Humming in Hampi (Holidays pt. 1)

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Well, this week has certainly been quite the adventure. There is quite a bit that I'd love to tell you all, but I'm getting the feeling that it may take a while for me to sprinkle all of my impressions into my various entries. I certainly can't put it all in one, because it would look a bit like a novella in length. So, I've decided to break certain ideas/observations into specific topic-entries. But I thought it'd be nice to give a general overview of my travels here and in a few subsequent entries.

Our adventures began in Bangalore, with a fine mediterranean meal on the roof of a nice, clean mall. It was the most lavish meal I've had in India to date, but I am finding more and more that I don't really crave fancy food here. I'm far more interested in trying the local dishes. In any case, we arrived at the bus station full and happy.

Allow me to give some background: "We" refers to the five intrepid travellers who set off for Hampi. There was my roommate, Ally, my On-Site Administrator, Lizzy, and two other coworkers, Bitsy and Peter. Lizzy left our group on Monday night, and Bitsy went back on Wednesday night, leaving Ally, Peter, and me to the mercy of Hyderabad (more on that later :-) ). The intended itinerary was to arrive at Hampi on Sunday morning, and to leave for Hyderabad on Wednesday night (arriving Thursday morning). Hampi (pronounced "Hum-pee"--the kids told us to think of humming while peeing) is known for its ruins and rocky vistas. Hyderabad is a large city known for its pearls, but also with some recommended museums/areas.

In any case, the night bus to Hampi was dreadful. When it comes to public transportation, I am pretty relaxed, but this bus made me realize just how uncomfortable transportation can be. All night buses without beds are pretty bad, but remember how I said that honking was the only mode of vehicle communication in India? Well, that doesn't change when the sun goes down. Even in the country, you'd just start to nod off and the bus horn would stab you through one ear and out the other. And I was lucky enough to be next to a vertical pole, so when I jerked my head up in surprise, I'd wham it against the pole. The frequent sudden braking caused similar discomfort.

And then there was the bathroom incident. The bus stopped about four times total for an 8-hour drive, and the first one was nearly 1/2 an hour long. Bitsy, Lizzy, and I thought that the second stop would be about as long, so we got off to use the toilet. It was my first pit toilet experience, but I got through it well, and came out of the bathroom very proud of myself. Bitsy was there waiting for me, and we walked out together. But when we got out, the bus was already moving. Lizzy was nowhere in sight, but we ran and one of the bus drivers was out there calling to us. Luckily, Lizzy got on the bus before us to point out that we were still in the bathroom. We laughed it off, but I can't help but be grateful that we were not left at a toilet in the middle of nowhere at night. That would be a whole different adventure entirely!

Needless to say, we arrived at the Hospet station (30 minutes from Hampi) intact, and after evading some very pushy rickshaw drivers, managed to catch the first bus into Hampi. I made the mistake of letting my guard down at this point--I imagined that we would get off the bus, get breakfast, and stroll around to find a nice hotel. But, as soon as we pulled into the Hampi Bazaar, a mob of business owners surrounded us, pushing maps and business cards into our hands (and taking them back away when we did not agree to follow them). They followed us for about fifteen minutes, bombarding us with recommendations every time we stopped to discuss a possible plan of action. Eventually, they began to trickle away, but two or three stuck around for much longer, most notably the owner of the Gopi Hotel and Restaurant (which looked like a good enough establishment, but in which I swore I would never step foot because of the owner's overbearing pushiness). There were guest houses everywhere in the little city proper and it was the off-season, so we had our pick. The problem was, the hotel that we arbitrarily picked from the guidebook in the frenzy of being followed turned out to be recently demolished. Tired, unbathed, and hungry, we finally allowed ourselves to be guided to the Moon Light Restaurant to regroup.

I have come to understand that it doesn't matter where in the world a small town is; the small-town web of connections exists in Hampi as much as it does in Morris. The restaurant owner picked up on our dilemma pretty quickly, and kindly recommended his cousin's guest house. His daughter even made some calls to make sure there were two rooms available. Grateful for the guidance, we checked it out (Manju Guest House--I highly recommend it), and were pleased to find it clean and spacious.

And so--though the prologue to our trip was rather stressful--began the amazing visit to Hampi.

By the time we were all settled in our hotel, it was only about 10 a.m., so we had a whole day to look forward to. We started wandering the streets and looking in the little shops. The streets in the town proper are small, with colorful buildings and wash hanging on the lines. There is no doubt that Hampi is a tourist town, as there was a travel agent, cyber cafe, bike rental, and guest house on every block. But, as it was the off-season, it was not too crowded (even with the dozens of cows roaming the narrow roads), and although the shop owners were very vocal in asking us to look at their wares, we were no longer harassed or followed. The typical Hampi response to "No, thank you," was a smile and, "Maybe tomorrow" as if there would be enough tomorrows to satisfy every request.

I stumbled upon my favorite little shop toward the end of the afternoon. It was basically unmarked, but had walls coverred with figurines and postcards and secondhand books. I found a pile of "singing bowls" on a bottom shelf, and asked the store owner about the purpose of the different tones. Before I knew it, I was sitting on the floor with the shopkeeper, trying to play various sizes and shapes of bowl. When water is put into an unblemished hand-made bowl, it will begin to sparkle and leap when the bowl is played. The shop keeper was very good at it, and patient when I had trouble figuring out how to hold the bowl and stick. Eventually, Peter joined in, and we were all playing an atonal symphony. Absolutely beautiful!

That evening, we determined that we wanted to go to Mango Tree, which came highly recommended by everybody we talked to. We had some trouble finding it, though, and ended up on the Hampi Bazaar. Good thing, too, because nobody would have been at the restaurant. Turns out that it was the fifth day of celebrating Ganesha's birthday, and we were in for a treat.

Some background on Ganesha: He is the elephant-headed god of good fortune, and the son of Parvati, wife of Shiva. While Shiva was out, Parvati bore a baby god to protect her while she bathed. The new god did, but was thought an intruder and beheaded by Shiva upon Shiva's return. Parvati was distraught and insisted that Shiva find a new head for her child, and he brought back an elephant's head. In remembrance of this story, stautes of Ganesha are immersed in local bodies of water on an ordained day (which varies depending on who you're talking to).

So, we stumbled upon the Immersion procession on Hampi Bazaar, and were almost immmediately greeted by a crowd of locals and a sprinkling of foreign visitors like us. The Ganesha statue was in a trailer on the back of a tractor (again, some small town things are strikingly familiar), and people were passing by, giving their respects to the deity. Soon, there was drumming, and dancing, and kids started running around to slap red or yellow chalk on people's faces. At first, I was wary of joining in the dancing, because it seemed to be mostly local men and children, but then male tourists and eventually female tourists joined in, and by sunset, the procession was underway. A small local girl asked me to put her on my shoulders, and we had a blast bopping around. Ally was carrying the girl's friend, so they would grab hands and dance together on our shoulders.

The procession took a total of about 1 1/2 hours to get to the riverside (1-2 kms.), because we'd take a few steps, and then the drums would start up again and people would get swept up in the dancing again. Eventually, the road became a rocky path and Ganesha had to be carried by several men. As we moved down to the river, the drumming stopped and the chanting began. We walked by haunting ruins in the rock-face, and through a small cavern to the bank of the river. Once there, we sat and watched by flashlight as Ganesha was immersed in the water. Beautiful.

We capped off the night with the long-awaited visit to the Mango Tree, which served us delicious food on banana leaves. It was a perfect ending to an eventful, wonderful day.

Stay tuned for more on ruins, monkeys, and trains, coming soon to a computer near you!

Love,

Lynn

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Photos

Fancy Meal in Bangalore
Red snapper and rice pilaf.

Bus to Hampi
We look more comfortable than we are.

Manju Guest House Room
Shown off by the lovely Lizzy and Bitsy.

Virupaksha Temple
The site of the Ganesha Immersion procession.

Girl at Immersion
This girl was among the children running around during the festivities at the Ganesha Immersion procession. She was rather surprised that I asked to take her photo, but obliged.

Ganesha
The Ganesha statue that was eventually immersed into the river

Palak Paneer at Mango Tree
Meals served Mango Tree-style, on a banana leaf.

Comments

[Susan]

Great adventuring!
So glad to hear that you are getting out and seeing the world! Check out the Hindu Temple in Maple Grove. Your photo of the Virupaksha temple reminded me of the architecture of this temple in Minnesota: http://archrecord.construction.com/projects/bts/archives/worship/10_hindu_temple/default.asp

[lynnbix]

Very similar!
It is very similar! I have every intention of visiting the Maple Grove temple upon my return--I hear they do yoga :-D