Hampi with strangers: the trip that taught me to say yes

Granite boulders piled across a hillside in Hampi, with a coconut palm in front.

For a long time my travel plans had the same ending. Someone would say yes, then someone would have a reason, and the plan would quietly die in the group chat. It was never anyone’s fault. It just meant I was always waiting for other people before I went anywhere.

So in January I stopped waiting. I booked a group trip with a travel company, over the Republic Day weekend: Hampi, Murudeshwar and Gokarna, about four days, with around fifteen people I had never met.

A sketched map of the west coast of India: the route from Pune to Hampi on 24 January, the Hampi ruins on 25 January, then Murudeshwar and Gokarna on the coast on 26 January.

The first hour

I will be honest: the first hour was awkward. Fifteen people who do not know each other, all pretending to be very interested in their phones. Small talk that goes nowhere. I was nervous, and I think most of us were.

It did not last. Somewhere between the first chai stop and the first meal, the conversation found its way, and by the second day it felt like travelling with friends.

Hampi: walking through an empire

Hampi was the capital of the Vijayanagara Empire, and it does not feel like a place you visit. It feels like a place you get lost in. Temples, carved pillars, boulders piled up as if someone stacked them on purpose, and ruins in every direction you look.

We walked the ruins for hours and I lost track of time. And yes, I did the coracle ride: a round basket of a boat, spinning on the Tungabhadra, which is exactly as fun as it sounds.

The high stone walls of the Queen's Bath in Hampi, with a garden path along them.
The Stone Chariot at Vittala, Hampi, with a 50 rupee note held up beside it. Chalk circles mark the chariot and the chariot printed on the note, joined by an arrow, with the words same chariot.
The Stone Chariot at Vittala, Hampi, next to the 50 rupee note that shows it.
Abhinav sitting in a round woven coracle on the Tungabhadra river, with rocks behind him.
The coracle ride on the Tungabhadra, Hampi.
Seen from above, a round woven coracle with a Warli figure in it turns slowly on the river, with ripples around it.
A café in Hampi at night: a bamboo roof lit blue, prayer flags, string lights and palm fronds against the dark. Chalk doodles draw in over it: a turmeric crescent moon, a few stars, a swag of fairy lights and the words Hampi after dark.
Hampi after dark, 24 January.

Murudeshwar

Then the coast. Murudeshwar is the giant Shiva statue by the sea, and seeing it in person is a different scale from any photo of it.

Abhinav smiling at Murudeshwar, with the giant Shiva statue behind him.
The Shiva statue at Murudeshwar.

Gokarna: the beach trek

Gokarna is the part I still think about. We did the beach trek, walking from one beach to the next along the cliffs, with the sea on one side the whole way.

A sketched coastline at Gokarna with cliffs between five beaches, Gokarna beach, Kudle, Om, Half Moon and Paradise, and a dotted trail from one beach to the next.
Abhinav sitting by the water in Gokarna, with palms behind him.
By the palms and the water in Gokarna.

It is hard to explain why it stayed with me. Maybe it was that by then I was walking with people I had met three days earlier, and it did not feel strange at all.

What changed

That trip was the first time I did something like this, and it was the one that opened things up for me.

  • I travel more. The next trip was easier to book, and the one after that easier still.
  • I talk to strangers. Starting a conversation with someone new used to take effort. Now it is just how a trip begins.
  • I say yes. I stopped waiting for every plan to line up before I go.

Some of the people from that trip are still in touch.

If your friends keep saying no

Go anyway. Book the group trip, show up for the awkward first hour, and let it pass. The strangers become friends faster than you think, and you learn more about yourself in four days with new people than in a year of plans that never happen.

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