Arriving to Kanatal: Nama-Stay

28 April - 6 May 2019 

The purpose of this year off / #sabbatical was to volunteer. Sure there is the added benefit of seeing a new country, taking a looong holiday, growing a beard, retiring early, eating more curry than I could have ever imagined, and being very lax on personal hygiene, but other than those, it was to volunteer.

The idea of being able to contribute to people's (I'm not sure where the apostrophe goes here) and communities' (this one I know I have smashed) existence, well being, or prosperity in a real, direct and tangible manner excited and pushed me to take the step to start this journey I find myself on.

It was therefore with all the gaggles of excitement that I could muster that I climbed on board the bus to my first volunteer gig, in the mountains of Kanatal. Leaving the ashram was sad, so so sad, and made even worse that I had to travel back to Rishikesh to catch my bus (see previous posts on my feelings towards Rishikesh), although it was only to its bus station.  Still though, Rishikesh, you bastard.

The official ticketing system on the bus.
Once the bus has left they just write a price on and tear it.

Local buses with friendly people

You've never been crammed into a taxi,
until there has been 16 people in it

A 1 hour tuk tuk, 2 hour bus, 1 hour tracker (a 4x4 converted into an 8-seater taxi, which had 16 people inside) and I arrived in Kanatal. Small side note, when you squeeze 16 humans in a vehicle, the second last thing you want is the baby on the front seat having a vom on its mother (because you a seat back and shrapnel only hit the old lady next to it). However, the last thing you want is the little sister on the big brother's lap who is sitting next to you to turn her head to face away from the vom, in your direction, because she thinks seeing cotch will make her spew too (thank all the gods... like all of them, that I came through that unscathed).

My pick up taxi

First ride on the back of a scooter

I was picked up on the main road by a scooter and had my first experience of riding on the back of one of these.  I would come to experience this as a formal, and accepted form of transport in India, with scooters regularly taking two or three passengers, plus all sorts of luggage.  Later I would learn that my driver bought his license (as, apparently, did most people).

We picked up some groceries (whose weight was weighed by an old-school scale), and we were on our way.  After a short while, my driver casually pointed out the view of the Himalayas, but remarked that it was a cloudy day, and I'll see them much clearer once it rains.

Measuring groceries with an old-school scale,
Kanatal

I was volunteering at a hostel called nama.stay, a small little building, built into the side of the mountain, overlooking its apple orchard and the rest of the valley. I could count about 10 houses. There couldn't have been more than 80 people in the village.

The road to the homestay, Kanatal

View from the porch, with some Tibetan flags, Nama-Stay, Kanatal

Same, amazing view, but from inside, Nama-Stay, Kanatal

I caught a glimpse of a hammock in a tree nearby, as I was ushered inside. I was told to drop my bag and immediately offered a cup of tea. I was introduced to two volunteers who were already there, a Swede and a Finnish girl.

Not a bad place to land, I thought, while being served dinner, and as I was fed and was offered another (one of what would become very many) cup of tea.  I was excited for what work this small little paradise had in store for me.

First sunset, damn son
Nama-Stay, Kanatal