September 12: Hampi

The town of Hampi is surrounded by old temples from the 14th century, when this area was called Vijayanagar -- the capital of the largest empire in post-mogul India, covering several states.

My tourguide playing the temple pillars.

Over an expanse of some 25 km, there lie dozens of temples and buildings, some in ruins, some still functional. One of the must-see buildings is a temple with pillars that can be played like a xylophone, simply by tapping the stone with a knuckle. The sounds are so metallic, that it's hard to believe the pillars are pure, solid stone.

I'm not sure what is more incredible as you walk through the site: the buildings or the geology. Everywhere you look are piles of huge, round rocks -- we're talking up to small-house-size boulders here -- that look as if some god casually put down a pile of marbles. It's hard to imagine how this landscape was just created naturally.

What's also caught my eye, however, is the town of Hampi itself. I am amazed at how different every town has been, and Hampi is no exception. It is the first truly small town I've been to. A a true village. Despite the tourists that come through, all the kids stop and stare at me, sheepishly saying hello if they dare. No automobiles are allowed in, and the narrow dirt streets wouldn't accomodate them anyway. There isn't a western toilet to be found in the town, my cell phone has no service, and the internet is strictly a dialup affair.

Last night as I slept, I thought I kept hearing a tiger roar, but no, it was just the ox baying underneath my window.