India 3 – Hampi – A Ride in a Coracle

From Goa to Hampi – 320 South East of Goa, State of Tamil Nadu.

Our itinerary in India has changed somewhat. Our original intention was to to go to Kerala, I’ve travelled in the north of India which I loved, but we wanted to take the hassle factor that I had previously experienced, particularly now that we are travelling with our three, out of the equation. Let’s not make our lives too difficult.

However as Carole pointed out if we don’t want beaches, and as beautiful as the back waters are – 3 kids under  the age of 10 would go stir crazy punting along its smooth waters. And the tea plantations can be accessed from Tamil Nadu, which are far less populated and visited. DONE! Thank you Carole, Goa saviour, magnificent travel agent Carole.

Finally, cash in hand, we head off from Hospet to Hampi (30 kms)in 2 tuk-tuks to take all our stuff. Although we are travelling light it’s still a lot of stuff to manhandle. We all have a ruck sack – mini ones for the kids and one for Mark and I – and 2 large ruck sacks plus a light weight bag carrying all our bulky jumpers / macs etc (required in Ethiopia / Nepal/ Chile).

Hampi was and still is a vast and magnificent city, built in the 1500’s, in the era of Krishnadevaraya, much of the city and temple are intact.

It’s a flat desert-like plain surrounded by volcanic mountains – but the mountains are made of huge boulders, it looks like a giant ‘s large play area. It’s a very bewitching sight. With a wide river splitting the town (operative word) in two. The guest houses sit divided by the river, there’s temple side which seems suffocatingly hot and the other greener side! Not a difficult decision, except that the 2 tuk tuk drivers don’t want us to go to the other side…. “The rivers rise up, you won’t be able to get back, you will be stranded on the other side. No Boat!”  I don’t realise at this stage that the “other side” is like an island surrounded on 3 sides by water and that to get back to see the temple or even out of there is a long drive out.  Memories of India travels in 1984 flood back into my mind . “The house has burned down. The rivers have flooded it, THAT guest house no longer exists – but you can stay in MY guest house”. I immediately distrust the tuk tuk drivers and because I always like to take a risk… opt for the other side (mothers’ prerogative to make the final decision about lodging me thinks ..sorry Mark, I get my way on this one) so we cross the swelling river in a motor boat. It is a good decision. It is indeed breezier, and we stay in a simple guest house over looking the paddy fields, with the sound of the water beyond and a lovely breeze.

The guest house has a lovely chill-out zone (literally horizontal) with its large floor cushions and low tables, inviting you to lie down down to read your book. Oh to be here 20 years ago in our youth with no kids! There are power points next to all the tables so that you can plug in your technology (doubt that would have been available then though) lovely thought, only problem is there are frequent power cuts here. The zone is al fresco except for a matting roof over our heads, open to all the elements and the lime green colour of the rice growing here, shaded by coconut groves. We encounter our first tourists, young Israelis and Indian tourists, taking advantage of the free marijuana rules (it’s the only place where marijuana is legal). Considering this it is surprisingly unbusy and remarkably unhippy.  Unless hippies look different these days. We spend a fair proportion of time here just reading, chilling. I wonder how long the children will take to ask questions about the hookah pipes on the table next to ours – when they finally get curious,  I brush it off with a “oh it’s a local custom of the Hampi people”and they seem satisfied with my answer… phew” .

The children find a hoola hoop and decide to make up a circus act, which takes hours, so we relax, sip sublime lime juices and then we watch their show, but not before we have purchased our tickets, bought some popcorn and taken our seats for the show…. (all pretend of course). The Addis Circus is having its influence.

We make the trip back across the water the following day to visit the vast temple site – so vast that we have to get a tuk tuk for the morning to shepherd us around. We select three sites, only a fraction of the entire temple, which stretches across a vast area and is made up of 500 temples. We choose three and are happy not to over do the sight seeing (the children provide us with good excuses on this trip) and start with the Vittala Temple, the furthest away. This is where the horse auctions were held, for whilst India was rich in silk, cottons, spices gold, Indian horses were the weakest in Asia.

What to me was extraordinary about this site is the musical temple. The then king (I can’t remember his name) had this constructed for his wife, so that she could dance for him, but only he was allowed to watch this spectacle, and 150 of the selected musicians. His wife must have been some dancer. All 150 of the columns which make up the main infrastructure of this wonderful musical instrument made of granite, create a different musical note, reverberating against each other. So when tapped simultaneously make a beautiful sound. Astonishing.

A lunch break at the Mango tree – a delightful Indian restaurant filled to the brim, Mark is struggling with his long inflexible legs to manoeuvre them under the table. Thalis arrive on silver trays lined with banana leaves, and we scoff the lot – dahl, rice, curd , pickled mango, aubergine chappatis, finished off with fruit lassis – It’s easy to be a vegetarian here, there are so many choices of delicious vegetables.

Next, the elephant stables- another tuk tuk ride – AHHHH the breeze feels good.

This is so in keeping with this large giant boulder landscape – everything here is outsized, making us feel so miniature. Here are 12 vast stables to house the elephants, totally intact – beautiful, but just a bit disappointing that there are no elephants here today.

Next, the then Queen’s baths, all these buildings are the most intact, the baths are as a large as a swimming pool, reminiscent of Roman baths, it’s beautifully intact with a roof over the top. I try to imagine what this city would have looked like in its hey day, with all the pomp and ceremony that Indians are so good at, and the colour.

The next day Jemima and I get up dawn to take a tuk tuk to the bottom of a hill to climb the 560 steps to the Monkey Temple. The alarm goes off at 5:30 and though I am sorely tempted to turn over and go back to sleep, Jemima is raring to go and the engine of our tuk tuk is purring away outside. It’s already hot.

As we climb the last steps, we see the monkeys (Gabriel and Mark went the day before and warned us about these pestering monkeys) and hear the slow drone of the chanting in the temple. This is really worth it. We witness the red ball of sun rising up into the sky, illuminating the silver streak of the river slithering along the valley. Jemima is chuffed to be here and so am I.

When we get back to the bottom our tuk tuk driver treats us to a cup of sweet chai. He speaks unusually good English, turns out he is an aspiring film director and he shows Jemima and me a short film he has made, on his iPhone! It’s a very socially responsible film about NOT littering the countryside and has an underlying anti criminal message. We also learn that India doesn’t just have its Bollywoood, but that each large city has it’s own film industry –

When we next want to cross the river to explore , the river is so swollen – NO BOATS! I swallow my thoughts of untrustworthy tuk tuk drivers – they were right… It will be an adventure crossing the river in a coracle – this has to be seen to be believed, crossing a river in a circular hand driven boat,  where a motor boat doesn’t have the power to get across. We all pile in, sitting on the floor of a wet papyrus boat, after 10 minutes of hard labour we arrive on the banks on the other side of the river. These guys have earned their pay.