The Lazy Cherub Enigma: Hamming it up in Hampi

Saturday 10 October 2015

Hamming it up in Hampi

October 10, 2015

A month in and things start to become a blur and an exercise in futility trying to keep up and keep clean. I no longer know what day of the week it is or even what day of the month. It’s all just an endless series of train rides and seedy hotel stays punctuated by the occasional water buffalo and cat sighting. So arriving at our next destination – Hampi – was a welcome bit of relief.

Until we arrived, I had no idea that Hampi even existed which is a sad testament to my hippy roots. Unbeknownst to us, this little South Indian village straddling a river is a haven for backpackers of the more “spiritual” vein. You won’t find alcohol here – or Russians. What you will find is a bewitching landscape of epic boulders and otherworldly temples that mesmerize your soul. Now a Word Heritage Site, Hampi begs to be lingered in for a very, very long time.

This is a place of lush green rice paddies and bird filled estuaries. It’s a bit of a dreamscape, really – a pastoral wonderland that has been untouched by the outside world. In the morning you find Lakshmi, the elephant, bathing in the river and always up for a trunk scratch. In the evening you witness blazing sunsets that light the sarsen landscape on fire. During the day you can wander the 36 sq. kms of temple and palace ruins. If that doesn’t have you heart racing then chalk up and chimmey your way through the climber’s playground of India’s boulder capital of the world. After all of that you can chill out at the Mango Tree where culinary excellence meets rural hippy grunge. And the best part of Hampi?

Everyone – and I mean everyone – offers you weed and mushrooms. It’s like Woodstock without the mud, drunken Joe Cocker and bad acid. It’s like Burning Man before it became mainstream. Hampi is what Goa was supposed to be but never was.

Hampi is heaven.

Sadly, this heaven was not the one I was going to spend eternity in. A few days later it was off to Mysore – city of royal flamboyance, sandalwood and ashtanga yoga. I was only able to tick of the first of these three since real sandalwood oil is like finding and buying black truffles and no, Ken was not willing to sell his Audi so I could have an ounce. (Plus our guide sent us to this “intense” local market where he said I should find sandalwood oil but all we found were banana and bangle sellers. We also saw Jesus. Seriously. Walking through the market buying tomatoes was a guy who looked – and dressed – EXACTLY like Jesus. I bet he could have turned my water bottle into Sandalwood oil….) As for the yoga, this trip wasn’t about Ashraming – it was about seeing shit (and walking in shit, and sleeping in shit).

So about the one I did get to – royal flamboyance. Mysore Palace is the grandest of all India palaces and makes Versailles look like a summer cottage. This place is HUGE, opulent and completely ostentatious. If Elton John ever became Queen of his own country, this is the palace he would rule it from. I’ve never seen a place so gilded up and mirrored as this. Who actually builds a mud wrestling arena in their courtyard? The Pubic Durbar Hall with its panoramic views is straight out of the Hunger Games. Standing there looking out into the gardens it was all a person can do to not release their inner dictator. Shock and awe meets its match at the Mysore Palace.

Later that night we returned for the “light show” which is when the palace is lit up and Pink Floyd appears. Roger Waters was being uppity so instead we had the elephant evening stroll as entertainment (the palace still retains their royal elephants who reside in a pampered enclave and get full use of the “mammoth” palace grounds after sunset.) There were no lasers but I am sure they are being installed as I type. And I wouldn’t be surprised if Elton John headlines the next Dusserha festival. This place SCREAMS flamboyant rock concert. Or world domination through glitz. Maybe both. Until then, I am on my never ending quest for sandalwood – and a decent cup of coffee.