Slow­ly but sure­ly I approached the end of my jour­ney. Hampi attract­ed with a great land­scape and many ruins. The choice of the means of trav­el was unfor­tu­nate­ly a dis­as­ter. You get what you pay for. It was a bad idea to take the non-air-con­di­tioned night bus. The dri­vers (for­tu­nate­ly there were two) were vis­i­bly under the influ­ence of drugs, the bus was cramped, extreme­ly noisy and it stank of diesel like in the engine room of a fish­ing boat. I endured it just like all the young back­pack­ers on the bus, who had wor­ry and anguish writ­ten all over their faces as well.

Some­time in the morn­ing hours, after a break­neck ride through the night, we arrived in Hampi, a small vil­lage. My accom­mo­da­tion was very good and the own­er quick­ly orga­nized a very cor­dial and talk­a­tive tuk­tuk dri­ver with whom I rat­tled off every­thing worth see­ing. The land­scape was won­der­ful and unre­al at the same time and all the ruins so exten­sive and wide­ly dis­trib­uted that you could hard­ly believe it. Togeth­er with the beau­ti­ful veg­e­ta­tion with palm trees, rice fields and banana plan­ta­tions, this was an unex­pect­ed­ly crown­ing con­clu­sion of this impres­sive journey.

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