In most of the cities we visited, I was left feeling empty at the end of the day. Not because there wasn't enough or because I wasn't enjoying myself, but because there was too much. They took everything from me before I laid my head down to sleep, and in the morning I would wake and be grateful and do it all again. We were only in Hampi a day and a half, and while there was much to see and not enough time, I felt full when we departed and continued to for the rest of the trip.
At the end of our first afternoon, some of my friends wanted to hike to a temple nestled in the side of a small mountain. It was probably just a large hill to someone not from Texas, but still, after a day spent entirely under the sun I felt quite sure I would not be joining them. As our bus got closer to the entrance to our hotel, where jeeps would be waiting to either drive us the rest of the way or take us to the temple, I started to feel a little tugging on my heart telling me not to go back to the hotel just yet. So when I stepped off the bus, I walked to the jeep that would drive me to the mountain.
Almost immediately after I began the ascent I wished I had chosen a different jeep. My group stopped frequently and laughed about how out of shape we were while we caught our breath. At what felt like the halfway point I stopped pausing to rest, even though my throat was sticky and my muscles ached. I continued to climb toward the top. It felt urgent to me, but not in an anxiety-inducing way, just as if there was something ahead that I had been waiting to see. After I passed the last step I crouched to slip off my shoes, as is customary in temples. When I lifted my head back up my breath caught in my throat.
I will not try to describe the view in words. I will say, that I felt pulled toward the sky so strongly that I forgot about the temple entirely. When my friends joined me at the top we walked together until we reached the edge of the main rock. From there we climbed boulder after boulder until we couldn't possibly get closer to the sunset. I felt a palpable contentment sitting there on that rock next to people I met only 15 days prior. I loved them. I loved this country. I wanted the moment to go on forever. We sat, mostly in silence, until the sun was gone.
There were two more days left on our trip, but that felt like the end. It felt like goodbye. I had been so worried that I wasn't seeing enough, experiencing enough, to feel okay with boarding a plane and going home. I wanted to make up for the beginning of the trip when I had been hesitant to create or connect. But that sunset was like the Lord squeezing my hand and assuring me that I had done enough.
