So leaving Pravati, whilst heart-wrenching as the place really had taken my heart, was a blessing in disguise. I had to some degree become trapped by apathy and generally finding life too easy to contemplate moving. Moving reinvigorated my passion for travelling and I started to curse myself for 3 “lost” weeks. However, I did feel really good after a month of good diet, exercise and mountain air.
I got the bus from Bhuntar to Daramasala. A rather unremarkable sleeper bus ride it twas. I arrived early in the morning and didn’t quite read up what the plan was here and was rather disappointed that we had arrived in “McCleod Ganj”. I shouldn’t have been, this was the correct destination for all backpackers wishing to visit “Daramasala” to see the Dalai Lama etc. McCleod Ganj is situated just up the hill from the rather unremarkable semi-industrial city of Daramasala and is the centre for the Tibetan refugee cause containing numerous welfare organizations, the main Monastery for Buddhists, the Dalai’s palace, the government in exile and a considerable population of Tibetan refugees as one would expect. I proceeded to try and gauge accommodation in central McCleod Ganj but was rather disappointed by the lack of availability and the price. Not overly fused about locality, and being one for a walk, I chose to locate in a small settlement half and hours walk away in a small secluded valley called Daramkot. The views also were much better and the morning walks were frequented with several head nods to Buddhist monks also out enjoying the mountain air.
After settling in I walked into town to see the main attraction, the Dalai’s temple and palace quarters. The Palace looked more like a rather wealthy if not slightly eccentric city residence, however visitors were kept at bay by a large gate. The gate also posted the Dalai’s expected programme for the next month. Whilst it was quite exciting, trips to Paris and Australia, there wasn’t anything in the near future for the average Tom, Dick or Harry traveller visiting McCleod Ganj.
The Temple directly opposite was more fascinating with beautiful sculptures and copious quantities of Oreo/digestive and every other type of biscuit being offered. I never quite found out why 90% of the offerings were biscuits but I came to the conclusion that the Buddha was a prolific dunker! Whilst I was there, I sent my prayers into the sky, doing a ceremonious clockwise loop of the giant turning prayer cylinders. It was pretty relaxing if nothing else and it makes you realise just how fast we all walk in the West. Strange thing I know, but if you consciously slow down your normal walking place life really does become a lot more relaxed and chilled out. However slowing your natural cadence is quite difficult to sustain (and can be frustrating at first) and really does require a lot of thought until it becomes natural but as Buddhists point out walking is a form of meditation, but only if you make it. Give it a go!
The Tibetan museum detailing with material verging almost on propaganda, the escape and exile from Tibet after China invaded was also well worth a visit, especially the collection of pre-Chinese occupation recent memorabilia such as a Tibetan passport, or a National Geographic mag praising the colourfulness of the flag.
The next day I walked into town to send a few pressies back home. Arriving at the town post office I discovered I had to get it formally packaged. Hmm, bit of a pain. Well walking down the street trying to find somewhere that might package it for me I found the Tibetan refugee handicraft shop. There were a number of little old ladies sitting at sewing machines feeding out all matter of garments and a few men kicking about. There was a really good atmosphere in the place, really bubbly and friendly, and when a little old lady started eating a watermelon whilst sewing the rest of the girls found this very funny and started giggling. I couldn’t help but join in. The man who packaged my box did it with the utmost care and attention to detail. He started off by carefully folding everything into shape and putting it into 2 boxes which he then duck taped together. This was followed by a layer of plastic wrapping then finally the whole thing was sewed in a cloth wrapping followed by sealing all of the stitching with blobs of hot wax. I kind of regret the fact that this would eventually have to be opened! I asked how much and he said a 10 Ruppee donation would be sufficient; I chucked in 20 as it was a rather admirable cause. Still a bargain!
On the way back that afternoon I passed one of the many monasteries in town. I could hear it before I had even reached it, which for many of you, is a rather surprising attribute of the usually calm monastic life we associate in the west. Instead here the monks were “debating” on the roof where 1 monk will “lecture” another 1 or 2. After every point there is clap or two of the hands and quite a lot of foot stomping. It’s quite a loud and passionate affair, but also amazing to watch from the road.
The next day I left early in the morning to go to Amritsar which consisted of taking several local buses. The journey was by and large uneventful as usual but also very scenic at times with a few small river valleys. Oh there was a couple of things. The first thing was that as the bus drove through a military town, with the barracks of various regiments seemingly stretching for miles on the left and right side of the road, the local tuk-tuk’s changed. As there had obviously been a surplus of some jeep they had sold these onto the local population. They had then converted these into a tuk-tuk shape forming a rather monsterous looking massive 3 wheel tuk-tuk. Brilliant sighting for the tuk-tuk twitcher! The next thing to report was entering Punjab. The change in the local populous was quite remarkable, from no Sikh to pretty much all Sikh (actually pronounced sie-que not seek). This was quite reassuring for me as I knew that you could “always trust a Sikh”. This was a rule myself and Rob had made and was totally true.
Well I arrived in Amritsar and proceeded to go to the Golden Temple. From the outside, the building is rather unremarkable, but I donned a handkerchief come headscarf, deposited my small bag and shoes, and walked inside. The golden temple is truly beautiful and sits in a manmade lake with a bridge connecting it to the main courtyard area. The lake is quite stunning and much bigger than I expected. The pilgrimage-making Sikh masses go for a spiritual dip in it. Many obviously cannot swim so grip ropes which descend into the water for their lives! There are many massive Koi carp in the lake soothing the atmosphere.
I seemed to be the only white guy kicking around that day, amongst the literal thousands of Sikhs so attracted quite a lot of attention however they were all very friendly. This also included the guards of temple, who like all Sikhs carry the dagger, but are dressed in a long deep blue shirt, white trousers and white Turban, all immaculately Ironed! However they also carry a massive spear ready to skewer any bad boys! They were very friendly and always seemed ready to talk even if their English at times was lacking and basic.
I visited the community kitchen whilst I was there. This huge building is best described as industrial scale 24/7 food. Literally tens of thousands visitors daily expecting to be fed (free of charge obviously but donations are welcomed) and are done so with amazing efficiency. As you enter the complex you are given the various utensils before being directed towards one of the huge dining halls, where you wait outside whilst the previous sitting finishes being fed. Boom, as the last couple people finish off the doors fly open, people rush to take their place on the floor. I casually strolled in having no particular desire to sit next to anybody in particular. The bucket men instantly start coming round plating up dhal, curry potato and rice. The water man comes round filling your cup and then the chapatti man (flat bread, made here in such huge quantities they have a machine) who drops 2 into your waiting hands.
The people finish up and leave with cutlery to the waiting washing up staff downstairs. Off goes your cup, plate and spoon at different stages. The whole process is manned by temp volunteers who for an hour or so after their pilgrimage is complete participate in this form of community service regardless of walk of life. This takes the form of onion peeling, washing up (this is conducted in a massive covered area just next to the dining hall complex and the sound of which can be heard for a hundred metres around as men and women throw plates onto various piles), giving out utensils or dishing out the grub. It really was quite a sight to behold.
After snapping a few more pickies I walked out to where I had been told you pick up the shared taxis to Attari. Attari is nothing special, just a rather dusty border town with waiting trucks, however the taxis don’t take you to Attari, no, they take you to the actual border with Pakistan. I jumped in a taxi with about 7 or 8 Sikh pilgrims and off we sped. They were all really friendly and helped to explain a lot about the Golden Temple’s history and functionality which was really interesting. We arrived in Attari and were in great spirits. After a couple of potato cakes with sauce (really tasty fast food), the guards started to let us stream in to the long walk to the border through a series of security checkpoints and pat downs. At last we arrived at the border area which was in fact more like a sports arena on both sides. On the way there some other guys told me that if I showed my passport I would get into the VIP section. Meh, worth a try! A quick flash of the passport here and there and boom straight in! Well in fact I got into the foreigners section which was still a dam sight less crowded than the Indian section. In fact there were only about 10 other foreigners compared to the hundreds of Indians who had come for the show down.
Whilst the Indian side was rammed to the rafters with many watching from outside the gate, the Pakistani side was almost deserted with maybe 20 people there (apparently there are nearly none during Ramadan). It almost seemed pointless for Pakistan to be part of this event.
Both sides choose the best from their respective militaries to participate and they are dressed to perfection with not a crease out of place and the most ridiculous head gear on both their parts; the Pakistanis have a black fan like structure and the Indians have a red one. When I say best, these solidiers are handpicked for the border guard regiment due to their extreme height (compared to the rest of the Indian and Pakistani populous, 6ft+ is extreme), muscular build and great ‘taches!
The whole event kicks off with an MC (mic controller aka a guy to get the crowd up for it) shouting out some Hindi interspersed with Bollywood tracks. This is alongside a running of the flag by teenage girls from one end of the “arena” up to the border and back again where they pass it over to the next one. Other men are chosen from the crowd to stand at the top of the seating area and wave the flag. The Pakistani side on the other hand doesn’t really have an MC and so just plays a few tracks and allows its small populous to admire the fanfare on the other side. In the background, behind some of the buildings one can see the tall guards warming up. High leg kicks and short spirits prep both sides for the show down.
The crowd are ushered back to their seats and the guards from both sides with impeccably co-ordinated timing steam out onto the road. They then proceed to battle off with the other side with trumpets, high foot stomping and shouting. This is really amazing to watch as the legs literally go above their heads and they are extremely aggressive in their approach. They parade right up to the border line trying to out do the other side and intimidate them but all the while working in complete synchronisation to ensure a good show for the audiences.
At the end of the half hour duel after the two flags are ceremoniously lowered by the 2 sides the gates are slammed shut and the border guards retreat back inside and the crowd stream off.
I too linked back up with my Sikh friends and off we set back to Amritsar. The taxi man was ever so kind as to drop me off at the bus station which was very handy as I just got in on time to catch my sleeper to Delhi (7 hours).
I slept like a baby on that Air con bus and woke up from the relative serenity of my seat to the hustle and bustle of Delhi. No time to lose though! I hopped straight on a train (19 hours long) to Siliguri in West Bengal. The train journey was again rather uneventful and I arrived in Siliguri where I then jumped on another bus to Kalimpong (1 hour).
Now you will surely be thinking why have you rushed across to the other side of the country to a rather inconspicuous town and suffered almost 27 hours non-stop travel? The reason for this was that my friend, Charlie Goodman, who I went to school with had been teaching English in a Tibetan school there and was scheduled to leave soon. To miss out on an opportunity to see a friendly face from back home was not on the cards so off I went! I arrived in Kalimpong fairly exhausted and found a fairly central hotel. I then went out to find some lunch having agreed to meet Charlie later in the day. However coming back from lunch I spotted her. I crept up on her and covered her eyes to do the usual guess who. She instantly turned round but instead of the warm happy reception I had been expecting, it was a “hello Hamish, nice to see you, these are my colleagues from the school.” They looked abit shocked and I was introduced to them by Charlie who then informed me she had to go to a function with her colleagues but would meet me at the agreed time.
I had obviously broken some social convention and was duly given the warm reception when Charlie met me at the agreed time without colleagues in hand and started to apologise for her earlier reaction informing me that it wasn’t really culturally acceptable for men and women to touch in public. But heyho, shit happens and cultural faux-pas aside we scuttled off to a chai shop to catch up on the last few months.
The next few days whilst Charlie was teaching at the school in the day time I went to a number of sites (primarily Buddhist) around Kalimpong although there was a lovely old church on the hillside. Then once school was over an evening of reminiscing and chatting over chai/watching the odd movie on my laptop/visiting a site or being taken to the school for dinner with the headmaster would begin. But often we would then go to this bar in town with live music most nights and the best bloody marys!
I also went on a 2 day vacation to Darjeeling which is on a hill facing Kalimpong but is a good hour and a half drive in a shared taxi. Darjeeling was indeed the quintessential hillside town it had been described to me as. I went to the zoo where I saw the red panda amongst other species, the Himalayan mountain institute with its remarkable museum and statue of Sherpa Tenzing Norgay, a world famous tea store and also went up to Tiger Hill. This was particularly beautiful with the thousands of prayer flags which seemingly block out the sun. The site is shared with Hindus and the whole experience is particularly beautiful.
The next day I caught the Darjeeling-Ghum-Darjeeling toy steam train. This was in my quest to go on all three of India’s world heritage railways (I have one left in the south to do). The train was exceedingly slow but the experience was enthralling. One of the most memorable points was when the train nearly failed to make it up a steep incline. Each time the train would nearly get to the top but due to the rain that had recently fallen fail to make it to the top as the wheels started spinning before they rammed the brakes on and then put the carriage into reverse. After 5 goes and a lot of saw dust later the train made it and the delight of the passengers (and train crew) was evident. We arrived in Ghum (covered in soot) for a “30 minute” break. I and a Russian who was also on the train met in a chai shop directly opposite the station. After only 10 minutes the whistle sounded on the train. We (along with presumably a lot of other people assumed it was just maintenance) and so ignored it.
“Shit its going” the Russian said.
I gulped down my chai and gave the owner 5 ruppees.
“You not coming?”
“Nah, its gone, and I like it here”
Bullshit I thought. I ain’t spending 300 rupees for a one way journey.
I proceeded to peg it down the road (the train for 90% of the time runs on the road with cars having to avoid it) dodging serious amounts of traffic and what not before I eventually caught up with it. One of the conductors on my carriage (there were only 3 carriages each with no more than 15 people and he recognized me) opened the door and I jumped on. Apparently I had turned into something of a tourist attraction and a little cheer was raised as I boarded the train. However it seemed that the Russian wasn’t the only one caught out by the “30 minute break” as my carriage had half emptied. The journey down was largely the same obviously but I spent most of it hanging out the door watching the scenery go by and for some strange reason I couldn’t get enough of all the smells and noises the train produced.
Back to Kalimpong sadly to go to help out at this BBQ Charlie was planning. As it was her last week she had decided to throw all the boarders at the school a bbq and I was tasked with constructing one. A spliced oil drum, welded legs and a bit of sheet aluminium later and what was produced was quite outstanding! Charlie devised an extravagant and delicious menu with BBQ chicken, Jalebees (orange coloured sugar packed sweets), banana fritters, an onion and tomato relish and of course all washed down with coke. The kids helped alot and a really fun party atmosphere emerged with some spontaneous Tibetan singing and dancing occurring. The food was truly delicious and the kids wolfed down a large quantity, so much so one of the kids was dispatched for emergency chicken!! Indeed it was a truly amazing if not exhausting day!
Charlie and I then got a train to Varanassi. This is probably the holiest place in the world for Hindus. The Ganges river paces through this town and the shore is lined with Ghats (strictly speaking the steps leading down to the water but also the areas around the steps). Most of the Ghats are used for fairly mundane activities such as cleaning or religious bathing and offerings. However there are 3 or 4 notable Ghats. There is an evening ceremony called Agni Pooja at Dashashwamedh Ghat. This is particularly impressive to watch with particular emphasis on some serious pyrotechnics!
The other note worth Ghats are those for cremation. This was a little bit of a shock to myself, who through my relatively sheltered existence had not been exposed to death. In fact as I made my way to the hostel my first view of the Ganges was a guy around 25 years old grieving over a body. Bit of a “shitttt” experience. The main Ghat where the cremations occur seemed to be a bit of a human incineration industrial operation with 2 or 3 on the go at once 24/7.
Another amazing experience at Varanasi was when we caught an early morning rowing boat down the Ganges. This was extremely special and it was also fairly quiet; a change to the usual hustle and bustle of Indian cities to which Varanasi was no exception.
However after a few days in Varanasi, in which I also re-discovered my passion for cricket, Charlie and I parted ways. She left for Rishikesh with an American girl and I for Kolkata.
Kolkata really doesn’t deserve an entry into this blog but I must keep you up-to-date come rain or shine. Indeed in Kolkata it rained; for 4 days straight. Whilst this didn’t really limit my experiences there, having a bacterial colitis did! Dont worry its gone! I wasn’t really interested in Kolkata, I was there to go to the Andaman Islands, but the boat I wished to take had engine failure. This doesn’t sound too good does it? Well, I did get out and about. A couple of highlights;
The Victoria memorial: Ah a lovely throw back to better days. Indeed there she is sitting on her throne, nice and rotund. However whilst her individual statue was beautiful it was the actual Memorial building in the background that was special. A cross of the whiteness and simplicity of the Taj and the grandeur of Buckingham Palace surrounded by small lakes and beautifully maintained exotic gardens. Yes indeed this was truly an East meets West clash. But it was still pretty special.hum
The Indian national museum: I spent a whole day in this place; mainly looking at the massive mineralogical collection with its exquisite Asbestos section! Indeed they seemed to have every available type of Asbestos with several different types of manufacture form. Particularly impressive was the massive slab (tree trunk size) they had brought out the ground. Other impressive collections house at the museum were stuffed animals and skeletons of whales and other large mammals, an ancient coin collection, an entire entrance to a Tibetan Pagoda (this took up a whole room and looked quite out of place) and a fossil collection.
There was some other cool stuff in Kolkata but it was mainly differences in street life like the yellow ambassador taxis and the walking rickshaw (i.e. a guy actually pulls you-the place in India to have this). Also a lot of the buildings were colonial, the streets had traffic lights and pavements and there were more police kicking about. But at its heart was just another big city, albeit with a slightly different pulse.
Well it was still not great so instead of training it back to Delhi I flew instead. It was more expensive but I was still ill and well 26 hours on a train is certainly not as “fun” as 2 hours by plane, air con start to finish!
I arrived back in Delhi booked a flight to Thailand then proceeded to chill for 4 days. Mainly writing this beast of a blog but also going round to Neeraj’s house to collect my bag, going out to see a free French embassy gig (Betty Argo and Soulmate were the bands) in the super air con Select city mall. The gig itself was in a really hip and swarve bar. I did some other stuff but not a great deal.
Then the 27th came. Boom on the plane and I up I went, bye bye India, hello Thailand!
A thought on India. India really is a country on the up; a growing middle class and a rampant desire for many people to be educated. This had led to most of the advertisements you see being for colleges and university admissions. The upper class is also developing; in fact on my second last day I saw the latest Rolls-Royce, driven by a chauffeur with white gloves and a rather plump looking Indian in the back scanning documents whilst on the phone. However this growth is being majorly constrained by one thing-corruption. The whole system in India is corrupt from top down. Whilst you may have to pay a few hundred rupees to get a driving licence, birth or death certificate you also vote for political parties whose leaders 90% are helping themselves to the public purse. A contract here at a high price to their brother or a bribe there from a local company for not doing a check, its rampant. The Indian daily papers seem to have some sort of anti-corruption legislation, protest or leader on their front pages everyday with new allegations of corruption at the highest level on the next few pages. In fact lower level bribing is taken as life and a website just opened a few months ago called ipaidabribe.com where you can share your tales of corruption and also find out the market rate for the bribe you are about to pay! On the last day in fact a man randomly walking beside me, obviously frustrated not bringing an umbrella out when it started to rain started a 5 minute long monologue on how he hated Ghandi and Nehru for driving the British away as Indians cannot govern themselves, corruption was destroying the nation, his business and his family life, “what moral authority do I have to teach moral values to my children when I am paying bribes weekly to the police and judiciary to get things done” and how the only thing he could go to help for was the man upstairs.
Anyway, I’m now in Bangkok, Thailand and am not going to bother taking my laptop round with me so you might get a short blog here or there written from a cafe if I have time but overall no blogs for a month or so until my parents come out here and I’m back in Bangkok. Hope all is well!
I got the bus from Bhuntar to Daramasala. A rather unremarkable sleeper bus ride it twas. I arrived early in the morning and didn’t quite read up what the plan was here and was rather disappointed that we had arrived in “McCleod Ganj”. I shouldn’t have been, this was the correct destination for all backpackers wishing to visit “Daramasala” to see the Dalai Lama etc. McCleod Ganj is situated just up the hill from the rather unremarkable semi-industrial city of Daramasala and is the centre for the Tibetan refugee cause containing numerous welfare organizations, the main Monastery for Buddhists, the Dalai’s palace, the government in exile and a considerable population of Tibetan refugees as one would expect. I proceeded to try and gauge accommodation in central McCleod Ganj but was rather disappointed by the lack of availability and the price. Not overly fused about locality, and being one for a walk, I chose to locate in a small settlement half and hours walk away in a small secluded valley called Daramkot. The views also were much better and the morning walks were frequented with several head nods to Buddhist monks also out enjoying the mountain air.
After settling in I walked into town to see the main attraction, the Dalai’s temple and palace quarters. The Palace looked more like a rather wealthy if not slightly eccentric city residence, however visitors were kept at bay by a large gate. The gate also posted the Dalai’s expected programme for the next month. Whilst it was quite exciting, trips to Paris and Australia, there wasn’t anything in the near future for the average Tom, Dick or Harry traveller visiting McCleod Ganj.
The Temple directly opposite was more fascinating with beautiful sculptures and copious quantities of Oreo/digestive and every other type of biscuit being offered. I never quite found out why 90% of the offerings were biscuits but I came to the conclusion that the Buddha was a prolific dunker! Whilst I was there, I sent my prayers into the sky, doing a ceremonious clockwise loop of the giant turning prayer cylinders. It was pretty relaxing if nothing else and it makes you realise just how fast we all walk in the West. Strange thing I know, but if you consciously slow down your normal walking place life really does become a lot more relaxed and chilled out. However slowing your natural cadence is quite difficult to sustain (and can be frustrating at first) and really does require a lot of thought until it becomes natural but as Buddhists point out walking is a form of meditation, but only if you make it. Give it a go!
The Tibetan museum detailing with material verging almost on propaganda, the escape and exile from Tibet after China invaded was also well worth a visit, especially the collection of pre-Chinese occupation recent memorabilia such as a Tibetan passport, or a National Geographic mag praising the colourfulness of the flag.
The next day I walked into town to send a few pressies back home. Arriving at the town post office I discovered I had to get it formally packaged. Hmm, bit of a pain. Well walking down the street trying to find somewhere that might package it for me I found the Tibetan refugee handicraft shop. There were a number of little old ladies sitting at sewing machines feeding out all matter of garments and a few men kicking about. There was a really good atmosphere in the place, really bubbly and friendly, and when a little old lady started eating a watermelon whilst sewing the rest of the girls found this very funny and started giggling. I couldn’t help but join in. The man who packaged my box did it with the utmost care and attention to detail. He started off by carefully folding everything into shape and putting it into 2 boxes which he then duck taped together. This was followed by a layer of plastic wrapping then finally the whole thing was sewed in a cloth wrapping followed by sealing all of the stitching with blobs of hot wax. I kind of regret the fact that this would eventually have to be opened! I asked how much and he said a 10 Ruppee donation would be sufficient; I chucked in 20 as it was a rather admirable cause. Still a bargain!
On the way back that afternoon I passed one of the many monasteries in town. I could hear it before I had even reached it, which for many of you, is a rather surprising attribute of the usually calm monastic life we associate in the west. Instead here the monks were “debating” on the roof where 1 monk will “lecture” another 1 or 2. After every point there is clap or two of the hands and quite a lot of foot stomping. It’s quite a loud and passionate affair, but also amazing to watch from the road.
The next day I left early in the morning to go to Amritsar which consisted of taking several local buses. The journey was by and large uneventful as usual but also very scenic at times with a few small river valleys. Oh there was a couple of things. The first thing was that as the bus drove through a military town, with the barracks of various regiments seemingly stretching for miles on the left and right side of the road, the local tuk-tuk’s changed. As there had obviously been a surplus of some jeep they had sold these onto the local population. They had then converted these into a tuk-tuk shape forming a rather monsterous looking massive 3 wheel tuk-tuk. Brilliant sighting for the tuk-tuk twitcher! The next thing to report was entering Punjab. The change in the local populous was quite remarkable, from no Sikh to pretty much all Sikh (actually pronounced sie-que not seek). This was quite reassuring for me as I knew that you could “always trust a Sikh”. This was a rule myself and Rob had made and was totally true.
Well I arrived in Amritsar and proceeded to go to the Golden Temple. From the outside, the building is rather unremarkable, but I donned a handkerchief come headscarf, deposited my small bag and shoes, and walked inside. The golden temple is truly beautiful and sits in a manmade lake with a bridge connecting it to the main courtyard area. The lake is quite stunning and much bigger than I expected. The pilgrimage-making Sikh masses go for a spiritual dip in it. Many obviously cannot swim so grip ropes which descend into the water for their lives! There are many massive Koi carp in the lake soothing the atmosphere.
I seemed to be the only white guy kicking around that day, amongst the literal thousands of Sikhs so attracted quite a lot of attention however they were all very friendly. This also included the guards of temple, who like all Sikhs carry the dagger, but are dressed in a long deep blue shirt, white trousers and white Turban, all immaculately Ironed! However they also carry a massive spear ready to skewer any bad boys! They were very friendly and always seemed ready to talk even if their English at times was lacking and basic.
I visited the community kitchen whilst I was there. This huge building is best described as industrial scale 24/7 food. Literally tens of thousands visitors daily expecting to be fed (free of charge obviously but donations are welcomed) and are done so with amazing efficiency. As you enter the complex you are given the various utensils before being directed towards one of the huge dining halls, where you wait outside whilst the previous sitting finishes being fed. Boom, as the last couple people finish off the doors fly open, people rush to take their place on the floor. I casually strolled in having no particular desire to sit next to anybody in particular. The bucket men instantly start coming round plating up dhal, curry potato and rice. The water man comes round filling your cup and then the chapatti man (flat bread, made here in such huge quantities they have a machine) who drops 2 into your waiting hands.
The people finish up and leave with cutlery to the waiting washing up staff downstairs. Off goes your cup, plate and spoon at different stages. The whole process is manned by temp volunteers who for an hour or so after their pilgrimage is complete participate in this form of community service regardless of walk of life. This takes the form of onion peeling, washing up (this is conducted in a massive covered area just next to the dining hall complex and the sound of which can be heard for a hundred metres around as men and women throw plates onto various piles), giving out utensils or dishing out the grub. It really was quite a sight to behold.
After snapping a few more pickies I walked out to where I had been told you pick up the shared taxis to Attari. Attari is nothing special, just a rather dusty border town with waiting trucks, however the taxis don’t take you to Attari, no, they take you to the actual border with Pakistan. I jumped in a taxi with about 7 or 8 Sikh pilgrims and off we sped. They were all really friendly and helped to explain a lot about the Golden Temple’s history and functionality which was really interesting. We arrived in Attari and were in great spirits. After a couple of potato cakes with sauce (really tasty fast food), the guards started to let us stream in to the long walk to the border through a series of security checkpoints and pat downs. At last we arrived at the border area which was in fact more like a sports arena on both sides. On the way there some other guys told me that if I showed my passport I would get into the VIP section. Meh, worth a try! A quick flash of the passport here and there and boom straight in! Well in fact I got into the foreigners section which was still a dam sight less crowded than the Indian section. In fact there were only about 10 other foreigners compared to the hundreds of Indians who had come for the show down.
Whilst the Indian side was rammed to the rafters with many watching from outside the gate, the Pakistani side was almost deserted with maybe 20 people there (apparently there are nearly none during Ramadan). It almost seemed pointless for Pakistan to be part of this event.
Both sides choose the best from their respective militaries to participate and they are dressed to perfection with not a crease out of place and the most ridiculous head gear on both their parts; the Pakistanis have a black fan like structure and the Indians have a red one. When I say best, these solidiers are handpicked for the border guard regiment due to their extreme height (compared to the rest of the Indian and Pakistani populous, 6ft+ is extreme), muscular build and great ‘taches!
The whole event kicks off with an MC (mic controller aka a guy to get the crowd up for it) shouting out some Hindi interspersed with Bollywood tracks. This is alongside a running of the flag by teenage girls from one end of the “arena” up to the border and back again where they pass it over to the next one. Other men are chosen from the crowd to stand at the top of the seating area and wave the flag. The Pakistani side on the other hand doesn’t really have an MC and so just plays a few tracks and allows its small populous to admire the fanfare on the other side. In the background, behind some of the buildings one can see the tall guards warming up. High leg kicks and short spirits prep both sides for the show down.
The crowd are ushered back to their seats and the guards from both sides with impeccably co-ordinated timing steam out onto the road. They then proceed to battle off with the other side with trumpets, high foot stomping and shouting. This is really amazing to watch as the legs literally go above their heads and they are extremely aggressive in their approach. They parade right up to the border line trying to out do the other side and intimidate them but all the while working in complete synchronisation to ensure a good show for the audiences.
At the end of the half hour duel after the two flags are ceremoniously lowered by the 2 sides the gates are slammed shut and the border guards retreat back inside and the crowd stream off.
I too linked back up with my Sikh friends and off we set back to Amritsar. The taxi man was ever so kind as to drop me off at the bus station which was very handy as I just got in on time to catch my sleeper to Delhi (7 hours).
I slept like a baby on that Air con bus and woke up from the relative serenity of my seat to the hustle and bustle of Delhi. No time to lose though! I hopped straight on a train (19 hours long) to Siliguri in West Bengal. The train journey was again rather uneventful and I arrived in Siliguri where I then jumped on another bus to Kalimpong (1 hour).
Now you will surely be thinking why have you rushed across to the other side of the country to a rather inconspicuous town and suffered almost 27 hours non-stop travel? The reason for this was that my friend, Charlie Goodman, who I went to school with had been teaching English in a Tibetan school there and was scheduled to leave soon. To miss out on an opportunity to see a friendly face from back home was not on the cards so off I went! I arrived in Kalimpong fairly exhausted and found a fairly central hotel. I then went out to find some lunch having agreed to meet Charlie later in the day. However coming back from lunch I spotted her. I crept up on her and covered her eyes to do the usual guess who. She instantly turned round but instead of the warm happy reception I had been expecting, it was a “hello Hamish, nice to see you, these are my colleagues from the school.” They looked abit shocked and I was introduced to them by Charlie who then informed me she had to go to a function with her colleagues but would meet me at the agreed time.
I had obviously broken some social convention and was duly given the warm reception when Charlie met me at the agreed time without colleagues in hand and started to apologise for her earlier reaction informing me that it wasn’t really culturally acceptable for men and women to touch in public. But heyho, shit happens and cultural faux-pas aside we scuttled off to a chai shop to catch up on the last few months.
The next few days whilst Charlie was teaching at the school in the day time I went to a number of sites (primarily Buddhist) around Kalimpong although there was a lovely old church on the hillside. Then once school was over an evening of reminiscing and chatting over chai/watching the odd movie on my laptop/visiting a site or being taken to the school for dinner with the headmaster would begin. But often we would then go to this bar in town with live music most nights and the best bloody marys!
I also went on a 2 day vacation to Darjeeling which is on a hill facing Kalimpong but is a good hour and a half drive in a shared taxi. Darjeeling was indeed the quintessential hillside town it had been described to me as. I went to the zoo where I saw the red panda amongst other species, the Himalayan mountain institute with its remarkable museum and statue of Sherpa Tenzing Norgay, a world famous tea store and also went up to Tiger Hill. This was particularly beautiful with the thousands of prayer flags which seemingly block out the sun. The site is shared with Hindus and the whole experience is particularly beautiful.
The next day I caught the Darjeeling-Ghum-Darjeeling toy steam train. This was in my quest to go on all three of India’s world heritage railways (I have one left in the south to do). The train was exceedingly slow but the experience was enthralling. One of the most memorable points was when the train nearly failed to make it up a steep incline. Each time the train would nearly get to the top but due to the rain that had recently fallen fail to make it to the top as the wheels started spinning before they rammed the brakes on and then put the carriage into reverse. After 5 goes and a lot of saw dust later the train made it and the delight of the passengers (and train crew) was evident. We arrived in Ghum (covered in soot) for a “30 minute” break. I and a Russian who was also on the train met in a chai shop directly opposite the station. After only 10 minutes the whistle sounded on the train. We (along with presumably a lot of other people assumed it was just maintenance) and so ignored it.
“Shit its going” the Russian said.
I gulped down my chai and gave the owner 5 ruppees.
“You not coming?”
“Nah, its gone, and I like it here”
Bullshit I thought. I ain’t spending 300 rupees for a one way journey.
I proceeded to peg it down the road (the train for 90% of the time runs on the road with cars having to avoid it) dodging serious amounts of traffic and what not before I eventually caught up with it. One of the conductors on my carriage (there were only 3 carriages each with no more than 15 people and he recognized me) opened the door and I jumped on. Apparently I had turned into something of a tourist attraction and a little cheer was raised as I boarded the train. However it seemed that the Russian wasn’t the only one caught out by the “30 minute break” as my carriage had half emptied. The journey down was largely the same obviously but I spent most of it hanging out the door watching the scenery go by and for some strange reason I couldn’t get enough of all the smells and noises the train produced.
Back to Kalimpong sadly to go to help out at this BBQ Charlie was planning. As it was her last week she had decided to throw all the boarders at the school a bbq and I was tasked with constructing one. A spliced oil drum, welded legs and a bit of sheet aluminium later and what was produced was quite outstanding! Charlie devised an extravagant and delicious menu with BBQ chicken, Jalebees (orange coloured sugar packed sweets), banana fritters, an onion and tomato relish and of course all washed down with coke. The kids helped alot and a really fun party atmosphere emerged with some spontaneous Tibetan singing and dancing occurring. The food was truly delicious and the kids wolfed down a large quantity, so much so one of the kids was dispatched for emergency chicken!! Indeed it was a truly amazing if not exhausting day!
Charlie and I then got a train to Varanassi. This is probably the holiest place in the world for Hindus. The Ganges river paces through this town and the shore is lined with Ghats (strictly speaking the steps leading down to the water but also the areas around the steps). Most of the Ghats are used for fairly mundane activities such as cleaning or religious bathing and offerings. However there are 3 or 4 notable Ghats. There is an evening ceremony called Agni Pooja at Dashashwamedh Ghat. This is particularly impressive to watch with particular emphasis on some serious pyrotechnics!
The other note worth Ghats are those for cremation. This was a little bit of a shock to myself, who through my relatively sheltered existence had not been exposed to death. In fact as I made my way to the hostel my first view of the Ganges was a guy around 25 years old grieving over a body. Bit of a “shitttt” experience. The main Ghat where the cremations occur seemed to be a bit of a human incineration industrial operation with 2 or 3 on the go at once 24/7.
Another amazing experience at Varanasi was when we caught an early morning rowing boat down the Ganges. This was extremely special and it was also fairly quiet; a change to the usual hustle and bustle of Indian cities to which Varanasi was no exception.
However after a few days in Varanasi, in which I also re-discovered my passion for cricket, Charlie and I parted ways. She left for Rishikesh with an American girl and I for Kolkata.
Kolkata really doesn’t deserve an entry into this blog but I must keep you up-to-date come rain or shine. Indeed in Kolkata it rained; for 4 days straight. Whilst this didn’t really limit my experiences there, having a bacterial colitis did! Dont worry its gone! I wasn’t really interested in Kolkata, I was there to go to the Andaman Islands, but the boat I wished to take had engine failure. This doesn’t sound too good does it? Well, I did get out and about. A couple of highlights;
The Victoria memorial: Ah a lovely throw back to better days. Indeed there she is sitting on her throne, nice and rotund. However whilst her individual statue was beautiful it was the actual Memorial building in the background that was special. A cross of the whiteness and simplicity of the Taj and the grandeur of Buckingham Palace surrounded by small lakes and beautifully maintained exotic gardens. Yes indeed this was truly an East meets West clash. But it was still pretty special.hum
The Indian national museum: I spent a whole day in this place; mainly looking at the massive mineralogical collection with its exquisite Asbestos section! Indeed they seemed to have every available type of Asbestos with several different types of manufacture form. Particularly impressive was the massive slab (tree trunk size) they had brought out the ground. Other impressive collections house at the museum were stuffed animals and skeletons of whales and other large mammals, an ancient coin collection, an entire entrance to a Tibetan Pagoda (this took up a whole room and looked quite out of place) and a fossil collection.
There was some other cool stuff in Kolkata but it was mainly differences in street life like the yellow ambassador taxis and the walking rickshaw (i.e. a guy actually pulls you-the place in India to have this). Also a lot of the buildings were colonial, the streets had traffic lights and pavements and there were more police kicking about. But at its heart was just another big city, albeit with a slightly different pulse.
Well it was still not great so instead of training it back to Delhi I flew instead. It was more expensive but I was still ill and well 26 hours on a train is certainly not as “fun” as 2 hours by plane, air con start to finish!
I arrived back in Delhi booked a flight to Thailand then proceeded to chill for 4 days. Mainly writing this beast of a blog but also going round to Neeraj’s house to collect my bag, going out to see a free French embassy gig (Betty Argo and Soulmate were the bands) in the super air con Select city mall. The gig itself was in a really hip and swarve bar. I did some other stuff but not a great deal.
Then the 27th came. Boom on the plane and I up I went, bye bye India, hello Thailand!
A thought on India. India really is a country on the up; a growing middle class and a rampant desire for many people to be educated. This had led to most of the advertisements you see being for colleges and university admissions. The upper class is also developing; in fact on my second last day I saw the latest Rolls-Royce, driven by a chauffeur with white gloves and a rather plump looking Indian in the back scanning documents whilst on the phone. However this growth is being majorly constrained by one thing-corruption. The whole system in India is corrupt from top down. Whilst you may have to pay a few hundred rupees to get a driving licence, birth or death certificate you also vote for political parties whose leaders 90% are helping themselves to the public purse. A contract here at a high price to their brother or a bribe there from a local company for not doing a check, its rampant. The Indian daily papers seem to have some sort of anti-corruption legislation, protest or leader on their front pages everyday with new allegations of corruption at the highest level on the next few pages. In fact lower level bribing is taken as life and a website just opened a few months ago called ipaidabribe.com where you can share your tales of corruption and also find out the market rate for the bribe you are about to pay! On the last day in fact a man randomly walking beside me, obviously frustrated not bringing an umbrella out when it started to rain started a 5 minute long monologue on how he hated Ghandi and Nehru for driving the British away as Indians cannot govern themselves, corruption was destroying the nation, his business and his family life, “what moral authority do I have to teach moral values to my children when I am paying bribes weekly to the police and judiciary to get things done” and how the only thing he could go to help for was the man upstairs.
Anyway, I’m now in Bangkok, Thailand and am not going to bother taking my laptop round with me so you might get a short blog here or there written from a cafe if I have time but overall no blogs for a month or so until my parents come out here and I’m back in Bangkok. Hope all is well!
