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Sangla, India

June 26th Sangla, Baspa ValleyAs we retraced our steps zigzagging back down into the main Kinnaur valley from Sarahan towards Sangla we could clearly see (and hear) the turbid waters of the river Sutlej, powerfully racing along the valley floor, forcing its way past huge semi submerged boulders equivalent in size to small houses and family cars. At this point near Jeori the river is over 100 feet wide and its raw energy commanded our attention as it gouged its path through the relatively narrow space between two massive Himalayan 'Walls'. This 'squeezing' of the river is the reason for its ability to earn money and its propensity for violent flooding. This river had destroyed roads, bridges and erased entire villages killing thousands of people in August of 2001 when a flash flood had caused it to rise over 100 feet in just a couple of hours.It is responsible for draining the entire Kinnaur valley region and the sheer volume of water moving so ferociously is a truly impressive sight. Many hydroelectric facilities along its upper reaches harness its power to generate electricity, cash, and more than a little controversy, as many local communities see these facilities as scarring the natural beauty of the region. This situation is compounded by the fact that many of the stations are privately owned and so much of the profit and associated benefits are not seen by the areas inhabitants, a major promised benefit was their supposed ability to help prevent flooding. We passed many such facilities on our drive up towards Sangla both in operation and under construction, Naresh our guide told us many more were planned...a prospect that concerned him.The kinnaur valley is hemmed in by mountains, rising in the south are the Garhwal Himalaya, to the east the central Tibetan massif and in the north the dramatic Zanskar range. We were heading east into the Sangla valley dominated by the dazzling peak of Kinnaur Kailash rising to an impressive 6,050 metres (well over 18,000 feet) and reputedly one of the most beautiful valleys in the entire Himalaya. As we drove alongside the boiling waters of the Sutlej it began to turn from a rich dirty brown to an elephant gray, a result of the changing terrain, we were beginning to enter the remoter stretches of the river (its source is in Tibet) and a mountainous area that is often cut off from the outside world for months at a time, simply by the power of the regions climate... snows in winter and floods in summer.We continued to crisscross over the river from one side of the valley to the other using a variety of bridges; some suspended by cables (straight out of an 'Indiana Jones' movie) others resembling giant Maccano sets. Maneuvering around huge natural features that dictated our path we started to climb up steeply, winding half way up the valley side.Leaving the river far below us the road consisted of partly sealed and unmade stretches literally hacked into the valley side like a rough groove (see photos). After an hour or so of rumbling along such roads we reached the 'entrance' to the Sangla valley (also known as the Baspa valley) and here the road really did become no more than a single track, infact Naresh told us that until recently when the road had been 'improved', they used to operate a radio system so that convoys of vehicles would drive in only one direction at a time alternately (akin to traffic lights at road works).By now Jane had asked to swap seats so that she was nearest to the mountainside, she gripped my hand tightly as we bounced along the narrow track rounding blind 90 degree corners with nothing to stop us from plunging into the void several hundred feet below except the couple of feet of 'spare' road.After a mile or so we stopped at an overhanging section of road that housed a small hut plonked onto a rock cut platform overlooking the sheer cliff that formed the valley side, opposite was a small shrine wedged into a large crevice in the mountainside, which was festooned with garlands of flowers and personal offerings from passing travelers. A heavily bearded holy man dressed in nothing but a loincloth and strings of beads approached the car and gave us a blessing for a safe journey up the valley. He passed small sugary sweets through the jeep window and daubed each of our heads in turn with a Bhindi (blob of red 'paint'). Apparently he spends all year living in his remote hut just to bless people passing up and down the valley, I don't imagine he had to beat of competitors with a stick for that job!The road from here on has to be seen, to be believed, it's a real 'cliffhanger' and has the reputation for being one of the most hairaising in the entire Himalaya. We continually passed over reconstructed sections that had been destroyed by landslides and rock falls, a regular occurrence in this area. However precarious the stability of the road is, it affords you the most indescribably beautiful views (but I'll try). As the track struggles up the valley you are treated to an ever changing view of nature at its most elemental, it resembles a geography teachers wet dream...hanging valleys, truncated spurs, glacial moraine, boulder fields, alluvial floodplains...thank you, Mrs. Humble (my old geography teacher of 30 years ago), it appears I learned more than I thought!For once the tourist-marketing blurb was true, this really MUST be "the most beautiful valley in the Himalaya".Situated along the valley floor adjacent to the river were a series of ancient Kinnauri villages constructed using traditional techniques and materials (apart from the odd satellite dish), their slate roofs and dry stonewall enclosures clearly visible from our lofty vantage point. We soon became accustomed to driving along the death defying road... well OK, I did, Jane continued to wear an uneasy look for the remainder of the journey. But even Jane fared better than a Frenchman who Naresh had brought up here the previous year. On traveling only a few hundred yards into the valley he refused to ride any further and insisted on getting out and walking its entire length, because he was too frightened to ride in the jeep!As we marveled at our surroundings the village of Sangla came into view, its the largest settlement in the valley and a mish mash of both old and new, containing basic guest houses, general stores, simple cafes, a village school and a couple of interesting temples. From here we got our first clear view of the awe inspiring Mount of Kinnaur Kailash, it is so huge that we had to bend over till our heads were almost on our laps to take in its summit, through the jeeps windows. We drove on, up the valley to our next 'home' for the night. The 'Kinner Camp' site is a small simple affair nestled on the hillside beyond Sangla towards the highest settlement in the valley, Chitkul at 3,450 meters. It has semi permanent canvas tents ranging in size from small 2-man upto family sized. The tents are pitched on bare patches of sandy ground bordered by pine trees and surrounded by rock formations and large boulders most of which were bigger than our tent. There was a central dining area surrounded by a dry stone wall and covered by a large canvas tarp with an adjacent, sheltered, fire pit.A stream gushes past the site down a deeply cut gully plunging over a series of waterfalls about 50 or 60 metres away, with the only road passing just above the camp bridging the gully and continuing on up the valley, to Chitkul. The road also served as the upper 'boundary' for the camps cricket pitch, the dirt wicket had been painstakingly cleared of boulders and it was regularly in use even when the only light came from the camps open fire!The washing facilities were basic i.e. our morning shower consisted of tipping a bucket of water from the stream over yourself. To say that the water was cold would be a massive under-statement..it was bloody freezing! So cold that it was actually painful, on contact you gasped uncontrollably, it literally took away your breath. It always took us several minutes just to pluck up the courage to wash each morning. Occasionally (if we had yelped loud enough the previous morning) they would heat up a massive cauldron of water over an open fire and offer us a bucket of hot to mix with the cold-water....BLISS! The only other concession to luxury was a 'sit down' flushing toilet, which was attached to the side of our tent; its water supply came from an old oil drum perched on a large rock. (The water in the stream came directly from the mountain peaks and is therefore icy melt-water, hence its painfully low temperature).There were three staff at the camp and without exception the food they prepared for us, using the simplest of equipment, was fantastic, the tastiest we ate in India! There were 6 other guests a doctor from Shimla (he had been conducting a free 'eye clinic' in some of the remoter mountain villages) and his family, including their dog, and two young guys on a weekend break from Delhi.We woke early in the morning following our evening arrival to be met by Naresh with sketchy news from lower down the valley (provided by the local bus driver) ... the previous day, about an hour after we had entered the valley the only road in and several of the bridges we had crossed had been washed away by a flash flood. This included the main (and only) road and the 'permanent bridge' as well as some of the 'Indiana Jones' specials we had used.We couldn't believe it, the main bridge we crossed was a sturdy concrete and tarmac affair the likes of which we could expect to see at home spanning any major river, surely it was too substantial to have been simply 'washed away'. Naresh said he planned to go back down the valley tomorrow and check for himself the extent of the damage, so I asked if I could tag along.We spent the remainder of the day relaxing at the campsite and taking in the stunning scenery, not least Mt Kailash, which loomed over the site appearing from behind heavy clouds that often tantalizingly cloaked its snowy cap. We could clearly see the pale blue sheer ice cliffs of a glacier lying in a hanging valley close to its summit. It was a mesmerizing sight and one that I never grew tired of staring at, often until my neck ached from peering skywards.I had taken nearly 200 photos since we arrived in the valley, I was smitten by this beautiful place and we vowed to return. It is truly magnificent and It now officially holds the prize of being the best place we have visited so far in our travels! (Equal with Lake Bikal in Siberia).The following morning I climbed into the jeep with Naresh and Anil to go back down the valley and inspect the damage to the bridges and road first hand. After 45 minutes we had reached the end of the road...Literally, where yesterday there had been a large sturdy concrete bridge there was nothing but a torrent of angry water, and the ragged edge of the tarmac road which stopped abruptly on either side of the valley. Naresh asked a few of the security guards at a nearby hydro plant, just above the road, what had happened. Apparently the water had risen over 60 feet in the space of an hour yesterday afternoon (stopping just short of their gatehouse around 4pm) it had washed away the main bridge, several minor ones and large sections of the main (only) road further down the valley. All of which, we had driven over only an hour before the flood had struck!I walked upto the edge of the cracked tarmac road and took some photos of the scene, I peered into the water below and still found it hard to take in what had happened, everywhere was now dry, neat and tidy, except that the bridge was missing. On the drive back to the campsite I asked Naresh what this meant for us. He said he would try and discover how long it would take to repair all the damage, he assured me that usually things were patched up by the army within a 'few days'.We spent the next couple of days of our enforced stay waiting for official news rather than listening to the continual rumors flying up and down the valley. We passed time by exploring the area around our campsite and making trips to Chitkul at the valley head. It's a small traditional village with a truly spectacular location providing awe inspiring views. This is the farthest you can go by road as the area beyond the village is controlled and patrolled by the Indian Army due to its proximity to the border with Tibet.We took the camp dog ; Major (a local breed of Mountain dog) for a couple of wonderful walks, exploring the gully that ran past the camp, stopping to cool our feet in the ice cold waters (for as long as we could bear the pain) and walking through the surrounding pine clad hillsides These were wonderfully tranquil places which were silent apart from the sound of water rushing along the valley floor and down the boulder choked gulleys that fed it. Birds and squirrels were the only wildlife we saw, although I admit to keeping an eye open for snakes as we had seen a couple sunning themselves on the road during our drive up to Sangla. Jane was convinced we were being stalked, following reports from the local bus driver, who came to our camp for a late night drink, he told us how he had seen a Mountain Lion leap onto the road in front of his bus on the previous nights journey up to Chitkul. (Adventurous we might be, but fearless we are not).After three days at the camp we received official word from the police stationed lower down the valley that we were stranded and likely to be so for probably A MONTH. (It later transpired that we would be the last people to visit the valley in 2005 as the bridges and roads were so badly damaged that it would prevent any other visitors from being able to reach Sangla until after the winter snows recede next year!) We asked Naresh if there was any other way out of the valley and the simple answer was...NO. The higher roads were still blocked with snow, we could walk out to the nearest river crossing point but this meant a 'full on' 16 hour hike, over difficult terrain with no place to stop overnight because the only footpaths run along the very steep, and rocky valley sides. Crossing the river would entail being sat in a small basket suspended by a wire cable. We had seen these being used for sending mail and produce between villages situated on opposite banks of the Sutlej.With all our kit to carry over such terrain it would have been nigh on impossible and Jane refused to even contemplate being passed around between villages in a homemade Bosuns' Chair over a raging river at night, (I can't think why?). We then started to hear rumors that the Indian Air force had been instructed to fly rescue missions into the valley and take out any trapped foreign nationals and domestic holidaymakers. That evening the rumor was confirmed and word was spread that anyone stranded in the valley should report to the hydroelectric facility lower down the valley ASAP for emergency evacuation by helicopter.First thing in the morning we made our way to the Hydro plant and on arriving we couldn't believe our eyes...pandemonium is the only word to describe the scene. Police brandishing rifles were trying to control a mob of people jostling to get onto a waiting helicopter and hold back the 70 or so crowded nearby noisily waiting their turn. As two stragglers boarded and the helicopters rotors surged in readiness for take-off a group of three ran from the larger crowd and tried to get on board, they were pounced on by the police and a 'tug o war' ensued between police and those on the helicopter trying to help their friends to climb aboard. This 'tug o war' turned into a scuffle at which point the pilot and crew ordered everyone off the chopper and dumped their luggage on the tarmac then promptly few off down the valley.Their base later phoned the hydro plant and refused to make any more flights until the police had control of the situation. We decided to add our names to the waiting list but not to try again for a couple of days until things had calmed down a bit. Naresh visited every morning to review the situation and returned with stories of confusion and chaos, the group who had scuffled with police the day before were Israelis. High on Hashish, they had been demanding that they should be first and as foreign nationals should get preferential treatment over Indians.Apparently, they had threatened those waiting to fly, along with the police when they tried to stop them.The Israelis have something of a reputation in the region for unruly behavior and an appetite for illicit drugs; they arrive here after their national service with the intention of 'making up for lost time'. Many of the locals we spoke with viewed them as 'crazy people'. All told there were probably 20 foreign nationals; the remainder of evacuees were domestic visitors. We placed our names on the waiting list and promptly left. Two days later we returned to the hydro plant having being given strong assurances that we would be allowed onto one of the days flights. We spent most of the day chatting to others waiting to leave the valley including the doctor from our campsite who amazingly, had not been given any priority despite his waiting patients in Shimla. The atmosphere in the waiting room was tense Indians were upset that foreigners were being given priority, foreigners were frustrated at having to wait for days for a flight out that was changed at the last minute. The rough passenger list drawn up each day changed constantly so no one knew when or if they would be leaving. The poor Police officer in charge kept receiving phone calls from govt officials in Delhi ordering him to put different people at the top of the list, every time he appeared from the small office where the only phone was situated he would be besieged by angry passengers, shouting, pushing and begging him to get them out. The whole thing was chaotic and laughable...we took the stance that as long as we got out it didn't matter if we were last on the list. We found the attitude of many of the foreign visitors was frankly, embarrassing. We felt ashamed to be associated with them. They were downright rude and aggressive, demanding, and then threatening until (and to our amazement) it worked, they were put on the next flight, incredible! Had I been in charge they would have had to walk out! Had we not experienced it first hand we would not have believed how some people can behave in such circumstances, how selfish and aggressive they can become. (The Israelis who had threatened fellow passengers were made to wait a couple of days, and in fact 2 left on the same flight as us!).There was however a funny side to the predicament we found ourselves in, throughout the day local villagers would approach the police officer in charge claiming medical emergencies dictated that they must be on the next flight out of the valley. Some had applied makeshift slings and bandages or claimed to be suffering from mysterious abdominal pains. Some had to be helped by relatives (even carried) to the officers desk to beg to be on the next flight. Naresh with a wry smile explained to us that there was nothing wrong with any of them they just wanted a chance to fly in a helicopter...as none had ever flown before.After sitting around for 8 hours watching choppers come and go every 2 hours we were told to 'try again tomorrow'.That night (it would be our last in the valley) we all sat around the campfire after our evening meal and gradually got drunk on illicit mountain brandy made locally, discussing every subject under the sun from arranged marriages, to eye surgery, and telling stories well into the early hours. Naresh told us that the local women were renowned for their beauty and until recent years all male visitors to the area were viewed with suspicion. Infact some of the remoter villages that he had visited whilst trekking were still very unwelcoming to male visitors incase they are 'interested' in their women. Apparently if a man from another village kidnaps a woman he fancies and 'keeps her' for 3 years they become officially married under tribal law. In the past raiding parties would visit villages to take or release kidnapped women! He also told us that last year he had visited a small village where most had never seen a car before, so he had to spend an hour giving everyone in the village a ride! I was nursing a hangover as we made our way to the helipad. On the walk to the hydro plant (Naresh had to leave our jeep with a friend in the valley, until he could collect it ...sometime next year.) He jokingly pointed out that Anil was dressed in his best jeans and shirt with his sunglasses jauntily hooked into the neck of his jumper. As we walked through the village Anil would wave to his friends shouting to them that he was about to leave in a helicopter. He was obviously very excited (and a little nervous). When we reached the helipad we noticed that he would keep checking his reflection in the nearest window. It was so engaging to see just how excited he was about flying for the first time, and how he wanted everyone to know.... considering it was something that we were so blasé about.No sooner had we strolled up to the edge of the Helipad than a helicopter arrived the thrashing rotors blasting everything with a hurricane force gale. Within seconds we were being ushered on to the pad. It took us by surprise and we had to dash to collect our rucksacks, we ran under the rotors threw our bags into the open door and Jane scrambled up the steel steps into the hold, while I helped some of the other elderly passengers to get aboard with their luggage. A few minutes later we were all seated (some on top of the luggage) the rotors surged and we lifted off swinging to face down the valley, and gradually climbing. Initially we flew within the valley crowded by its towering sides until we reached the height of the adjacent mountain peaks the brown and green of the smaller hills giving way to the blue gray and brilliant white of the higher peaks of the eastern Himalayas and away in the middle distance the peaks of Tibet forming the border with China.Jane and I managed to get seats next to the winch situated in the doorway with a window that provided a superb view. Naresh and Anil both with massive ear-to-ear grins were near the rear of the aircraft and they sat transfixed peering from 'their' window as the landscape flew past. Jane motioned for the guy sat opposite us to take a photo, which he managed to do just before the flight sergeant stood up, and signaled that taking photos was not allowed!An old woman who was sat next to Jane gripped her hand tightly and for most of the journey kept her eyes shut tight.I looked over my shoulder transfixed by the fantastic view; we were now flying just below the mountain peaks surrounding us. This particular view can't have been seen by many people as commercial flights over this area are not allowed (due to its proximity to the Chinese border) so unless you're in the Indian military this birds eye view is impossible to experience, it felt as if we could just reach out and touch the passing peaks!Earlier flights had landed at the closest helipad at the foot of the Kinnaur valley (a 15 minute flight) but when we approached, the helipad was crowded by three other choppers so we were re-routed all the way back to Shimla airport, a 40 minute flight (but a two day journey by car!) for us this was a fantastic bonus not least because we got to fly over truly fantastic scenery including Naresh's home village but it saved us a lengthy wait for our replacement jeep to arrive, within minutes we would be back at our starting point. We swooped into Shimla airport a small hilltop affair more used to seeing light aircraft bringing visitors from other parts of India rather than military helicopters. We touched down directly outside the terminal building, much to the surprise of staff and a few waiting passengers. We climbed out strapped on our rucksacks and walked into the terminal as casually as possible, as if it was something we did every day of the week. The opportunity to pose was irresistible.We were met by another one of Nareshes drivers and within minutes we were off heading back into Shimla. During the journey Naresh and Anil asked us "is that what it is like to fly in a big jet when you go on holiday?" and they chatted excitedly about the views they had seen, turning to ask if we had seen this farm or that hillside. Even we had to admit it had been a fantastic experience, and certainly one not many others could claim to have had! (Even if we didn't get to see the remoter monasteries and mountain passes we had planned to visit). Whilst we had been away Shimla had had some severe rain storms which had blocked large stretches of the main road with rubble and mud washed from the hillsides, so we had to take a much longer route to get back into town. Eventually by lunchtime we set off on a completely new trip (our original plan was now impossible due to the loss of bridges and roads throughout the region). We had 4 days left (from our original 10) and so decided to get Naresh to drive us towards Pathenkot where we could catch a train to Amritsar to see the Sikkhs Golden temple. This drive would take 4 days if we traveled northwest through the Kangra and Chamba valleys stopping at a few interesting places along the way. These were places we had planned to visit under our own steam once we had returned from the high Himalaya, so our trip wouldn't be a complete 'washout'. (In the weeks that followed we read in the Indian press that the floods were the worst since the tradegy of 2001 and Shimla had suffered the worst rains for over 10 years, that bad weather continued and parts of India saw the worst flooding in its history!).So our next stop would be Dharamsala and Mcleod Ganj the home of the Dali Llama followed by Jot, Chamba, and another hill station, Dalhousie. This drive (rather than multiple bus trips) would enable us to see more than we could have hoped for in the time we had available including a trip to the border with Pakistan in the NW of India, and panoramic views of the mountains that we would never forget!.We only have ten days left in India before flying to Thailand and we are torn between not wanting to leave India and the excitement of revisiting Bangkok.Post again soon Aubrey and Jane.PS its always good to receive emails from 'the real world' so don't be shy, drop us a line!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1119691380/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1119691380/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1119691380/tpod.html Sun, 16 Oct 2005 10:22:47 -0400 Russia,Mongolia,China,Nepal,N India,SE Asia,Australasia & S America in 12 months.Can it be done? Let's find out!

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Sarahan, India

June 25th SarahanWe piled all our kit into the large 4x4 that Naresh our mountain guide had arrived in and we were introduced to our driver Anil, the four of us would be covering 1,200km (approx) in the next ten days depending on the weather and therefore which routes were available to us. To say that I was excited was an understatement, travelling through the high himalaya was something I'd dreampt of but never thought I would get to experience. Jane on the other hand was not so enthusiastic as she was concerned about the state of the roads we were due to be driving along. Naresh had shown her some photos of the high passes that are only open for a couple of months of the year and the prospect of driving over them had not filled her with confidence (especially after our experiences on the local buses!).The weather in shimla was beautiful as we drove up and out of the town. Climbing steadily towards Naldehra we passed its famed golf course spread over the hillside, it lays claim to being both the oldest and highest in the world! We then started our decent into the next valley, as we wound our way down the mountain we were treated to some magnificent views overlooking the steep grassy valley sides dotted with little farm buildings. We chatted to Naresh who pointed out features and related details about the local farms and villages we passed. He explained that this area is known for its production of high quality apples and cherries which are transported to Dehli to be sold throughout India. As if to prove his point we made a stop at a roadside stall and he bought 2 large boxes of big red cherries....they were truly delicious, and all 4 of us spent the next couple of hours gorging ourselves on them, and spitting the stones out of the window as we rumbled down the hillside into the valley.The further we decended into the valley the warmer it got. On reaching the valley floor we hit the all too familiar baking heat we had experienced in the plaines near Chandigarh. Thankfully we soon began to climb again into the cooler air of the mountains...it was going to be a long day as we would have to cover around 175km to reach Sarahan, which may not sound a great deal and even when reviwing the map looked straightforward enough but in reality on these narrow, steep and continually winding roads it was more than enough for our first day.The Kinnaur valley region into which we were now venturing has a reputation for containing some of the most beautiful valleys in the entire Himalaya and some of the most dangerous. In 2001 the mighty river Sutlej which drains the valley, suddenly and without warning rose over 30 metres in 2 hours. This flash flood which started in Tibet completely washed away roads, bridges and entire villages killing thousands of people submerging schools and hotels on the very roads we are now driving along. It is hard to comprehend the power and ferocity required to carry out such a level of devastation as we cruise through our tranquil surroundings on such a pleasant day. However in a little over 24 hours we were to be treated to a first hand demonstration of exactly how suddenly and viciously these flash floods can strike.We reached Sarahan in the early evening and what a great little place it is , sitting high above the valley floor at 1920 metres sheltered at the foot of a huge Himalayan 'wall'. This was the summer retreat of the Bushahar empire and contains our main reason for visiting... the twin towers of the Bhimakali temple which were contructed using traditional Himachal methods ie alternating layers of timber and stone. This unique method of construction is used throughout this region and is meant to safeguard against earthquakes, apparently each layer of wood absorbs shockwaves and prevents the building from crumbling.....it must work as the oldest tower has stood for over 800 years!Our 'hotel' (which is owned by the regional administrator) is a good deal less than 800 years old although judjing by the interior you could be forgiven for thinking otherwise, it is (and I'm being diplomatic here) well used and basic, but the staff are very friendly. Our room has a balcony with the most spectacular views acoss the valley towards the monumental peak of Srikhand Mahadev at 5227 metres, the views are hazy at this time of year but are still impressive. Small houses leaking whisps of spiralling smoke are scattered down the green valleyside with the huge grey brown peak looming over them in the middle distance, its bulky silhouette can be seen from anywhere in the village.The temple is still used for worship and it has a guesthouse attached to the compound. At 5am every morning the temple blurts out amplified chanting from megaphone speakers placed around its walls, it was loud enough to wake us up 1/2 a mile away, so those staying in its guest house must have been deaffened. As we had been woken early we had breakfast and strolled into the village where we came across old wooden shop-houses that looked as if they had been built from a selection of discarded wooden doors from ancient kitchen cabinets. They offered a range of locally produced souvenirs, wooly hats, socks, scarves etc whilst others were more practical 'general stores' selling anything from paint to toothpaste after all you cant just nip out to Tesco here!. The whole was charming and created a friendly community atmosphere.We approached the temple which consists of an inner compound, monks quarters, and the two towers. Each of the towers resembles a grey and brown horizontally striped stone pillar with an oversized but ornately carved garden shed plonked on top to create an over hanging upper storey (see photos). One tower is the original and unfortunately visitors arent allowed inside due to its fragile state and a decidedly Pizzaesque lean which it has developed, the other was reconstructed in the 1920's and it was this one we explored. Before entering the temple compound you have to cover your head (they provide a nice little felt hat) remove your shoes and any leather articles ie belts, wallets etc. As we removed our sandals I noticed a smaller temple within the courtyard and recognised it as the place of human sacrifice which was practiced here until the 19th century. Sacraficial offerings are still made during festivals when anything from chickens to buffaloes are slaughtered to appease Bhimakali (the Himachal version of the bloodthirsty Hindu god Kali). The entrance gate to the towers is protected by statues of brightly painted Tigers, passing these and crossing the grassy stretch to the foot of the tower we were struck by how ornate the carving of the upper storeys is. We had to duck down to enter the tiny doorway into the base of the tower, inside the narrow corridor led to an even narrower flight of stairs like those you would expect to find in a hay loft. On the second floor were brightly decorated shrines dedicated to Shiva and Bhimakali set under an impressive silver filagree canopy. We waited our turn along with a few local worshippers to enter the inner sanctum, we were greeted by the resident holyman by having a red Bindi (blob of 'paint') dawbed on our foreheads.Jane sat on the floor while he offered her advice on how to travel through the Himalaya in harmony with the gods (or something like that) and I gawped at the locals prostrating themselves infront of the shrine, feeling very much the foreigner intruding on a private ceremony. We duly left an offering (cash) thanked him for his advice (which Jane later addmitted to not understanding one word of) and left, wandering down the corridors peering out of the 'sheds' shuttered windows at the temple courtyard below and the surrounding countryside. Putting my Flipancy to one side I have to admit the tower and temple did have a 'special' atmosphere to them and we greatly enjoyed our visit, not least because of the relaxed and tranquil village setting.It was time to move on and so we retraced our steps back down into the valley until we were at the side of the Sutlej river again but this time heading up the main valley towards our next destination, the remote mountain village of Sangla (2680 metres) in the Baspa valley, reputedly the most beautiful valley in the entire Himalaya and one which has possibly the most hairaising roads leading into it. This journey turned out to be one of the most memorable and exciting we had experienced so far on our travels and Sangla was to be the site of our helicopter rescue!Post again soon Love Aubrey and Jane.PS We soon hope to be spending some time relaxing in Australia and posting as many entries as possible in a short space of time in an attempt to try and bring our travelogue up to date... so far we have found it difficult to 'keep ontop of things' with a busy schedule and additional correspondence aswell as poor quality internet facilities combining to frustrate our efforts...but we want to be 'current' by the time we hit South America in a few weeks time. (really we are making excuses for being a bit lazy)
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1119519180/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1119519180/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1119519180/tpod.html Sun, 09 Oct 2005 05:12:52 -0400 Russia,Mongolia,China,Nepal,N India,SE Asia,Australasia & S America in 12 months.Can it be done? Let's find out!

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Shimla, India

Shimla 23rd of JuneWe waited on the platform of Kalka station not exactly sure what to expect from our planned journey on the 'Toy' train.....well it certainly lived upto its name and as the gauge of the tracks infront of us suggested it clearly resembled the kind of train that inhabits every childrens funfare I've ever visited.The tiny carriages were only just my height and the flimsy doors and windows rattled as it lurched to a halt. It was immediately assaulted by the crowds on the platform waiting to board, everyone was fighting for the best seats...all the tickets were unallocated (a recipie for disaster, as unarmed combat broke out amongst the surging hoards of eager passengers)we struggled to gain access to the nearest carriage elbowing our way to a seat which we leapt onto as if the music had suddenly stopped during a violent game of musical chairs! Everyone had just about got settled when the conductor appeared and ordered everyone to "get off" the train. As we dislodged our bags from under the seat he approached us and furtively asked if we would like 'first class' tickets for a small fee (of course). We coughed up the extra 'pennies' and were told we could remain seated in the carriage anywhere we wanted! The other (Indian passengers) were told to move elsewhere on the train as this was now a 'first class' carriage. After ten minutes we were joined by two other European travellers who had also paid extra (gratifyingly, more than us) and so we pulled out of the station a carriage virtually to ourselves for the 6 hour trundle up the mountain to Shimla.The journey was as scenic as we had hoped...the track wound its way up a seemingly endless gradient folllowing the contours of the hills, passing over deep ravines , rounding steep sided valleys and huge buttresses . At every winding turn we were treated to new 'cinematic' vistas and impressive (if hazy) views of the slowly disappearing plaines layed out below and the huge 'topless' peaks appearing above. We passed over cute little bridges spanning dark gulleys and dry streams. The trackside was a mixture of dry brown undergrowth and tall green trees which cast a dappled shade across the line.Our destination lay some 6 hours or so up the mountain, Shimla was the summer retreat of the British in India with the first 'English' house being built there around 1822. The entire Indian government would decamp there during the summer to avoid the sweltering heat in Dehli and Kolkata and this continued until 1939. The Kalka to Shimla railway which we now find ourselves on was completed in 1903 and allowed the ruling families to construct opulent residences around its summit.The first 3 hours passed relatively quickly as we were fascinated by our everchanging surroundings, we trundled through minature 'picture postcard' stations each with tiny platforms decorated with flowering hanging baskets. The keystones of the station buildings bore dates testifying to the age of the line. Each platform contained a few local pasengers and usually a 'station master' complete with a little red flag which was always waved enthusiastically as we departed.leaning out of the window as we snaked around some of the tighter corners I could see the full length of the train,it consisted of about 10 carriages pulled by what looked like a scale model of a deisel engine, just behind the engine was a small tender containing large packages and a few passengers who had decided to brave the sun and noise to ride standing up in the open.As the journey progressed trying to get comfortable became a continual task as the seats for someone my size were very uncomfortable (I felt like an adult on a kids train). I perched myself in the doorway on the carriage steps gazing out over the passing scenery but had to eventually retreat from the suns power and so slumped on the tiny and uncomfortable seats with my elbow out of the window trying to make the most of the cooloing breeze that our speed created,The final three hours consisted of us dozing, chatting to an Irish girl who was on the last leg of a 9 month trip (similar to our own), and so we swapped travel stories and advice, whilst fidgeting and, massaging our numb bits, until eventually we rattled into Shimla station in the early evening. The station is located at the foot of a very steep (nay almost vertical) slope, up which we slowly hauled our rucksacs to find a taxi into town. On arrival We negotiated with a group of porters to carry Janes rucksac and both daybags to our hotel(I decided to manfully struggle on with my bag...my pride wouldnt let me use a porter....big mistake!) Our hotel was perched on the highest part of town and only accessible on foot (sods law) as the porters danced up the almost sheer slopes towards our accommodation as if our bags were full of cottonwool. I tried in vain to stay with them but soon began to fall behind gasping, wheezing and panting violently after only 50 yards or so, they pranced to the top and sat down in the hotel lobby having a quick smoke a full 5 minutes before us. I staggered into the reception with my head spinning, white speckles flashing infront of me, and a face the colour of a ripe tomato, blowing sweat from my top lip all over the deeply unimpressed receptionist. Jane had to explain who we were and our reservation details as I was unable to speak. I was too busy consentrating on sucking in enough air to prevent myself from blacking out, as I slumped on a nearby bench seat my head between my knees Im sure I noticed a wry smile (even a smirk) on the faces of the porters....another tourist humiliated! The town has a large number of Kashmiri and Nepalese immigrants who earn a living by toting tourists bags and almost any form of heavy goods up and down the hillside streets... We saw men humping washing machines,huge piles of logs, and furniture up the most impossible gradients with no more than a strip of cloth for padding and a loop of leather wound around their package and secured against their forehead, for them it seemed effortless...but if you ask me its a bloody hard way to earn a living!The town of Shimla is set on a ridge surrounded by pine clad 'alpine' style hillsides, its height (2205 metres)affords it a pleasantly cool climate. We had at last found a respite from the incredible heat of the plaines. The mornings tended to be shrouded in mist which lifted by midday when the direct sun could be rather hot (but tollerable) and the evenings were enjoyably warm.It was wonderful to be able to wander around without being poached in your own sweat.After our first cool night in Shimla, which we spent eating and sleeping (comfortably), we set off early to explore the town starting with its centre known as the 'Ridge' it is here that the famous colonial highstreet is situated which contains mock tudor style buildings as if they had been dragged straight from 19th century England. We strolled along the 'Mall' a pedestrianised area which stretches from Christ church (again typically English) to 'Scandal point' at the furthest end of the ridge, it was as if we had been mysteriously transported home during the night, we could have been in any historic english town.Shimla really is THE archetypal British hill station (see photos).The morning passed quickly as we just milled around with all the other tourists taking in the views and wandering around the sidestreets. We visited the post office to send a few postcards home, and then sat on a 'park bench' at the side of the main promenade just watching the world go by. As we were warmed by the pleasant afternoon sun we chatted to a variety of residents and Indian holiday makers, who seemed keen to talk to us..especially about England. Shimla is a popular destination for weekend breaks from Dehli and honeymooners from all over India. We discovered that it was the 'wedding season' and many of those with whom we chatted were part of a wedding party. The atmosphere in Shimla had a wonderful relaxed 'English summer afternoon' feel to it ...a fantastic contrast to the very Indian plaines of Rajisthan.Everywhere from the Mall is downhill, a warren of sidestreets lined with small shops market stalls and bazzars tumbling down the hillside leading to larger roads and residential areas packed onto the mountain. The British originally had planned for Shimla to accommodate a maximum of 40,000 people and their needs ie plumbing and water supplies but the original system (still in operation today) is now overloaded to the extreeme and the locals are complaining of problems relating to backed-up sewerage and limited water supplies, For many months of the year the population only have a partial water supply which has to be rationed, (infact our hotel even boasted about having a 24 hour water supply).The second day saw us planning our next step, we wanted to travel through the high himalaya but a review of our guide book left us non the wiser as we appeared to be 'spoilt for choice' from the bewildering amount of options available so we decided to get some advice from one of the local mountain guides who runs an 'adventure and trekking' operation in the town. This was when we met Naresh who was to be our mountain guide. We studied maps and discussed the best routes to take in what we wanted to see. Eventually we settled on a 10 day tour of the Himalaya which would see us driving over some of the highest motorable roads in the world and camping in remote valleys some of which were only opened up to foreigners in 1991. We agreed to set off the following morning for Sarahan a small village in the Kinnaur valley region....little did we know that a few days later we would have to be rescued by helicopter!Post again soon, Love Aubrey and Jane.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1120210560/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1120210560/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1120210560/tpod.html Sat, 08 Oct 2005 00:30:30 -0400 Russia,Mongolia,China,Nepal,N India,SE Asia,Australasia & S America in 12 months.Can it be done? Let's find out!

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McLeod Ganj, India

July 1st McLeod GanjThe Home of the DL and yes he was home when we called!We were subjected to quite a high level of security (metal detectors and removal of cameras, a quick frisking etc but the 'temple' was thronged with people listening to the amplified voice of the DL broadcast to a large crowd of devotees and visitors. He was reading from scriptures and explaining their meaning (apparently). We were very pleased to have heard him (we couldnt see him and we were not allowed any closer (stopped by the unbiquitous body guards).The town itself is a sprawling narrow street 'village' in the hills with every other building being a Budhist trinket / souvenir shop, guest house / hotel or similar. During our brief stay (one night) the place was absolutely packed with maroon robed monks...because of the readings he planned to make over the next few days and his impending birthday!A nice place to visit because it's the home of the exiled DL but it really has little else to commend it...more of a stop-off rather than a destination! Unless- of course you are a devout Budhist its not dificult to see why they call it 'Little Tibet'.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1119259680/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1119259680/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1119259680/tpod.html Sun, 18 Sep 2005 07:24:14 -0400 Russia,Mongolia,China,Nepal,N India,SE Asia,Australasia & S America in 12 months.Can it be done? Let's find out!

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Chandigarh, India

Chandigarh 20th JuneThe bus ride from Dhera Dun to Chandigarh took 9 hours and wins the prize as the most uncomfortable journey we've made so far, and in parts it proved to be the most hair raising as well. The temperature was in the high 40s at the bus station as I climbed onto the roof of the bus to lash on our rucksacs alongside the other luggage which incidentally included 2 motorbikes!We took our seats near the front entrance of the delapidated bus which from the outside looked in relatively good condition but on entering we were confronted by the...well, less than luxurious interior. The seats were rock hard, lumpy bench style affairs covered by worn, hand stapled vinyl with what remained of the stuffing sprouting from numerous ragged tears, it looked as if someone had 'machine gunned' the interior upholstery just before we got on. The floor and walls were a patchwork of meatal plates held in place by a mixture of rivets and ugly welds. The only possible explanation was that a troop of blind chimps armed with welding equipment and a rivet gun had been commissioned to repair the superstructure. We had 5 mins before our departure time but the bus was virtually empty apart from the Sikkh 'conductor' sprawled across the back seats snoring loudly. The air inside the bus was tainted with deisel fumes at the teperature you would expect of a greenhouse situated in the Sahara, that obviously explained the lack of people save the unconcious condutor and us... two sweaty pink, English idiots.As the driver boarded so did everyone else, all the seats were rapidly filled and the aisle was crowded with those standing. As we paused to pull out of the station more people climbed on board. We then crawled through the towns streets stopping every 100 yards or so to pick up more passengers we were now so overloaded that the bus bounced violently and struggled to pull off after each stop. People climbed on the roof and hung on the outside of the bus by grasping the pillars between the open windows. We resembled an attempt to break the world record for the number of people you could cram on a single decker bus! It was incredibly cramped and unbelievably hot, everyone who was lucky enough (a relative term) to be seated had someone elses intimate body part or sweaty bits thrust in their face or bags and parcels piled ontop of them. Those standing were so intertwined they resembled a vertical orgy. I glanced at Jane who looked at me with a half smile of disbelief that said, we've got 8 hours of this!We found solace in the assunmtion that many of the passengers were just making local journeys within the town and as we travelled further things would 'ease off'....we couldn't have been more wrong! For every 5 passengers that got off 7 got on and so it continued for the next 4 hours.I eventually nodded off into a sort of half sleep my head bouncing on the buttocks of the man stood at my shoulder in the aisle, I was woken by Jane frantically squeezing my hand, she had her eyes clenched shut, as I regained my senses I realised why. We were careening down a narrow winding road at breakneck speed as we rounded each approaching corner the mash of humanity around us slumped to one side of the bus then the other. The tyres made a acrabbling sound on the dusty road and the whole bus leaned frighteningly towards the roads verge which revealed a sheer drop of 4 to 5 hundred feet into a wooded ravine below. I returned Janes squeeze, gripped the leg of the man next to me and let out a silent wimper. We were now driving (or was it free-falling) through the foothills of the Himalaya along mountain roads whos only purpose was to frighten the crap out of anyone daft enough to use them.Unbeleivably cars overtook us, we overtook slow moving lorries, and violently swerved around oncoming vehicles, all at speeds that defied belief. By the time we reached the half way rest stop Jane felt decidedly queezy and I was more than a little unsure about the sanity of the driver and our chances of reaching Chandigarh alive.The bus spilled its contents (including us) onto a village square which contained a small cafe and a big river of urine, which flowed freely from the impromptu toilet created by every bus that had stoped here before us. After milling around for 10 minutes and exchanging pleasantries with our fellow sufferers we scrambled back on board ...much to our relief about a third of the passengers (and the motorbikes) didnt re-embark, but unfortunately the 'nutter' of a driver did, and over the course of the next 4 hours he treated us to a display of his reckless (nay suicidal)tendencies by trying to frighten us to death! Several times as we skirted the edge of the road I glanced out of the open window and could see no road beneath us just the cliffside dropping away below, with the odd crumpled carcass of a bus or lorry at its base. (We later read of two buses that same week plunging off nearby mountain roads killing 14 people, we were surprised it was only 14!).We eventually arrived in Chandigarh in the late afternoon, I felt like doing an impersonation of the Pope and kissing the tarmac as we hobbled off the bus but had to quickly rescue our rucksacs from the roof before the bus drove off presumably to a waiting troop of blind chimps to undergo more running repairs.Chandigarh occupies the unique position of being the capital of both the Punjab and Haryana. It was conceived in the 1950s as the previous capital Lahore is now situated in Pakistan. The towns layout is based on a grid system with numbered sectors, it resembles a giant industrial estate. This is far from the original plan devised by the American architect Albert Mayer who envisaged a curving streetplan resembling a giant leaf. Unfortunately his partner died and so he withdrew from the project and the current city owes its formal, sectional layout to the Swiss born Le Corbusier. This said Chandigarh is a great place and we enjoyed wandering around its modernist layout which gave it an almost futuristic feel..albeit a post appocolyptic one.Large wide boulivards cris-cross the city edged by scruffy, lumpy pavements strewn with piles of rubbish, not quite what Corbusier had immagined I'm sure. Our best find was the 'Subway sandwich bar' which to our amazement created wonderful european style bagettes and fresh cut sandwiches that were unbeleivably good (remember we have eaten nothing but curry for close to 35 days!). We made several visits here and made utter pigs of ourselves to the astonishment of the staff who must have thought we had some kind of compulsive eating disorder...we took such large bites from our baguettes that we had to wipe mayonaise from behind our ears!On our first full day in the town we decided to visit the Nek Chand rock garden, this turned out to be a fantastic surprise and well worth a visit. The garden was created by the emponymous former Govt roads inspector (looking at the local roads I'm surprised he had time) who recycled waste products like light switches broken pottery and electrical wire and created statues and figures from them. He was concerned at being labelled eccentric and so initially made them in secret on a plot of waste land outside the nascent city. Discovered by accident they were acclaimed as being of genuine artistic merit and he duly received grants to continue his work and international fame soon followed. With a team of helpers his work eventually evolved into the present day 'rock garden' which consists of a labarynth of pathwatys and tunnels that emerge into concrete grottoes containing his strange 'recycled' figures and statuary surrounded by waterfalls and a maize of small concrete caverns and caves linked by narrow steep sided 'trenches'.Surprise surprise the heat was incredible, bouncing off the internal walls of the garden and superheating the still air, it soon became unbearable and so we retreated to the shady banks of the citys lake...or at least thats how it is described by the tourist offices. In reality it is a large expanse of grey water resembling a flooded quarry with concrete banks and a sad looking (and closed) funfair for children...I cant in all honesty suggest you visit it, even a drive past it would be depressing! A few brave souls had ventured out onto it in a row boat their saris and silk scarves flapping in the breeze whipping across it (its only saving grace), they had to be rescued by a motor boat when the rowing proved too much for them.(We couldnt understand why they even attempted to row across it as there were no views to speak of and the lake was featureless...perhaps they just gave up the will to row out of sheer boredom?)At this time of year the temperatures in Chandigarh are reaching their height as the plaines approach 'boiling point' prior to the monsoon downpours. This heat manifested itself in scorching days of unrelenting sunshine followed by nights that were only a few degrees cooler but much more humid. The act of walking out of our aircon room every night never failed to shock us into discussing just how stiffling the heat was. It felt as if we had to force our way through the thick night air as if wading through waist deep water. It is difficult to explain just how intimidating the heat was, it left us drained of all our energy and after 6 weeks of it we were desperate for some kind of respite from it! Hopefully the high Himalaya would provide it.The following day we made an early morning trip to the bus station.We had been told by our guesthouse that regular buses ran to our destination but we didnt know from which stand, we received contradictory advice from everyone we questioned in the various cues that had formed so we approached a window that claimed to offer 'Travel Information'. We were confronted by a large Indian lady who regarded us with complete indifference as she chatted away on the phone whilst doodling on a pad set infront of her. We waited for over 10 long minutes as all our attempts at regaining her attention failed. Eventually she put the phone down and shot us a look of distain, we supposed, for interupting her call. "Could we get information about local trains and buses from her?" She nodded. So we posed our questions about the next bus and connecting train we needed to catch and she mumbled an answer (whilst looking behind us) that clearly was a lie...ie "there were no trains or buses going to our destination today" she immediately spun her chair round and struck up a conversation with the man behind the next window, as if to dismiss us. I pointed out to her (loudly)that the timetable behind her on the wall contradicted her information, my apparent impudence had clearly angered her, she slapped her pen down stood up and closed the window in my face. I rather uncaracteristically 'boiled over' hammering on the window I 'thanked her for all her help!'and as Jane led me away I shouted suitable abuse at the closed window drawing curious looks from nearby cues...not the smartest reaction but it made me feel a lot better! I prayed to God that somehow sometime in the future that woman would need help from me, and I could tell her (at great length) where to 'get off!' I eventually calmed down and we continued to question fellow passengers until we found the correct bus.This time the bus was relatively empty (thank God) and we actually enjoyed our hours drive with a sane crew (at least this driver wasn't trying to kill us...overtly anyway) towards Kalka a small town at the foot of the Siwalik hills (the front range of the Himalaya) from where we hoped to catch the famous 'toy' train that winds its way up to the old British hill station of Shimla, renouned for its architecture that mimics an English village and a MUCH COOLER CLIMATE!.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1119086520/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1119086520/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1119086520/tpod.html Sat, 17 Sep 2005 06:03:21 -0400 Russia,Mongolia,China,Nepal,N India,SE Asia,Australasia & S America in 12 months.Can it be done? Let's find out!

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Dehra Dun, India

Dhera Dun June 18 and 19thFrom Varanassi we had originally planned to go to Nepal but had decided to change our plans and venture into the Indian Himalaya instead (due to reports from fellow travellers, of political and border crossing problems).First of all we needed to get out of Varanassi and head for the foothills of the Himalaya by train. The furthest point we could reach via the northern rail network was Dhera Dun the capital of Uttaranchal. This proved to be a test of our patience.We arrived on the Platform 45 minutes before our train was due to leave Varanassi. It was another record breaking day for heat (over 48 degrees) so we found a sheltered spot and flopped down on the floor to wait.The platform was crowded with people of all descriptions ranging from army officers in full dress uniform to locals dressed in nothing more than loincloths carrying their entire possesions wrapped in a cloth tied to one end of a stick with their cooking pots lashed to the other. Numerous stalls selling 'ready meals' bubbled away providing food for hungry travellers, as well as luxuriant aromas and entertainment for us, they prepared all the food infront of us on the platform floor, throwing the offcuts onto the rail line for the waiting monkeys and birds to fight over.Cattle wandered across the tracks, staring blankly at the oncoming trains and only sauntering away at the sound of their frantic wistles. They appeared on the platform, lumbering through the crowds and grazing on the contents of the overflowing rubbish bins occasionally slapped by frustrated passengers or lead away by the ear like naughty children by the station staff, only to re-appear 10 mins later slobbering over some new morsell discarded by the stations vendors.When a train arrived (never ours) it was accompanied by 15 minutes of utter mayhem as vendors touted for business from its passengers' arms jutting from the barred windows. Hopeful passengers tried to gain entry before the train had stopped moving, jostling with one another to be the first to jump aboard. Arriving passengers jumped from the train as it slowed, fighting to be the first to hit the platfrom running.Once stationary a hail of rubbish was flung from the train onto the platform and track. Leftovers from meals, daily papers, fruit, plastic cups (full and empty)...all manner of detritus littred the scene for the waiting wildlife to pick over.As the train pulled away more fighting took place amongst those desperate not to miss it, running along side trying to leap aboard before the platform came to an abrupt end. As it clattered down the track further 'crap' could be seen being launched from every opening decorating the trackside, it was as if the station was the last chance they'd get to dump all their rubbish until their journeys end.We read in the local paper of several people being killed over recent months indulging in the crazy practice of 'train hopping' or simply fighting over the prime spot of the carriage doorway. Two local men had been charged with murder following one such incident, where a boy of 14 had been thrown off the moving train!Well at least all this activity gave us something to watch during our enforced wait!.We sweated and waited, waited and sweated and then sweated some more, for over an hour past our supposed departure time before an announcement was made, our train had been delayed for 30 minutes. This routine continued for over 5HOURS and I am here to tell you that an Indian train station in 48 degrees is not a great place to wait for that length of time! Eventually the train arrived and we fought (literally) to get on it for the expected cool of the aircon carriage, but it was only marginally cooler than the platform and full to capacity with a mass of people trying any means to keep cool, fanning themselves and each other, undressing to underwear etc etc.We found our bunks '2 teir' this time (the highest grade possible on the Indian rail system) and tried to make ourselves comfortable. We chatted to our neighbours (a wealthy Indian couple from Delhi (pilgrims) travelling around various Hindu holy sites for their 'holidays'. They along with virtually everyone else on the train were complaining about the decrepid state of the carriage (considering it was supposedly 'Fist Class').After a fitful nights sleep (Jane kept waking me to report she had felt something 'run' over her and down the side of her bunk bed) we prepared to tuck into our breakfast (spiced egg sandwich, dahl, rice and curried meat with hot Chai) but as we folded down the table a cascade of small cockroaches fell onto us from behind it and scurried across our seats and the floor. We had just recovered from this surprise (Jane had almost stopped screaming) when we noticed two furry objects flash across the carriage floor between our feet...."mice" Jane shouted and sure enough for the rest of the trip we were treated to regular encounters with mice. They scuttled across the floor nibbling on the scraps of food left by previous passengers and sat on the seats next to us grooming themselves, well at least until we threw something at them. Perhaps Jane hadn't imagined her nocturnal visitors after all! To top off this uncomfortable 23 hour marathon the train was running 5 hours late (on top of the original 5 hours delay) and so we arrived in Dhera Dun over 10 hours late, tired, grumpy and ready for a cool room!Dhera Dun was at least a pleasant surprise, a relatively wealthy small town at the foot of the front range of the Himalaya. Its major claims to fame are the vestiges of its British past ie several notable institutions are located here such as the Forest Research Institute, the Indian Military Academy, Survey Of India and a prestigious private Doon school where Rajiv Ghandi was educated.Our first stop was the bed in our room where we immediately fell into a cool comfortable sleep. That evening we wandered around the town and discovered a fantastic restaurant which served us the best curry we had so far tasted in India! After gorging ourselves with garlic nan the size of tablecloths and spicy curried veg washed down with copious amounts of beer we retired for more sleep.The following day saw us finding out how to catch the bus to our next destination, Chandigarh from where we would take the toy train upto the Raj hill station of Shimla (with its famed English arcitechture). After much confusion and conflicting information (the norm in India) we spent our last afternoon wandering around the Paltan Bazar and scraping the melting tarmac from the soles of our sandals. The narrow streets are a hot and crowded place to shop but this didnt seem to deter what appeared to be the entire population of the town from joining us in browsing the shops, stalls, and pavement emporiums. You can buy most things here... and so we did, all those little odds and ends that your'e sure you'll need, they fill your rucksac and you never use them but you feel satisfied that they are there just in case.We liked Dhera Dun, there was nothing there to make it particularly special (except the discovery of an air conditioned oasis containing good coffee, fruit shakes, sticky cakes and SANDWICHES...thank you God for Barista coffee shops), no real sights to see and nothing much to do, save wander around the town and admire the crumbling colonial era arcitechture. The whole town had a pleasant atmosphere and the people were friendly in a way that we had'nt encountered in the bigger cities.But ever onward and upward .....closer to the Himalaya...infact our bus journey to Chandigarh was to be a little too close to numerous edges of the Himalaya for our comfort!Post soon Aubrey and Jane.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1118567940/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1118567940/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1118567940/tpod.html Sat, 17 Sep 2005 03:27:03 -0400 Russia,Mongolia,China,Nepal,N India,SE Asia,Australasia & S America in 12 months.Can it be done? Let's find out!

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Varanasi, India

Varanasi 12th JuneThe train from Jhansi to Varanassi in Uttar Pradesh was our first experience of travelling on the worlds largest train network. After an hour and a half's wait on the platform in 40 degree heat (10pm) we were more than ready for the train to arrive and to our pleasant surprise it was on time and comfortable (ish) with air conditioning and 3 tier bunkbeds. As with all transport in India it was full to capacity with the overspill luggage strewn in the corridors, judjing by the quantity and sheer bulk of the parcels being transported it appeared that everyone had decided to move house on the same night.I had been allocated a top tier bunk, which meant that I didn't have room to sit up, the ceiling was about 18 inches from the end of my nose and the only views I could get were of magnolia sheet steel and rivets or the person on the opposite side of the 'bay' to me.Our travelling companions were from the wealthier parts of Indian society, business men, families going on holiday etc and proved to be friendly and inquisitive about where we were going and who we were (there were only 4 other westeners on the whole train). The journey passed relatively quickly and we managed quite a good nights sleep.We arrived in Varanassi (formerly known as Banares) mid morning and stepping off the aircon train emphased just how hot it was. The walk from the platform to the taxipark left us panting and streaked with sweat...luckily the hotel we had booked offered a collection service and so we were soon whisked away (in a three wheeled autorickshaw) to our hotel in the centre of town.Varanassi is one of the oldest living cities in the world, it is situated on the west bank of the sacred river Ganges and dates back over 2000 years (although few bulidings are more than 200 years old) Its electricity supply must date back to its foundation judging by the frequent powercuts we encountered during our stay. Hindus beleive that simply by bathing in the sacred waters they can wash away all of their previous sin....I think I could do with a good scrub!In total we spent 6 days in Varanassi but for most of that time we just relaxed. The previous three weeks of long car journeys, constant sightseeing in exciting new places and the stupifying heat had taken its toll, so we decided to 'crash' in Varanassi and recover.(life on the road can be so hard... bet you feel really sorry for us, don't you!).Sacred Ganges Our first trip to the sacred (and filthy) river Ganges and its famed ghats was filled with anticipation, and the journey itself laced with more than a little fear... as we tore through the streets they became progressively narrower the closer we got to the Ganges. We scattered all before us and left a trail of swirling blue smoke in our wake as our demented driver thrashed his machine to its limits, snapping his wrist after each gearchange as if it were in spasm he hunched over the handlebars peering through the perspex windscreen 2 inches in front of his nose, as if trying to read the smallprint on his life insurance policy. He tried every manouvre he could think of to dislodge us from his rickshaw enroute, but we stubbornly clung on as if our lives depended on it (come to think of it ...it did) Eventually (and thankfully) the streets became too narrow to even allow our glorified motorbike to go any further so we came to a screeching halt and got out with the unsteady legs of a newborn foal and stuttered the remaining distance down thin busy streets that became no more than passageways, towards the river.We had just about recovered from our high speed arrival by the time we rounded a tight corner 50 yards infront of us along a cramped dark passage, we were met by floods of bright mid morning sunlight temporarily blinding us, as our eyes adjusted we could see the vast green river spead out before us, calmly flowing past at the bottom of a large concrete platform fronted by steeply banked steps (a Ghat). As we looked upstream the gradually curving bank was made entirely of similar ghats, sprawling into the distance they displayed a mass of people engaged in a multitude of activities, boarding boats, washing, swimming, praying, sleeping, bartering or simply milling around taking in their surroundings (upto 60,000 people a day can visit the ghats). The majority were Indians going about their daily routines mixed with pilgrims, worshippers, and tourists (only a few foreigners). To our left was a large candy striped temple with goats littering the steps leading down to the waters edge.The western bank of the river backing onto the old city is home to the ghats and is where the most intimate activities take place in public, apart from washing (religious), the more mundane laundry, and daily ablutions taking place we could clearly see groups of greaving relatives surrounding the dead bodies of their loved ones which were wrapped in white muslin cloth and lying on stretchers, awaiting their turn to be cremated.The so called burning ghats are the other main reason that Hindus visit the banks of the Ganges. Dying in Varanassi which is thought to be the most auspicious of locations, is significant because it can release them from the cycle of birth and death known as Moksha. Down and to the right of us we could see a spiral of blue grey smoke rising up in the still air, it was eminating from from a bright orange funeral pyre. This was Harishchandra Ghat a secondary burning ghat and one of the oldest in the city. The bodies are borne through the streets by the relatives, initially dipped into the Ganges and then cerimonially burned in the open for all to see. Several bodies at a time are burned on small platforms and the procession of new arrivals is never ending the buring continues 24 hours a day to keep up with demand. The wealthy use sandal wood emitting a fragrant smell during the cremation which takes on average 3 to 4 hours per body. The wood is weighed so that exactly the right amount is used (and charged for).The principal funeral ghat, Manikarnika (the very wealthy /important are cremated here)is situated further upstream. Also at this location bodies are committed to the Ganges (with weights attached) without being cremated. According to Hindu religious belief there are five kinds of dead which are not allowed to be cremated, amongst these are pregnant women, snake bite victims, and children. The bodies of these people are wrapped in cloth weighted down and released into the river it is not unusual during a boat trip to see the odd corpse floating past! Due to the climate the whole process from death to 'dispatch' usually takes no more than two days.At the risk of sounding ghoulish the burning ghats were facinating and because they were surrounded by so much life and activity they were made all the more poignant.That evening we returned to the river and took a dusk boat ride along the busiest stretch of the river. I have never experienced anything that was half as atmospheric. Altars and shrines were lit up with a mixture of fairylights and burning torches groups of Priests and Holymen participated in ceremonies celebrating the holy Ganges and numerous Hindu deities by twirling containers of burning incense to a background of amplified music and chanting from the gathered crowds. Small flotillas of row boats of every size and description huddled together on the river around the ceremonies. They were full of wide eyed onlookers sat in silence. Bells, gongs and symbals all simultaneously rang, crashed and clanged loudly across the river filling the air with a cacophany of sound drawing in the crowds to watch the ceremonies unfold infront of them. The burning ghats had taken on an eery feel in the darkness as we sat floating on the inky black water we couldn't help wondering about the people who were being turned into the piles of glowing ashes laying at the waters edge, and the grusome thought of all those dispatched into the water lurking beneath us. The only light came from the firey orange funeral pyres and bright spotlights of the shrines and temples as we made our silent progress from ghat to ghat, ceremony to ceremony transfixed by the scenes onshore. A small boy in a row boat no bigger than our hotel bathtub came along side and offered us two small floating prayer candles (for a small fee of course) we duly lit them made our wishes and watched as they slowly floated off flickering downstream jostled by the ripples from the passing boats...if ever wishes were to come true surley in this setting they should!Silk ShoppingThe following day we decided (well Jane did) that we should avail ourselves of the famous shopping opportunities in Varanassi, namely the world famous silk shops. After touring round for several hot sticky hours we settled on a family run business and sorted out some presents and gifts for ourselves and relatives (no clues you'll have to wait and see!) Due to the sheer quantity and bulk (over 16Kg)of our labours we decided to post a parcel home...not as easy as it sounds. You have to wrap the parcel in a stitched sack and seal it with wax, the sacking has to be 'shrink wrap' tight and the postal and customs forms (beloved by all Indian beaurocrats) have to be completed in triplicate, sender and recipient info supplied in detail, weight, dimensions and contents list affixed...after all this has been clearly and correctly done and only then can you join a long slow moving que to get it posted! It is advisable to do the packing yourself and supply the materials (getting sacking thread and wax is not an easy task!). Thankfully we were given patient help from a rickshaw driver that befriended Jane, he was one of the most genuine people we met during our travels in India...Nandu couldn't do enough to help Jane and he didn't ask for payment in return, only the cost of ferrying her around to collect all the bits and peices needed. We used him for all our transport needs from then on and he was worth every rupee we paid him! A genuinely nice man! (if your thinking of visiting Varanassi we can supply his contact details). Change of PlanAfter the taxing shopping trip we chilled out for a couple of days just wanderiung around the streets of the old city visiting a few local temples and planning our next move which should have been Nepal... but we had received some firsthand reports from people returning who spoke of 3 day enforced delays when crossing the border overland. They had been forced to camp out in holding areas or worse still not allowed to leave their transport for 48 hours (confined to their car or bus) until the authorities could arrange for a convoy to take them into the safer areas of the country. (note: there had been some mines explode killing soldiers and locals travelling on buses, as a result curfews had been put in place in some of the areas containing rebel activities including several larger towns near the border with India). We decided that this wasn't our idea of enjoyable travel and so decided to deffer our visit for another time when things had hopefully calmed down a bit.So after sitting down with our map and numerous bottles of beer we came up with a plan to skirt along the foothills of the Himalaya covering Dera Dun and Chandigarh then up to the British hill station of Shimla through the Baspa, Spitti and Chamba valleys via the provinces of Uttaranchal and Himachal Pradesh, making our way towards the holy Sikkh city of Amritsar in the far NW of the country where it borders Pakistan.After my disappointment in Tibet (altitude sickness) and now further disappointment in not feeling safe to visit Nepal (a boyhood dream) I was determined to get my 'mountain fix' in the Indian Himalaya. This proved to be a great decision which led to both awe inspiring scenery, danger, excitement and a helicopter rescue, but more of that later.River at DawnWe had seen the Ganges at night and were told it was even more atmospheric at dawn so we arranged a boat trip. Rising at 5am we made our way to the river (a great time of day, the heat is tolerable and the streets although busy are far less frenetic). We arrived on the Ghats just as the sun began to rise. The whole horizon was bathed in a warm honey gold haze turning the placid waters from green to a silky beige colour, the ghats in contrast to our previous visit were virtually empty and peaceful. The whole scene was incredibly tranquil almost dreamlike. We slowly glided across the river the only sound was of the water lapping against the boards of the boat with each oar stroke, a low patchy mist shrouding the mirror surface of the river as dark brown silhouettes of distant boats drifted past...what an incredible experience. I rapidly filled up my digtal camera with photos vainly trying to capture the scene.As the morning drew on we passed people beating the dirt from their clothes against the steps we even saw one man drinking the river water (I assume he is dead by now). Early morning worshippers plunged into the murky water and boatmen lay asleep on the banks under their upturned boats ...this was a truly memorable morning and one we both wanted to last far longer than the rising sun would allow.Over the next couple of days the midday temperatures soared to record levels and the local papers were full of pictures of deserted ghats, and doubtless headlines which would translate as "PHOAR! WHAT A SCORCHER!" or something similar. It was so hot even the Indian pilgrims stayed away. After two days of doing 'nothing' we ventured out in it and suffered accordingly, after only a couple of hours we were little salty puddles of sweat, we looked as if we had been for a swim fully clothed!On our last evening in Varanassi we felt drawn to the river for one final visit. We spent our time watching the other main religious activity in India ie an improptu cricket match. These matches can be found on any space large enough to accommodate a game, derelict land, streets, fields, inside shops...anywhere. They use whatever is handy to make stumps..piles of stones, clothes, branches of trees, anything. The games involve all ages and invariably cause a crowd to gather offering advice, cheering, geering and applauding ..without doubt cricket is the second (if not the first) religion in India!So we sat on the steps with other onlookers cheering enthusiastically at every attempt to smash the ball into orbit and just chatting, swapping stories and pleasantries...the perfect way to end our time in this great city. As we made our way through the labarynth of streets back to our hotel we squeezed past several groups of relatives bearing their dead en route to the ghats we had just left.It was time to move on and begin our newly planned journey through the Himalaya but to reach our next destination Dera Dunh we had a 17 hour train ride ...which proved to be a test of our patience, resolve and ability to deal with vermin!We'll post again soon...love, Aubrey and Jane.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1118394840/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1118394840/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1118394840/tpod.html Sat, 27 Aug 2005 05:49:03 -0400 Russia,Mongolia,China,Nepal,N India,SE Asia,Australasia & S America in 12 months.Can it be done? Let's find out!

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Orchha, India

Orcha June 10th - 11thOrchha lies about 150 km from khajuraho in the Tikamgarh district of Madhya Pradesh close to the border with Uttar Pradesh. This small village sits on the banks of the placid river Betwa surrounded by shrub forest which allows the palaces and temples situated here to dominate the skyline. The village is a very tranquil place and has a superbly relaxing atmosphere. Wherever you look you are treated to views containing temple spires,parapets, grand kiosks and lofty towers. This is a naturally beautiful location and during our stay we spotted Jackal, Monkeys, wild pig, 'blue' bulls, and peacocks roaming in and around the town. We were immediately smitten, so decided to stay for two nights in a basic but friendly guest house near the village centre.Orchha meaning "Hidden Place" was founded in 1531 and was the capital of the Rajput Kingdom for over 250 years. Its former importance explains the fantastic examples of Bundela arcitechture that dominate the town. The largest of these is the Jehangir Mahal palace built on a small fortified island reached by crossing a crenelated bridge over a broad and (normally) deep section of the river. This imposing entrance leads you to a fantastic palace complex which proved to be one of our 'surprise' finds in India. It doesnt have the reputation of other more 'touristy' destinations, groups usually whizz through in an hour or so. In our opinion it deserves greater attention, and even a little exploration is well rewarded.The main 'royal' residence (there are two) situated on the island is an architypal Indian palace, evoking images of Emperors, Kings and Maharajas. The complex construction of passageways, balconies, winding stairways and cool secluded rooftop rooms overlooking the surrounding countryside took us several hours to wander around. I took more photos here than almost any other place in India. There is only the skeleton of a building left most of the interior decoration has long since disappeared, crumbled or simply faded away, but this faded granduer adds to its unboubted charm. We spent several hours exploring the palace ocasionally just sitting (in a shady spot) and marvelling at our surroundings. The highest points of the Palace are domed roofs at each corner and these served as perches to several huge vultures who would soar over the inner courtyard throwing black shadows across its floor. They could be seen from the village some distance away, circling the domes and floating on the rising thermals across the palace complex. The views from the rooftop rooms and walkways are spectacular offering grand vistas of the river snaking its way through the countryside. Outlying buildings, dotted far into the distance hint at the true extent of the former capitals glory.To the rear of the Palace lies a great wooden doorway elaborately decorated with elephant statues and carvings it leads to a paved platform which overlooks the 'camel house' a building with suitably tall doorways which used to house the 'royal' camel stable.We were given an 'unofficial' tour of the main building and the cellars below (now home to hoards of bats) by one of the palace attendants ...for the usual 'backhander' of course.Part of the main palace complex is still in use as a hotel and we ate here several times, the rooms available are relatively expensive but are 'original' palace rooms with thick walls, window seats and vaulted ceilings.The second palace 'Raj mahal' (adjacent) is in poor condition and is less ornate in arcitechtural style but has some fine (but faded) murals, and we felt it only warranted a brief visit.In the afternoon, after lunch at a 'street cafe' (one of the few in Orchha that we were prepared to use) Jane began to suffer in the heat, so she retired to our room leaving me to visit the former royal temple alone. This was another great building (very photogenic) and I toured round it followed by a group of village children who had 'attached' themselves to me.That night (very hot and humid) we ventured out to see the main Ram Raja temple. This temple is a place of pilgrimage for hindus, bus loads arrived throughout our stay.We approached it through a large archway at the end of a narrow street, which was lined with stalls selling 'readymade offerings' for the devotees to place in the temple. The large courtyard infront of the temple was 'littered' with hundreds of bodies, worshippers resting on grass mats, eating, sleeping, meditating or just chatting to oneanother. There was hardly room to walk, we had to pick our way through using the odd spaces between people to stand and survey the scene.Chanting was coming from within the temple, broken occasionally by the tolling of a large bell. A couple of stout trees and a few stalls lining the outer edge of the courtyard where illuminated by tiny white 'fairy lights'. The only other light came from inside the temple itself shining out of the main doorway, a soft yellow, they blended together creating a dim halflight, through which we could see sadhus prostrated on the ground in prayer, close to the walls of the temple. It was like a scene from an epic movie... the architypal Hindu religious gathering...wonderfully atmospheric!The following morning we visted the town of Jhansi (16 km away) the site of a large fort (yet another one) where the British contingent were massacred during the Indian uprising of 1857. The fort built in 1613, was rather disappointing after all the previous ones we had seen, apart from the entertaining half an hour we spent watching the staff trying to catch a monkey which was running amok after 'attacking' some visitors. They chased it with long poles trying to dislodge it from an archway in which it had 'holed up', and from where it screeched at them bearing its teeth in defiance.The hilltop location afforded us good views of the town and at least there was a cooling breeze blowing across the ramparts which offered us temporary relief from the otherwise stiffling heat.On returning to Orchha we walked around the town and wandered along some of the dusty outlying roads through small groups of houses and the crumbling remnants of the former 'royal capital'. We were greeted with curiosity as people came out of their houses to watch us pass and were soon surrounded by the everpresent group of children wanting to 'touch us' or trying to hold our hand.Taking any more photos became impossible so we returned to the town just to soak up the relaxing atmosphere and have a cup of 'Chai'(Indian tea) which had rapidly become my favourite drink. Its a 'spiced' tea with 20 spoons (estimated) of sugar in it, served piping hot in a small earthenware cup and its delicious!! It helped to lubricate a dry and dusty throat..Infact the whole town was covered in a powdery dust, not unlike cement dust, which would 'kick up' at the slightest provocation, be it a passing cow, bus, or the act of simply walking along a street would create a cloud of the stuff, which of course would then stick to your sweaty flesh like the proverbial 'crap to an army blanket'. Everytime we showered we left a pile of 'silt' in the bath which had attached itself to us during the day.After one such shower, as we readied ourselves to leave Orchha that night, Jane spotted a huge (nay massive) lizard darting across the floor of our room and disappearing amongst our clothes and open rucksacs, which were laying under a nearby table. Jane, almost in tears with fright, insisted that I "hunt it down" as she didn't want it getting into her bag.So I (completely naked) started to gingerly rummage amongst our luggage in an attempt to 'flush' it out. Then suddenly Jane screammed, "its above you on the table". I felt something drop onto my back, I shot bolt upright and lept about the room (in the style of Michael Flattley doing the river dance) my arms flailing behind me to try and dislodge it!. It was then that I noticed Jane was doubled over CRYING WITH LAUGHTER!The beast that had pounced on me was infact one of Janes 'flip flops' which she had dropped onto my back at the moment she had started to scream. Oh how I laughed at her little joke, (NOT!). If I had of been wearing any pants I would have certainly soiled them! (the very mention of this, my heroic 'lizard episode' STILL reduces Jane to fits of laughter). I however choose to ignore it as amoment of 'weakness' rather than 'girly cowardice'.We were to leave Orchha that night, our driving tour of India had finally ended, and we had to say 'goodbye' to Happy our companion and driver for the last three weeks. After swapping details and lots of hugs accompanied by his 'mantra' of "Oh my God" we parted company he heading back to Delhi and we to Jhansi station for the overnight train to Varanassi.The three weeks had been incredible,we had seen far more than we would have been able to under our 'own steam' but at the cost of having to follow a semi rigid itinerary. Overall the trade off had definitely been worth it! We were pleased to be 'on our own' again and excited by the prospect of truly Independant travel ...starting with Varanassi the site of the sacred bathing Ghats and funeral pyres of the Ganges.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1118221080/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1118221080/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1118221080/tpod.html Fri, 26 Aug 2005 03:02:21 -0400 Russia,Mongolia,China,Nepal,N India,SE Asia,Australasia & S America in 12 months.Can it be done? Let's find out!

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Khajuraho, India

Gwalior to KhajurahoWe changed our itinerary from the original plan and decided to head towards Khajuraho only stopping breifly in Gwalior on the way, rather than spending the night. We are now travelling in the province of Madhya Pradesh Indias geographical heartland. It has poor infratstucture, suffers from drought, but has the highest percentage of forest in India, and is a great place to drive through.... and the heat is just as seering! GwaliorOur journey to Gwalior was less than straight forward as we are again in territory that Happy has not driven in before, and frustratingly although we can see the fort standing proudly ontop of a massive hill right in front of us...we can't find the road that leads up to it! We cruise around the towns maze of unmade streets and everyone we ask (over 15 people) claims we are on the right road....but non lead upwards to the fort, after an hour and several "Oh my gods" from Happy we eventuallly stumble across the correct road.Gwalior is in a great location a few hours from Agra . The ramshackle town spreads out from the foot of the 100 M high hill on top of which the fort is perched. The fort encloses the entire top of the hill with 10 meter high walls built on the edge of sheer cliffs over a distance of 3KM. There are numerous rock paintings and Jain sculptures adorning the cliffside as you drive up the winding road to the summit. Several Jain temples and a palace are to be found inside the fort itself, whos colourful history stretches back over 1,000 years.The views from the ramparts over the flat plains below are magnificent and Gwalior is worth a visit just for this. We visited the Mahn Singh Palace a great looking structure with blue painted panels containing elephants and peacocks on its outer walls. There is a nearby Jain temple dating from the 11th century and we spent an interesting couple of hoirs wandering around.Also ontop of the hill is a modern Sikkh temple which we were invited to visit by Happy...we were given the 'full tour' with explanations galore, about every aspect of the temple and its significance, we were offered a free meal but declined as time was pressing and we needed to move on if we were going to reach Khajuraho before dark. Then 'sods law' came into effect and about 2 hours down the road we had yet another puncture. Happy complained that in the previous 4 years driving he had only had 2 punctures and we had already had 5 on this trip alone! We happened to be near a roadside truck stop and so 'limped' in to have it repaired (the spare was also flat). This took a team of 10 to complete! Only one man carried out the repair but 9 others continually gave him advice on how to do it correctly, we stood back in the shadeand watched 'the farce' unfold...45 mins later we were on our way again, but there was now no way we would reach our destination before dark. I wasn't looking forward to travelling any distance on the roads at night. Especially the stretch from Agra towards Jhansi (on the way to Khajuraho) which has a reputation for modern day Banditry, cars have been stopped and their passengers robbed and even shot! A prospect we didnt fancy.KhajurahoThe drive to Khajuraho was fantastic as the afternoon wore on we passed over bridges spanning massive rivers through a selection of weird and wonderful countryside one minute dry barron lunar lanscapes the next tree lined lanes surrounded by hills reminiscent of an 'arrid france'. The road towards Khajuraho was designated as a 'National Highway' but was in reality no more than a single track part-made road, which was in the process of being widened. Our progress along it was slow as we had to continually wait for other 'traffic' to pass down the single track sections. The vast majority of visitors fly-in direct to Khajurahos small airport or catch the train to nearby Jhansi. This maybe simpler / quicker but you miss out on some fascinating scenery. As the evening light softened it produced the most magical glow, creating a wonderful atmosphere, local farmers were making their way back home on foot carrying their implements or riding in a mixture of transport ranging from donkey to Ox carts. Loaded down with animal feed and produce of every description piled high. They trundled their way along our path in 'dribs and drabs' like Bucolic refugees, as we passed small hamlets and single farms dotted at the roadside. This is a remote area of India and there is no sizeable population centre for hundreds of miles, and it felt like it. We were literally in the middle of knowhere!Its not the best place to have an accident so we were lucky (again) to narrowly miss a head-on collision (in the dark) with a large cow who suddenly lurched infront of us, we jammed on the brakes and swerved into a roadside field,... our hearts pounding, all we could see in the darkness was the resultant beige cloud of dust surrounding us, illuminated by our headlights. We 'laughed it off' pulled back onto the road and continued on our way.... a little more cautiously!We eventually arrived at our hotel (the only guests ..again) after a 13 and 1/2 hour drive, very tired but excited about seeing the temples tomorrow.The Jain temple complex in Khajuraho boasts some of the finest temple art in the world and exactly how and why they were constructed here remains a mystery.All of the temples were built within 100 year period from around 950AD. Their size and complexity of construction are marvellous. The Stone carving famously depicts erotic images and scenes from Indian life over a millenium ago. Their remote location is probably responsible for their longevity, as they avoided the later Muslim onslought when many temples across India were all but destroyed.The main group of temples stand in a modern day park with flower borders and lawns others are dotted about near the town itself about 1KM away. They are all incredible and yet another 'highlight of India'.The day we visited was almost unbearably hot just standing out of the shade for a few mins left you drenched in sweat, even Happy complained about the heat and was forced to retire to some shade while we toured the site. It is difficult to to the temples justice and the phrase "a picture paints a thousand words" is true, so.. view our photos.The town itself is small and we quickly walked round it stopping briefly to watch some women washing in the giant lotus pond set on the edge of the town...an impressive sight, a sea of green leaves floating on even greener water!That evening we visited an impromtu market set up on a nearby clearing, hundreds of people turned out to walk the lines of goods set out on the floor and simple tables. Most of the Veg we couldn't recognise so much so that it looked 'fake' it was so alien in apperance. The meat looked all too real with bits of animal carcass layed out everywhere, covered in dust and flies....yummy.So far in India I had managd to stick to vegitarian food (a wise choice) although Jane cracked and had started to eat the occasional chicken curry. If you ever visit india do not eat the 'western food' ie Pizza, Pasta etc which is generally revolting and bears little or no resemblance to what you would expect. However after nearly a month of 'Curry' I was getting ready to try anything for a change! (more on food later).Next stop is Orchha and Jhansi, and a pleasant surprise! post again soon Aubrey and Jane.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1118134560/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1118134560/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/meandher/transplanet_1/1118134560/tpod.html Thu, 25 Aug 2005 04:27:37 -0400 Russia,Mongolia,China,Nepal,N India,SE Asia,Australasia & S America in 12 months.Can it be done? Let's find out!

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Agra, India

June 7th AgraAgra is about 200 Km from Delhi and has a somewhat dodgy reputation, it is synonymous with the Taj Mahal but its nickname of 'Agro' describes the city perfectly. True to form we were constantly 'hassled' by people wanting to sell us everything from water, bus tickets, and vegetables to silks and accommodation. By now we had become hardened to Indian hawkers, touts, and their sales tecniques but for anyone arriving 'fresh off the plane' it must be bewildering!Our Hotel was one of the worst we stopped in, (just tollerable for 10GBP per night) like a lot of hotels in India from the outside they appear quite 'reasonable' but a few steps inside soon change your oppinion. The general thinking seems to be, cram a many rooms as you can into your hotel regardless of wether you can service them or organise anything properly. The standard of rooms for the money you pay varies wildly but we found that overall to get a room (that we were prepared to stay in) was more expensive than say China (or the standard of room was lower for the same money).Our first stop in the early afternoon was to be Agras Fort, construction started in 1565 by the Mughal Emperor Akbar (who's grandson eventually built the Taj Mahal). It is a massive red sandstone construction. The original purpose was to be military but this changed and it was later 'upgraded' to become a palace. It stands down river from the Taj and offers great views of the surrounding area. Its double walls are over 2.5 Km in length and rise to 20 M in height. The entrance Gate over a now dry moat is truly imposing leaving little doubt as to its original purpose.Inside you can get a real sense of the wealth and power weilded by its 'owners'. Huge courtyards link to a myriad of smaller ones all with heavily carved walls some buildings made entirely from white marble with coral and semi precious stones inlayed, creating flower patterns and decorative motifs.Ornamental gardens surround a giant 'audience hall' where the emperor would receive official visitors. How impressed they must have been, to be enclosed by all this grandeur and opulence.The fort is well worth a visit, not least for the view from its ramparts of the Taj Mahal shimmering in the distance, sat on the banks of the Yamuna river.After a brief rest, shower, and change of clothes we headed out again this time to see the Taj Mahal up close.It is contained within a complex of buildings which are stunning in their own right, but are overshadowed by the sheer beauty of the Taj. The huge west entrance gate which leads to the inner compound containing the Taj is made of red sandstone and is covered with inscriptions from the Quran in Arabic .The sight that greets you as you pass through the gateway is TRULY BEAUTIFUL. The Taj stands on a white marble platform fronted by ornamental ponds and gardens. The Taj itself is constructed entirely from semi transclucent white marble carved with flowers and decorated with inlayed semi precious stones and corals formed into beautiful patterns. This 'Pietra Dura' work has to be seen to be beleived, the massive vaulted arches that form the sides of the Taj underneath the main dome are superb, housing further inlays and verses from the Quran.Work was started on the giant mausoleum in 1631 by Shah Jahan, and was created to house the body of his second wife Mumtaz who died in childbirth. It was completed in 1653 and it took a workforce of over 20,000 drawn from India and central asia, with some brought in from as far afield as Europe. After completion many of the artisans had their hands or thumbs amputated to ensure that the beauty of the Taj could never be repeated!( a policy that Barratt Homes are thinking of adopting, or is it that they have employed the Amputees? I cant' remember which)The Taj is as beautiful now as it was when newly completed. It is strange to see it 'in the flesh' as you get a sense that you've seen it before due to it being such an iconic figure 'representing' India. This de'ja vous soon evapourates once you climb the platform and get up close to the main structure which is quite simply awe inspiring, and like nothing else I've ever experienced.In an attempt to maintain its pristine condition the Indian govt have banned all motor vehicles from a 4km radius of the complex and an additional industrial exclusion zone has been created to limit the damage from 'Acid Rain' which it is feared may discolour or damage its exterior. The expensive entrance fee (for western tourists only) is also supposed to be put towards the upkeep of the entire complex.The bonus we hadnt expected was the distinct lack of tourists, we managed to get good clear photos without too many people in the way (we expected huge crowds of people obscuring the views). We sat for a while under one of the vaulted arches overlooking the adjacent eastern 'mosque' (can't actually be used to worship as it is facing in the wrong direction) which was built purely to match the real mosque on the other side of the Taj. As we sat soaking up the atmosphere we were pounced upon by Indian tourists wanting to have their photo taken with us... a steady stream of children were placed on our lap one after another, it was as if we were part of the 'Taj experience' for the domestic tourists.The interior of the Taj dosen't disappoint either. The false tomb of Mumtaz lies in its centre and is surrounded by a finely peirced marble screen. (Her 'real tomb' and that of her husband lie below this cenotaph in a secure basement room). The interior walls are marvelously decorated with more 'Peitra Dura' the craftsmanship is mind boggling. Some of the coral peices inlayed are coloured dark red, supposedly from the blood of the craftsmen who shaped each tiny peice of coral by holding it against an abrasive wheel which drew blood from their fingers, thereby staining each peice.The Taj stands on the bank of the Yamuna river (almost dry) and from this massive marble platform great views over the outlying countryside can be had. It is an especially good vantage point in the late evening when, the acres of marble take on the changing colours of the sunset. Poets and writers through the ages have tried to encapsulate the beauty of the Taj, and I'm here to tell you.. its an impossible task. All that I can say is you have to see it to really appreciate it and the aura which surrounds it! Unforgettable, one of the places we have visited which more than lived upto our expectations.Agra itself, (despite its deserved reputation / nickname) is a great place to visit, if you are in the right frame of mind ie 'prepared for battle'. There are many 'interesting' sights to visit, unfortunately this time around we did't get chance to see them all....but we'll be back.Our next destination Is Khajuraho some 12 hours away by car and on the way we plan to visit the hilltop fort and town of Gwalior.This proved to be a great journey passing through some of the most remote countryside we had so far seen in India.Post again soon love Aubrey and Jane
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