I'M IN: Manali, India
HAVING VISITED: Delhi and Shimla
NEXT UP: Back to Delhi, back to work
Well, the plane trip to end all plane trips actually went quite well. I was surprised at how quickly the time passed and was even able to grab some sleep in the Kuwait airport and on several of the flights. I was a bit on edge when I arrived in Delhi because my pre-arranged ride was nowhere to be found. Normally I would just get a taxi, but several guide books say this is not a good idea for a single woman. I realized that I needed to get some cash no matter what, and by the time I secured some, I spotted a guy with my name on a piece of paper coming in the door. We made our way out into the humid sunrise to a tiny white van (of course I felt like Mma Ramotswe at this point) and I then braved my first encounter with Indian roads. It was 6:00 a.m., not too many cars on the road. Regardless we had three super near collisions and ten or more times (I stopped counting) when I braced for impact. There are people everywhere in the road on foot, bicycles and motorbikes and in cars, trucks and buses of all sizes. Then there are the dogs (lots) who must yield to people and the cows to whom people must yield. And all of this happens at top speed. I wanted to tell the driver that I wouldn't mind slowing down, but the language barrier was large as was my fear of distracting the driver. After we made it to the hostel I said, "You are a very good driver!" He agreed.
Delhi is hot, boy howdy, and amazingly crowded and dusty. After poking around town for a few days I decided to head north into the Himalayas to cool out mentally and physically. I chose the town Shimla pretty much at random and my hostel roomie, an Aussie named Clare, decided to come with. This was fantastic as she is great company and for the first time in awhile I was feeling a bit vulnerable on my own. Even before leaving Delhi, securing our train tickets was an adventure in and of itself. We got to the train station in Delhi with specific instructions from our hostel owner about where to go (left side, over and up, then you see the sign). So we went to the left side, went over and up where we met a man who told us we must have a ticket to proceed further. He was disgusted with Clare and I that we did not have a Lonely Planet and berated us for a few minutes and sent us away. After 20 minutes of more conflicting information and a puppy being stepped on by a beggar, we finally got to the correct office (which was exactly where the hostel owner said it would be) and attempted to start the ticket buying process. The International Tourist Ticket Office has floor-to-ceiling hand-painted signs on each wall listing the pertinent rules and regulations. There were stacks of forms (we selected one at random and filled it out) and about ten men sitting behind mid-'80's era DOS operated computers. We presented one of these men with our form and he was revolted. "No, not like this, not like this." He pushed the form back across the desk and folded his arms. After a number of seconds he pointed across the room. "Many trains are changing," the disgusted man sputtered, shooing us away from his desk. The man across the room was much more friendly, although he was quite alarmed that Clare did not have her passport with her. After a lenghtly, friendly discussion he agreed to grant us "very special permission" to get the tickets without her passport. In the end, neither of our passports were ever checked, but whatever, we had our tickets.
After this confusion, what a joy the train trip was the next morning. The first train offered a continual stream of presents - water and tea and breakfast and cookies and more tea. All in comfy chairs with plenty of leg room. Wow! We changed trains in Kalka for the narrow gauge toy train, about which I was extremely excited. It was a beautiful ride, but pretty uncomfortable and Clare and I were both happy to de-train after five hours. Shimla is like the Positano of India (minus Med, plus Himalayas) all stairs and climbing. We took the town lift (20 cents) to more stairs and clambered our way up to the town YMCA. I have not stayed in too many YMCAs, but I feel certain that the Shimla branch is unique. It's like if the hotel from The Shining needed some help from This Old House - all grand staircases missing stairs, creaking doors, red carpets and tall, crumbling ceilings. No twins were spotted, thank goodness.
And after a few days in Shimla I bid farewell to Clare and came further north to Manali, a hippie/backpacker haven of sorts. I am pleased as punch to be in one piece after the bus journey here from Shimla (175 miles, took 8 hours) up, down and around some large hills. The Himalayas ain't no joke, ya'll! The road was generally one lane and heavily traveled with trucks, who squeezed by inches from the bus. Also inches from the bus were sheer drops of hundreds of feet into rocky ravines. I kept reminding myself to dwell on positive mental images not fiery crashes. Luckily when leaving here I will be on the night bus and unable to contemplate grisly deaths on my return to Delhi.
And I am so looking forward to going back to Delhi, as my Dad will be there! He is doing some consulting with an Indian/US company and will be in the Delhi suburb of Guragon until mid-October. Hopefully I will be able to pick up a bit of freelance work for this outfit as well. I am most looking forward to spending an extended amount of time with my Dad, this will be great. Everything else about the coming month is exciting, too - the potential for earning cash (much needed at this point), a nice place to stay and a little break from the backpack, all most welcome additions. In the meantime, I continue my cultural acclimation and full exploration of scrumptious Indian cuisine. Paneer for President!
