36 hours in Hampi

Despite the large amount of time I have spent on a bicycle, I have never figured out exactly what makes me equate the experience with freedom. My first answer would be that it is due to the increased mobility that I suddenly acquire, but with further thought, I think that it’s more likely to be the open air rushing past my ears, filling the gaps in between thoughts. It’s different everywhere, and I love it everywhere. In India, the crash of the wind is intertwined with the noisy honks of tuk-tuks and the countless calls of the coconut vendors. In Cape Cod, the honks of tuk-tuks are more likely to be the screeches of seagulls; in New York, the rumble of the subways.