The amount of hippies at Baba’s is an iota of the Hampi’s population. It’s been pretty interesting to hang out here, feeling a tad bit out of place because our hair is not in clumps or with random patches shaved off. We’re not as young as most of the travelers here seem. We, for the most part, cover more of our bodies with clothing than the average traveler. We’re not riding around in a rented motorbike or scooter. And we’re American, a nationality which seems to be poorly represented in this part of Karnataka.

Of course, I’m mainly talking about appearances, which shouldn’t matter, but the general vibe here brings me back to Koh San Road circa 2001. (According to Baba, the first guesthouses opened in Hampi in 1990). No matter how I try to paint Scott and I as being different, once we have our backpacks on, we look exactly the same as everyone else. We’re a walking rupee sign, yet hard bargainers. We try to experience a place yet stay only two nights. It’s been hard to delve into this traveling lifestyle after having lived in places for a year at a time, to join the masses of people city-hopping, country-hopping, experience-hopping. I miss knowing people. I miss being known. I miss staying in one place. I miss shopping for vegetables – something so normal and mundane. I miss the feeling of having a place to call home, no matter how temporary it was.