We packed our bags and set out toward Hampi - a place we'd been dreaming about since planning this India trip. Built on the ruins of Vijayanagara, the capital of one of India's greatest empires, and home to the esteemed Virupaksha Temple, one of the holiest sanctuaries in all of India, Hampi promised to be unlike anywhere we'd been before.

The Train from Goa

We boarded the 7:10am Amaravati Express from Vasco da Gama Station, just a short auto-rickshaw ride from our Bogmalo guesthouse. The early morning start was worth it - we had the entire carriage almost to ourselves initially, able to spread out and enjoy the comfort of our berths.

The train was surprisingly empty until we reached Madgaon (the major railway junction we'd strategically positioned ourselves near). Then chaos erupted. Hundreds of passengers boarded simultaneously - vendors selling snacks and chai pushing through the aisles calling out their wares, tourists trying to find their seats with massive backpacks, railway staff performing their duties and checking tickets. A massive confusion filled the aisle.

We observed serenely from the comfort of our berths, munching on the biscuits we'd bought in Dabolim, watching India's incredible rail system in action. This is what Indian train travel is all about.

The journey normally takes 9 hours to complete the 341 kilometers - not particularly fast, but the scenery was fascinating. We watched the landscape transform from Goa's lush coconut groves to Karnataka's drier agricultural plains, then gradually to the rocky, boulder-studded terrain surrounding Hampi. We arrived late, but not by much - pretty good by Indian railway standards.

Arrival in Hampi

Hospet Junction station was only 13 kilometers away from Hampi in the state of Karnataka. As we stepped off the train into the hot afternoon sun, we were greeted by a tuk-tuk driver sent by our guesthouse, the Gopi Guest House. He held a sign with our names written in slightly shaky English. It's always such a good feeling when someone is waiting for you with your name on a board - especially after a long journey.

The 30-minute tuk-tuk ride from Hospet to Hampi was our first glimpse of what makes this place so special. Massive granite boulders - some the size of houses - dotted the landscape in seemingly impossible stacks and arrangements. Ancient temple ruins appeared around every bend in the road. Rice paddies gave way to rocky terrain. This was a landscape unlike anything we'd seen.

As we entered Hampi Bazaar (the main village area), the 14th-century Virupaksha Temple towered ahead, its gopuram (entrance tower) rising above the simple shops and guesthouses lining the main street. History and modern daily life existing side by side.

First Evening in Hampi

We checked into Gopi Guest House and climbed up to the terrace restaurant. The view was breathtaking - nearest ruins were visible from our table, backdropped by rocky hillocks glowing golden in the afternoon light. This was going to be special.

We enjoyed the vegetarian food (no meat or alcohol allowed on this side of the river) and our first sunset in Hampi. As the sun descended, the boulders seemed to catch fire - orange, then pink, then purple. Locals and tourists alike paused to watch. There's something magical about this place.

Police Registration

After dinner, we strolled along the ruins toward the local police station. Apparently, foreign tourists are supposed to register with the police within 24 hours of arriving in Hampi - something to do with it being a sensitive archaeological zone. Few tourists seemed to care about the procedure, but we figured we'd follow the rules (especially after our scooter experience with the Goan police).

The police station was a small concrete building with ceiling fans spinning lazily. It was quite funny to see the inside of the premise - chaotic filing cabinets bursting with papers, officers drinking chai and chatting, a surprisingly bureaucratic process for such a small outpost.

We filled out forms and still had to answer many questions... about Belgium! The officer had never met anyone from Belgium before and was fascinated. "You speak French? You speak Dutch? Both? In the same country?" It turned into a delightful cross-cultural exchange rather than an intimidating bureaucratic procedure.

Papers duly stamped, we were officially registered guests of Hampi. Tomorrow we'd explore properly, but tonight we returned to our guesthouse, exhausted from the journey but excited for what lay ahead.

From our rooftop, we could hear music drifting from across the river - the other side of Hampi where the hippie cafes and Western tourists congregated. But here in Hampi Bazaar, surrounded by ancient temples and local families, we felt we'd made the right choice of where to stay.

Have you traveled from Goa to Hampi? Which side of the river did you stay on? Did you register with the police?