Friday, August 18, 2006
Bradford on Avon, Wiltshire
On 8th July I finally made it out of the heat of the plains and into the foothills of the himalayas. I'd originally planned to do this as soon as I arrived in India, but it had taken me two and a half weeks. I went to a place called McLeod Ganj. The exiled Tibetan government is based here and the Dalai Lama lives here. In 1959, the Chinese crackdown on Tibetan culture was worsening and the Dalai Lama feared for his life. He took a small entourage and started walking across the mountains. They kept walking for weeks, through hostile and desolate high passes, until they arrived in McLeod Ganj.
That first evening was the first time I'd been able to sleep under a duvet, in a cold room, for as long as I could remember. You cannot imgine how good it felt.
The next morning, I went to see some Tibetan stuff. On the way down I got lost, and it started raining. Soon, I was 100% saturated, as if I'd just jumped into a swimming pool, so I guess the rain didn't matter after that. When I found the complex, I went to see the main temple. It was a Buddhist temple - Tibetan culture is based on Buddhism - but it was a very different style from those in Japan and Thailand. The walls were covered in intricate, colourful paintings, and there were images of lots of scary looking spirits with fiery hair and many eyes. I really liked the style of the art.
Next, I went to the Tibet Museum. Before this, I hadn't known anything about Tibet or the Chinese invasion. As I walked round and read the displays, I became filled with outraged, open-mouthed horror. The Chinese invaded in 1949. This was followed by a systematic campaign to crush and eliminate the Tibetan culture, all in the name of communism. It's a culture that had existed in the region for over 1000 years. In the short time I'd been in the village I'd already been immensely impressed by the quality of the art and the richness of the culture . . . the idea that it could have been lost forever horrified me. After the invasion, Chinese people were forcibly relocated to Tibet to give legitimacy to the occupation, so the Tibetan people became a minority. I read the account of a nun who'd fled and come to live in McLeod Ganj. She'd refused to stop practicing Buddism, and was brutally tortured as a result.
I also learned what a great man the Dalai Lama is. How many similar situations are there in the world where the stuggle for independence is characterised by violence and terrorism? But the Dalai Lama is totally committed to a peaceful resolution. He's also been realistic and accepted that Tibet will never be fully independent, so is advocating a compromise, with Tibet remaining in China but having some autonomy. This is such a big concession and so reasonable that it would only be polite for China to start negotiating with him. But they're totally ignoring the issue. Unfortunately, this suggests to me that terrorism is more effective than dimplomacy and reason to get what you want. Here are some links:
www.dalailama.com
www.tibet.com
I planned to spend just two days in McLeod Ganj, and leave on the night bus on the second eveing. But when I went to book the bus, it was already full up. Never mind: I decided to take the early morning bus, which left the next day at 6.30. I asked one of the guesthouse staff to wake me up at 6. "Yeah yeah no problem. " The next morning I heard a knocking and "wake up...it's 6.30". Damn. I got up, packed as quickly as possible and ran to the bus stop just in case the bus was running late. But it had already gone. So I had to spend ANOTHER day there. (This might not seem like a big deal, but I was so ridiculously short of time that I had each remaining day planned out, and had to rush to see everywhere I wanted). This time, I did manage to get a place on the night bus, but only just. All the seats were already booked, so I had to go in the front cabin with the driver!
McLeod Ganj was unlike anywhere else I'd been in India. In the other places I'd barely seen a white face, and I felt very out of place. Here, it seemed that most people were tourists. The streets were wall-to-wall souvineer shops, western style cafes, internet cafes, hostels and even theatres showing films on big screens (rather too small to be called cinemas). Therefore, although there wasn't much to do, it was quite a pleasant and easy place to stay for 3 days. On day 2 I watched the World Cup final in one of the theatres.
The remaining space in town was taken up by Tibetan organisations; for example the Tibeten Welfare office, the Tibetan Childrens' village and the Tibetan Medical and Astrological institute. There were also numerous charities serving Tibetan refugees, and plenty of opportunites for volunteering, which helps to explain the huge number of tourists there. Obviously, the Tibetan refugees haven't had the easist life, but in terms of the charitable attention they get, they're extremely lucky compared to poor Indians in other regions. I helped the cause by donating some clothes I didn't want, which absolutely incensed my mother when she heard about it.
The village clings to a hillside - here's a picture of it from the roof of my guesthouse:
When I got onto the bus, I found I was sharing the drivers cabin with about 4 other people. Then someone else got on. It was now quite a squash and there was certainly no chance of lying down or getting comfortable - we just had to sit. Then an Indian woman turned up and wanted to come on as well - I assume she needed to travel at the last minute. For a few minutes we refused to move . . . but then gave up. So we were even more squashed. I couldn't even lean back to get comfortable: behind me was the hard, vertical, plastic divider that seperated us from the rest of the passengers. About halfway up, a metal ridge dug into my back. There was clearly no chance of getting any sleep that night. All I could do was sit there, look out of the window . . . and wait for the journey to be over.
We arrived in Manali in the morning. Manali is slightly further into the Himalayas and the scenery is more mountainous and beautiful. It's also very popular with tourists.
I only spent one day there and left the next morning. Apart from general wandering around, I decided I really wanted a lesson on some Indian musical instruments. I was hoping to just have a casual play around on some for an hour. But the man who was teaching me was VERY serious about his playing. He showed me how to play some notes on the tabla (a type of drum). Hitting it with your finger in different ways is supposed to give different sounds. When I tried, I couldn't get the beautiful resonant sound that he could manage. So I sat there, practicing hitting the tabla in two different ways, over and over again, for about an hour.
On 8th July I finally made it out of the heat of the plains and into the foothills of the himalayas. I'd originally planned to do this as soon as I arrived in India, but it had taken me two and a half weeks. I went to a place called McLeod Ganj. The exiled Tibetan government is based here and the Dalai Lama lives here. In 1959, the Chinese crackdown on Tibetan culture was worsening and the Dalai Lama feared for his life. He took a small entourage and started walking across the mountains. They kept walking for weeks, through hostile and desolate high passes, until they arrived in McLeod Ganj.
That first evening was the first time I'd been able to sleep under a duvet, in a cold room, for as long as I could remember. You cannot imgine how good it felt.
The next morning, I went to see some Tibetan stuff. On the way down I got lost, and it started raining. Soon, I was 100% saturated, as if I'd just jumped into a swimming pool, so I guess the rain didn't matter after that. When I found the complex, I went to see the main temple. It was a Buddhist temple - Tibetan culture is based on Buddhism - but it was a very different style from those in Japan and Thailand. The walls were covered in intricate, colourful paintings, and there were images of lots of scary looking spirits with fiery hair and many eyes. I really liked the style of the art.
Next, I went to the Tibet Museum. Before this, I hadn't known anything about Tibet or the Chinese invasion. As I walked round and read the displays, I became filled with outraged, open-mouthed horror. The Chinese invaded in 1949. This was followed by a systematic campaign to crush and eliminate the Tibetan culture, all in the name of communism. It's a culture that had existed in the region for over 1000 years. In the short time I'd been in the village I'd already been immensely impressed by the quality of the art and the richness of the culture . . . the idea that it could have been lost forever horrified me. After the invasion, Chinese people were forcibly relocated to Tibet to give legitimacy to the occupation, so the Tibetan people became a minority. I read the account of a nun who'd fled and come to live in McLeod Ganj. She'd refused to stop practicing Buddism, and was brutally tortured as a result.
I also learned what a great man the Dalai Lama is. How many similar situations are there in the world where the stuggle for independence is characterised by violence and terrorism? But the Dalai Lama is totally committed to a peaceful resolution. He's also been realistic and accepted that Tibet will never be fully independent, so is advocating a compromise, with Tibet remaining in China but having some autonomy. This is such a big concession and so reasonable that it would only be polite for China to start negotiating with him. But they're totally ignoring the issue. Unfortunately, this suggests to me that terrorism is more effective than dimplomacy and reason to get what you want. Here are some links:www.dalailama.com
www.tibet.com
I planned to spend just two days in McLeod Ganj, and leave on the night bus on the second eveing. But when I went to book the bus, it was already full up. Never mind: I decided to take the early morning bus, which left the next day at 6.30. I asked one of the guesthouse staff to wake me up at 6. "Yeah yeah no problem. " The next morning I heard a knocking and "wake up...it's 6.30". Damn. I got up, packed as quickly as possible and ran to the bus stop just in case the bus was running late. But it had already gone. So I had to spend ANOTHER day there. (This might not seem like a big deal, but I was so ridiculously short of time that I had each remaining day planned out, and had to rush to see everywhere I wanted). This time, I did manage to get a place on the night bus, but only just. All the seats were already booked, so I had to go in the front cabin with the driver!
McLeod Ganj was unlike anywhere else I'd been in India. In the other places I'd barely seen a white face, and I felt very out of place. Here, it seemed that most people were tourists. The streets were wall-to-wall souvineer shops, western style cafes, internet cafes, hostels and even theatres showing films on big screens (rather too small to be called cinemas). Therefore, although there wasn't much to do, it was quite a pleasant and easy place to stay for 3 days. On day 2 I watched the World Cup final in one of the theatres.
The remaining space in town was taken up by Tibetan organisations; for example the Tibeten Welfare office, the Tibetan Childrens' village and the Tibetan Medical and Astrological institute. There were also numerous charities serving Tibetan refugees, and plenty of opportunites for volunteering, which helps to explain the huge number of tourists there. Obviously, the Tibetan refugees haven't had the easist life, but in terms of the charitable attention they get, they're extremely lucky compared to poor Indians in other regions. I helped the cause by donating some clothes I didn't want, which absolutely incensed my mother when she heard about it.
The village clings to a hillside - here's a picture of it from the roof of my guesthouse:
When I got onto the bus, I found I was sharing the drivers cabin with about 4 other people. Then someone else got on. It was now quite a squash and there was certainly no chance of lying down or getting comfortable - we just had to sit. Then an Indian woman turned up and wanted to come on as well - I assume she needed to travel at the last minute. For a few minutes we refused to move . . . but then gave up. So we were even more squashed. I couldn't even lean back to get comfortable: behind me was the hard, vertical, plastic divider that seperated us from the rest of the passengers. About halfway up, a metal ridge dug into my back. There was clearly no chance of getting any sleep that night. All I could do was sit there, look out of the window . . . and wait for the journey to be over.We arrived in Manali in the morning. Manali is slightly further into the Himalayas and the scenery is more mountainous and beautiful. It's also very popular with tourists.
I only spent one day there and left the next morning. Apart from general wandering around, I decided I really wanted a lesson on some Indian musical instruments. I was hoping to just have a casual play around on some for an hour. But the man who was teaching me was VERY serious about his playing. He showed me how to play some notes on the tabla (a type of drum). Hitting it with your finger in different ways is supposed to give different sounds. When I tried, I couldn't get the beautiful resonant sound that he could manage. So I sat there, practicing hitting the tabla in two different ways, over and over again, for about an hour.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Bradford on Avon, Wiltshire
After Chandigarh I travelled to Amritsar, which is right in the north west, near the Pakistan border. The main attraction there is the Golden Temple.
It's an amazing place. It's the focal point of the Sikhism: the golden temple is their most holy shrine; also in the complex is where their parliament gathers. You can't quite tell from the photo, but the golden bit is on an island in the middle of the water, only accessible by a causeway.
As well as being beautiful architecturally, the whole place has a special atmosphere. It felt much more like a holy site than a tourist attraction; there must have been thousands of Sikhs there...and I saw 4 or 5 tourists. Within the complex, you're constantly accompanied by music playing over loud-speakers. It consists of wailing/singing with drum beats in the background.
I walked around the outside of the lake, then crossed the causeway to the Golden Temple itself. There were so many people that I had to let myself be carried along in the crowd. At the doorway of the temple, there was a bit of a holdup while everyone knelt down and touched their heads to the ground, then finally I was in. Here was the source of the music: 4 Sikh priests were sat on the floor playing instruments and singing into microphones. The chant is kept up continuously throughout the day, possibly for 24 hours, I'm not sure. Lonely Planet described it as 'the beating heart of the religion', which is exactly what it felt like. In the limited floorspace, a load of people were sitting crosslegged, gently swaying to the music, while the rest of the crowd filtered through and out of the side door. This was obviously a special event for all the Sikhs who had come here.
One of the great things about the place is that it's freely open to all people, regardless of religion. The only rules are that you have to cover your head, remove shoes and socks and wash your feet before entering. There's a bin by the entrace containing old rags which visitors are supposed to use for their heads; I didn't put mine on very skillfully and must have looked ridiculous (see below). At such a holy place for another religion, I could have felt like an imposter, but this wasn't the case - on the contrary, everyone there wanted to say hello and shake my hand. One very enthusiastic and serious young boy insisted on showing me round. Then he took me to meet his parents, which was slightly embarrassing as we didn't know what to say.
Check out this guy's spear.
ANOTHER impressive thing was the accommodation. To deal with the thousands of pilgrims, they've set up huge, free dormitary blocks. There's even a dorm reserved for foreigners. It was basic: the beds were all pushed together in a long line - no space between them - and the matress was as thin as sheets. But I thought it was very considerate to provide this, totally free, for foreigners and non-Sikhs. We actually were relatively well-off - we had an en-suite bathroom in the dorm. I assumed the dorms for Indians were full - hundreds of people were just sleeping on the floor in the courtyard. In addition, free meals are also provided. This was catering on the largest scale I'd ever seen. On the way in, you grab a metal platter, a spoon and a bowl. Then you sit on the floor in an enourmous hall - I'd guess about 1000 people can eat at once. The servers come round and fill up your plate with lentils and chapatti (a type of flat bread). Someone else comes round with a watering-can type device and fills up your bowl with water. It's the same for every meal. Outside, there are rows of sinks with people washing up, and rows of trolleys stacked with hundreds of the clean platters.
In the evening I decided to have another stroll round the temple. I really wanted to sit somewhere, relax, and comtemplate in peace. But this time the attention directed my way was just too much. A couple of teenage boys actually followed me, then when I sat down sat right behind me, fascinated, but too nervous to talk to me. I couldn't stand it so I had to leave.
Next morning, I went to the post office to post a package home. I had to queue for about half an hour and it was absolutely unbearable - I felt like I was going to die. It was hot - but not as hot as some other places. The problem was the humidity and the absolute stillness of the air - I was sweating profusely, but it didn't cool me down at all.
In the afternoon I went on a tour. First. we visited the Hindu version of the golden temple - not nearly as impressive. Next was another, extremely bizarre, Hindu temple. It was like the theme park of temples. When you go in you're directed up some stairs, then you have to walk back and forth along a walkway at the back of the building, a bit like an area where you'd queue to go on a theme park ride. Then you have to get on your hands and knees and crawl through a tunnel. You find yourself in what reminded me of a hall of mirrors: each wall was covered from floor to ceiling by mosaics made of shiny, coloured metal. Later, there was a tunnel with water in the bottom which you had to wade through. I've no idea what the point of any of it was. This picture is also from that temple.
We continued to the main event of the tour - the border show at the Indian-Pakistan border. Every evening, on each side, there's a military ceremony for the closing of the border. It's become so popular that big grandstands have been put up and it draws huge crowds. The queuing process was predictably farcical. Soon, a dense crowd of men had formed outside the entrance. We thought we should join it or we'd end up going in last. Then all the women appeared, and they wanted to go to the front. Here's how queuing works in India. The men basically fight to get to the front. The women walk straight past this, to the front. Even in organised situations with proper queues, such as airports, the women jump straight to the front of the queue. This infuriated me. It's premised on the idea that women are weak, fragile and vulnerable. This crowd of women clearly wasn't. They wanted to get to the front, but the crowd was packed so tight that there was clearly no way they could get through. So, en masse, they pushed into the back of the crowd, rugby-scrum style and I got squashed. It was very unpleasant.
Eventually, they forced a path through, being more forceful and violent than any of the men. A little later, the crowd got excited and started pushing back and forth in a mosh-pit style. One section of the crowd went down. I barely managed to stay on my feet - I was petrified of being trampled if I went down. This time everyone was fine, but God knows how many injuries they get.
So, even though we tried to be forceful, we ended up being almost last to go in out of, oooh, 1000 people. But then the guards called us down and told us we could go in the VIP area, I assume because sitting with the Indians would just be too intense for foreigners. There was nothing particularly VIP about it - it was just closer to the action, in an even better place than the women's stand.
Above is the scene in the 'arena'. Everyone was so excited. People would get called down from the stands and run to the gate and back, holding a huge Indian flag above their heads. A bloke with a microphone was getting the crowd chanting 'HINDUSTAN! HUNDUSTAN!' and some other stuff I couldn't make out. The show itself consisted of guards stomping up and down, performing ridiculous high-kicking Basil Fawlty walks. They had big feathery plumes on their helmets, and when they stamped they reminded me of cockrels. You can just see one standing up in the above photo. About 100 metres away, I could see a similar thing going on in Pakistan, with everyone having a great time. It was heartening to see that, with all the problems between the countries, this was done in a spirit of fun and cooperation.
I think today may have been a turning point in my opinion of India, maybe because first Amritsar then the border show were so good. Before going back I engaged in some good banter with some Indians. In the taxi on the way back I enjoyed watching the crazy driving and ridiculous road condtions. Before, it had irritated me, but now I found it really funny. I felt I had finally got into the spirit of India.
After Chandigarh I travelled to Amritsar, which is right in the north west, near the Pakistan border. The main attraction there is the Golden Temple.
It's an amazing place. It's the focal point of the Sikhism: the golden temple is their most holy shrine; also in the complex is where their parliament gathers. You can't quite tell from the photo, but the golden bit is on an island in the middle of the water, only accessible by a causeway.As well as being beautiful architecturally, the whole place has a special atmosphere. It felt much more like a holy site than a tourist attraction; there must have been thousands of Sikhs there...and I saw 4 or 5 tourists. Within the complex, you're constantly accompanied by music playing over loud-speakers. It consists of wailing/singing with drum beats in the background.
I walked around the outside of the lake, then crossed the causeway to the Golden Temple itself. There were so many people that I had to let myself be carried along in the crowd. At the doorway of the temple, there was a bit of a holdup while everyone knelt down and touched their heads to the ground, then finally I was in. Here was the source of the music: 4 Sikh priests were sat on the floor playing instruments and singing into microphones. The chant is kept up continuously throughout the day, possibly for 24 hours, I'm not sure. Lonely Planet described it as 'the beating heart of the religion', which is exactly what it felt like. In the limited floorspace, a load of people were sitting crosslegged, gently swaying to the music, while the rest of the crowd filtered through and out of the side door. This was obviously a special event for all the Sikhs who had come here.
One of the great things about the place is that it's freely open to all people, regardless of religion. The only rules are that you have to cover your head, remove shoes and socks and wash your feet before entering. There's a bin by the entrace containing old rags which visitors are supposed to use for their heads; I didn't put mine on very skillfully and must have looked ridiculous (see below). At such a holy place for another religion, I could have felt like an imposter, but this wasn't the case - on the contrary, everyone there wanted to say hello and shake my hand. One very enthusiastic and serious young boy insisted on showing me round. Then he took me to meet his parents, which was slightly embarrassing as we didn't know what to say.
Check out this guy's spear.
ANOTHER impressive thing was the accommodation. To deal with the thousands of pilgrims, they've set up huge, free dormitary blocks. There's even a dorm reserved for foreigners. It was basic: the beds were all pushed together in a long line - no space between them - and the matress was as thin as sheets. But I thought it was very considerate to provide this, totally free, for foreigners and non-Sikhs. We actually were relatively well-off - we had an en-suite bathroom in the dorm. I assumed the dorms for Indians were full - hundreds of people were just sleeping on the floor in the courtyard. In addition, free meals are also provided. This was catering on the largest scale I'd ever seen. On the way in, you grab a metal platter, a spoon and a bowl. Then you sit on the floor in an enourmous hall - I'd guess about 1000 people can eat at once. The servers come round and fill up your plate with lentils and chapatti (a type of flat bread). Someone else comes round with a watering-can type device and fills up your bowl with water. It's the same for every meal. Outside, there are rows of sinks with people washing up, and rows of trolleys stacked with hundreds of the clean platters.In the evening I decided to have another stroll round the temple. I really wanted to sit somewhere, relax, and comtemplate in peace. But this time the attention directed my way was just too much. A couple of teenage boys actually followed me, then when I sat down sat right behind me, fascinated, but too nervous to talk to me. I couldn't stand it so I had to leave.
Next morning, I went to the post office to post a package home. I had to queue for about half an hour and it was absolutely unbearable - I felt like I was going to die. It was hot - but not as hot as some other places. The problem was the humidity and the absolute stillness of the air - I was sweating profusely, but it didn't cool me down at all.
In the afternoon I went on a tour. First. we visited the Hindu version of the golden temple - not nearly as impressive. Next was another, extremely bizarre, Hindu temple. It was like the theme park of temples. When you go in you're directed up some stairs, then you have to walk back and forth along a walkway at the back of the building, a bit like an area where you'd queue to go on a theme park ride. Then you have to get on your hands and knees and crawl through a tunnel. You find yourself in what reminded me of a hall of mirrors: each wall was covered from floor to ceiling by mosaics made of shiny, coloured metal. Later, there was a tunnel with water in the bottom which you had to wade through. I've no idea what the point of any of it was. This picture is also from that temple.
We continued to the main event of the tour - the border show at the Indian-Pakistan border. Every evening, on each side, there's a military ceremony for the closing of the border. It's become so popular that big grandstands have been put up and it draws huge crowds. The queuing process was predictably farcical. Soon, a dense crowd of men had formed outside the entrance. We thought we should join it or we'd end up going in last. Then all the women appeared, and they wanted to go to the front. Here's how queuing works in India. The men basically fight to get to the front. The women walk straight past this, to the front. Even in organised situations with proper queues, such as airports, the women jump straight to the front of the queue. This infuriated me. It's premised on the idea that women are weak, fragile and vulnerable. This crowd of women clearly wasn't. They wanted to get to the front, but the crowd was packed so tight that there was clearly no way they could get through. So, en masse, they pushed into the back of the crowd, rugby-scrum style and I got squashed. It was very unpleasant.
Eventually, they forced a path through, being more forceful and violent than any of the men. A little later, the crowd got excited and started pushing back and forth in a mosh-pit style. One section of the crowd went down. I barely managed to stay on my feet - I was petrified of being trampled if I went down. This time everyone was fine, but God knows how many injuries they get.So, even though we tried to be forceful, we ended up being almost last to go in out of, oooh, 1000 people. But then the guards called us down and told us we could go in the VIP area, I assume because sitting with the Indians would just be too intense for foreigners. There was nothing particularly VIP about it - it was just closer to the action, in an even better place than the women's stand.
Above is the scene in the 'arena'. Everyone was so excited. People would get called down from the stands and run to the gate and back, holding a huge Indian flag above their heads. A bloke with a microphone was getting the crowd chanting 'HINDUSTAN! HUNDUSTAN!' and some other stuff I couldn't make out. The show itself consisted of guards stomping up and down, performing ridiculous high-kicking Basil Fawlty walks. They had big feathery plumes on their helmets, and when they stamped they reminded me of cockrels. You can just see one standing up in the above photo. About 100 metres away, I could see a similar thing going on in Pakistan, with everyone having a great time. It was heartening to see that, with all the problems between the countries, this was done in a spirit of fun and cooperation.I think today may have been a turning point in my opinion of India, maybe because first Amritsar then the border show were so good. Before going back I engaged in some good banter with some Indians. In the taxi on the way back I enjoyed watching the crazy driving and ridiculous road condtions. Before, it had irritated me, but now I found it really funny. I felt I had finally got into the spirit of India.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Bradford on Avon, Wiltshire
I took a bus to Jodhpur on July 2nd. It was so hot, I spent most of the journey in a stupor. After I arrived, I needed to do some jobs: find a cashpoint to get some money, then go to buy train tickets. My endurance level for this type of activity - the time between walking out of the guesthouse door, and the time when I'm totally fed up, exhausted and want to go home - would normally be quite good...say half an hour or an hour. Here in Jodhpur, it took about 2 minutes. It was SOOOOOOOOOOO hot...must have been the hottest place out of everywhere I went. There was no moisture in the air - it was just dry, baking heat, like being in an oven. I was deep in the maze-like lanes of the old city: all concrete and brick absorbing the heat of the sun, no open space, no cooling breeze, no respite. There was a large amount of pollution from the autorickshaws and motorcycles, and also a lot of cow shit about. These smells settled heavily in the narrow lanes, with no breeze to disperse them, and nowhere for the air to go. It was uncomfortable to breathe and it made me cough.
On the subject of cows, I feel so sorry for the cows in India. In most towns and cities, cows roam the streets. I don't know why they're there or if anyone owns them. I know cows are supposed to be sacred in Hinduism, so I guess that rules out killing them...but surely for their own benefit they should be moved into the country. They seem to survive by eating rubbish: not necessarily food, sometimes just bits of cardboard. They're all disgustingly thin and bony. They would stand there, chewing and staring ahead blankly, while around them the chaos of crowds, traffic and beeping horns went on. I often wondered what was going through their slow brains. Surely something deep down inside longed for open, grassy fields. Surely something told them there's a better place.
So anyway, I was looking for a cashpoint. My map didn't seem to correspond to reality and there was no cashpoint where one should have been. Then I found one, but it didn't work. And that was all I could stand: thoroughly defeated, I retreated to the guest house.
In the evening I decided to go and sit on the rooftop restaurant. I thought it might be pleasant in the cool evening air. No such luck: even at this time, the breeze was hot.
The next day I went to visit the huge fort. Here's a picture of some of it...as you can see, it absolutely dominates the city.
From up on the ramparts there were great views of the blue old city. When you stood right at the edge, the sounds of a whole city wafted up: a general hum of traffic and people, with the occasional horn or even voice mixed in. That was cool.
Later on I managed to find a working ATM, and book my train tickets. It turned out that yesterday, I'd been reading the map totally wrong. After this achievement, there was no way I was going to exert myself any more for the rest of the day.
So the next day I caught my train. I was travelling to a city called Chandigarh, which is directly north of Delhi. I was pleased that I'd found a way of getting up north which avoided Delhi. The drawback was that the journey took the rest of that day, and all of the night. The day was pretty dull. In the evening, a little kid came and sat right opposite me and started talking to me in a strange language. He spoke reasonable English, and I told him that I didn't understand. He spoke to me in English a bit, but kept lapsing back into this other language. He couldn't believe that I didn't speak any of it. The people sitting opposite started laughing. I thought the kid was just taking the piss and I started to get annoyed and wished he'd go away. But soon the whole family had arrived, and we started to have great banter - showing photos around and stuff.
I got woken very early, and got out at Chandigarh. Finding a room was a hassle, but eventually I moved in somewhere. Then I had diarrhoea again. I was fed up of it by now, so I considered going to see the doctor. I thought there would probably by loads of forms to fill in, it could take hours, then it would be a huge hassle claiming back the cost on my insurance. I went for it anyway. In fact, it was the most efficient doctors' surgery I've ever visited. I went in, and the doctor saw me straight away. (At Bradford on Avon surgery the other day, I had to wait 45 minutes....and that was when I'd had an appointment!) He did some doctory things like poke me and take my blood pressure, then prescribed some antibiotics. That totally cleared the problem up. As a side effect of that episode, I finally learned how to spell diarrhoea.
Then I was finally ready to go out and explore Chandigarh...and it was still only about 10 o'clock! The interesting thing about Chandigarh is that it was planned and built from scratch, starting in the 50s. Whereas all other Indian cities feel crowded, here was very spacious. In fact, it was slightly too spacious for my liking...it took so long to walk anywhere. I was finding it slightly boring...until in the afternoon I reached the 'Fantasy Rock Garden.' This was just a huge labyrinth, complete with ponds, caves, bridges, waterfalls, and decorated with pretty patterns and statues of animals. In the centre was a large open area, with a line of arches; under each arch was a swing. I immediately rushed to use one. After a few swings it struck me that I was, totally unselfconsciously, swinging in a public place. But everyone else was doing the same, so it was ok. There were lots of Sikhs about with their big turbans and even bigger beards - for some reason it seemed surprising and comical to see them on swings.
On the way out of the maze, these men wanted me to take a photo of them. Check out the random little statues in the background.
I stayed up late to watch one of the world cup matches in my room - I forget which. The next day I took a bus to Amritsar.
I took a bus to Jodhpur on July 2nd. It was so hot, I spent most of the journey in a stupor. After I arrived, I needed to do some jobs: find a cashpoint to get some money, then go to buy train tickets. My endurance level for this type of activity - the time between walking out of the guesthouse door, and the time when I'm totally fed up, exhausted and want to go home - would normally be quite good...say half an hour or an hour. Here in Jodhpur, it took about 2 minutes. It was SOOOOOOOOOOO hot...must have been the hottest place out of everywhere I went. There was no moisture in the air - it was just dry, baking heat, like being in an oven. I was deep in the maze-like lanes of the old city: all concrete and brick absorbing the heat of the sun, no open space, no cooling breeze, no respite. There was a large amount of pollution from the autorickshaws and motorcycles, and also a lot of cow shit about. These smells settled heavily in the narrow lanes, with no breeze to disperse them, and nowhere for the air to go. It was uncomfortable to breathe and it made me cough.
On the subject of cows, I feel so sorry for the cows in India. In most towns and cities, cows roam the streets. I don't know why they're there or if anyone owns them. I know cows are supposed to be sacred in Hinduism, so I guess that rules out killing them...but surely for their own benefit they should be moved into the country. They seem to survive by eating rubbish: not necessarily food, sometimes just bits of cardboard. They're all disgustingly thin and bony. They would stand there, chewing and staring ahead blankly, while around them the chaos of crowds, traffic and beeping horns went on. I often wondered what was going through their slow brains. Surely something deep down inside longed for open, grassy fields. Surely something told them there's a better place.
So anyway, I was looking for a cashpoint. My map didn't seem to correspond to reality and there was no cashpoint where one should have been. Then I found one, but it didn't work. And that was all I could stand: thoroughly defeated, I retreated to the guest house.
In the evening I decided to go and sit on the rooftop restaurant. I thought it might be pleasant in the cool evening air. No such luck: even at this time, the breeze was hot.
The next day I went to visit the huge fort. Here's a picture of some of it...as you can see, it absolutely dominates the city.
From up on the ramparts there were great views of the blue old city. When you stood right at the edge, the sounds of a whole city wafted up: a general hum of traffic and people, with the occasional horn or even voice mixed in. That was cool.
Later on I managed to find a working ATM, and book my train tickets. It turned out that yesterday, I'd been reading the map totally wrong. After this achievement, there was no way I was going to exert myself any more for the rest of the day.So the next day I caught my train. I was travelling to a city called Chandigarh, which is directly north of Delhi. I was pleased that I'd found a way of getting up north which avoided Delhi. The drawback was that the journey took the rest of that day, and all of the night. The day was pretty dull. In the evening, a little kid came and sat right opposite me and started talking to me in a strange language. He spoke reasonable English, and I told him that I didn't understand. He spoke to me in English a bit, but kept lapsing back into this other language. He couldn't believe that I didn't speak any of it. The people sitting opposite started laughing. I thought the kid was just taking the piss and I started to get annoyed and wished he'd go away. But soon the whole family had arrived, and we started to have great banter - showing photos around and stuff.
I got woken very early, and got out at Chandigarh. Finding a room was a hassle, but eventually I moved in somewhere. Then I had diarrhoea again. I was fed up of it by now, so I considered going to see the doctor. I thought there would probably by loads of forms to fill in, it could take hours, then it would be a huge hassle claiming back the cost on my insurance. I went for it anyway. In fact, it was the most efficient doctors' surgery I've ever visited. I went in, and the doctor saw me straight away. (At Bradford on Avon surgery the other day, I had to wait 45 minutes....and that was when I'd had an appointment!) He did some doctory things like poke me and take my blood pressure, then prescribed some antibiotics. That totally cleared the problem up. As a side effect of that episode, I finally learned how to spell diarrhoea.Then I was finally ready to go out and explore Chandigarh...and it was still only about 10 o'clock! The interesting thing about Chandigarh is that it was planned and built from scratch, starting in the 50s. Whereas all other Indian cities feel crowded, here was very spacious. In fact, it was slightly too spacious for my liking...it took so long to walk anywhere. I was finding it slightly boring...until in the afternoon I reached the 'Fantasy Rock Garden.' This was just a huge labyrinth, complete with ponds, caves, bridges, waterfalls, and decorated with pretty patterns and statues of animals. In the centre was a large open area, with a line of arches; under each arch was a swing. I immediately rushed to use one. After a few swings it struck me that I was, totally unselfconsciously, swinging in a public place. But everyone else was doing the same, so it was ok. There were lots of Sikhs about with their big turbans and even bigger beards - for some reason it seemed surprising and comical to see them on swings.
On the way out of the maze, these men wanted me to take a photo of them. Check out the random little statues in the background.
I stayed up late to watch one of the world cup matches in my room - I forget which. The next day I took a bus to Amritsar.