I do love this place and the sunsets viewed from a hill-sized pile of large rocks and scampering monkeys. It is quite engaging.
However, the awe of the first time visit to a place of this beauty is somewhat lost for me and my energy has gone instead toward the fine connections I’ve made with other backpackers.
Early on during my stay in Arambol I befriended two blokes from Devon, England. Celebrating a 40th birthday, Neil and Paul are both freshly broken up from long term relationships and turning over a new leaf with a 4 week trip to india. The three of us have spent a considerable amount of time together and they’ve chalked up to be a bright spot to my travels thus far.
However, distraction eventually came in the form of an attractive Israeli man who I met while exploring a lonely temple that few tourists venture to see. Yogev appeared from around an ornate pillar and asked if I would take a photo of him with his camera. Being a solo traveler myself with the occasional predicament of how to get my photo I happily agreed.
Picture taken…natural progression…we find ourselves seated at the foot of an ancient entryway and Yogev brings out his guitar.
Hours flew by unnoticed with an occasional young Indian boy stopping temporarily for a song or two at this tiny performance.
With this being what I consider to be one of the most romantic meetings I’ve had, ultimately the solitude and scenery brought upon us a spontaneous smooch.
Out of nowhere, an Indian boy of probably 13 years old runs up and persistently and emphatically chases us yelling “kiss! Kiss!”
Suddenly the magic of the moment was gone and a creepy urgency of immediate evacuation from the temple grounds came over us.
Even when “alone” in India you can’t abuse the public display of affection taboo. The sexual repression here is beyond my comprehension. In Indian films the view of a kiss is thwarted by the fade/fog special affect and viewers are left only with suggestion of lips making contact.
So I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me that a pre-pubescent teen would plant himself patiently in a position to view a man and a woman kissing.
.
.
.
every day I feel content and happy since arriving to india
At home I begin each day with a daily inner dialogue of how I have full accountability of whether I am happy each day…
“What choice will I make today? Do I want to feel agitated or depressed? Or do I choose to have happiness in this day?”
I can switch the choices on and off yet unfortunately some days the power to stay positive evades me.
However…
Here
And now
I have auto-happiness
No inner dialogue
No choices
Automatic
Content
Free
at peace
Learning
loving
growing
I want to be able to capture this light
The automatic
Netted
Interior
Exuding
At home
How?
.
.
.
Chapora Arambol Hampi
I’ve been to all three, more than twice.
I’m ready to amp it up.
I choose to embrace the magic in that moment of the unknown.
To step off that train in a land unfamiliar.
With every synapse in my system fresh and tingly from the new stimulation.
Off I go
Here I sit
Two full days of train travel to a place it would take a half day’s drive in my car at home.
India teaches patience.
Sedentary stillness in my seat
With a forward flow
Gazing out the window at the changing landscape
East then north
Rice fields to harvest fields
Tiny people dressed in tucked cotton cloths
Carrying bundles of wood twice their size on their heads
While swatting a slow moving herd of water buffalo.
People going about their day in a natural way with no tourism as aspect of motivation.
REAL
On my first night in cathartic Hampi I unpacked completely, set up my altear and lit a single candle. Almost immediately I fell into a vivid dream sleep.
There in front of me is David. Upon recognition of each other I see his face fill with agitation. He reaches for a fist-sized rock and throws it purposefully at me. With no emotional response I catch the rock squarely and with no pain.
I awoke suddenly and saw that the single candle had caught fire to an adjacent package of candles and other sundry items. As quickly as I could untangle myself from within my mosquito net I swatted out the growing flames.
All that was left was my unscathed altar and a charred waxy bit.
My photos of Hampi
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