Skies, Clouds

After the hail storm; Dalhousie


From TIPA in McLeodganj;
the night of the Tibetan benefit concert



the sun illuminates; norbulingka

Triund

We hiked up to Triund from Mcleodganj. A somewhat steep climb for about 4 hours brings one to a beautiful grassy pass with views of nearby peaks. It's a lovely way to get away and it's not a tough walk.

Dalhousie

We took the bus up to Dalhousie from Dharamshala (7am, 120Rps., 5 hrs.). It's a beautiful town, quiet and peaceful, high among the hilly approach to the Indian Himalaya. The ride up was spectacular and at times harrowing as the road ran to the edge of vertical drops hundreds of meters high. Dalhousie is a great alternative to Bhagsu and Dharamkot for quiet and isolation. Though if you're looking for traveling community, judging by the souvenirs, Dalhousie is an Indian tourist location, and you won't find too many shops catering to westerners. This was refreshing and added to the place in a way that allowed one to disappear a little in to the quiet. Though only disappear a little; there's a lot of staring and attention to be had. From monkeys too, of which there are hordes of Macaques. I accidentally made eye contact with a big one as I was coming up some stairs and it rushed me. I ducked at the last moment and it bounded off my back and up into a tree. From there it perched and made very menacing faces at me until I threatened it with a stone and the toothy beast hid behind a branch, peeking out, hissing. So be careful of the monkeys, but for real peace and quiet (especially in the off season now), Dalhousie is it. It's not as convenient as McLeodganj, so bring whatever you need and chill out for a while.


a gigantic Hanuman near Kajjiar, 22km from Dalhousie

A Big One...

Be careful where you step wandering around Dharamshala. These monsters are oozing about all over the place, often stupidly on stairs. Imagine waking up with one of these gliding across your face on a trail of mucus.

Harrowing Journeys

Last week we watched a film called "Blood in the Snow". It consisted of interviews relating to a video shot by climbers in the Himalaya that shows Chinese Border Guards gunning down fleeing Tibetan refugees as they cross a pass toward Nepal. Yesterday we joined a volunteer conversation group with local students, mostly Tibetan refugees. Three out of the four people in my group had taken the same journey across the Himalaya as depicted in the film. One of the young men even had his group scattered by approaching Chinese Police and was left alone with his cousin to make the journey. They walked for 29 days, suffered frostbite, and were so uncertain of reaching Nepal that they thought they might die. But they did make it to Nepal, and then to Dharamsala, where they will study language and live with their own community. When they arrived they were granted, as all new arrivals are, an audience with His Holiness, the Dalai Lama. They cried and he told them that there was no need, they were free.

Yoga in Rishikesh

Problems with Ass Piss

Again, I was stricken with diarrhea, and by the looks of it (and smells), it was bacterial. The time before, I took Cipro, which was awful. So, this time I took a course of Ayurvedic herbs that I received from a local Doctor here in Rishikesh.

To take three times a day for five days, an anti-bacterial pill was given. It contained these herbs, I was told.
Chirayata: for bowel regulation
Kutaj: for gastric disorders
Bael: anti-diarrheal
Isabgol: bowel regulation

A second pill was given, to eat after breakfast and dinner, which was for liver and kidney health. I don't know what was in that, but it was herbal as well.

Also, I had picked up Diarex, an Ayurvedic herbal medicine by the Himalaya Herbal Company. The Doctor told me that I could take that as well, and there would be no complications with these medicines. I took two in the morning, and two in the evening.

Throughout the course, for a week, I ate mostly Kicheri, a slow boiled rice and lentil dish, and veg soup and toast. I avoided dairy and oily foods, basically anything else. For a while I was getting better, and saw good results in the bowl, but traveling makes it hard to maintain a controlled diet, and somedays the soup was oily, or the daal heavily spiced. So my bowel function fluctuated, and after eating some curd seemed to return to a runny state again, strangely. So, I took another week of pills, adding to the concoction, Bael, from the Himalaya Herbal Company. Unfortunately, again my bowel health flucuated and one day I decided to eat pizza, after two weeks of soup. Of course, this sent my guts into a kind of intestinal madness just as I expected; clearly I was not close to eating "regular" foods yet after two weeks.

So, not wanting to spend my whole time in India eating soup, I took a kind of anti-biotics that I picked up earlier in Kathmandu called Tinidazole. I took 2 grams a day, in the morning and evening, for 2 and a half days. I kept a light diet of tibetan soups and breads, and followed the course with Bifilac pro-biotics to replenish intestinal flora.

This course worked fine, and I experienced no side-effects as I had with Cipro. Unfortunately, I couldn't keep up with the herbs, but I did experience their real efficacy, however, the patience and controlled diet required were difficult to maintain. If I was at home, cooking for myself, I think I could be healed over a period of two to three weeks, but on the road, that's a long time, and the anti-biotics did the trick in a day or so. But a herbal cure can work; I experienced it working, but it takes time. That time is likely worth it for the gentleness of the cure.

Agra, Taj Mahal

Decided against a "tour" package to visit the Taj Mahal, and instead acquired train to and from the city, in the morning and early evening. The train was the Taj Express (~180INR round trip), leaving from Nizamuddin station, a 30 minute rickshaw ride from Paharganj (80INR morning, 120 evening), and arriving at Agra Cantt.
The Taj Mahal costs a whopping 750INR to enter and the ticket appears to provide access to 4 other sites around the city. This is not the case; the "ticket" just gives a small discount, so you can visit Agra fort for 250 rather than 300. We had also paid a rickshaw driver 300rupees to take us around the city all day to visit these sites, and avoid the hassles of haggling every time we wanted to move. So, being on a budget for long and wide travels, this was a costly day, even having skipped most of the places. However, we came to see the Taj Mahal and see it we did, and it was magnificent, even as we tire of "sightseeing".
Its translucent marble (shine a light close in the dark of the interior), and intricately carved panels and details were lovely, though it was simply the imposing brilliance of the whole scene, dazzling white, that left a strong impression.

To Delhi International Airport from Paharganj

Hard to find information about this relatively easy trip, so here is how I went round-trip to pick up S and bring her into the Delhi madness.

Taxis will "quote" you prices between 200-600rupees one way, which is ridiculous. Rickshaw's as well will likely demand far more money than the trip is worth, and good luck getting those "shameless fellows" to use the meter (quote thanks to local stranger who helped us out).

Take the bus, and avoid all the haggling hassles.
Walk down to the East end of the Paharganj Bazaar and cross the street into New Delhi train station. Take the footbridge over the rails and exit the Ajmeri Gate. Walk through the parking area to the main road where buses are parked, near the New Delhi station metro entrance. I'm not sure of the times, but about once an hour, a big green ISBT bus will roll up, marked on an LED screen that it is an airport bus. Ask and make sure that it goes to the Indira Ghandi International Airport (or the Domestic Terminal if that's what you need). The fare is only 50 rupees, and barring traffic... only takes about 45 minutes. You can also catch the bus somewhere in Connaught place, but I don't know where exactly.

Going into the city from the airport, go straight through the doors in the arrivals lounge and hop on the same big green bus and ask for Connaught, or New Delhi station.
Or take a pre-parid taxi, but the bus is easy, clean and convenient. No need for hassles--Delhi will provide enough of those...

Luck and Unluck: A Backpacks' Tale

I decided to leave Tansen, the little town in the hills that I had come to love. But my time was short, and the distance long. So onward to Delhi I thought I would go, with a stop off in Lumbini for the night. I packed my things, checked out of the Siddharta hotel, and walked down the hill, stopping for one last Roti and potato curry breakfast on the way.

I quickly found a bus heading out of the valley to Butwal, and got on. It was crowded inside, so much so that I was jammed in facing backward on a hump seat at the front. I tucked my pack close to my legs and huddled in as people continued to push into the bus until there was no where to move. The bus caller asked if he could put my bag on the roof, and I hesitatingly accepted.

The bus pulled away, and I asked quickly if I could crawl up on the roof to sit instead, but I was told no, and generally that is the case within city limits in Nepal. About 45 minutes down the valley, a woman to my left started vomiting, really filling up a plastic bag with yellowish barf. She was sweating and looked extremely road sick. Perhaps I looked uncomfortable as at this moment the bus caller invited me to climb out and on the roof. I readily accepted and hauled myself up to the top, joining a couple other guys up there.

I scanned the roof rack for my bag, thinking I would sit on it for comfort. "Hey, where's my backpack?" I shouted down into the bus. A head poked out and told me not to worry, it was in the back of the bus. I was relieved, and sat down, smiling. Wait, I thought. He put it up here. "Hang on, where's my backpack?" I called down again. Talk in Nepali. Glances at me. Pointing. Nervous looks.

I started getting worried; clearly something was wrong, and the reality sunk in that either my bag had been left, fallen off, or was stolen.

I climbed down, facing the bus caller, this time demanding an answer. Go with the bus to Butwal, I was told, and he will go back up and look for my bag. I told him to send the bus on. If my pack is missing, I'm going to find it, and if not, well, I didn't think that far ahead.

We caught another bus, and I spent an hour riding back up hill telling myself that it's just stuff and I shouldn't worry yet anyway because we didn't know what had happened. Before long, he looked at me and said we should get off and check at this road side restaurant. This worried me. Why here? Why not start at the bus park? What did he know?

We asked a lady there and she actually said that she thought a man had walked past down a trail with what could have been my pack. What to do? It's been two hours already.

A motorcycle pulled up, and luckily there was my friend Kiran, a local student I had hung out with and shot pool with the previous night. I explained what had happened and he promised me that we would find my bag. Down the road there was a group of college students and people hanging around, and we approached them. Kiran knew some of them so I explained again the situation and promised a 1000 rupee reward for my bag. Thus our posse was formed.

We were about 12 people and 4 motorbikes. We headed out on the trails, asking people as we went, driving through mud and around hills and rocks. But no one had any further information.

I was despondent, and beginning to give up hope. One of the students said, "never lose hope". But looking out over the valley, I thought that in two hours, someone could be anywhere in those hills. I offered money for gas, but no one took it, too disappointed to take any money. We drove back to the road side restaurant.

A van was there, the door just shutting. Something in my mind flashed and I hurried up the hill, unsure of what I had seen but certain of something. I threw open the door of the van, slamming it, and looked in. My backpack was there, on the floor of this van. I stared at the man. "Where did you get this? Why do you have my bag?" I demanded. By then, the posse had surrounded the van, questioning this man, and the driver.

They had found it up on a hill, they said, by some old house. But why were they here now, at this moment, and what were they planning to do? These questions remained unanswered, but the posse was convinced of their innocence. I was relieved, shocked and also confused, but so happy to have my bag. Trusting my gang, I offered the two men some cash which they accepted. I also, strangely, felt guilty, unsure of the meaning of these events, wondering why I deserved such fortune. Though I happily slung the pack over my shoulder, pleasantly feeling it's weight.

I opened the top and unzipped the compartments to verify my belongings. Everything was there save the nylon sac for my rain coat, strangely, and some of the ties had been knotted together. Basically, it was all there. I suggested, as had been mentioned earlier, reporting the event to the police, but was told they would likely do little if anything.

I handed the posse a 1000 rupee note, and we retired to the restaurant for tea and food. We discussed the events and came to have a good time together. I decided to postpone my trip by one day and stick around, as it was getting late. But at this, the posse didn't disband. We cruised the hills, happy and excited by the strangeness of the day and the new friendships it had arranged.

I had my bag, as if it had never been gone. And we had a story, some new pals, and the once in a lifetime experience of roaming the countryside on two-wheeled steeds as a band of men, a posse, with valiant intentions, and justice in our minds.

What is the meaning of this? Why did this happen? I don't know, but I'm glad that it did.