HAMPI

A wild tuk-tuk ride from Hospet, a bustling town, to Hampi. I know I go on and on about these rides, but they're such whirlwind experiences, driving through Indian towns. Think of 20 human and animal activities, anything you like, then imagine seeing them all at once. Then imagine that ten seconds later you are witnessing 20 NEW activities. A man selling spices on a blanket. A monkey walking alongside the road. A family on a motorcycle. A man stooped beneath a load of twined together paper. A man with no legs pushing himself on a board with wheels. Crows fighting dogs for food.

We are extremely fond of Hampi. It is a town built on the ruins of a Hindu empire that was sacked 400 years ago by neighboring Muslim sultans. The terrain is otherworldly, high desert, big sky, thousands of boulders scattered haphazardly about, some as large as cars, some as large as houses, some the size of hills. Joshua Tree is the only place that might compare. And then temples everywhere. The major ones that we visit with our guide but also tiny crumbled ones scattered about, unattended, unnamed, forgotten but still beautiful.

Our guide Sado takes us to a mountain temple for a good view of the valley at sunset. The small snaking path up seem treacherous to walk, broken full of holes, and so I am shocked that he intends to drive. Suddenly another car comes chugging down. Impossible. There is no way they can pass! And then, as if placed there by some comic God, a days-old puppy wriggling in the middle of the road. But then we pass, the puppy lives. We laugh. In the U.S. we live with a much larger margin of safety than we know. So much of India exists in this margin where we never go.

In front of the mountain temple there is an empty tuk-tuk and two monkeys have climbed inside. I swear to God, one pushes on the gas pedal while the other one tries to turn the wheel. After awhile they content themselves with pulling out stuffing and wires. Sado seems particularly alarmed. He knows an auto-rickhaw is its driver's entire livelihood.

The main temple is very nice. Men chanting in the inner sanctum but boys playing soccer in the courtyard. More puppies. A monkey on a motorcycle. Near the back we find another door that opens onto a hill. There is a intriguing white temple perched on the top that we avoid because Sado warned us that the sadhus (holy ascetics) there would demand money. We jump from boulder to boulder until we look out over the misty valley, the endless boulders, the lazy river, the sinking evening sun. Ah, we are all alone with the view, we think, but when I look over the edge of a rock I notice an old man taking a crap. Oh well. It is very rare in India, we find, to ever be far from anyone.

Monkeys--we never tire of them! A monkey sees us waiting for the sun to set and joins us on a nearby rock. Then climbs higher to a better view. Back at the temple one dashes up to the highest spire and then jumps up and down on its narrow point. They are so nimble, so brave, so up for fun.

In Hampi meat and beer are illegal. One night at a rooftop cafe we ask for beer. It goes down like a drug deal: the man makes a call, we wait for twenty minutes for the return call, the man goes out into the night, returns with a paper sack, passes it to us beneath the table.

I step into a shop to buy a mirrored tapestry for mom. I see one I like. "How much for that?" "This very beautiful, very fine. Twelve hundred rupees," she says. Well I know I'm supposed to haggle, but I hate going super low and doing all the work of getting back to the middle ground, so I decide to name a reasonable price and just stick to it. "Nine hundred," I say. "Yes! Yes!" she cries. She is ecstatic with this price. "Thank you thank you. This is a very lucky day for me. A very lucky day. What good fortune for my shop. Nine hundred. I am very happy." Well, it looks like I overpaid a bit, but I wish she wouldn't rub it in my face like that.

There's a small river that winds along the edge of town and a ferry that takes you to the quiet restaurants on the other side. "What happened to the bridge?" we ask. We had seen "new bridge" labeled on a map. "They build bridge from both sides, build bridge, build bridge, when they reach the middle it falls down. Now there is only boat."