Bank woes, or how I miss my first Himalayan sunset

  Sarahan, India
Monday, July 9, 2007

We had arranged to meet at 7.40 to walk down the hill to the travel agents for 8am. It had been raining heavily all night, but we didn't have to deal with anything worse than drizzle. Which was just as well since we had to sit around and wait a while, fending off the monkeys. When the boss guy arrived with out guide for the duration of the jeep trip, a man by the interesting name of Cookie, we then had to lug our bags about 1km down a hill to the road.

The jeep is pretty good, though worryingly the tarp doesn't quite cover all the bags. Only a problem if it rains, I guess.

And then we were off. Cookie is a very good driver, being perhaps the only Indian ever who doesn't feel the need to honk the horn every 3 minutes.

We drove north-east, through the town of Kufri where we saw our first landslide [admittedly a small one on the main street], and then followed the Sutlej River. We saw plenty of evidence of old landslides on the rest of the route, often near sheer drops that had Katryn squeaking. Since this is such a mountainous region, the routes always follow the natural passages formed by rivers and old glaciers. The river itself was a typical Himalayan river, grey with silt and heavy with rushing water from the melting glaciers above. We got bird's eye views of the churning water on occasion when a corner suddenly revealed an oncoming vehicle and we were forced to pull over extremely close to the crumbling edge. Cue more noises from Katryn. This is TATA truck territory, you hardly see anything else. Often we passed graffiti attesting to the Indian peoples' love for TATA.

This valley is incredibly fertile, growing potatoes, beans, cabbages, cauliflower and whole orchards full of different fruits: apples, peaches, apricots, cherries, and so on. Most of it isn't ripe yet, but we still tried the apples and almonds. You really get the impression of an alpine valley, under snow for most of the year, booming in the few brief months of summer. Another plant that grows in abundance here is cannabis. Everywhere. Just wild by the roadside. I'm not excited by weed, but I was thinking off all the Bangor students who'd love it.

We stopped for breakfast and most of us ordered either butter toast or toast with jam. Amusingly, Dirk and Francoise ordered 2 each, prompting me to ask why. Francoise explained she always ate 2 pieces of toast for breakfast. I suspected that one order of toast wasn't just one piece, but assuming she knew I said nothing. When the huge piles of toast arrived, thick with a good 2cm of margarine, we all cracked up laughing.

Lunch was at another town en route, though it took hours to arrive. Next time we'll go for a little local restaurant rather than a posher one, whatever Cookie says about the latter.

We pulled over at a roadside temple, where Cookie joined many other drivers in washing his hands and face, taking a drink of water and then pressing his palms together and muttering before and after ringing a big bell 3 times. We all watched in solemn silence, this obviously being a serious moment and, in may ways, important for our onward safe passage. The effect was rather spoilt when a man walked away past the open window of the jeep and belched loudly, reducing us all to giggles.

We reached Sarahan at 5pm, leaving us some daylight with which to explore. There isn't much to the village, but it does have fantastic views over to a 5000m+ mountain called Srikhand Mahadev. We sat and drank apple wine [I had pepsi since Metronidazole and alcohol do not mix] and goggled at the view. Then I found a ISD phone box to ring the bank about not being able to withdraw money in Shimla. After being put on hold by a man for 15 minutes [at which point the line disconnected] I got through again to a woman who I ordered not to put me on hold, and could she just give me a simple answer: yes or no - do you think my card is stolen? She found out in about 5 mins, telling me that some ATMs in India don't work, and that the automated call to my parents was just to inform me that I was trying to get money out. Well, thank you. I know I'm trying to get money out!! That's the problem. Also, what's the point ringing me at home when I'm blatantly in India? El Stupido.

The end result was I wasted money, got pissed off, got stared at by some men, and missed a great sunset. Not a happy bunny.

We are staying in the grounds of Bhimakali Temple [a version of Kali], the older bit of which is 800 years old.



Until recently human sacrifices were performed here. All they do now is request you to wear a silly hat to go inside. I was late to the ceremony, and after getting lost and probably circumnavigating in the wrong direction or something, I arrived in time to catch the end. Watching parents trying to persuade their uncomprehending 3 year old to kneel down and touch floor with forehead is amusing.

Dinner was fantastic, though I'm sure it had a lot to do with me being starving hungry. It was simple stuff - rice, beans and daal with chapatis, but it was so gooood. And then to bed. We're rotating so no one person has to sleep with me every night. Don't want to start any fights, see. *snort* Tonight I get Ann [Quiet Chicken as I've named her].