Into Rajasthan

Hi All,
Sorry I have not written in some time, again, we have been very busy every day, with barely a minute between activities to spare. As such, I have written this over the past 7 days or so, in stages.

We have traded the mountains for the desert: traded fresh, crisp air for dry, hot gusts; rainforest for sparse shrubs hunching in the wind; huts nestled into the mountainside for boxy sandstone houses jutting from the baking earth; unassuming, plain-clothed men for deep-set faces, luminous turbans, tweaked moustaches and glittering adornments.

We have moved into Rajasthan. From what I can gather, Rajasthan is a place of immense pride and history. For much of its past, Rajasthan has been divided into smaller kingdoms with all the palace intrigue (alliances, marriages, enormous wealth and great battles) one associates with these kingdoms. Such was the Rajput’s autonomy and independence, that it took great cajoling for the Rajputs to even join the Indian federation at partition in 1947. I was interested to learn that the current dispute in Kashmir goes back to an indecisive Hindu king ruling over a Moslem majority that ummed and arrrhed about whether to become a part of India or Pakistan. A Pakistani invasion forced his hand, but the uncertainty remains.

More of Rajasthan later. After our last post we re-circumnavigated the lake in our giant swan. After we had been to a pastry shop, i had my first, very brief, bout of nausea. It came on very quickly, but the paddle around the lake fixed it. As you would expect, many of the bodies of water in India are horrendously polluted. The main river that runs through Delhi, the Jumna (pronounced Yum-na) has been variously described as ‘black ooze’ and ‘filth’. Industrial waste, sewerage and the aftermath of festivals have all poisoned the river, possible beyond repair according to the media reports here. Surprisingly, water quality has been rapidly declining over the past five years. There was an article in the paper recently detailing the level of some bacteria in the waterways. Even the normally clean Himalayan parts of the river are becoming polluted. A long digression but you might expect that Nanital lake, a small, standing body of water would have suffered a similar fate. Not so. There is the standard rubbish here and there, (not as much as in the rest of India), but the government has come up with this clever way of aerating the water. They have actually dug under the lake and bored a series of airholes at the bottom to pump oxygen through. As such, the water is relatively clean and fish are abundant.

Another thing about littering. Many (certainly not all, I don’t want to pigeon-hole) Indian people just throw their rubbish whenever they happen to not need it anymore. We were on the toy train to Shimla, moving past pristine hills and the most uninterrupted greenage we had yet seen, and these two guys would just finish their lunch, and piece by piece throw their rubbish out the train window. It happens alot. It problematic enough for it to top a list of 10 bad habits people in Delhi have to fix before the 2010 commonwealth games.

We walked back to the hotel and the extravagant construction out the front of our room was almost complete. All the surrounding tress were draped with fairy lights of blue, yellow and red, in one corner of the property two gyus were standing with a hookah (I don’t know what was in it, probably scented tobacco). Roughly in the middle there was a huge, carpeted entertaining areas with dozens of tables, room for a band, all floodlit. We think the whole arrangement would have cost in excess of $100,000. It was for a wedding.

I managed to negotiate a taxi driver down from horrendously expensive to ridiculously expensive for the drive back to Kathgodam. We ate our final dinner and packed.

Most of the next day was spent on the train back to Delhi, when we called. We sat opposite a professor of management and his wife and were entertained by some very energetic kids climbing all over the sleeper carriages, throwing rubbish everywhere, and practicing their English on us. One girl was fond of throwing her (almost) empty packet of chips down near (sometimes on!) us and pleading ‘sorry! Sorry!, oh I am so very very sorry’.

We arrived back in Delhi. The guy at the prepaid rickshaw stand said that I could not buy a ticket to Karol Bagh, but somehow, five seconds later that was possible for Kate. It could have been Kate, or it could have been the policeman standing beside her. Either way, we got in a rickshaw through the choking clog of old Delhi. The driver didn’t really know where the suburb we were staying in was, so I figured he wouldn’t have much chance of knowing where the hotel was. He dropped us at the metro station at Karol Bagh. Karol Bagh is a big place and there are no street names or numbers and we walked around looking confused, accepting every piece of advice we could (while also being a sitting duck for the men selling 2m laminated maps of India and head-massage instruments) getting sent back and forth until someone from intrepid travel realised we must be looking for one of our hotels and guided us there.

The hotel was nice and clean. We met our group for this second part of the trip. In all we are 13 people (including the group leader): 2 Australian ladies in their 50s or so, 2 Australian guys from Melbourne, about 19, a couple from England/Australia, 2 British girls around 20, one Russian lady, and one solo-travelling Australian. Our group leader is a 29 year old guy from Rajasthan (all group leaders seem to be from the warrior caste in Rajasthan).

That evening we went out to dinner with Sam and Kristine (the lady we met on our first tour). Kristine is off to Darjeeling, but we will probably see her again in Goa. Sam is the property manager for intrepid. We had a great night over dinner, a beer and some coffee afterwards. I had the mix vegetable and a sumptuous, buttery garlic naan. I ate meat again too, as Sam ordered mutton and shared it around.

The next morning we headed out for the old Delhi walk of the Mosque, the spice markets and the Sikh temples. The weather was much cooler and overcast. Even though we had already done the walk, Kate and I enjoyed re-doing it, now being a little more comfortable in the onslaught. We returned to the mosque and re-ascended the spire. This time I was able to fully appreciate how enormous and magnificent is the red fort, and for the first time get a feel for what a more ancient Delhi would have looked like. I noticed that the mosque was connected to a market which was itself connected to the red fort, all built in, now smoothed, deep red sandstone. I was amazed to find out that Delhi had been continuously inhabited since possibly 3000BC. Many places rise and fall, but Delhi has been central to history on the subcontinent for many thousands of years.
On the walk through the spice market, we passed through a section for festival shopping with bright flowers dangling overhead. We stopped for a parantha at a tiny restaurant that Jehan Nehru ate. We stopped also for a ‘lassi’ - a cold, yoghurt-based drink which is the closest thing here to a good banana smoothie. We bought some almonds and pistachios for the 19 hour train journey ahead that afternoon.

The train was not as bad as I was expecting. The sleeper trains and generally comfortable, clean and air conditioned. We spent the afternoon and evening all chatting and getting to know one another and we slept reasonably well. In the morning the conversations continued and we arrived in Jaislamer surprised that nearly a full day earlier we had stepped onto he train in Delhi.

We arrived in Jaislamer at around 12pm. Apparently it was 42-45 degrees when we arrived, but I am struggling to tell the difference between 38 degrees and 45 degrees. It’s all just damn hot. Jaislamer is a different kind of hot though. Warm winds blow across the desert and the air is drier. In Delhi it is both hot and sticky. The heat in Jaislamer is more draining thasn you think too – a short walk through the streets leaves your mouth sticky and your head dizzy.
Jaislamier is used to be an important town on the Silk Road. It’s near the India-Pakistan border in central-west Rajasthan. The centrepiece of the town is a 12th century sandstone fort that still houses 5000 people. It is like stepping back in time, the streets are narrow, gold sandstone that has worn smooth over nearly a thousand years. Most of the buildings are as old, and retain all the delicate carvings of the time. In its prime, people in Jaislamier used to be extremely rich from looting and trading with caravans on the silk route. Wealthy merchants built these houses called ‘Havelis’ (mansions) that still stand today. The bigger, more grand and more beautiful your Haveli, the wealther you were. Much of the wealth and decadence is still apparent in the buildings, but the locals have taken to looting tourists instead of caravans these days.
Jaislmer reminds me a lot of Venice, minus the water and in the middle of the desert. Every corner is another postcard-photo. The fort at Jaslaimer is actually sinking into the sand (maybe that’s why it reminds me of Venice too). Because of poor drainage under the fort (which they are trying to fix), the fort will eventually disappear.

After arriving in Jaislamer, we drove to our hotel. We are staying inside the fort and the rooftop has views over all of Jaislamer town, the enormous wind farms and Indian army bases that surround the town, and the desert beyond. Soon after arriving, we took an orientation walk around the fort and into the town below.

I had enormous expectations about Jaslamier - being out in the desert, staying in a 12th century fort, watching a sunset (all a little touristy i know) were parts of our journey i had been most looking forwards to. I can truly say that it lives up to all expectations. As with all of india, there are sad and disturbing parts, and for the first time, some very touristy parts (there are a lot of westerners here, more than we have seen all trip), but the beauty of the place is immense.
Most of the fort has been preserved – you walk along the golden-cobbled streets and buildings, past stately white, Brahmin cows luxuriating in the shade, to be confronted at every corner with a building, rampart, or a temple hundreds of years old and decorated with the most precise and intricate carvings. At the same time there are children collecting rubbish and begging for money, shopkeepers yelling ‘come and spend your money here’, ‘come and see many beautiful and wonderful things’, women dressed in sequined red, hooded saris selling anklets, and open sewers that waft from time to time. One guy even just said ‘come into my shop and let me rip you off’. Business must be good. Then you will turn an innocuous looking corner that opens out to a view across the desert.

That afternoon, when it was cooler, we took an orientation walk through the streets, past a Jain temple, to a cannon aiming out over the plains, past the market outside the fort and to the ATM. Most of the shopkeepers knew we were on such a walk and would shout ‘when you finish tour, you come to my shop, bring your friends’. From what I can glean, Jaislamer survives mostly on tourism, and a little from the many army bases and wind farms.

We returned to the rooftop restaurant in time to watch the sunset, but the dust and haze over the horizon had blotted it out. We sat on some cushions at a low table and had a drink, ate dinner and listened to the group leader tell us the Sri-Lanka abduction story (although in far more detail). At festival time, they can take 5 days to tell the story. An interesting addition to this version was the presence of ‘deamon faced Lankans’ that are still inhabiting Sri-Lanka today. Again with the racism. We also talked alot among one another and listened to one of an English girl’s (Natasha’s) hilariously animated imitations of her Greek father. She in turn was inconsolable at many of another lady’s (Leanne’s) Australianisms.

The next morning we visited some of the Haveli’s around town. In total we visited two. The biggest one stood probably 3 stories tall with its entire facades covered in carvings of peacocks, elephants and various other patterning down to the detail of a fingernail. It was nice, but the whole town is so captivating that I was getting a little over-captivated, where something that is rightly stunning gets a ‘yep that was okay’.

In the afternoon we had free time, so Kate and I stimulated the local economy. We not doubt were horrendously ripped off (and there are certain people who have no qualms about telling you) but bought a couple of shirts, Kate bought a nice skirt (for $3 or so) and a leather water-holder (for the camel trek thing). I am fairly confident about conducting the full bargaining process in Hindi, but it a battle to get them to even speak Hindi, so touristy is the place.
The leader had organised for the entire group to be dressed in Rajasthan garb, to go and watch the sun fall over the fort from outside the town. So I was dressed in ‘pyjama’ pants and a loose shirt with a rainbow turban on, while Kate was decked out a full green and maroon full Sari. Kate looked exquisite, I looked like an imposter. I now think all of this was organised for the leader’s amusement, as we walked outside the fort past the chuckling and jeering of the locals. Others enjoyed it, and, yes now I am not doing it, I can see how it was funny, but it was among the most humiliating, cheesy, embarrassing, twee 30 minutes I can remember.

Anyway, we watched the sun cast its last over the fort and took a taxi to the restaurant we were eating at. Again, it was a magnificent place, a blocky, sandstone structure a few kilometres from the fort, but set right in the desert with views back of the fort rising over the town. I did my best to take some photos, and we’ll see how they are when they go up. We chatted and shared a drink and ordered our meal. Then, from below the balcony we were sitting from came the undulations of a drum, then another, then some cymbals and some other instrument.
I hate dancing.

At first it was okay, an Indian lady performed a traditional dance with all the hand waving and graceful movements. One of the ladies in the group who is prone to prefomrmative outbursts ascended the stage and started dancing and playing instruments. That is fine, I was happy to leave it to the professionals and the un-inhibited. Then more people got up, and eventually the Indian lady descended and I was up there with Kate gyrating and fumbling, turning out of time and waving my hands like the queen on amphetamines. All in my stupid rainbow turban and pyjama pants.

Afterwards everyone said, Kate you were so good up there...

Unfortunately Kate’s night went a little downhill from her graceful outfits and dancing. As we were about to eat dinner, Kate had to hastily find a bathroom and re-vistited some of the day. She is fine this morning (the next morning) but we went straight home in a rickshaw, she had some water and slept for 12 hous or so. I think it may have been a little heat-stroke.
Consequently, we have took it easy the next day. We met up with our old group leader, Shakti, for lunch and just chatted and drank tea sitting on the rooftop in the breeze. We then slowly packed for the camel trek, which was die to leave at 3pm.

We took jeeps about 45km or so out of Jasliameir, to a point where the camels were waiting for us. In all there were 12 camels (one for each of us) groaning, urinitating, farting and defecating to greet our arrival. Kate ended up on the biggest camel – a golden yellow, quite majestic camel – while ended up on the smallest and youngest camel who could be yet let off its owners leash (it must still have harboured dreams of freedom). We then rode out across the plains for 2 hours or so.

The landscape started with dark, hard, rocky land with leathery green shrubs that opened like hands from the earth. In time we passed goat herders and agricultural fields that had not seen rain in years. (the monsoon has been very bad in rajasthan, but here in particular) and tiny, barely inhabited, sandstone and thatched hut villages. We rode past the windfarms and ubiquitous mobile phone towers (even when we were camping, I had full mobile phone reception) until the landscape changed to rolling, windswept sand-dunes.

The guide responsible for my camel (and two others that did not need such close supervision) was a wuite, but happy guy from one of the surrounding villages. He was 23 had been recently married to a girl that he had never met. The parents had arranged the marriage when he was 19. He had never been to school, and did not know how to read or write, but spoke excellent English that he had gleaned from tourists.

We stopped at a camp not far into the sand dunes. The cam itself was set in a small clearing int he dunes, but completely surrounded by them (for wind-protection, as we later found out). We descended from the camels and walked atop one of the dunes to watche the sunset. On arrival there were fresh pakoras and cold drinks waiting for us (neither of which were expected). For the evening we sat and chatted while watching the desert overtake the deepening sun. I really do like sunsets, and this one was memorable – truly a highlight of the trip thus far.
After the sunset (it took a long time for it to become fully dark, it was eight or so before the stars were out in full) there was more dancing and music with the same ridiculous thrashing and fitting on my behalf (minus the turban). We ate a farily simple meal of chipatis and some mixed vegetables at aounrd 10pm. Kate and I then dragged our stretcher beds up on top of the dunes and went to sleep under the stars.

Unfortunately, I did not sleep well. The breeze became more gusty and cold. By morning it had left a crust of sand on my backpack. The moon was nearly full, immuminating the dester liek day and the morning dew was absorbed by our blankets, dampening them and making it even more cold. I was in the semi-concious sleep state for most of the night – aware enough that it was cold and windy, but not aware enough to do anything about it.

We missed the morning sunrise because of cloud-cover and ate a few pieces of toast before riding back out on the camels.

At the hotel I was tired and riddled with sand monsters that were crawling all over me. We showered, I visited the ATM and had a nice conversation with a guy who, all the time was dicing onions as thin as paper. There were a lot of army personell in the streets, on leave I think.
By 1:30 we were on a bus with a ridiculously loud clown horn to Jodphur – the blue city. This bus was more luxiurous than the hills buses. We had reserved seats, although one must interpret ‘reserved’ with some liberalism in India. We had a brief incident with one very aggressive young man who tried to push his way onto a couple of seats without asking, and really freaking out one girl ion our group. It’s like anywhere else – a little politeness goes a long way and if people ask, generally evenyone is more than willing to share.

Our visit to Jaslamier was incredible, and everything I expected it to be. We have been in Jodhpur for a day as a write this, and already I am taken with the place. All I will say is that it is hot. In Jaslamier, you feel as though you are in an oven. In Jodhpur, it feels like you are on a fry-pan.

Love to you all,
Charlesand Kate.

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.

3 Not Out

It was a shaky start to the innings, but we seem to have settled in and are off the mark. Delhi is a crazy dirty, poor, opressive and hot city. Wherever your look there is rubbish or rubble, its like the whole place is under construction. (Actually, there is some truth to that, there is a lot of construction going on before the commonwealth games are hosted there in 2010). I managed to buy a pre-paid ticket for the taxi once we arrived att he airport. Finding a taxi was another story. We eneded up getting directed to the taxi rank 10 meters away buy a man who demanded 10 rupees (20c) for his services. In hindsight, not a bad 20c spent. We got into a taxi with a couple of nice guys. Kate struck up a conversation with one of the drivers who entertained us with his selection of hindi music, played from his moblie phone. The only problem was that these guys didn't know where out hotel was. We drove around Delhi for an hour in the middle of night looking for our hotel 'the hotel good palace'. Winding through streets packed with people and rubbish in the gutter. All the buildings are run down and the air is thick with heat and smog. I keep having to pick blak balls of snot out of my nose. We eventually found the place after visiting a 'tourist office' which I was immediately sceptical of as there are many 'tourist offices' in Delhi, not all of which are reputable establishments. The hotel was clean and air conditioned, but I had not idea where we were. That would have to wait until the morning.

We were meeting our tour leader at 12pm, but we had to do a couple of things first. We had to find some breakfast, get a moblie phone and possible find some lunch. It sounds simple, but when you have no idea where you are, no idea where to go, in a place as foreign as could possibly be imagined, this is more difficult than its sounds.

The first step outside the hotel in Delhi is like a punch in the face. Its so hot, and before you have taken a step there is a little girl holding a baby with make-up on her eyes asking you for money. Those first moments are intimidating. You are at the absolute height of your senses. We manged to find a shop selling phones and an ATM and got some breakfast at the hotel. After a while its not so bad, most people are just going about their days and its not too hard to get into the rythym. You get hassled from time to time to by a belt or a 2 metre map of India, but that is manageable.

We met our tour guide at 12pm. He's a fantastic guy from Rajastan named Shakti. He lives in Delhi. Our tour group is small, just me, kate, Shakti and a girl from Denmark named Kristine. After the group meeting where we got aquainted, went through some do's and don'ts (particualy with regard to beggars (kate has already broken the rules) we headed out for an orientation walk around Delhi.

'New Delhi' and "Old Dehli" are worlds apart. New Delhi is quite spacious and middle class with shopping malls and big parks. Old Delhi is a scrum.

We spent the afternoon in Old Delhi being led by Shakti through the streets. It was nice to have a purpose (even though I wasn't quite sure what it was). Instead of paniking about where we were going and how we were goign to get there, I could walk and take in the streets. We walked through spice markets where emaciated men carry loads triple their size on their backs. We visited an enormous red mosque with four towers 200ft in the air that you can walk up and see Delhi's sprawl. We saw a Sikh temple, travelled on the Delhi metro and hung off the side of a public bus. Exhausting, depressing, fascinating , smelly, unjust, absolutely unforgettable.

Kate wasn't feeling well that night and didn't come out to dinner. I went out with he group at 'crossraods' a popular restuarant not far from the hotel. The intrepid India's properties manager came out to dinner too, and he said he might be able to find us a nice place to stay in Naimital.

I am loving the food. I have spicy curry-like things for breakfast lunch and dinner. Maybe ask me again in a month and i'll think differently.Kate hasn't eaten dinner in three nights, she says the smell makes her want to vomit. She's rapacious in the days though.

I am running out of time, but we woke early to get a train from Delhi to Kaktal (which was very spacious and sir conditioned, they served a South Indian breakfast). At Kaktal we transferred to the toy train traveeling to Shimla. The toy train journey was about 6 hours of winding up the himalayas. Even though we spent 12 hours travelling it was a realxing day. We are staying at a hotel that looks over the town of Shimla, the capital of Himchal Pradesh built on the faces of the himalyan foothills. Its a truly spectacular place.

Today we walked around Shimla to a monkey temple (on the top of a mountain)where we had a dot painted on our head and 'drank' some suspicious water and were given crunchy lollies. Some people that went in before us had their lollies stolen by the monkeys. Kate swung on a swing. We then walked back down the mountain, past the local Anglican church (there is a Diocese of Amritsar!) and down to the house of the viceroy durign the british raj. They drafted the India-Pakistan partition here in 1947. The whole of India was ruled from this house during the summers. We've just walked back through 'mall street' and am sitting at an internet cafe.

Shimla is an amazing place. It is laid-back, and not too crowded. Shimla is in many ways middle-class. There are coffee shops and brand-labels with expensive (i.e Australian priced) items. Many Indian people come here for their holidays. Whatever it is, it is a welcome relief from Delhi. The weather is pleasant, still warm, but cool in the nights. A lot like Sydney actually.

I wish I could say more, but I think I have said enough. There are really interesting things to tel you about the caste system and India-Pakistan relations, but I will come to them later. We wil also have pictures next time. I left the cable at home but we have managed to source another one.

We'll write again soon. We travel to Mandi tommorrow.

Love Kate and Charles.