India part 2

It has been 3 weeks (now 4) since I last wrote – a time full of many sights and impressions but also a time lacking in electricity. This makes writing on the computer challenging!

We left the farm near Dharamsala and headed by bus towards Shimla on some narrow and steep mountain roads. On the way we stopped for a lunch and a break from the bouncy dusty bus at Bajinath to see a stone carved Shiva temple from the 8th century.

We spent the night in Mandi which has an interesting below street level, two tiered market square with a park in the middle.

 

We also spent a day/night at Rewalsar Lake. This is a lake that is holy for the Buddhists, Sikhs and Hindus. There were several temples including an impressive 12 meter high statue of Padmasambhava (the Indian monk who went to spread Buddhism to Tibet in the 8th century) inside of which we watched artists creating the still under construction temple paintings and statues.

This lake is where people from all three of these religions gathered in the 17th century to plan resistance against ethnic cleansing by the Mughals (Muslim rulers of northern India).

Shimla was a hill station for the British (they moved the government here every summer) and the Lonely Planet description of it looking like it was about to slide down into the valley at any moment was quite accurate. The roadside sidewalk was a platform hanging high above the steeply sloping hillside.

We stayed only one night and unfortunately we were in the clouds the whole time. There were some interesting deteriorating buildings (but still in use) from the British time to see but other than that it was a rather touristy and expensive town (it is a favorite destination for Indian newlyweds). There is even a Domino pizza here though we didn't try it out. The main reason we went here though was to take the narrow gauge “toy train” down to Chandigargh – the capital of two regions: Haryana and the Punjab. This was a 6 hour trip but we greatly enjoyed this slow relaxed journey down out of the mountains through 103 tunnels. At some point we were joined in our little 2nd class (hard seats and open windows) compartment by a group of 6 young men on a pilgrimage.

Unfortunately the train didn't actually take us to Chandigarh but instead to Kalka which was further away (an hour bus ride) than we expected. So we arrived in Chandigarh rather tired and the adventure of finding our way to the correct sector (the city was planned entirely by architect Le Corbusier and is a grid of sectors with wide tree lined roads and round abouts but no “heart” (that we could find) and then a hotel room was frustrating. This was our only experience so far of arriving somewhere and having trouble finding a reasonable (by our budget) hotel room and we ended up paying 800 R (abt. 16 dollars), though it did have some air conditioning which was a relief from the heat.

The next day we set off on foot to explore a bit of the city. We found a lake where people were training for kayak racing in kayaks that were unlike any kayaks we'd seen before.

Then we went to the Fantasy Rock Garden built by Nek Chand over 15 years as a personal hobby until it was discovered in 1973 and adopted as a government sponsored project (he was building it on government land). This was a winding labyrinth like path through funky high stone walls and many fun statues.

By this time, quite hungry, we headed to the nearby High Court (also designed by Le Corbusier) and luckily found food at their canteen (yummy chapati, rice, dahl and some pureed vegetable for 40 R/person – less than a dollar). It took us a while to find our way to the back side of the building for a full view but perseverance paid off.

The next day we took a bus to Haridwar which is a holy Hindu city and our first stop on our trip following the Ganges up to its official source. The bus ride to Haridwar took longer than planned due to a tire problem that took an hour to fix. The city was bustling with pilgrims and I got frustrated trying to get an in-focus picture of the overfilled rickshaws (4-5 people being transported by one biker). We enjoyed watching the evening river worship ceremony of prayer and sending candles down the river in leaf baskets.

The next day we took a bus to Rishikesh (also on the Ganges) and found ourselves staying in a tourist enclave up on the hill above the town. A strange feeling to be among only tourists but it was also relaxing and after having changed locations every day for several consecutive days, we decided to stay put for a few days.

 

Then we took a bus up to Uttarkashi - driving past Tehri dam and the huge - rather spooky resulting lake (you can see some submerged buildings from what used to be the town Tehri). 

We chose to stay at a lovely hotel a bit outside of town. The owner was very friendly and gave us lots of helpful tips for our adventures in the area. It also was exciting to have a squeegy in the bathroom for the first time (to get a dry bathroom floor after showering as the showers are not separated from the rest of the bathroom). This is the town where one has to get a permit to go hiking up to Gaumukh (the glacial source of the Ganges and the place where Shiva caught Ganga in his locky hair) and we got the permit for a week later as we planned on doing another hike first. Unfortunately it began raining, so we had a few days of sitting around the hotel (I read a very interesting book about a British man, Fred Wilson, who settled in the area in the 1800s and made a fortune selling the region's trees to the British for their canal and railroad projects after buying the rights to all the trees from the region's ruler for pennies).

Eventually we decided to make a go of it and did a shorter version of our original plan – hiking just up to a lake and back as a 3 day hike instead of hiking to the lake and over a pass and then taking a bus back to Uttarkashi. We were fairly lucky with the weather and while we had some walking in the rain, we also had some good views and the tarp/tent that Machiel proved itself rainproof. This year has been the worst (heaviest and longest) monsoon people can remember here and the trail was gone in a few places due to landslides. Luckily the trail is a busy one – connecting the upper mountain villages with the roads, so it was easy to find the detour paths people had already created around the landslides. And when we descended the same trail 2 days later, we found the trail already repaired. The walk down from the lake was a long day though, as we got down to the road after the shared jeep/taxis were no longer running and we had to walk down to the main road, making it about a 27 km day. Some highlights of the hike were getting leech bites on our feet (which bleed profusely when the leech comes off), seeing a family of nomads walking down the mountain with one man being carried by another due to what looked like a broken ankle, village children showing us their bamboo “gun” and various bird sightings such as a woodpecker and ultramarine flycatcher (the hoopoe bird is becoming such a common sight now that it isn't as exciting as it first was).

The next two days it rained again and we wondered if we should go ahead with our plan to take a jeep up to Gangotri – the beginning of the hike to Gaumukh. However, the weather started to clear and we decided to go. While it was pouring when we arrived in Gangotri, it cleared before dusk and we got a sense of the mountains around us. The next day was clear in the morning and we had a lovely start of the 14km hike to the camping site. The afternoon however was rainy and cold and I got a bit grumpy about the total lack of facilities at the “campsite” we paid 100 R (tent) + 1200 R (trail fee) for. Luckily it stopped raining long enough for us to cook some noodles and precooked chickpea masala for dinner.

The next morning all our positive visualizations materialized and we were blessed with a clear sky at sunrise to celebrate Machiel's birthday with views of the snow-capped Himalayas.

After breakfast we walked the 2 km up to as far as one is allowed to go to the glacier and after a small rest (during which we saw people bathing in the holy (and very cold) water), we set off back down to Gangotri.

It remained sunny all day and our unaccustomed-to-sun skin got a bit burned despite sunscreen, hats and umbrella. However that was the end of sun for the next 3 ½ days as the next day it began raining and didn't stop.

We woke up and set out to a village, Dharali, on the road back 21 km towards Uttarkashi. We had to walk as due to the bad weather there were few tourists/pilgrims and no jeeps were headed down (though later a few passed us but they were already full). We did manage to get a lift with someone for a few km. We wanted to go to this village as we'd been told it was having a special festival (Selku Mela) that day. This festival is an ancient tradition in which the god Someshwar comes and enters into someone allowing them to walk on axes and speak to the people of the village. It was described in the book I'd read about Wilson, and I was eager to experience this part of the local culture. The manager of the hotel we stayed in took us to the temple courtyard where it was to take place and we sat for an hour watching the villagers gather under the tarps and socialize. Then someone came to me and told me if I wanted to photograph the god I could come with him up into the temple. So I followed him. The people believe that the god was present in the red cushions mounted on two long poles and was dancing and moving of its own accord.

After a few minutes, they brought the god down to the courtyard and the god blessed various groups of people. Then it conferred with a group of men and we were told that due to the rain, the festival would be postponed for two days. This was disappointing as we were planning on returning to Uttarkashi to head on to a different part of India.

But the next day we awoke to pouring rain and we decided to take a rest day after our 3 days of long hiking. There were two young men from Uttarkashi also in town to see the festival and, as they spoke quite good English, we had a nice after dinner conversation about various questions we'd gathered about Indian society and culture including arranged marriages, street cows, and religion.

But the next morning it was still raining and we were getting a bit tired of the wet and cold (we could see our breath). In addition there was no electricity or water (we had to get buckets of water to flush the toilet and the bucket of hot water we ordered from the hotel was so dirty that bathing with it seemed pointless). However, by this time the road back to Uttarkashi was closed due to falling rocks/boulders and landslides. So we stayed another day.

We did, however, venture out for a walk 3km down to the village where Wilson had settled – Harsil, and the neighboring village, Bagori, inhabited by descendants of people originally living along the Nelong pass – the border with Tibet. Here we saw beautiful elaborately carved wooden houses and women sitting on their balconies/porches spinning and knitting wool. We went and sat with one family to warm ourselves by their fire and see the wool products (hats, socks) they were hoping to sell us.

This is apple country (red delicious – brought by Wilson to the region along with potatoes) and the trees were covered in apples. Unfortunately due to the extended rains, the trees were losing their leaves and dropping many apples before they were fully ripe. We were unable to find any places to buy lunch as all of the hotel/restaurants weren't in operation (perhaps due to the frequency with which the road has been blocked the last few months?). We returned to Dharali cold, wet and hungry and I'm afraid our moods were starting to blacken as well.

The next day we awoke to grey skies but no rain. Hurray!!! The road was still blocked and I convinced Machiel, to stay one more day so that we could see a bit of the area and do a walk up to seven lakes that we'd been planning on doing before all the rain appeared. So we walked up the steep mountain side on the other side of the raging water filled river to the neighboring village, Mukhba (also mentioned in the book I'd read). Then we came back down to Dharali and walked up the mountain (on a trail that had become a stream) on that side to get to the seven lakes. It turns out there are only 5 lakes now as some have been filled in by winter avalanche soil displacement and we ended up only seeing two of them (one was very small and the second was almost completely evolved into a quaking bog) as we thought we heard thunder and decided to head back down.

But it didn't start raining and shortly after we returned to Dharali I saw that people were heading to the temple for the festival. So I went, finding a seat next to some young girls who knew some English and an older woman who wanted to see every picture I took and even started telling me to take more pictures. The girls were kind enough to explain to her that I had limited battery power. The sun came out revealing beautiful snow covered mountains in the distance. When enough people had gathered, the festival began. I especially enjoyed watching the women dance a line dance accompanied by the drums and occasional vocalizations. There was much joking and laughing among the dancers as they tried to stay in sync with each other and it conveyed a strong sense of community.

We decided that the next day we would begin walking if the road was still blocked as we were getting serious cabin fever and the 73 km felt approachable (with villages along the way we could overnight in if we didn't find cleared road and get transport part of the way). The morning started with blue skies and after starting out in a shared jeep that was going 6km (up to the point of the first road blockage), we disembarked after just 3km to continue on foot in order to be able to enjoy the marvelous views better.

Next to our hotel:

view from hotel balcony:

We were able to easily find the shortcuts we'd heard about by asking people along the road (not easier cuts as it went straight up and down the mountain to avoid the long switchbacks of the road), and we ended up walking about 37 km before being picked up by a shared jeep, having made it onto the stretch of road that was open all the way down to Uttarkashi. We made it back to the hotel in Uttarkashi 9 ½ hours after having started out from Dharali. A hot shower and electricity felt mighty fine! Unfortunately I didn't take many pictures of the landslides as I guess I was so intent just on the walking and at the time they didn't seem very photoworthy.

abandoned hydroelectric plant project:

The next day we awoke again to grey skies and in the afternoon heavy rain, further delaying repairs and reopening of the road out of the mountains. The local market had been transformed into a very quiet place and certain supplies such as eggs and digestives were impossible to find. After a day of rest, bird watching from the garden, and sizing up the situation, we made a plan with two Indian fellows, who were also staying at the hotel, to hire a guide and porters to help us walk an alternative route through villages – the way people used to travel before the arrival of paved roads in this region. We planned on taking a jeep down to the first village on the trail and then it would be just a walk of about 30km to a village on a road (a totally different road than the one that was blocked) where we expected to be able to find jeep transportation to Derhadun. However, that evening we learned that there was an alternative road that had opened up and which had only one landslide that would need to be walked around. That became the new plan with the advantage of negating the need for porters and guide. However, in the morning we learned that no jeeps were available as there was so little fuel. An hour later, though, a jeep had been found (through our hotel manager's connections) and a price negotiated. In all, the 11 hour trip down to Rishikesh cost us 2000 R – a luxurious trip in a jeep with only 2 other passengers and the ability to ask the driver to stop when we wished. Highlights were close up views of the black faced monkeys of the region (didn't get a photo), driving over the Tehri dam (usually forbidden but opened due to the road blockages), interesting conversation with our travelmates, the clutch of the jeep breaking and having to be repaired, and walking over the major landslide that will keep that road blocked for some time.

transport up to the point the road was blocked (gone):

Tehri dam

After a night in Rishikesh, we made our way by bus to Delhi (should have gotten a bus directly to Agra but we didn't think to ask about that- oops!).
View out back of hotel of flooded Yamuna river (same hotel we stayed in at the very beginning):

The following day we headed to Agra. There we had our first experience staying with a Servas family (an international peace/cultural understanding/hospitality organization). We spent 2 nights with them and it was indeed an interesting experience, but one for a blog entry all in itself. We spent 4 hours wandering the Taj Mahal, the back of which is up against the flooded Yamuna river. Beautiful and fun to see it in the changing light from 6:30-10:30am. The foreigner ticket price of 750R though seems rather extreme when Indians pay only 20R. Supposedly this is the doing of the current fundamentalist Hindi government and when the Taj Mahal was controlled by the Muslims everyone just paid 5R and it was free on Fridays (though that was maybe 16 years ago).

Sign in the above picture says to stay away from the railing!

Then we took what was supposed to be a 1 ½ hour bus ride to Bharatpur to visit the bird sanctuary there. However, the ride ended up being 5 hours due to a political group blocking the highway in protest to try and get government seats in Delhi (we were first told it was a traffic jam – though we could see only open clear road from where the police stopped our bus) and the detour over country roads too small for our bus and driver. I had fun documenting the unexpected safari trip and getting to see the little villages along the way.

This morning we woke up at 6 once again (somehow this is easier when it isn't in order to get to work on time) to get to the bird sanctuary in time for some cooler viewing. We saw a ton of cool birds and managed to get out without getting too cooked by the sun (but we were getting there). It must be more than 34 degrees but it is cool enough in our cement and fan cooled hotel room.

Not sure where we're headed next. We have to make a plan this afternoon.

Well all this above was written a week and a half ago. It took a long time to upload all the pictures and today we actually left India and arrived in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. So I guess I better quickly wrap up the India portion of this tale!

We ended up taking a day trip to see Fatehpur Sikri - the ancient city that was the capital of the Mughal empire 1571-1585 during the reign of Emperor Akbar. He built the capital here after a saint who lived there accurately predicted that he would conceive a heir. Unfortunately after Akbar died the city was abandoned as the capital due to water shortages in the area. He was married to a Hindu, a Christian and a Muslim and each Empress had her own building within the palace grounds. The fort is in ruins, but the palace and mosque are a world heritage site.

Sounds and sights from rooftop restaurant (a mild case of honking):

The next day we took the train to Bundi in southern Rajastan and stayed there a day and a half.

the palace - started in 1607 and added on to over the years:

walking around town:

men making arm bangles:

the bus ride back north towards Jaipur:

We then went by bus up to a WOOFing farm (amla orchard mostly) but they already had 4 volunteers there (painting decorations around the doorways) so they wanted us to pay. We only stayed one night/day as it didn't feel right paying for what the other volunteers were getting for free and the farm manager wasn't interested in showing us the farm even. So we headed to Jaipur for 2 nights before going back to Bharatpur where there was good food and a friendly hotel where we could rest.

 Below picture is an observatory built in 1728 by Jai Singh. This picture is a giant sundial (27 meter high gnomon - "shadow maker").

One the way to Bharatpur we took a little detour to a small village, Abhaneri, which has a huge step well (20 meters deep) from the 10th century.

One day we borrowed the hotel bicycles and rode back to the detour our bus had taken, exploring the villages along the road.

preparing dung patties for fuel (they store these in decorated dung huts - see 4th picture below):

Camel/cattle market happening on the outskirts of town:

Also a day trip to Vrindavan - birth place of Krishna and the headquarters of the International Hari Krishna movement which involved too much walking in a hot dusty and polluted town that was much more spread out than our Lonely Planet map indicated. Overall a grumpy day.

Yamuna river back almost to normal size (same river that was flooded in Delhi and up to Taj Mahal):

Our final days in India were spent on the outskirts of Delhi with a wonderful SERVAS couple who have dedicated their lives to living the Ghandian way. When they first built their house it was in a village and now it is the dusty dirty city. Sad to see pictures of the garden that used to be in front of their house!

getting milk from the milk man:

views from the roof:

 the site of Gandhi's cremation and the National Gandhi Museum:

An airconditioned bus took us to the airport which was quite a contrast from our first hours in India when we traveled by rickshaw to our hotel late at night! Quiet and comfortable, we arrived at the airport with plenty of time for the 6 hour flight to KL.

After a few hours rest in our hotel, we ventured out into the city and delighted in the absence of honking and excessive dust. Construction sites use metal scaffolding here and there are street name signs. Cars use signal indicators to switch lanes and people stand in lines. Interestingly words often have the "t" dropped in words. But what was the best was the amazing macrobiotic organic restaurant we found (and ate lunch and dinner at). Our bodies were so happy to have delicious greens and brown rice and just overall amazing food. Unfortunately, it isn't as cheap here as India so it's going to take some practice to figure out how to stay within our budget.

 

Some final reflections about India which I actually wrote mid-trip when we were delayed in Uttarkashi:

India tells many stories.

It is a country where many people survive day to day through their physical strength. A man carries his elderly father, who has a swollen and twisted foot, down the steep mountain on his back. Girls carry huge piles of grass back home to feed the family cow. Women carry wet cement on their heads to create a concrete column one basket at a time. Boys carry multiple boxes held in place by a rope slung over their forehead and around the boxes, at times bent over almost horizontal under the immense weight centered on their foreheads and back. A family carries stones on their heads to make a stone pile (to later become a shelter?) half way up a steep hill. Rickshaw drivers wipe sweat off their faces with an already soaked handkerchief as they pedal on through high heat and humidity, carrying their passengers to some destination. No longer young porters doggedly follow recently disembarked train passengers, hoping for a customer in this modern day of wheeled suitcases. A trekking porter sits on the ground to get into the straps of a pack filled with heavy tent, cooking stove, pressure cooker and other supplies, then brings his feet up into a squatting position and with the help of a fellow porter finally stands, ready for the days steep trek up to a mountain pass. A woman rests the bulging sack, that is strapped to her back, on top of a roadside wall for just a moment before continuing on her way down the road. These people have a physical strength I cannot imagine and it is with enormous respect and awe that I watch them while simultaneously an emotion that is something like pity edges in. 

And what about the female lawyer and police officer, dressed as their male counterparts with their hair pulled back in tight buns? Is this also a sign of strength in a country where boys outnumber girls 4:1 in the line up of students standing outside a school during a dismissal ceremony? Or is that better left for the story of a transition from traditional to modern gender roles and trying to make equality and respectful treatment partners rather than exclusive of each other? Are women weaker/different and thus need special treatment such as separate lines for buying train tickets? Are they deserving of more respect than they've historically received and thus should not have to shove and push with the men to try and make their way to the ticket counter? Or maybe that separate line is a form of equal treatment and respect – everyone deserves to be able to make their way to the ticket counter and this is the only way to make this possible in a country where the queues rapidly disintegrate if not enforced by a policeman with a whistle. Select seats in the bus are labeled for women, freedom fighters, and senior citizens, yet a young man in the packed like sardines filled train argues good naturedly for several minutes with a group of women trying to convince him to give up his seat for one of them before relinquishing his seat. Is this an act of disrespect or respectful equal treatment?

Then there is the story of devotion which is also a kind of strength. A woman's facial expression in Amritsar as she gazed at the Golden Temple with her palms pressed together at chin height. On their way to work, pedestrians kissing the base columns of a temple not in sight and in actuality at an entirely different street level above them. Tents and halls full of people listening to religious sermons on the banks of the Ganges. A crowd of brightly clad female pilgrims, large red circles centered on their foreheads, wash their feet at a public town pump before entering a temple. A man recites a prayer and passes his hand over the candle illuminating his face warmly against the night sky. Then he squats down and gently releases the flower filled vessel constructed from large fresh leaves that carries the safely nestled candle and prayer down the swiftly flowing Ganges. A motorcycle shares the protection of a garage with a clay statue of a holy cow. An elderly woman, facing the Tibetan temple, lowers herself down to the ground, slides fully out along a wooden plank and then slides herself back up to standing where she presses her palms together at chest height and repeats the movements again, over and over again. People of all ages and dress, from traditional Tibetan to western, walk briskly the course of a mountain path alongside which are prayer flags strewn through the evergreen trees and rocks painted brightly with characters and words we can't decipher.

And these two stories are connected as the sign in Shimla stated “work is prayer” and in Amritsar the Sikh values of work being a form of devotion is clearly expressed through the volunteers cleaning and maintaining the life of the temple and a reality of thousands of visitors a day visiting, bathing, praying, sleeping, and eating there.

Then there is the story of being a tourist which has nothing to do with India per se but is a story that takes place everywhere. The curtain between us and them with light shining through allowing us to see the colors and some interesting details in each place, yet not understanding much of what we see, nor being able to connect with the people we see (and if I'm daring or lucky enough, snap a photo of). We see the beautifully painted temple doors, yet we don't understand the words being spoken to the large group seated in front of the guru or priest, and yes, we don't even know who he is. Is he telling a story? Giving a sermon? Or imparting philosophical/spiritual words of wisdom? And is there actually any difference between the three? But I see the shoes, cast off at the edge of the temple. What mayhem ensues when the talk is concluded? Or, as people seek their shoes, is there order here in this space of spiritual reverence, an order which does not exist when trying to get money out of the only working ATM in town, or when trying to get on a train, or even to find out from the train station inquiry desk what track one's train is leaving from.

And yes this leads to another story of India, that contrast of chaos and calm. The peaceful oasis of the Bajinath Shiva temple while just outside the high wall, buses and taxis honk away around the bend of a dusty and littered road. The Amritsar temple also a sanctuary of calm just meters away from the most chaotic (busiest, loudest) streets I've ever experienced. And the hotel rooms are our sanctuary, our oasis of calm after 7 hours on a dusty exhaust filled bus winding around mountain hairpin bends, or after walking around a village/town/city in search of someplace we feel comfortable eating, or just a venture out to find the temple we've read about in the guide book.

That curtain is both a protection and a limitation. 

And then there are all the missed photos – the pictures I wished I'd had fast enough reflexes or the courage to catch. But that isn't a story by itself, rather the frustration of a tourist trying to bring into focus the shadows she sees on the other side of the curtain as thoroughly as possible, hoping perhaps that with those pictures she will come just a little bit closer to this place.