Photos

Hampi numismatics
Dave found a cool Indian man who was really into his coins.

Boulders, Palms, and Rice Patti
no color filter here...the rice patties really are flourescent green.

Mid-air monkey!
...and that was a tall temple!

Ana and Caroline in their new Indian hippy outfits
Caroline sports the ali-baba pants and pashmina. Ana has tulip pants and peasant shirt. Both wearning embroidered camel shoes.

Comments

[elise]

Trains, Planes, and Automobiles
Gee, and we thought our own travel experiences were bad (a packed school bus for the overnight right from Goa to Hampi, and another bus from Bombay to Rajasthan-- both without bathroom breaks!), but your train story takes the cake. Thanks for the Hampi recommendation, though-- we loved it and recommend it to all. Miss you guys and hope you're having a blast! XOXO, elise