Trips Overdue

I guess I'll just pick up from today, because otherwise I won't be able to remember all the things I've been doing, all the places we've been. I'll have to write about Rishikesh when I get home, because I'm so immersed in this whole mountain town thing that I can't wrap my head around anything else.

Shimla -

We (my friend Hamish and I - he was my dive instructor on the boat in Burma - yet another story- he came to visit India, I had time to do a little travelling with him.) left Monday morning for the train station to hit Shimla, a really lovely little mountain town about 2200 metres up into the Shivalak range of the Himalayas. It was a really neat little train ride, because you have to do about 6 hours on the main Shatabdi Express, then hop on this completely collonial toy train that runs on these little tracks and goes through 103 bridges on its way to Shimla. Now, our main train engine on the express went out, and we had to wait to be kinda pushed into the town to catch the toy train. (Another reason I'm afraid this country has nuclear capabilities...their trains don't work.) We did manage to get there in plenty of time to be absolutely jam-crammed onto this little train. Now, I've visited some pretty awful bathrooms here in India.. but none so terrible, so purtrid, acrid, and horrible as the train bathroom. Which is saying a lot when all it is is a whole in the train floor. Apparently the idea of bracing yourself to pee is more foreign here than sour cream, because about an hour into the ride it was pretty much possible to skate in the sludge from one end of the train to the other with what might be on your feet. Yum. The scenery was enough to completely take your mind away from it. It was this stunning mix of terraced farming, bright jewels of red flowering trees, snow capped mountains, cactus, monkeys.. It was a mix of just about every landscape I've ever seen, sprinkled onto the side of a mountain. This train wasn't completely reliable either, and we periodically stopped between the 103 bridges to give the engine some zen time.

Shimla was completely worth it. It was originally where the British went when Delhi got too hot in the summer, and I can see why. It's pretty chilly up there, at night you definately needed layers. (5 layers for those of us used to the heat). In the day, it's absolutely stunning, very warm, very green. Everything is built into the mountain side, so it has this lovely appearance of brightly colored paint running down the hills, so bright and sweet are all the houses and shops. Its supposed to be a fairly touristy place, but we really didn't see more than a couple white people. The good thing about the places that are tourist attractions is that they don't really give a damn, they know they'll be more, so they don't bother. So we pretty much were left alone to explore the town.

I have to say, the best tea I've ever had in my life was in Shimla. They have these little dhabas (food shops) all around Indian cities.. But the one that we found was beyond amazing. We've officially dubbed them BLD's, because all they say on the outside is "Breakfast - Lunch - Dinner". In Shimla, just down from Christ Church, is this tiny hole in the wall, with the best Indian food and best tea I've ever had. Bar none. I think the most we paid for a meal was 100 rupees, and that was with about 4 cups of tea, 3 main dishes, and about 10 chapatis. About 3 dollars, maybe a little less. We went there for breakfast first, then returned for dinner that night. (Which the grumpy looking little chef seemed quite pleased with.) Every meal left us stuffed, and it was so good it was terrifically impossible to not eat everything, though I'm pretty sure my stomach was begging not to be punished any more. But the smell of this little shop -the onions, the curry, the dahl, the beedies, the fresh mountain air - combined with the fact there were only seats for about 10 people, that everything was made in front of you, that the arch of an eyebrow was all you needed to get more chapatis.. It was fantastic.

Our first full day in Shimla, both Hamish and I slept in, both being exhausted from the trip and having such amazingly comfortable 3$ room beds. (Seriously, it was so comfortable.) I woke up with a bit of a start, I thought maybe somebody was on the balcony, as I could see something moving. Lucky for me and my modesty, it was just a bunch of monkeys unscrewing all my porch lights and smashing them. Just up the hill from Shimla, about a 2 or 3km walk, is the Jakkhu temple, devoted to Hanuman, the monkey god. Which, as you can well imagine, brings many monkeys into the surrounding area. They kind of wander around like dogs do in Delhi, with the exception that the Delhi dogs don't pick your pockets. The temple was lovely, bright and beautiful and sparkly, as expected. We sat and had tea and looked out at the mountains, trying to make out any snowy peaks. We met another little family from Paris, another from Agra, took pictures and relaxed.. It was wonderful.

The next morning we left on the early bus to Mandi, a relatively short (4 hr) bus ride, down from about 2200 metres to only 800metres. Needless to say.. Mandi was a little bit warmer. Now, any of you who know me.. know that it generally takes a LOT to make me throw up, but when I do start.. beware. This story should demonstrate that point adequetly enough.

Indian buses, never mind Indian buses careening around mountain curves.. are fairly erratically driven. It's like one big long game of chicken, played alternately with cars, cows, mountain sides and tractors. So without extreme "intestinal fortitude" as Bryan says, you're almost certain to join the majority of passengers hanging listlessly out the window retching and vomitting. (Thus the strange colour that Indian buses take on after a few months of service.) Hamish and I were doing quite fine, more tired that naseaous, when I felt a big yawn rolling over me; at the same time the lady in front of me felt a corresponding wave of naseau. The universe and science conspiring in this cruel game, we turned a hard corner and above mentioned vomit deposited itself in above mentioned yawning mouth. My.. yawning.. mouth.

After having recovered (not without a lot of spitting, swearing, gagging and water gargling) we continued on out way with our Indy 500 wannabe driver.


Up next - He's going to stop... right?