(Wi-fi and/or power was very sporadic in Leh, so unfortunately this post is several weeks delayed - fellow travelers were frustrated despite us being hundreds of kilometres of treacherous mountain roads from the rest of civilization. Like Louis C.K. says, how quickly we expect something we didn't know before even existed, eh?)
This entry will be more text. This to show the stories and people and places behind the photos and that "getting there is (definitely) half the fun". Having more text will please some and displease others. Skip if you only have patience for the pretty pictures. But I often think about who (and why) I am trying to please in writing this blog. Am I writing this for my personal recollection? No, because posting online with flaky Internet is a lot of work, and because I try to make each post clear and communicative to a general audience - for me, it would be easier to write by hand as events occur. Am I writing it for you specifically, Reader? Sort of, but you can't please all of the people all of the time, and I feel like the entries are too homogenous to satisfy what I expect each person I know expects. Is it to please me? In a way, probably, because I hope you like the post and me because of it. Superficial, eh? But I recognize that I have a deep appetite for external validation. Part of me feels that if I'm not sharing an experience with someone, ideally live with someone who cares but otherwise through media, then it is not really happening. So I'm on this journey to India partly to try and better understand this aspect of myself, and to try and learn to reduce the anxiety I feel about what I think people think of me. That's part of Buddhism - recognizing that a) attachment (expectation) to impermanent things leads to unhappiness when uncertainty and misfortune eventually occur, and b) emotion is pain, because even love depends on someone or something uncertain and unpredictable. By recognizing our desire to impossibly control the world around us and how our emotions prey on attachment, we may become less of a slave to disappointment and be more happy. Sorry for this prelude, but I am a reflexive being, and I often ask myself why I am doing something, and what is the value of that thing. And I am just trying to be honest, with you, and with me. So, now: I hope you really, really enjoy my post about traveling from Delhi to Leh, Ladakh. And love me for it. Nothing is permanent.
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| A. Delhi to B. Amritsar to D. Srinigar (via C. Jammu) and finally to E. Leh, Ladakh. |
Delhi to Amritsar
After significant effort trying to semi-successfully book a train ticket online, then finally going to the hectic New Delhi train station's hard-to-find Tourist Reservation Office to book a non-waiting list overnight train out of Delhi, then confusing which train I'd finally booked and missing it, I eventually got an AC3 (Air-Conditioned Class 3 with sleep bunk - there are 8 classes of tickets in India) ticket to Amritsar for 4:30 in the morning. The trip was actually pretty good, although it took 13 hours to travel 500 km. (As I waited on the platform, a man walked by and picked up my empty mineral water bottle. I had forgotten to crush it as the label instructs, so he will probably refill it with take-your-chances Delhi tap water and resell it for $0.40. My bad.) The berth was comfy and I met a retired journalist who had worked for the Indian Herald newspaper. We discussed Modi's challenge, differences between Muslims, Sikhs and Hindus, and the foods from various regions across India (I learnt that Canadian "Indian Food" tends to be only Punjabi since its mainly Punjabs who have emigrated to Canada). The gentleman (I forgot his name, as I forget most :( was heading East to do a reading of one of the books he had published at a Muslim literary conference. Joining us after leaving Delhi were Sunil and Robin, two cell-phone-clicking 20-somethings who worked as engineers at a large tractor and motor company. They were heading to Amritsar to reconnect with 2 university chums for a long-weekend. They would eventually head to Manali in the (cooler) highlands. But when they got to Amritsar, they were going to watch the Border Retreat Ceremony at the Pakistan border, one of two things most tourists do when visiting Amritsar. As I ate one of the sweetbreads they had offered me, I asked if I could join them. My plan had been to get to the border 30 km from Amritsar before 6 PM for the 'show', then come back to Amritsar, see the Golden Temple at night - the best time apparently - before finding an overnight bus for Jammu on my way to Srinigar and then Leh, a cool and beautiful place in the Himalayas. They were happy for me to accompany them to the border.
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| Me with Sunil and Robin |
We got to Amritsar a bit late after 5, but connected with the 1 friend with a car and headed to the border. We reached a border parking spot around 6 and walked a kilometre through heavy security - Robin coaching me on proper and inconspicuous procedure - arriving as the show was going on. There is a small stadium (<5,000 seats?) on one side for watching the event, which was full, as was the space leading several hundred metres back along the road, so the best we could see was on the small monitors at the side of the road. It's an odd event: given the history between Pakistan and India, the border guards have taken to extreme displays of prowess during their shift changes, with loud shouts, outrageous high kicks, and vigorous foot-stomping as they march back and forth to the actual border. It's all for show - basically a semi-theatrical "Ooooh, watch out, enemy, I'm super scary!!!!" - but at one point, two of the opposing guards ritually shake hands, so clearly nobody is going to open fire. Robin was very apologetic that it was so busy and we hadn't been able to watch, but they were taking such good care of me, and it was a beautiful evening, I didn't care. That, and I'm always as interested in the people and the unfamiliar situations - the food stalls selling kebabs and popcorn, how mother's treat their children, the way each of the sexes is treated at customs [different queues] and that VIPs (which might have been me as a foreigner) have an express line, how Indians bustle more aggressively than Westerners, the variety in dress, etc. - all the differences are what interest me the most - usually more than the particular monument or performance.
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| Almost watching the Border Retreat Ceremony with thousands of others on the India side of the Pakistan border. |
We climbed back in the car and rushed back into Amritsar to try and find the Ecohostel I'd been recommended at Moustache to leave my pack at while I went to the Golden Temple. By 9 PM we still hadn't found the hostel - there are virtually no street numbers or even street signs in India, and Indians will notoriously and frequently give a wrong direction rather than "let you down" by admitting they don't know- so I was about to jump out on my own and not delay their weekend further (MapsWithMe = great GPS-enabled, offline map app), when suddenly we found it. We shared some street food (Gol Gappe, which is little pastry cupswith a lump of potato inside and dipped in luke-warm green soup which, honestly, looks like dirty dishwater - not my favourite Indian food). They insisted on paying for the meal before we bid our farewells.
When I went into the Ecohostel, I found a clean, interesting and chill place. Food and laundry were available on a pay-it-forward basis. The owner, Sanjay, was calm, helpful and gracious. He told me he would happily keep my bag while I went to the Temple, but if I liked, I could take a bunk for the night, and he would book a bus to Jammu for me and arrange for a taxi early in the morning. Turns out 2 other travellers - Domenic ("Nick") and Donovan ("Donny") from Austria (to 100s of standard inquiries from Indians about where a foreigner is from "'Ah' say the locals, 'Australia - beautiful country!'". "No, we said AusTRIA, not Australia." "Yes, Australia!". "Oh whatever - sure, we're from Australia") were also heading to Jammu on their way up to Leh. Although they'd seen the Temple during the day, they asked to join me tonight. Sanjay said if we went for 10:30, we could see the Sikhs "putting the book to bed". Turns out the Sikhs also have a Holy Book, the
Adi Granth, which is read from during the day, the words projected on giant screens at the ends of the Parikrama (the outer walking rim), but they treat the book like a person, so at night, they put it to bed (do they read the book a bedtime story? don't know.) Going into the Temple Parikrama (outer walking rim) was, compared to the frantic Muslim Temple experience I had in Delhi, a relatively civilized and peaceful affair. Yes you still have to check your shoes before going in, but besides covering your head (scarves are provided), the only other feature is that you walk through a shallow stream of water to cleanse your feet. When I entered the Parikrama of the Golden Temple, with the Temple itself lit up brilliantly, it was absolutely mesmerizing. There are many people but it is not crushing or rushed. The entrance to the actual Temple has a thick lineup of worshippers but we elected to simply stay and absorb the occasion from the outside. There were some who walked into the shallow rim of the Sarovar (the "Holy Pool of Immortal Nectar") and then immersed themselves in the water. Some boys swam around and laughed. I dipped my feet in the water.
Afterwards, we returned to the hostel. I talked briefly with a quiet Turk traveling through India. His story is interesting because he also is more interested in India living than India past. He also has not visited the Taj Mahal relic, and therefore will reap scorn from friends and family for not fulfilling their expectations. Anyway, he had researched a medieval monk who was related to the great Persian mystic, Rumi, and had visited this monk's village. He had also researched the Union Carbide disaster and was going to visit Bhopal to see the remaining impact from the disaster. So many travelers and locals I meet, so many interesting stories: soon-to-be Welsh expat Billy and the tattoo of the Mountain Dew motto inside a map of India (c'mon, Billy, you know you want to stay! :); Cori (US) and her 3-week Himalaya climb to 6,300 metres and also a 10-day Virpassina retreat; Tim and his half-year motorbike journey from Australia to here and onto Europe (amazing Go-Pro video blog, with music!
www.betweenhitherandyon.com.au); Charlie from Boston who had actually played Phoenix once (and won, which was a huge upset for his team); Eva who had come to India on a whim; Nicki from Canada who had come to train in yoga and been in Sri Lanka; Nick from Wales who didn't like spicy food (really, Nick? India?!?); the Finn whose name I forgot and who inspired me with his 5-day solo trek up the Markha Valley near Leh - so many people and stories, such explorative and wandering souls. Nick (Austria), Donovan (also Austria) and I had a good sleep before rising at 5 AM to catch the bus to Amritsar.
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| The Guru Ramdas Sarai which the Golden Temple faces. |
Amritsar to Srinigar
After I was in Srinigar and this blog was written, autumn rain storms ravaged Srinigar and Kashmir, killing many people. I don't have details, but this has been a very sad and traumatic story in India.
Getting on buses is the same as in many developing and "3rd-world" countries. There's a complex network of vehicles (e.g. A/C and non-A/C, seat and sleeper), owners, providers (public and private), agents, drivers, destinations and city stations - there's no one-stop shop. You have to negotiate the right combination to leave when you want and arrive where you want to go. One obstacle to getting this right are the many agents who get a commission if you buy a seat on their bus, and they will harass you with promises to earn your tourist bucks. Between the three of us, Nick, Donovan and myself, we got on the right bus.
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| One of the hundreds of brightly-adorned and diesel-spewing supply trucks making the 3 day journey from the south up to Ladakh. |
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Nick and Donovan and friends at a stop on the way to Srinigar in front of shared jeep.
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When we got to Jammu around 10:30 AM, we found the place of the 'jeeps' (basically, an SUV of various brands with a 3rd row seat) and started asking about prices for a "shared jeep" to Srinigar (buses are cheaper, but slower and less comfortable). We finally got a shared Jeep for 650 rupees a piece (about $12) which they say could take 8 hours to go the ~220 kilometres but we knew would take more like 12, with Donovan and me in the back sitting next to a 2nd driver, and Nick in the 2nd row. The drive started OK, but got progressively worse as dusk turned to night and a) we kept stopping for side-bar transactions - like picking up a bottle of moonshine from a desolate, countryside shack for the 2 Muslims in the passenger bench, and b) the main driver - who's bandaged and bloody hand had apparently been injured in a fight - drove slower and slower (trucks were passing us!) and he kept wiping the windshield like he couldn't see! Apparently the 2nd driver, who we liked, was meant to drive the last 3rd of the journey but Fight-guy decided he was staying in Srinigar and he would drive the whole way so driver #2 could drive the whole return journey (poor guy had a lung condition and kept hacking gently - understandable if twice a day, 6 days a week, you do the 10-hour journey behind the hundreds of diesel-puffing Tata supply trucks going toward Leh; once again, Westerners should travel and see the jobs most people in the world put up with before quitting our jobs in disgust). At a stop nominally an hour from Srinigar, although we had paid in advance so had little leverage and also didn't want to piss off Fight-guy, we collectively shouted for a driver change. Fight-guy relented with a grumble, but we made good time for the final leg and finally arrived around 10 PM. I had broken Lonely Planet's no.1 rule and paid a measly 50 rupees ($1) to book one of Srinigar's famous houseboats sight-unseen in Delhi. Driver #2 had been kind enough to let us use his phone to connect with the houseboat and coordinate a pickup (wireless fees in India are dirt-cheap, maybe $5/month, and honestly almost everyone has one, and there is coverage it seems just about everywhere). We got to the houseboat before 11, and although it didn't look exactly like the photos, we were super-relieved to finally be here safe and sound and get in our beds.
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| My drawing of the houseboats and shikara boats on Dal Lake. |
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| ...aaaand, the real thing. |
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| Local in skiff like ours, paddling past wild lotus plants rising from the muddy waters. |
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| Houseboat ceiling detail. |
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| Our northeastern branch of Lake Dahl |
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| Donovan learning the J-stroke while a canoe selling food passes by. Let's just say he's still a better motorbiker than paddler. |
We awoke the next day and saw the surreal place that is Srinigar. Jammu to Leh is part of Jammu & Kashmir (J&K) District. Both Jammu and Kashmir are mainly Muslim as they are next to Pakistan. After Srinigar it gets more Ladakhi and Buddhist. Leh is really a world apart from the rest of J&K and even India, but more on that in the next post. Because of the on-going tensions between Pakistan and India, traveling this heavily-armed route is actually contra-indicated by the latest Canadian Security Bulletin. Jammu is particularly sinister which is why we didn't dwell there. In fact, I've just heard a civilian was killed there a day after we passed through and some kind of lockdown may have occurred. Anyway, back to Srinigar! When the British Raj came here, they weren't allowed to own land for some reason. So they decided to build large, lavish houseboats on the lake and govern the region while living on the lake. There are some 1,400 of them now in various states of unkeep, all moored permanently in long queues along the shores of the shallow inlets, and they are now run as min-hotels / guesthouses for tourists, both Indian and foreign. The names vary, with European and American titles being popular. Ours was called "H.B. Omar Khayem" after some famous historical Indian figure. The boat manager was Judith, a Dutch / American / French yoga instructor of rich, diplomat parenthood and who, at 34, had decided 6 weeks ago to sell / distribute all her belongings in Paris and return to India permanently. Judith is an exuberant, frantic, talkative, controlling and very interesting sommelier / hospitality-er who clearly needs to socialize. We were entertained nights sitting on the poopdeck talking, drinking, smoking and playing music - clearly, Judith had no qualms challenging many local Muslim customs, including morning yoga to House music on the roof of her houseboat (she received a Muslim threat on the boat's Facebook page). Helping Judith were a local family who actually own the boat (everyone's roles are a long story) and a worker from a nearby village. According to Judith, the family includes a daughter aged 20 who has never worked a day in her life and is depressed as she waits for her family to select her husband and she migrates to the 2nd and final stage of her life - devoted wife and mother-to-be. We were not really allowed to talk to her for more than 30 seconds. Several times during the day, the Mullahs would begin the Muslim call to prayer. It was actually enthralling to listen to the many alternating voices emanate from various directions across the lake. Judith said she had started recognizing them: one was loud and proud, another forlorn, and another distant and melodic.
In Srinigar we did 3 things of note (besides live on a Raj-era houseboat in Kashmir, of course!). We climbed to the Hindu temple southeast of the town. It's up fairly high up with several police checkpoints along the way. We realized afterwards ("boy, those Indian girls in T-shirts sure aren't Muslim. Hey, now that I think about it, look at all the western-dressed women...") that it would likely be a good target for an attack it being a rare Hindu temple in a heavily Muslim area of the country. We weren't allowed to take pictures, but at the very top I went into the small temple and had a red third-eye painted on my brow. The second thing we did was visit Shalimar Gardens, one of the 3 well-maintained and age-old gardens near Srinigar. Besides an assortment of beautiful flowers and plants, there are rows of 400-year-old Chinar trees planted along a refreshing, decorative waterway. The last thing which we enjoyed the most was paddling out at sunset into the large bay between the main boulevard (called "Boulevard") and the first row of houseboats, finding the one smoking boat, and having mutton and chicken kebabs cooked for us while floating on the open water. Other Venician-style "Shikaras" (I kept forgetfully saying "I want a Shakira", which isn't exactly the same desire...) would pull up to offer other food and drink, while tourists were taxied back and forth between other H.B.s and shore. Quite special!
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| Me beside one of many 400-year-old planted Chinar trees that line the main garden path. |
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| Shalimar Gardens |
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| Shalimar Gardens panorama |
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| The Kebab-boat-man, with me, Nick and Donovan in our houseboat's skiff having dinner in the middle of Dal Lake at sunset - fantastic! |
Srinigar to Leh
The last part of this journey was the long ride from Srinigar up into the Himalayas and to our destination, Leh. We debated among ourselves about taking a slow bus with a stopover day, or a faster shared jeep and risk another bad driver on the more dangerous road. Our hesitation worked in our favour as a jeep owner dropped his price for the last 3 seats of a car leaving early the following morning from 2,500 rupees apiece to 1,800 each, and paid upon arrival (so we have leverage!) We took the offer. After paddling over for 6 AM departure, and stopping at several places in Srinigar to pick up the remaining local passengers, we were on our way. This driver was great - quick, safe and uneventful. Well, as uneventful as you can be traveling 8 people plus rooftop backpacks along a road that routinely makes the list of top 10 most dangerous roads in the world. Spectacular and not for the faint-of-heart, I tell you! Our photos barely do it justice. The road was actually in better shape than described in guides, but we guessed a lot of the mountain-side reinforcements and new asphalt were to enable the road to support increased military traffic. Still, passing trucks on blind corners looking straight down a vertical kilometre .... I don't know how to describe it. Trust in the driver is all you have! There are obviously accidents, and Ladakh is famous for its varied and creative roadsigns, such as "Bro, if married, divorce speed" :) Well into the day we stopped at a small village and I bought a batch of apricots I have ever tasted from an old lady on the roadside. They were unquestionably the best apricots I have ever tasted. In the jeep with us were Amoo, a middle-aged, Buddhist and Srinigar-stationed policewoman from Leh, and Mustafa, a young Muslim Leh shopowner. Amoo was very outward-going and friendly and offered us a good deal on a homestay but it was outside of town. Although Buddhist, traveling alone through Kashmir she was careful to cover her head and face most of the journey. As the ride moved from Kashmir to Ladakh, she relaxed. She said (as a policewoman) Srinigar was a dangerous place but Leh was very peaceful. I had a good, frank but respectful conversation with Mustafa about religion. He spoke at length about the reason and virtue of Islam. Of course, there are many redeeming values in Islam, but as our discussion progressed, my inquiries became more direct, and I asked him what he thought of Muslims like Boka Harum (?) since Westerners hear such horrible stories and lose any respect or tolerance for Islam because of these extremists. Mustafa did not identify with radicals like Boka Harum (he hadn't heard of the Nigeria story) and Al Qaeda. While a Muslim must never kill an innocent person, he did acknowledge that individuals who broke Islamic law did need to be punished. In all cases, he said, Islam is very logical and scientific, and action is only taken after careful consideration and consultation among the community. When it came to the subject of how to prepare meat for eating, Amoo could no longer hold her tongue and exclaimed that Buddhists do not kill animals for eating, but then the two of them and Mustafa's friend started arguing with each other in some language (Hindu? doubtful. Kashmiri? likely. Ladakhi? possible. There are 22 official languages in India and 1,400 dialects) and my participation ended. We arrived in Leh soon after dark and found the fine guesthouse Nick had reserved for us near the main bazaar.
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| Police checkpoint. The Canadian government actually contra-indicates going to Leh this route instead of via Manali because of on-going tensions with Pakistan for the mainly-Muslim Kashmir region. But the route via Manali is apparently tougher for altitude sickness, so we went this way. |
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| What expanded potato chip bags look like at 3,500+ metres (about 11,500 feet). Any higher and they'd POP. |
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| This is what the highway looked like for much of the 10-hour drive from Srinigar to Leh. |
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As if this doesn't look bad enough, can you imagine passing one of those big lorries coming the other way?? I found I was more relaxed if I just looked out the back window and saw what we had completed, rather than (as Nick had to in the front seat) stare fixetly at the next precipice to negotiate and/or traffic to avoid.
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Next: Leh and the Himalayas, or as their tourist motto says, "Mountains, Monks, and Monasteries"... and Motorcycles. Ouch.
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