Hippies and hiking up hills

18 June - 23 June

By now I have become accustomed to long journeys, so I took the 7 hour bus from Amritsar to Dharamshala in my stride.  What Dharamshala gives you, that is new, is that everywhere you go from it, as the starting point, is one long hike up.  The bus takes you the short distance to northern Dharamshala, or better known of McLeodganj, but this was a destination of travelers of a previous time, and has since succumbed (as many places in India are sure to do in the years to follow), to an increase in local tourism and popularity.  What comes as a consequence, is too many shops, too many people, too much traffic, too much western food and influence, and overall, just not a nice place to be.

To reach better pastures, you must face the challenge of the uphill, meaning a 45 minute walk (with my overpacked bags) to the small hamlet of Bhagsu.  Braver souls, or ones with motorbikes, cars, or far more appropriately packed backpacks, can travel even further up the mountain to upper Bhagsu, or Dharamkot.  But truly, the atmosphere in each of these three places is similar, and more importantly, I was exhausted by the time I got to Bhagsu.  Luckily I found a nice hostel soon thereafter.

Hundreds of years from now, when future archaeologists
are excavating Dharamkot, they will use these artefacts
to deduce that hippies roamed this area

Unfortunately, trading the hustle of McLeodganj only gave way to a place that has been overrun, changed, and assimilated by foreign (read here, mainly Israeli) tourists.  While a nice place to visit, encircled by mountains, treks and a waterfall or two, you soon come to realise that all the surrounding places have all-too-common characteristics: Israeli writing and food options; vegan-friendly; yoga courses; ecstatic dance (this one gave it away); dreamcatchers; and people without shoes.  I had arrived at a flipping hippie town.

Street art in Bhagsu.  Nice, but I would say, not very Indian?

Hippie towns are great.  Contrary to all the external projections by its inhabitants of a simple life, restaurants are stocked with foodstuffs - all too foreign for the mountains of India (I had a seriously good pasta alfredo, although it took my stomach by surprise, but that’s another story), great internet, fluent English (and Hebrew) staff, and the general catering to the spoilt western needs (I admit, I too benefited.  I found dental floss, after searching for 2 months – when they stock floss, then you must know the privileged, European elite have arrived).

However, for a short time, western comforts are great, and admittedly, I indulged.  There is no shortage of musicians (surprise, hippies like playing music).  So, on different nights, different cafes have live music.  Although, I came to this place to meet a friend (a host from the volunteering in Kanatal), who had been staying here a month, playing music.  I therefore got to know the local band, who played in different cafes each night, and following them (as any good groupie does), on the fourth night, even though the songs were all in Hindi, you realise they are playing the same thing.  

Perhaps the hippies are too clouded by the cloudy (smokey) clouds up in the mountains, to realise.

The highlights for me though was the trekking.  Getting out of the inhabited areas, you appreciate the beauty that attracted the early travelers to this area (well first the below area, and then that got crowded, so then the above area).  My first hike was up to Gallu Devi temple.  While the hike was interesting, mostly because I got lost, and made my own path through the jungle, the temple was most underwhelming.

Gallu Devi Temple, Bhagsu (really that's all of it)
Judge for yourself if that's worth climbing up a mountain

Got lost, so this is not on the official path,
but sometimes it works out well :)

The hike to Bhagsu waterfall, which I did early in the morning to avoid the crowds, is worth seeing too.  But really, the big hiking attraction here is the climb up to the 2,800m Triund hill.  Luckily, I bumped into the militant vegans from my farm in Damta (or unluckily  because lady militant vegan is a proper pain in the ass), and they invited me to do the trek with them.  I was happy to have company, because we took basically an unmarked “trail”, and relied on Google Maps, who have clearly never hiked Triund.  

Bhagsu waterfall

Anyhow, the hike was beautiful, although difficult, particularly at over 2000m in altitude.  We got to the summit just before the clouds came over, so we got a great view of the Dhaulhar range. 

The clouds though also signaled rain, so we did not stay up for too long, and hurried down.  As we had started at 6am, we were going down while the crowds were coming up, and as we got down, we just missed the thunderstorm (and I am told hail) that caught those at the top

Near the summit, Triund hike

Dhaulhar range, and Triund peak

I cannot though tell you much about the way down, as my sole concentration for 2 HOURS was on not pooping my pants.  My stomach had been on edge for a few days (I am blaming the alfredo in this regard) and needing to go, with a less than solid (pun intended) stomach at the summit of a mountain somehow takes the beauty and panache off a hike.  I would have gone in the bushes, except the bushes were cliff faces and sharp downward slopes.  So, well ya, you can imagine, and the guesthouse staff whose bathroom I ran into at the base of the hill (despite their protestation that it was private property too) realised too, that this was no drill.

Though, stomach issues aside, this was a nice place, good food, music, and vibe, but after a week of hippies and hills, I was done with this place, and it was time to move on. 

You know its time to leave when the menus start
having this to say

Amritsar: amazing people, sights, and food, but I think I may have been molested.

15 - 17 June

Amritsar is located in the state of Punjab, which is the only state in India that is predominately Sikh.  They have a unique culture and food, and I must say that while Indians are generally very generous and hospitable, the Sikhs really are so friendly, welcoming and gracious.  Many people, in my subsequent travels confirmed that the Sikhs are known for their outward happiness and hospitality.  The food, while outwardly Indian, in Amritsar is richer in cream, butter, and milk, which gives it its own unique taste.  I found a restaurant which I frequented many times over the next few days, so that I was recognised by the owner, and although he could not speak a word of English, he always greeted me with a wide smile. 

My 'local' breakfast hangout, Amritsar

The standard breakfast dish in India is a paratha.  This is a dough filled with either potatoe, cauliflower, cheese, or a mix of vegetables, and served with pickle (achar) and curd.  In Amritsar, they have kulcha, and at my local, a kulcha cost 25 rupees (R5), and was a far better version of a paratha, served with a big dollop of butter, chickpeas and a salsa on the side.  So, so good, although my heart may disagree otherwise.

Kulcha at my local.  Note the butter.

The heat in Amritsar was truly something, and peaked at 47.  So, touring was done in the early morning or late evening.  I only had two days really, and apart from walking around, and exploring the city, the highlight of Amritsar is undoubtedly the Golden Temple.  Set in the centre of the city, and surrounded by smaller temples, it is an enormous precinct filled with locals, pilgrims, and travellers.  Some come to bask it the architectural wonder, others to bathe in the holy waters, and many to pray, and be blessed in the temple, which lies in the centre of the compound, and is literally all made of gold.  At night, the whole place is lit up, and its truly something to behold.

Bathing in the Golden Temple's water

Golden Temple at night

The whole space is large enough not to feel crowded by the masses of who come to visit, and I thought I would beat the crowd, by going to the temple during the India vs Pakistan cricket world cup game.  Apparently, however, people in India do not care that much about cricket (or at least the ones visiting the Golden Temple) and the place was full.  Still, the crowds are very manageable, until one tries too get into the actual Golden Temple.

To gain access into the central Golden Temple, you stand in a long, winding queue.  Not too bad, I thought.  I have stood in queues before, and this one seemed to be moving along.  However, what it was moving to was going to be a close encounter of the Indian kind, which would make sleeping on the floor on a crowded train seem like a 5-star hotel stay.

The queue was simply funneling hundreds of people into the narrow entrance of the beginning of the queue from hell to enter the Golden Temple (I think this is its actual name, but cannot be sure, as it was in Hindi).

Golden Temple bridge from hell, lovely lit at night

The Golden Temple is situated in the middle of a body of water, and there is one bridge that goes to its entrance.  Here, on this bridge, there are no rules, no order, and it's every person for himself, as everyone squeezes and pushes to get to the front.  

Seemingly, the only way to get ahead is to find a child.  A crying child is even better.  Having an old person may look like a good idea, but will only get you so far.  The winner really is a single mother, with two young crying children.  That seemingly is the ticket to the express queue.  Otherwise, for those of us unlucky enough to not have a crying child nearby, you get to learn just how lowly Indians regard personal space.  It is a funny thing that people who are coming to pray, seemingly trying to be more holy, at one of their most sacred sites, are so poorly behaved (although not really surprising, but still).

For the most part, over the 90 minute ordeal, I held my own, and my space in the herd remained steadfast.  An old lady tried to push past me, and I was having none of it.  Stand back old lady, I said (with my eyes).  She seemed to understand me, but only after one last ditch effort to get through by pinching my arms.  Bitch.  

My breaking point though, was when I was almost at the end.  I could finally see the guards controlling how many people could enter the actual temple, when an older, fatter man had obviously pushed his way from the back.  He however encountered the unmovable Ryan.  Stand back fatty, I said (again, with my eyes).  He did not however seem to understand me, and engaged in a prolonged emotional assault by sticking his fat, sweaty, swollen gut into my back.  It almost worked, but I persevered.

Inside, the temple is nice, but I was so emotionally drained after the queue from hell, I raced through it.  I mean, after all, it is just a temple.  Picture, picture, click, click, and if you not praying, there is not much else to do.

The whole tour of the temple had taken some time, and at 9pm, I was worried that the shoe counter, where I had left my shoes before entering the temple precinct, would be closing soon (another reason for my rushing through the temple).  I however had one more stop, a must-see at the Golden Temple, at that was the community kitchen. 

100,000 people for dinner?

I am told that the kitchen serves over 100,000 free meals to people, every day, and is open 24/7.  It is financed though donations, and run by volunteers.  Owing to my panic about the closing shoe counter, I rushed through this too, but at a pace that was really controlled by the crowds around me.  This really was an experience though, and very impressive how efficiently, and orderly the whole process unfolds.

No time for tables and chairs

You follow the herd by getting a plate, and a bowl, then some juice.  When the dining hall has space, it is opened to the next group of people, who find a place in one of the rows of mats on the floors.   When you sit, volunteers are going up and down the rows serving porridge, dal, and chipathi (roti) to you.  To get porridge or dal, you lift up your plate, to get a chipathi you catch one that is being dropped from a basket.  You can sit as long as you like, and eat as much as you like, and for mass produced food, it was not half bad.  I however wolfed down my meal, and rushed over to the shoe counter, but there was no need. There were many volunteers waiting at the counters, ready to help you out.

Want an a real Indian experience, ride sleeper class without a reserved seat

Amritsar 15 June – 17 June

Being a month on the farm, I must admit that indulging in the comforts of city life was appealing.  As we were heading back to civilisation, I still was unsure of where I would go to next.  The obvious choice was Manali and Kasol – both popular spots on the tourist trail, and the easiest, as it was up further into the Himalayas, which was my longer term goal.

However, what I had learnt in India so far, was that touristy places = noise, hooters, too many people, traffic, shops, people trying to sell you everything, overcrowding, and generally everything that made me hate Rishikesh (see previous posts on feelings towards Rishikesh).  What also did not count in its favour, was that June is the peak of summer holidays for India, schools are closed, and all of India is moving north into the mountains to escape the 40-plus days everywhere else.  Though, I made up my mind to skip Manali when I read about the 6 hour traffic jams to get into the city, and of 3,000-4,000 cars entering the city a day.  I was comforted by the certainty that I was sure to run into some mountains, Israelis, and trance music elsewhere in India in the next few months.

So, where to next?  My host suggested that if I wasn’t going north, I could go west.  It was over 40 degrees in Amritsar, so there shouldn’t be too many tourists, and there was a direct train.

Well, I had heard much about Indian trains, and Amritsar was on my to-do list, so I reconciled that I could handle a little warmth.  I reminded myself of my two criteria for picking cities (no cold and no rain), and the decision on my new destination was thus made.

Train station, Dehradun

My train to Amritsar

Sleeper class,
Indian Railways

However, as my decision to take a train was made on the day I was to depart, and it should be noted that Indian railways transports more people on trains daily than anywhere in the world, I was not surprised that there were no reserved tickets left.  I thus had two options, general class, which apparently is not really an option for a nice middle class Jewish boy from the suburbs of Gallo Manor, or buy an unreserved ticket for sleeping class (so really only one option).

This is a strange system, although not surprising, as any logic is somewhat distorted over here.  There are six beds in a sleeper-class train compartment, and each have an allocated, reserved ticket.  Yet, they still sell more tickets for these carriages than there are sears.  What this inevitably means is that there are always people who have no seats, who are trying to get seats, from people who have seats.  So, without any specific seat, you get on the train and sit.  And when someone kicks you out, you move.  The goal of this game is to move along, finding empty seats, until there are no more seats.  Then, you rely on (hopefully) someone being gracious enough to let you share a corner of the bed (when the seats become beds at night), or you sit on the floor, or anywhere really you can find a place.  Not only does this suck for you, but also for the people who actually prepared beforehand, and reserved seats.

Found an empty place for about two hours,
before the owner of the seat claimed it

My cabin mates the last (far less crowded)
few hours of my journey

Sleeper class, Indian Railways

Nevertheless, my first train experience in India I think was as Indian as you can get.  I sat first with a family that spoke no English, then found an empty bed for about 2 hours, and spent the next 7 on the floor between others on the floor, and beds on either side.  The last few hours, once people started getting off at various stops, I had some comfort, and after one uncomfortable evening, arrived in Amritsar.

Made it, largely unscathed