026 Goa and Hampi, or Beach, Boulders and Temples

The night train from Mumbai to Margaon was rather uneventfull. The bustrip to the beach, however, was pure hell. So crowded I hardly had room to stand and unbelievably warm, the bus winded its way through the hairpin curves on the hills between me and the sea. Not enough oxygen, and no possibility to look out of the windows because they were too low (or I too tall when standing up), I am convident the Americans would describe my busride as Enhanced Interrogation. When we were not so far off anymore, I finaly found a seat next to a window, just in time to trow my breakfast out of the window. 
Before you get any creepy ideas about food poisoning, I assure you it was just a bad combiantion of a lack of sleep and motion sickness. I dragged myself to the beach, found a nice cottage, ate some bread and fell asleep. 

After an hour or two, I got up to get some more water, stumbled out of my hut into the sunlight, and for the first time, realized how beautifull it was here, on Palolem beach in Goa. A broad cresent of white beach, just littered here and there with the occasional tourist, bordered on one side with rows and rows of high green palm trees and beach huts, and on the other side by clean blue warm ocean. I had looked for a beach just outside the hectic partying hearthland of the region, and I had found it. The people were friendly, the food was good (and after laying down for a while after my arrival, easy to keep down as well), and life blissfully uneventfull. Some walking along the beach, some swimming, some more nice food. I can see now why some people go here and stay much longer than planned. I, however, was not going to be one of them, as I had more places to see in India, and not too much time to see it in.

So after two days, I said this close-to-paradise goodbye, and found myself waiting for my lifes first nightbus. I grandly prefer trains over busses anytime, but this was the easiest connection to my next destination. So, while trying not to think to much about my last bus experience, I boarded the bus. It turned out to be quite a pleasant ride, it was a sleeper bus, so I actually had a bed that was nearly long enough to fit in. I slept remarkably well. 
The next morning before sunrise we reached Hampi, an ancient Hindu temple town in the north of Karnataka. Everyone with whom I spoke about Hampi, told me it was incredibly beautiful, and also incredibly hot during the day. Even the Indians told me they got sunburned there. You can imagine my surprise then, when I got out of the bus and it was cold and...raining! After 10 days in India, I had only ever seen clouds one time, and rain didn't seem to be part of the repertoire outside of the monsoon season. But apparently a cyclone in the Bay of Bengal was throwing the weather system off course, and so I had to digg up my rain jacket in the middle of a semi-desert.

After a bit of haggling I found a nice room to stay in, and at 7 in the morning I met up with a guy from the UK who I met on the bus. He was on the road on his own as well, so we decided to explore Hampi together. Because of the cool weather, we were able to cover most of the temple area on foot on the first day, and it was wonderful. Temples everywhere, some still in use today, others in different stages of decay. It was also surprisingly quiet, with just a few other visitors in most places. 
The next day I explored the place on my own. I rented a bicycle and drove a bit further out. I also visited a village just 5 km away from the tourist area. Even so close to a mayor tourist hub, people apparently don't meet a lot of foreigners, since lots of people greeted me, and a group of kids ran out to wave at me and my bike. I am really happy to have visited Hampi, especially during a spell of colder weather, because it is an impressive place that calls for a lot of walking and cycling. Not only the temples are fantastic, but even more so the surrounding terrain. The temples are spread around in an area where the mountains are made up out of huge boulders. They come in all shapes and sizes, from big to very very big, and are stacked on top of each other as if some insane architect with a fetish for big rocks was given unlimited buget. 

In the evening of my second day there, I took a ricksaw to Hospet, the closest train station, and took a night train out to Bengalore and back into the frantic chaos from which big cities are made here.