I spent several hours in the city railway station trying to secure ticket for Hampi Express. In advance reservation booking office I was told the sale of tickets is already closed, in emergency window, where it's possible to purchase tickets before departure - not yet. Thus I shuttled between buildings and queues.

I had a couple of hours to spare in Bangalore and used it to visit famous pubs in MG Rd area. In Pub World I met young American, Kevin Schulz (his photo see in the end), who just spent a month or so in Russia. He even prepared few words in Russian but did not have chance to use them as Russians don't make friendship in the streets or in transport. He said he is going to spend one year in Indian charity but later he wrote me from Nepal. Nice guy, and probably future writer.

Finally sitting in the train I have talked with neighbours: a rajput living in Hospet and an Englishwoman on tour. She is going to Rajasthan and has not met any Rajput yet. The Rajput was pure cordiality - he was smiling as though he met old friends after many years. I like Rajasthan, probably after Himachal it's my favourite state, the man was very glad to know this and invited me to visit his home. However there was something in his look - longing for home probably. Rajasthan is so far from Hospet.

January 11, Hospet.

We woke up early before arrival in Hospet. Around us lied marvellous landscape with rocky hills. Englishwoman went straight forward to Hampi, I decided to make small research of Hospet's hotels. Railway station is not far from Hospet's centre. The town itself is of not big interest for tourists except hotels and transport facilities. Hotels are nothing special but sufficient for such small (on Indian scale, it has only 163,000 people) town. In Shanbhag Towers International the lobby was crowded - I inquired - people are waiting for appearance of Telugu movie star to ask for autograph. The star was holding suspence delaying her routine exit and I went further to put important Hospet landmarks on map.

After lunch I arrived in Hampi. The place is teeming with people, tourists and locals alike. Owners of very basic guesthouses quote unreasonable prices - from 1,000 rupees per night. I came to the jetty and found that only a couple of tiny coracles was in action. Standing in ferry queue I was talking with many tourists. The coracle moves with some effort otherwise it would stand still and on such precarious ride passengers have plenty of time to chat. I talked to a bearded man of sombre appearance, Paul Santillan, the French. As all passengers dispersed after crossing the river we left together and went down the only street of Virupapura Gadda inquring about rooms in lined up guesthouses. The guesthouses here are somewhat nicier than their counterparts in Hampi, perhaps because of more space where locals developed gardens or grow rice. Nevertheless all of them were full with tourists from Goa. In the last guesthouse Shanthi there was one hut available, Paul took it immediately, I returning a bit found attractive semicircular room in brand new cottages of Shri Lakshmi Golden Beach Resort. (It was of course neither resort nor had any beach). In front of my place we rented bikes and agreed with Paul to explore area together.

January 12, Hampi

Next morning I and Paul had excursion in the neighbourhood. In the beginning we met an Indian lady carrying full-load basket of bananas, apparently for sale in the market. The basket was heavy and when I asked her to pose for a photo she readily agreed to halt for a moment striking graceful pose.
We went to the north of Virupapura Gadda. Around us was pristine landscape of rice fields where we have seen peasants in labour and rocky hills with boulders of whimsical forms.  

To climb up Anjenadri hill with Hanuman temple at the top time was late - the heat was relentless and we pressed to Anegondi, to Durga temple and ancient watchtower put there to keep safe northern approaches to famous city. We found in Durga temple few pilgrims and many apes. Paul tried to make photo of them, I was lucky to have picture of boy teasing monkeys.

Priest of Durga temple was incredibly magnanimous and as he was fond of photography he showed me all corners of his temple readily posing before any image of his goddess.

Then we with bikes crossed the river on coracle. The bridge from Hampi to Anegondi was not completed.

Passing celebrated Vitthala temple we wanted to return to Hampi Bazaar along the shore of Tungabhadra river and then cross river back to Virupapura Gadda. However the path through Sacred centre was not meant for cyclists, the road was interrupted by rocky outcrops negotiable only by pedestrians, by crevices too narrow to carry bike through and by abrupt stairs.    

Sule Bazaar was once again the place of activity. Locals, mainly women, were carrying away soil for mysterious purpose. Sule Bazaar means `market of prostitute', the reason for such an odd name is not known. 500 years ago it was jewellery market where traders were scurrying with kilos of diamonds if we believe reports of contemporary travellers. Now only soil and water are portable here - entering Achyutaraya temple I made photo of two Indian women with water vessels. In the temple the base of mandapa has pictures of Arab merchants selling horses. The ceiling of rangamandapa has collapsed. In adjacent temples there are no idols, they were probably destroyed by Muslim invaders because Indians often decorate their idols with precious stones and metals. We tried to find a stair up to Matanga hill and failed.

In front of the Kodandarama temple the river flows between two rocky hills and forms a pond. Before here was a bridge over the Tungabhadra, now only neat rows of monolithic pillars left. The road cover has disappeared of course. The shore before the temple is lined by ghats (steps) where Hindus can take auspicious bath. During the rainy season when the river is swollen ghats disappear and the water enters the temple. In monsoon taking boat is the only option to reach Sacred centre.  

The filmstar I was unlucky to miss in Hospet came to Hampi for movie shots. Filmmakers from neighbouring Andhra Pradesh were busy shooting a scene before the Kodandarama temple blocking the only way out. So we had to become spectators. The star regularly rushed towards the crevice as though upset after unpleasant encounter with another hero, she had to repeat this routine many times. In intermission she was taking refreshments hiding from the sun under the big umbrella while movie staff opened the way to Hampi and we used this chance to go through.

In the evening I had dinner in Shanthi guesthouse in Paul's company. The setting was attractive, groups of tourists were sitting on chairs in the garden or on cushions in bowers. I ordered chicken Tandoori, Paul - lasagne. The food was sumptuous, portions were generous not frequently met in South India. In conversation I had known that my reserved friend is directing short movies. He came to India to participate in international film festival in Goa then he stayed with his friend's family in Pune (Maharashtra) came here just to chill-out. I agreed Pune is too big city to have rest, the pastoral and rough life of Hampi amidst incredible ruins and enchanted nature is the right place to relax.

During the dinner we discussed topics of art and creativity, and underlying messages. I told Paul about a movie I was most impressed lately - Japanese `The diary of my mother'. It has similar the beginning and the end - mother is hiding her diary under bonsai on low table before the window opening to  beautiful garden, her daughter is asking what was in it. Mother hesitated with answer, then said: `When you grow up you will know'. The flesh of the movie was filled with various sorts of horrors of the life of puzzled daughter - she lost her parents, grown up, she married, divorced, tried to find her love and sexual satisfaction, took revenge for the death of her parents and lover, gave berth to a girl child and in the end it was her turn to hide diary of her life under the bonsai and turn of her daughter to ask the same question which has no easy answer.  

January 13, Hampi

The day started very early - I and Paul settled tonight to meet the sunrise on Anjenadri hill and I came to his guesthouse. While he was preparing for trip I made some photos of rice fields.

We embarked on our journey. The stair to the hilltop was very sharp, we noticed hordes of monkeys playing or resting on railings. While climbing we met local guys. The temple was very small but the views over Hampi were just breathtaking. One is left speechless, surely it was the most exotic place in Asia with neat rice fields, gardens, ancient ruins in the backdrop of rocky hills with giant weirdly shaped boulders.

Trying to find the best spot I incidentally became witness of initiation ceremony of Japanese would-be sadhu.  

Having descended we talked and had tea with Indian guys. One of them Guyappa Gowda (on the left) is going to marry today and came here with friend and brother to receive blessing. He is school teacher, he gives several subjects. On parting they wrote down their coordinates in my notebook.

On the way back to Virupapura Gadda I wanted to make photo of ruins of ancient aqueduct which provided the half-million city with supply of fresh water. Rulers of Vijayanagar ordered a whole river to be dammed up and a big reservoir to be made. While I was holding my attention to fix the best angle in the camera I found an Indian sadhu with his friend on motorbike stopping for a moment to be imprinted before aqueduct free of charge. Other inhabitants as these ones on the right I had to bribe by chocolates in order they can drop their games and freeze for a second.  

It was still early morning and the whole day we planned to spend on the other side of the river. When we came to the jetty we discovered giant queue from both sides. Having spent two hours in the queue I made some lucky pics especially of one family with smart looking grandmother.

People from adjoining districts have been gathering in Hampi to celebrate Shivrathri, one of the main dates in Hindu calendar. In Hampi where Shiva is worshipped in the form of Virupaksha this holiday is a must of course. Gents were taking holy dips in just briefs while ladies were bathing wholesale in saris.  

Then we proceeded to Royal enclosure, some 1.5 km to the south. Ruins are disappearing amidst tall elephant grass, banana plantations and savannah style jungles with assorted scrubs and bushes. One can feel Islamic influence in the architecture of Royal buildings especially in Kamal (Lotus) Mahal where king's wifes were taking afternoon rest and in 11 elephant stables. The roof of each stable looks different.

Along the Hampi Bazaar, 700-m main Vijayanagar procession road, there were merchants from the neighbourhood. They put their simple goods, incences (agarbati) knick-knacks, coils, chains, bracelets, embroidered handbags and rucksacks with applications right on the road surface made of precisely lain polished slabs spared by time.  

We met also a man with cheek pinked by knife. His female assistant was desperately drumming in hope to attract attention of lukewarm public.

Sadhus in Hampi as you have seen are not much interested in money matters except when they are on their working place.

We returned to the Vitthala temple, architectural marvel of Vijayanagara era. In the temple one can enter by ticket to Lotus Mahal (250 rupees) only on the same day. It took 1000 years for masons and stone carvers of India to attain perfection in working with such hard resisting material as stone but artists and architectors of Vijayanagar reached heights which leave even sophisticated art experts speechless.

Despite the notice not to touch fragile masterpieces of Vijayanagara artists Indians were playing on stone drums and flipping reverberating music pillars.

Since the day was closing and I had already ticket for overnight sleeper bus to Goa, Paul - back to Pune we started looking for the way out. We hoped people on the jetty would disperse with darkness, but to no avail. Queues became hopelessly only longer. Somehow we managed to cross back to Virupapura Gadda but looking back at the long queue we understood we effectively became islanders as there was no chance to cross river to Hampi and be on time in Hospet. I had the brilliant idea to find direct transport from Virupapura Gadda to Hospet, however as the nearest bridge was 20 km away it would take more time and money. Paul reluctantly agreed. In the end of the village we saw one jeep. Its driver said it was already booked, but we managed to talk him up and take us to Hospet. Later on we discovered in jeep angry Israeli couple which after seeing us instantly dropped the price for their ride - they paid less than us but we readily agreed as we felt urgent need to reach Hospet as soon as possible. When we were on the way to Hospet and stopped in one of the crossroads a middle aged Indian man came to the open rear side of the jeep and taking Paul's hand told him how intelligent he was. You know all Indians know the art of palmistry. Taking mine hand he only could say: `You're handsome'. I had some doubts on this and opened my notebook to hide my confusion and read what Guyappa Gowda wrote: 'God bless you my sir'.

Hospet. My sleeper bus was going late and waiting passengers were at mercy of the town's beggars. One girl with small brother was the most notorious. I had a couple of chocolates left from Hampi and gave them to her. Fortunately her brother did not like eating chocolate. (On the left the guy from US I met in Bangalore, see the beginning).