Manali

The overnight bus ride to Manali was torture. It's to the continuous puzzlement of every traveler I have talked to on the road why exactly it always seems like the 'right' option. Sure you save a few pennies plus you don't have to pay for accommodation but the pain that is involved barely makes it worth it.

Taking my seat on the 'ordinary' government bus compounded these thoughts. The seats had next to no padding leaving pretty much a metal bar to sit on. Directly in front of the seat was another metal bar to help you hang on when the bus takes the corners at reckless speed. It also provided a target for my head to plummet towards every time that the bus broke sharply. There was no head rest leaving a fragile window as the only place to rest. Behind me sat a Tibetan woman, who under the influence of something, went through a familiar routine. Fall asleep, wake up, open the window into my shoulder and head, fall asleep, get woken up because her head is out of the window, close the window and so on for 10 hours.

After no sleep I joked with the other Western inmate on the bus, who had reached his destination at the time of 2:30am. He turned and said 'this is not good'. One hour later I was uttering the same words. As I stumbled off of the bus, three touts approached. The tone in my voice must have informed them that it was too early in the morning for this and they hobbled back towards the shadows.

As I wondered down the main street in a sleepless daze there was not another person around. There were dogs though. Packs ten strong controlled the streets at this hour. It was not a pleasant place to be as rival packs fought for territory and I happened to find myself in the middle of it.

Fortunately I had been told to stay around 3km outside of Manali at either Vashisht or Old Manali. I liked the sound of the name of the first place and so started the climb out of Manali and away from the essentially wild dogs. As soon as I crossed the bridge and away from the lights, the entire area was pitch black. Looking up the whole sky was filled with every star imaginable. Shooting stars lit up the sky. I could just about make out the outlines of the mountains, it was spectacular. I sat for maybe an hour in awe at the sight before me. Finally the cold started to bite and I carried on up the road. Whilst the packs of dogs stayed in Manali all sorts of other animals passed me on the way up as I staggered aimlessly hoping not to fall into the river that I could hear, just not see, beside me. On two occasions I found myself no more than one meter away from a wandering donkey. Due to the dark, it was always the donkey that reacted first letting out a tremendous noise, followed by the stamping of its hooves that sent me jumping ten feet into the air in shock. Luckily shining my ipod on full brightness into their eyes seemed to send them galloping away.

On my arrival in Vashisht I was greeted by a man in his boxer shorts and tooth brush in mouth. He said "milk tea?" I had never had a better offer at 5am in the morning. And what a kind man he was. Not only did he open the cafe four hours early for me, he even woke his wife up to make me breakfast. It was not a problem he assured me.



When the sun rose, 'Manali' was as beautiful as I had imagined. With a river flowing through the middle and mountains in abundance it was a great place to sit and wither away a few days. The first day I largely spent sleeping and enjoying the grand views. On the second I went back to the center of Manali taking in its limited sights. On the third day I planned another of those improvised walks into the mountains. Then just at the point that I was scaling an exposed but rewarding path the thunder came, then the lightening and finally the rain. It was torrential. I was drenched. After two hours in the rain I made it back to bus station and promptly booked my early morning ticket out. Manali was no fun in the rain.

After a few hours of warming myself up I heard that the rain had stopped. Peering out of the windows though it had been replaced by a terrific snow storm. This just wasn't India. However saying that it was beautiful watching the peaks and indeed Vashisht get covered in a blanket of snow.

The following morning I awoke to find that not only had most of the snow gone but so had the bus! I now had another reason why night buses seem a better idea than morning ones. It was a blessing in disguise though. Admiring the snowy peaks were a great way to spend a morning whilst chatting to fellow travelers and drying clothes in a roof top cafe.



In the afternoon I nearly managed to miss my bus again this time getting lost when trying to find my way back from the 'must see' waterfall that I had been advised to see by a local. I should probably have known better not to have spent so much time admiring the stunning light show as the sun went down. Further over the previous couple of breakfasts I had been devouring a cartoon book by one of the writers of Sesame Street. He documented every day of his year long travel in 1990 with a drawing and some explanation. One such sketch was of the woods around Manali and how easy it is to get lost. I should have paid more attention. As seems to be the way so far I got a lucky break and found my way out after an hour or so of searching through what had taken me five minutes to walk through on the way up. I quickly ran back picked up my backpack and got to the bus just in time. Perfect preparation for another night bus, this time to Shimla.

Mcleod Ganj

I knew that I would like Mcleod Ganj from the moment I stepped off of the bus. I remember thinking to myself oh here we go as I noticed two rickshaw drivers parked directly outside the bus, but not one batted an eye lid. In fact it took quite a lot of convincing to get one of them to take us up to Bhagsu where we would be staying. He seemed much more interested in going to bed.

But it was not just the rickshaw drivers who were relaxed, the whole area was. Admittedly it is not a very Indian place considering that it is home to the Tibetan government in exile but it was all very refreshing.

The chilled atmosphere seemed to rub off on me. For the first few days I largely spent playing cards, reading books and drinking a lot of milk tea and coffee. The downside to staying in a superb guest house with a great communal outdoors area is that it is sometimes hard to find an incentive to do anything active! But in many ways it provided a much needed time to relax and enjoy a slower pace to life.

The principle reason to visit Mcleod Ganj is because it is home to the Dali Lama. Although he himself was off giving talks in America I visited his residency a couple of times. The first time there was, what I understood to be, a major speaker talking to a gathering of monks and a large assembled audience. He seemed to have the audience in the palm of his hand as laughter filled the complex. Other than gathering that they were mostly jokes about yoga my Tibetan let me down.

On the second visit the complex was much quieter allowing me to roam freely throughout the temple and monks 'barracks'. On leaving a number of the monks had gathered for their daily 'discussions'. In pairs one would sit and listen, whilst the other, who was far more animated, argued their points. Normally debating can be noisy but this was a little over the top as every time they wanted to seal a point they either stamped their feet or slapped their hands. The crescendo of noise echoed around the surrounding buildings. On my way out I noticed a couple of westerners giving it a go. For some reason it just didn't look quite the same.

One of the many highlights to Mcleod Ganj was far off the lonely planets radar. Directly outside our guest house stood a tiny temple. It had first aroused interest from the continuous bell ringing and singing that would make its way through into the room at 7am. The exterior of it reminded us of something from Alice in Wonderland. Little did we know that the inside would be just as eccentric. With psychedelic Buddhist statues on the interior walls and model snakes crawling from the ceiling it was quite a sight. The real treat though was going through a snakes mouth and into a cave the winded it's way up, past more statues and masks, until you reached the top of the temple, which looked out over the valley. Both Mark and I were taken aback by the whole design of the place. It was a religious playground, not least illustrated by the smiles of the children running back and forth through the cave. I am seriously starting to doubt that I will ever visit a better temple!

On a couple of days the lure of the snowy peaks that showed themselves on clear days was a little to much. It seems to be a developing habit of mine that when I see mountains I want to climb them! The first attempt largely failed however I did end up at a picturesque waterfall with glacier pools a plenty. Several hours with a book, in the sun, was time well spent! The second attempt was better, in that I got higher, but the clouds came in and ruined any good views, which was disappointing.

Something that I really wanted from Mcleod Ganj was an opportunity to listen to Tibetan Monks share their experiences. Fortunately I got the chance on my final day when I took part in a conversation class. This is something that is run by voluntary groups and you essentially turn up, are given a group to work with and discuss a pre-arranged topic. The main aim of the sessions is to help the locals with their English. The theme for the day was:

What would you change in the world?
What is bad in the world?

I joined in with a group of teenagers and supported them along with a New Yorker. The kids language was basic but it was a joy working with them. At times I almost felt like a teacher again! At the end of the session all the groups had to speak three sentences in answer to the questions. There were the obvious answers from the older groups. STOP WARS, Poverty more charity etc and then my group stood up. The first sentence they spoke was poignant:

1) There should be no evenings only daytime.

This brought a round of applause from the classroom. Ah the group are selecting the good ones from our discussions or so I thought. The second proved to be quite controversial:

2) Everyone should be allowed to wear different types of clothes

A protest against robes! The elder monks seemed not so impressed by this change to the world. Why couldn't they just stick to the obvious answers I thought rather than our meaningless chatter. Oh well there is always time for the third:

3) You should not thrown stones at ducks

Too true! The mind of young Tibetan monks, truly they are in touch with the key issues in the world today.

The session was good fun but I would be lying if I said that I wasn't a little disappointed at not getting to speak in more detail than simple hello's to some of older monks. Luckily though that time came when walking out of the guest house and towards the bus station. I was greeted by a monk keen on a bit of company. It was fascinating listening to him as he talked about making the journey over the Himalayas on foot to reach Mcleod Ganj. They walked every day and most nights, some for up to three months, in nothing more than their robes. It put my efforts to shame. The exchange was truly a superb experience.

After half an hour or so we parted company and I clambered onto the Government bus which would take me overnight to Manali. It seemed like a good idea at the time but looking back on it now I am not so sure.

Delhi - Amritsar

Delhi wasn't just about the Commonwealth Games. After getting over and around the well publicised hassle that Delhi seems to have in abundance, I found it to have some great places to visit. The humayun tomb, with its Taj Mahal esq design, the Red Fort, which was spectacular from the outside and the Jama Masjid, India's largest Mosque, and boy was it huge, were all impressive. After five days I was quite chuffed with myself considering the general consensus from people was that 1-2 days is the average stay due to the heat and the fact that everyone seems to be out to rip you off. However although I liked it more than I expected I would be lying if I said that I wasn't delighted to be booked on a train ready to leave for Amritsar.

On the eve of departure Delhi did have one last parting gift for me...a rickshaw driver declared that he needed double the fare because the road was closed to the train station and he would need to take a long diversion. Oh how I had wanted to hear a line like that. Laughing I left him and went to the next rickshaw driver, who promptly apologised and drove off. The third let me hop in and away we drove until we met lots of road closed signs due to the cycling event. Fortunately and after considerable negotiations I finally got him to abide by the meter hence meaning no double fares! The story did remind me that actually some crazy stories from rickshaw drivers and touts in Delhi can actually turn out to be true!

The train journey to Amritsar was painless and I arrived in Sikhism most holy site the following morning. The greatest part that I understood of Sikhism is its inclusiveness. No more is this shown then by how they have built a tourist dorm next to all the pilgrims dorms and within the Golden Temple complex itself. Not only did this provide a great place to meet people and hang out, it also meant that every morning, when exciting the dorm, the Golden Temple stood infront of you, only 20 or so meters away. Oh and it was also free to stay there (donations were encouraged)!

To get to the waters edge though you had to dress modestly, clean your feet and cover your hair. I just about managed the first two rules however the later one was a struggle, not least in negotiating the outer rim of the temple trying to find the man with the free head scarfs. Eventually after much panicking from some of the pilgrims I found the man. My punishment for such a crime, getting to wear a nice bright pink bandana. Sikhs seem renowned for their bright turbans and head wear but this was taking the mick.



The temple itself is absolutely spectacular, especially at night. Sat at nine in the evening by the waters edge, listening to the monks chanting was a beautiful experience. But whilst its grandness is its selling point, the pilgrims themselves were what made the place so special. I lost count of the amount of times that I was stopped and talked to. At one point two guys who worked in the temple and were on their free time, took me to a special vantage point to see the holy book get taken out of the temple to be 'put to sleep'. It was fascinating listening to them explaining the importance of the ceremony and also the basics behind being a Sikh.



Another feature of the Golden Temple is the communal dining room. Here volunteers feed between 60 and 80,000 people a day. Class, religion and nationality is totally irrelevant. The food whilst basic was good, especially the sweet rice and rice pudding. On one day, I and a group of other people from the dorm volunteered by rolling Chapattis which were then cooked and sent upstairs for eating. After an hour I went up to eat and noticed the man next to me looking strangely at his plate. On closer inspection there sat a very odd sized, thinly rolled Chapatti. Amused by it being one of ours I apologised to him. He saw the funny side and seemed very impressed that we had spent time volunteering.



Outside of the temple, Amritsar also has another big trick up its sleeve. On the first evening, I joined an Israeli guy to the Indian, Pakistan border to witness the closing of the border ceremony. It was a truly hilarious and incredible site. There must have been around 3-4,000 Indians crammed into the stands surrounding the gate. On the other side the Pakistan crowd was out in good numbers too. What followed was a Monty Python sketch as both sides tried to out do each other in a highly choreographed event. For example, the crowd, aided by cheerleaders and flag bearers attempted to out sing each other, the soldiers, on microphones, attempted to out shout each other and for a good half an hour soldiers took it in turns to out goose step, and adjust their hats better than the other side. It was utterly bizarre but made for fascinating viewing.



In many ways I could have stayed in Amritsar for many more days but instead choose to join two guys who were heading further north. So after an eventful couple of days I decided to play Russian roulette with the local bus system and take a ten odd hour journey up to Mcleod Ganj, the official residence of the Dali Lama.

Delhi 2010

The Commonwealth Games, in India, was a disaster waiting to happen. That was the general view of people I spoke to when in Nepal and they had justification in saying it. With bridges collapsing, ceilings falling in and an apparent lack of enthusiasm from the host population, it wasn't looking great. However after going to three different venues over three days, I think that as of the time of writing it has been a success. Considering all of the problems that led up to it it was a thoroughly 'organised' and enjoyable event.

I went to see Athletics on the first day. Watching the 100 meters live has always been an ambition of mine and whilst it may not have had the under 10 seconds sprinters it was still incredibly impressive to see how quick they actually go. Yesterday it was the turn of boxing. Saw the middleweights and super-heavyweights fight it out. By far the most entertaining bouts were with the Indian fighters as the crowd in the stadium went absolutely crazy. This morning I finished off my games binge by watching our Mens and Womens hockey teams win and also the Australians narrowly edge out the Pakistani's.

For all the enjoyment I and others I spoke to had, we all shared big issues with the intelligence of the organisation of getting into the stadiums. The organisation committee has essentially handed over the running of the games to the Indian police. From my limited experience of them they are about as unhelpful and unintelligent as you can get. As a result the games itself is well organised, just lacking in common sense. Hence it was no surprise to see a 42 odd list of restricted items. This included cameras, any sort of bag, Ipod headphones (the Ipod is fine to take in) and any coins in your wallet! I even got interrogated for several minutes over some paper in my pocket I had brought for a blocked nose! A lot of people have had to make difficult decisions whether to leave things in a left property box or not enter the stadium. This procedure of searching and confiscating everything followed me to every stadium although I did get some revenge on the second day by striking (accidentally) one of the policemen in the face, much to his partners (and mine) amusement. He wasn't so happy and demanded to see the coins in my pocket, that I didn't have.

I also found the rigid structure to getting into the stadiums utterly unbelievable. At one point, after walking aimlessly around a perimeter wall attempting to find gate 6 and access to the stadium, I was stopped 10 meters away from it. There was nothing but a clear path. However the armed police decided I couldn't get to it that way and instead had to cross two bridges (there was no water!). I then decided to attempt to cross another way, again clear road but then as quick as a flash more armed police! It took a further 45 minutes and for no reason at all. I suppose in hindsight the farcicle nature to some of the decisions were actually quite amusing however at the time and when in a rush to get to your seat they are nothing short of bewildering.

But saying all that when inside the stadiums everyone, including myself was having a great time. The Indian crowd, when it's their own boys and girls, or it's the Pakistan team or even England and Wales sure do get behind them, which added to the occasion.

Kathmandu

What first was mad soon became pretty off putting. My first experience of an Asian city did not leave me with much hope. The monsoon had created a depressing feel to the place. Worst of all however was arriving at the end of a two week garbage strike. It quite literally was everywhere. The smell was horrendous and at times you had no choice but to walk straight through it. The thought of heading to the mountains had never felt so good.

"Is this the same city?" I exclaimed on my return. The pavements were now relatively clear, dust had replaced water and there was no longer a need to hold your nose in fear of vomiting. Instead there stood a vibrant and hectic city which proved to be very hard to leave.

In terms of traditional sightseeing I feel that it lacks maybe the highlights of similar sized cities. This may however have been due to the superb guest house I stayed at, where once sat in the garden it was nearly impossible to leave due to the amount of people to talk to. I did however manage to get out and about a fair bit, whether it was fighting off the monkeys at Swayambhunath, getting blessed by Buddhist monks at Boudha, enjoying the well hidden ex-pats farmers market, or watching an hour long cremation service at Pashupatinath. My favourite place however was sat on numerous times inthe sunshine chatting and watching the world go by in Dubar Square. Bliss.

In the end it was hard leaving Kathmandu but with the guys and girls I had met over the week departing for various treks and my India visa running down, it seemed the right time to strike off on my own and head to Delhi.