19 Not Out - Amritsar, Delhi (again)

Hi again,
I am making a habit of writing every four days or so because we have been so busy, but I will try to cut that down to a day or so in future – there is so much to remember.

Where I left off, I believe we were in Orchard hut in Chamba, and leaving the next morning.

Well, we did leave. At around 8:30 we satisfied ourselves with a final serving of breakfast at orchard hut – porridge, yoghurt, bananas and parathas (fried flat breads, they taste like wholemeal toast lathered in salty butter, except better), paused for one last gaze and the view, absorbed the serenity, and said our goodbyes to the family we were staying with, and walked down the mountain to a jeep. We were due in Amritsar by 7:30pm.

The jeep bundled us along the mountain passes. We stopped once for a quick lunch and I had my first encounter with a drop-dunny. Yes, I have managed to avoid them by judiciously reliving myself morning and evening time at the hotel before embarking for a day. This one was not so bad as it had clean fresh water running down it from the mountains (i’m not sure where it went therafter). When I say not so bad, I mean in comparison to my expectations of a stench so bad it gagged any desire to go to the toilet in the first place. I wouldn’t say it was ‘good’. In fact Kate was the brave one who went first.

We drove for four or five hours (I can’t fully remember) past some nomads herding buffallo along the side of the road to the train station – Patanthot (pronounced Pat – an – court).

It had been warm in the hills. Walks up the mountain would break a good sweat. But the heat was manageable. For all but our first day in Delhi we had been in the hills thinking that India was quite a mild place. Not so. At this time of year, apparently somewhere like chamba is supposed to be 10-20 degrees. It hardly dropped below 20 at night. This means that on the north inidan plains, the temperature is 30-40 dgerees. When we reached Patanthot and loaded our packs on or backs, it slapped us like an indian pigeon-fight. Immediately we scattered for shelter in the railway station. We sat there for an hour or so waiting for the train to Amritsar.
The train was half an hour or so late. Although it was only a four hour journey, the train ride was ardous. I couldn’t seem to get comfortable on the seat and my bum kept going numb, requiring movement to another position.

It was 8pm when we arrived in Amristar and 38 degrees. Shakti had been egging me on all trip saying it was the most ‘basic’ hotel on the trip. He would always complement that with ‘and the hotels you call basic, I would call luxury’. The rooms were clean with an air conditioner. Downstairs there was a bar with beer on tap and very fine food. We had a shower, and made our way down, enjoyed a drink and a meal, and prepared to go an see the golden temple.

By the time we left, it was getting quite late (10pm or so) and we took a cycle-rickshaw to the temple. Amritsar could not have been more different from where we had been. Instead of mountains there was blazing headlights and rubbish. Instead of spring-water pouring into a pool there were the incessantant horns. Instead of the sparse villagers of the hills, men crusted with sweat and dust push their rickshaws up a hill past hundred of people who sleep on the side of the road, or the median-strip. I’m not exaggerating, its hundreds.

I don’t know what to think of cycle-rickshaws (things where someone peddles on the front and you sit on the back). One the one hand, they are degrading. Fat people sit on the back while skinny people peddle them around. On the other, if you take an auto-rickshaw, or a taxi, then those people do not recive income. Also, cycles do not further contribute to the chronic pollution problems (I am back to pulling black snot out of my nose). Walking was not an option (it was 10pm and festival time where then local young men get juiced up and rowdy). We decided not to take them the next day, but I;m not sure it was the right decision.

The Golden Temple is a spectacle. You have to take your shoes off, cover your head and wash both hands and feet before entering. The volunteers that work there provide food for people 24 hours a day, no matter background or religion. They also let anyone who needs a place to sleep to do so within the confides of the temple, so when we visited there were rows and rows of people sleeping on the marble floors. I wont try to describe it, the photos give a better idea.

We took the rickshaw back past a greater number of noisy men and people on the side of the road, and went to bed.

I set the alarm for 10am (we were meeting for breakfast then and needed to pack out bags first) but for some reason the clock was set one hour fast, so we turned up to breakfast an hour early.

After a couple of rounds of chai, we headed out for another day of sightseeing. First we visited a Skih-inspired Hindu temple. It was so inspired that it was basically a smaller version of the golden temple, complete with the gold plated inner sanctum surrounded by water and bordered with a marble promenade. Its was coming up to a festival where a god from Sri-Lanka abducted the wife of one of the Hindu gods and took her to Lanka (now Sri-Lanka). The monkey god Hanuman was put on the case and rescued her from Lanka by building a bridge of stones across the ocean-pass. It is this victory that is celebrated. As a result, all the kids are dressed up as one character or another in the story. Some wear Alf-oil and tinsel suits while others take on the orange monkey god costume.
After the hindu temple, we returned to the Golden Temple to see it by day. Again, the photos show it better than words. We had many people come up to us wanting photos with them and saw a guy being roughed away by two spear-wielding sikh guards after he had been caught trying to steal. We also saw the man in the guiness book of records for having the longest hair in the world. He is a Sikh with a enormous beehive of a turban. His hair is over 300m long.

Just down the road was a memorial park commemorating a place where some hundreds of people were killed by British soldiers. They had preserved the well that people had fled into and bullet holes in the walls.
We returned to the hotel after some lunch and hung out in the day-room there. At around 4pm we left for the India-Pakistan border for the evening border-closing ceremony. We were ushered into the ‘VIP’ area, which is theoretically a reserved area for foreigners, but in practice we were ushered through quickly because we looked European. There were numerous security checks at which everybody queues up Indian-style, which just mean everybody just pushes in. Funnily enough, however, there is very little ‘pushing’. It more about strategically positioning yourself and slipping into gaps in the melee. Actually the only person I have been pushed by was two British guys in the queue who just straight shoved me out of the way. Amateurs.

The ceremony is a carnival. People are dancing and there is the latest hindi music blaring over the loudspeakers. Women in bright, red, green and purple saris wave flags and sing. On the Pakistan side of the border, you can see women wearing in the same-coloured outfits, but with headscarves, singing and chanting and waving flags. The ceremony begins with a border soldier yelling over the loudspeaker for as long as he can. Then the crowd goes nuts yelling and screaming. Then another guy yells over the loudspeaker – ‘Hindustan!’ and the crowd yells back ‘lives forever’ (but in hindi) and this goes on four or five times. A soldier with a fan on top of his turban then marches to the gate, kicks his legs high, and waves his fists at a nearly-identical solder (except in green for Pakistan) who is doing precisely the same thing. It is more of a dance than anything else and very well choreographed. The flags are then lowered and taken back to their resting places for the night.

Despite the bravado, apparently these men (they are men in the ceremony, although there are a large number of female soldiers at the ceremony and in the Indian army who perform combat duties) share a odd kind of friendship. When the ceremony is not going on, they play cards and smuggle booze across the border (alcohol is tricky to get in Pakistan). If hostilities break out, however, these men and women are the first to be attacked.... by one another. I found the ceremony really interesting, although a little sad.

On the way back to the hotel, which is right across from Amritsar train station, we stopped off at another temple. By this stage I was exhausted and running out of energy, especially for temples. Again we had to take our shoes off and walk across the street to get to it. This temples we stopped at, however, was very very strange. Most temples we have visited are dedicated a single, or multiple ancient Hindu gods. This temple, however, was dedicated to a recently deceased woman, Lal Devi, who had built the temple from donations. People, including our guide, believed that this woman had the power of a god and is considered a saint in Hinduism. Females come to this temple and pray when they wish to become pregnant. Pictures and statues of Lal Devi, in the same reclined pose are all around. The temple itself was also quite odd. It was based on a similar temple somewhere in the Himalayas and consisted of a series of winding tunnels, walkways and showrooms. Some tunnels you had to crawl through, others had milky brown water in them, the showrooms had display-cases with statues of the gods in them or were gilded with mirror tiles from ceiling to floor. It felt like a mix between a house of horrors ride and an art exhibition.

Our bags were packed for the overnight train to Delhi (in a carriage with air conditioning). The train left more or less on time and the journey was comfortable, although I did not get a lot of sleep. Sleeper trains are a very comfortable way to travel though, much nicer than the buses. We arrived back in Delhi from Amritsar at 7am or so in the morning and made our way back to the Hotel.

Our second visit to Delhi was something of a surprise. I had made a bit of a mistake with our bookings and were in delhi for 2 nights/3days, not 1. We were looking forwards to coming back to Delhi in some ways, we were familiar with the area we were staying in, knew good places for breakfast, dinner, all the simple things. But we saw a lot more of Delhi than was anticipated. The first day in Delhi was fairly slow. Kate and I wanted to look for a cheap, very small laptop. We did not bring enough camera storage and I was spending too much time sitting in internet cafe’s. We jumped on the Delhi metro (which is fantastic, cheap, air conditioned and no hassles like negotiating a rickshaw) to Connaught place, the centre of new delhi. Connaught place is a circlular park with radial roads moving outwards. We walked around the central section past brand stores, had a cornetto, but found nothing. One tricky aspect of India is knowing who to trust, particularly when people approach you. Connaught place is apparently replete with touts and dodgy tourist agencies, each who have their scouts in Connaught place waiting to drag you there, usually to offer a trip to Kashmir. Of course, some people genuinely want to help you, and given my permanently beliwildered disposition, we probably look in need of some help. Anyway we followed some guy who asked us about the cricket, we ended up at a ‘government approved’ tourist agency, got a free map of Delhi and were not offered any trips to Kashmir, so I think he was genuine. Its just difficult to tell.

Eventually we found somewhere back in Karol Bagh near our hotel - ‘e-zone’ (like Harvey Norman at home) where we bought an Acer laptop for around $500 AUD.

In the afternoon we visited the market area of Parahanj. This is a suburb not far from Karol Bagh where most if the tourist hostels are. Paharanj is basically a narrow road lined with street stalls, colourful fabric and clothes shops, dangling bannans and tangled electricity wires that runs from New Delhi train station for 2 or 3 km. Kate bough two long and loose tops to try and beat some of the Delhi heat, (which is unbearable at times) for around $7.50.

Our second day was a big day of sightseeing, although not all of it was what we predicted. Again, it was 36 degrees. We broke the rules and had a buffet breakfast in the morning. Actually, up to this point, I had not eaten mean since we arrived.

Kate, myself and Kristine (the lady from Denmark we have been doing some travelling with) hired a taxi for the day (through intrepid) for a good price. Our driver was a Delhitie who had worked in Bahrain for 23 years providing chilled meats to the royal Family and the US Navy. He said he also tried to avoid ‘messy customers’, when I asked what a messy customer was, we said ‘blackies... Ugandans, Kenyans, Africans’ who are apparently drug dealers and trouble-makers. Many of the evil or desparate characters on Hindi soap programs also seem to be African-looking. One constant over the world seems to be racism.

First we headed to Humayum’s tomb - an expanse of ancient Mughal gardens and monumental graves. Humayam’s tomb is around 500 years old and the precursor to the Taj Mahal. It is truly stunning. They have been declared world heritage sight and , as such, are very well maintained.
Second we visited the Qutb Minar, a complex of ruins south of the central Delhi area. These ruins are nearly 1000 years old. Some are very well maintained, others are decaying or have been recently excavated. Overall, the site is very well maintained and reminded me of a wide public space where people would gather to talk, maybe do shopping. It was incredible to see structures so old. Both the tomb and the Minar exceeded all expectations, they were a great reminder of how old Delhi’s importance to the subcontinent is.

Thirdly, we headed out for lunch. The guy, Sam, who had organised the taxi (the property manager from Intrepid) had suggested we go to ‘City Mall’. From thousand year old ruins and dusty streets we stepped into the crisp, sterilised air conditioning of a modern mall, bigger than any I have seen in Australia. Young women in designer clothes, manicured hair and delicate makeup walked with slick young men in levi’s jeans t-shirts. I had to go to an ATM, and it was the first ATM that gave out 1000rs notes. It is difficult to describe, but all three of us were experiencing the biggest culture shock since stepping off the plane. While we had seen so much of the poverty, the melee of old Delhi, this was the Indian middle class. It was like we had stepped into a parallel dimension, where everything was like it was at home, and yet completely foreign. It makes you wonder what ruins will be left of the mall in 1000 years time and will they conduct audio-tours of them?

After lunch at the mall, we visited the India-Gate, a memorial for soldiers who died in the first world war and the 1971 India-Pakistan conflict. The India Gate is at one end of a long road lined with flags that begins with the presidential palace and government offices. It is a wide open area where people come to picnic and spend the weekends. The architecture is dominating and imperial. The India-Gate/Presidential Palace area look very similar to corresponding political districts in Washington and Canberra.

We had been invited back to Sam’s place for dinner, so we headed there right after the India gate. Sam lives in one of the western suburbs of Delhi in a very bachelor-esqe apartment. We had a Danish beer before heading out to one of Delhi’s restaurants/bars in Connaught place. His cousin was with us (it was his birthday) and we picked up another, female, intrepid leader on the way. Again, this could have been anywhere in Sydney. Familiar western tunes like Dire Straits, Bon Jovi, and Linkin Park and host of others were played while we talked and danced. It was fun and very relaxing because it was like going out with friends as we would do at home. In the cab home we were treated to Sam’s cousin singing ‘i’m leaving on a jet plane’ and a rajastani destert song. It was a fun night. We got back to the hotel at around 2am.

Unfortunately we had to get up early as we were going with Kristine to meet an economics professor at the university of Delhi. Again we took the metro and met at Connaught place before taking the metro to the university station. Delhi university is enourmous and split up into colleges like the British universities. The facilities, however, are fairly limited with only chalkboards and tiny rooms to hold lectures in.

We went out for coffee with Meeta (the professor) and a friend of hers who teaches in Sociology. They told us about some of the research they were doing, including the impacts of the construction of mega-malls in the places we had been the day before. Apparently many of the traditional leaders of villages in that area had become instantly rich because the value of their land had skyrocketed. However, their culture had not changed, and traditional celebrations in the area had received a massive shot of adrenaline to the point that helicopters were now not uncommon at weddings of over 8000 people. They were both lovely people and it was great to get a different (female!) perspective on many of the things we had seen in India.

Kate and I were due to catch the 10:35 train to Kathgodam (pronounced Kart – go- dam) so we spent the rest of the afternoon frequenting coffee shops and restaurants watching what we could of the Australia-Pakistan game. We took a crazy taxi ride out to old Delhi railway station, stressed in the heat over whether we were on the right platform (the signs on the platform bear no resemblance to the actual train on that platform). Stressed, sweating and exhausted we made it onto the train.

We arrived in Kathgodam at around 6am and took a share-taxi with a family to Nanital, about 35km, but an hour’s drive up the mountains. I had booked a fairly expensive place for us to stay in Nanital, so we could relax for the next few days before heading off on the next section of the journey. We are staying an old heritage listed hotel, I think where important British people used to stay during the Raj. The ceilings would have to be 20ft high. The bed is enormous and comfortable, with a huge bathroom. People are preparing for the festival of lights in a park outside, so that should be quite spectacular when it is done.

What I find really difficult to get acroos is just how exhausting Delhi is. Even if you aren’t going out at night and arriving blarey eyed from sleeper trains, the heat, the noise and the throng saps you from the moment you step outside. I feel like we have seen many sides to it after the last couple of days. It is a contradictory place of the very old and the ulta-modern, of the dusty and dirty, and the sanitised, of immense poverty and wealth. We have both come to like Delhi a lot more than when we first arrived.

At Nanital, we checked in, had a quick breakfast, went to our room, dumped our bags on the floor and both slept for 6 hours straight.