After a quick flat tire and a fix we were back on our way in our cycle rickshaw across Agra to the Taj Mahal. The Taj is such an iconic and romantic image of India that we couldn't miss it. We weren't looking forward to the heat and bustle of a famous tourist town with the ensuing scatter of garbage edged with persistent touts, but Agra turned out to be a great base to peek at and visit one of the world's most beautiful buildings. We found a rooftop restaurant with a bit of a view of the dome and got our first glimpse. The two extremely young brothers that served us were fun to joke around with and even got us a cold Kingfisher in a bit of newspaper to disguise it.
Next morning we woke up before dawn to try and catch sunrise at the Taj. You can't bring any food into the walled compound around the actual mausoleum of Mumtaz Mahal and the fifteen dollar ticket was one time only, so we could only stay until lunch drew us out. The carved Rajasthani Marble inlayed with floral patterns of semiprecious stones and delicately filed into Jali screens glued us to the building for as long as we were able to shuffle around the grounds with our eyes wide and staring. We must have taken a thousand pictures of it in every light and not a few of us holding it in our palms, jumping in front it, and posing like the rest of the swarming tourists.
Later that day we caught a very late train to Amritsar, sharing a berth with a Sikh family that generously offered to share their dinner with us. They were extremely friendly and also invited us to their house to stay, which was 30km outside of the city. We declined, but were grateful for their hospitality. We arrived to Amritsar in the afternoon tired, hungry and a little stomach sick, the usual feelings after a long night train. We jumped into a crowded shared rickshaw to the frenetic city center. Our hotel was a block away from the Golden Temple and right next door to Jallianwala Bagh, the harrowing site where British soldiers opened fire on a peaceful assembly of people protesting an unjust law. The space has been converted to a park with nice gardens and a memorial. You can still see the bullet holes and the giant well that helpless people jumped in to their deaths. It was a bit strange to see so many people there taking photos and asking for photos with us in them, smiling at the cameras with babies in arms, excited to pose for several photos with us while memories of lives lost lay hidden in the background.
That evening we went to the Golden Temple for the first time. We sat around the pool of nectar gazing at the beautiful temple in the center as the sun slowly set, enjoying the tranquility of the most holy place for Sikhs. We chatted with a few other pilgrims and a local Sikh and learned a bit more about the culture which was intriguing and enchanting at the same time.
The next day we ventured out to the Hindu silver temple which is very similar to the iconic Golden Temple but much less impressive and atmospheric. We walked the narrow streets of the old city, dodging traffic jams, cow pies and fellow pedestrians. Later that day we went to the border closing ceremony with Pakistan, which was an amazingly patriotic affair full of hoopla. Basically thousands of Indians and Pakastanis fill giant bleachers on each side and watch the border guards try to out stomp, snarl and salute each other. We bought little Indian flags and cheered along with the masses in this unique and quite interesting cultural experience.
That evening we went back to the Golden Temple and ate at the giant community kitchen. The temple feeds over 60,000 people each day and has a chapati machine that churns out 150 per minute. It is quite the operation. We grabbed our dishes on the way in and took a seat on the floor in line with probably a thousand other pilgrims in the massive dinning room. Several guys with big bowls went down the line passing out chapati, dhal and kheer, a delicious and sweet rice pudding. They would come around several times dolloping out seconds or thirds to those that wanted them. We both got extra helpings of kheer. Before we knew it we were padding out of the giant hall with our dishes before the zamboni cleaning machine ran us down. We watched the extremely efficient cleaning process and decided to do a round of dishes at the giant sinks. Probably 100 people were washing dishes at an incredibly productive speed. We kept up the best we could.
The next day we were on a bus to Dharamsala with a change in Pathankot. It was a long trip but we were excited to be heading into the foothills of the Himalayas of Himachal Pradesh. We arrived and were greeted with crisp mountain air, forests and mountains views. Ahh. After months of hot, dry 100 plus degree weather this was a welcome change.
We stayed 12 nights in McLoed Ganj, aka upper Dharamsala, which is the home of the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan government in exile. There's a big traveler scene and lots to do, from meditation to cooking classes to volunteering and trekking. We did all of the above and kept busy with other things as well, like finding the best momos in town (they are in front of the Gompa by the main chowk). We attended daily drop in meditation courses at Tushita in Dharamkot. It consisted of a half hour meditation and about an hour of Buddhist philosophy and discussion. We also did a two day more intensive Shamatha meditation course which focused on single pointed concentration.
We volunteered a couple times, joining the conversational courses at Lha, which are informal discussions to help Tibetan refugees with their English. It was amazing and often heartbreaking to hear some of their stories and to try to understand what things are like now in Tibet. The struggle of the Tibetan people continues even if it is no longer in vogue in the west. While we were there three people had self immolated in Tibet to protest Chinese occupation. A horrendous reminder that the Tibetan people are not free in their own country and are being ruled with an iron fist by a foreign government that is as destructive as it is immoral.
We did several day hikes in the region to waterfalls and viewpoints including up to Triund, a 1,000 meter climb up to a large ridge line with great views of the Dhauladur range. While we were up there we were sitting on a small rock that protruded out over the valley. Just as I was thinking it wouldn't be stable in an earthquake we felt the tremors of a distant quake from the border with Kashmir. It was an incredible coincidence! For the record, the rock is still where we left it and we are fine.
After getting our fill of momos, thentuk, and some of the best pizzas in India at the Om Hotel, we headed to Manali on a rattling, overcrowded, and long night journey through the mountains of Himachal Pradesh. We wound our way up the Kullu Valley arriving at 4:30 in the morning and were first greeted by the frosty night air, quickly followed by the drunken offers of auto-rickshaw wallahs to drive us to overpriced guesthouses. We declined and after wrapping ourselves up in blankets hobo style we joined the packs of wild dogs in the darkened streets of town and walked to Old Manali. Sometimes you feel like a homeless person, and then you realize you kind of are...
We stayed in town the first couple nights then changed to a guesthouse outside of the hullabalu with nice views of the Shanti Valley. Old Manali is a unique village with old houses built of wood and stone. Even the roofs are made of thin slats of stone. Orchards fill the space between houses and snow capped mountains beckon in the background. It's a beautiful mountain town.
We stayed a week in Manali. Amanda was in between sicknesses so we did a lot of relaxing; strolling around the Shanti Valley and the orchards towards the pass. We visited the unique pagoda style temples and tried to keep warm in all the clothes we had. It rained a bit and was brutally cold at times (compared to the hot weather we have been used to), but we would just curl up with a book or slurp down hearty soups at Pao, a wholesome cafe with a friendly owner that we visited often.
On one of our final days in Old Manali we attempted to walk the fourteen kilometers from town to another valley. We ended up getting caught in the rain and turned back less then halfway, but we did meet an extremely friendly old man living in a stone and wood house amidst orchards and fronted by a perfect tangle of rose bushes in bloom. He spoke nearly perfect English and taught us quite a bit about the region and how it had changed over the course of his long lifetime. He kept bringing up the change in India from a more spiritual way of life to one revolving around the amassing of money. It is a change that we have heard about from many people from the older generation here and experience daily in the frantic money driven overpopulated cities covering the subcontinent. I think we'll stay a while longer on our island of shanti cool in the clouds.
Next morning we woke up before dawn to try and catch sunrise at the Taj. You can't bring any food into the walled compound around the actual mausoleum of Mumtaz Mahal and the fifteen dollar ticket was one time only, so we could only stay until lunch drew us out. The carved Rajasthani Marble inlayed with floral patterns of semiprecious stones and delicately filed into Jali screens glued us to the building for as long as we were able to shuffle around the grounds with our eyes wide and staring. We must have taken a thousand pictures of it in every light and not a few of us holding it in our palms, jumping in front it, and posing like the rest of the swarming tourists.
Later that day we caught a very late train to Amritsar, sharing a berth with a Sikh family that generously offered to share their dinner with us. They were extremely friendly and also invited us to their house to stay, which was 30km outside of the city. We declined, but were grateful for their hospitality. We arrived to Amritsar in the afternoon tired, hungry and a little stomach sick, the usual feelings after a long night train. We jumped into a crowded shared rickshaw to the frenetic city center. Our hotel was a block away from the Golden Temple and right next door to Jallianwala Bagh, the harrowing site where British soldiers opened fire on a peaceful assembly of people protesting an unjust law. The space has been converted to a park with nice gardens and a memorial. You can still see the bullet holes and the giant well that helpless people jumped in to their deaths. It was a bit strange to see so many people there taking photos and asking for photos with us in them, smiling at the cameras with babies in arms, excited to pose for several photos with us while memories of lives lost lay hidden in the background.
That evening we went to the Golden Temple for the first time. We sat around the pool of nectar gazing at the beautiful temple in the center as the sun slowly set, enjoying the tranquility of the most holy place for Sikhs. We chatted with a few other pilgrims and a local Sikh and learned a bit more about the culture which was intriguing and enchanting at the same time.
The next day we ventured out to the Hindu silver temple which is very similar to the iconic Golden Temple but much less impressive and atmospheric. We walked the narrow streets of the old city, dodging traffic jams, cow pies and fellow pedestrians. Later that day we went to the border closing ceremony with Pakistan, which was an amazingly patriotic affair full of hoopla. Basically thousands of Indians and Pakastanis fill giant bleachers on each side and watch the border guards try to out stomp, snarl and salute each other. We bought little Indian flags and cheered along with the masses in this unique and quite interesting cultural experience.
That evening we went back to the Golden Temple and ate at the giant community kitchen. The temple feeds over 60,000 people each day and has a chapati machine that churns out 150 per minute. It is quite the operation. We grabbed our dishes on the way in and took a seat on the floor in line with probably a thousand other pilgrims in the massive dinning room. Several guys with big bowls went down the line passing out chapati, dhal and kheer, a delicious and sweet rice pudding. They would come around several times dolloping out seconds or thirds to those that wanted them. We both got extra helpings of kheer. Before we knew it we were padding out of the giant hall with our dishes before the zamboni cleaning machine ran us down. We watched the extremely efficient cleaning process and decided to do a round of dishes at the giant sinks. Probably 100 people were washing dishes at an incredibly productive speed. We kept up the best we could.
The next day we were on a bus to Dharamsala with a change in Pathankot. It was a long trip but we were excited to be heading into the foothills of the Himalayas of Himachal Pradesh. We arrived and were greeted with crisp mountain air, forests and mountains views. Ahh. After months of hot, dry 100 plus degree weather this was a welcome change.
We stayed 12 nights in McLoed Ganj, aka upper Dharamsala, which is the home of the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan government in exile. There's a big traveler scene and lots to do, from meditation to cooking classes to volunteering and trekking. We did all of the above and kept busy with other things as well, like finding the best momos in town (they are in front of the Gompa by the main chowk). We attended daily drop in meditation courses at Tushita in Dharamkot. It consisted of a half hour meditation and about an hour of Buddhist philosophy and discussion. We also did a two day more intensive Shamatha meditation course which focused on single pointed concentration.
We volunteered a couple times, joining the conversational courses at Lha, which are informal discussions to help Tibetan refugees with their English. It was amazing and often heartbreaking to hear some of their stories and to try to understand what things are like now in Tibet. The struggle of the Tibetan people continues even if it is no longer in vogue in the west. While we were there three people had self immolated in Tibet to protest Chinese occupation. A horrendous reminder that the Tibetan people are not free in their own country and are being ruled with an iron fist by a foreign government that is as destructive as it is immoral.
We did several day hikes in the region to waterfalls and viewpoints including up to Triund, a 1,000 meter climb up to a large ridge line with great views of the Dhauladur range. While we were up there we were sitting on a small rock that protruded out over the valley. Just as I was thinking it wouldn't be stable in an earthquake we felt the tremors of a distant quake from the border with Kashmir. It was an incredible coincidence! For the record, the rock is still where we left it and we are fine.
After getting our fill of momos, thentuk, and some of the best pizzas in India at the Om Hotel, we headed to Manali on a rattling, overcrowded, and long night journey through the mountains of Himachal Pradesh. We wound our way up the Kullu Valley arriving at 4:30 in the morning and were first greeted by the frosty night air, quickly followed by the drunken offers of auto-rickshaw wallahs to drive us to overpriced guesthouses. We declined and after wrapping ourselves up in blankets hobo style we joined the packs of wild dogs in the darkened streets of town and walked to Old Manali. Sometimes you feel like a homeless person, and then you realize you kind of are...
We stayed in town the first couple nights then changed to a guesthouse outside of the hullabalu with nice views of the Shanti Valley. Old Manali is a unique village with old houses built of wood and stone. Even the roofs are made of thin slats of stone. Orchards fill the space between houses and snow capped mountains beckon in the background. It's a beautiful mountain town.
We stayed a week in Manali. Amanda was in between sicknesses so we did a lot of relaxing; strolling around the Shanti Valley and the orchards towards the pass. We visited the unique pagoda style temples and tried to keep warm in all the clothes we had. It rained a bit and was brutally cold at times (compared to the hot weather we have been used to), but we would just curl up with a book or slurp down hearty soups at Pao, a wholesome cafe with a friendly owner that we visited often.
On one of our final days in Old Manali we attempted to walk the fourteen kilometers from town to another valley. We ended up getting caught in the rain and turned back less then halfway, but we did meet an extremely friendly old man living in a stone and wood house amidst orchards and fronted by a perfect tangle of rose bushes in bloom. He spoke nearly perfect English and taught us quite a bit about the region and how it had changed over the course of his long lifetime. He kept bringing up the change in India from a more spiritual way of life to one revolving around the amassing of money. It is a change that we have heard about from many people from the older generation here and experience daily in the frantic money driven overpopulated cities covering the subcontinent. I think we'll stay a while longer on our island of shanti cool in the clouds.
 |
| The Taj, it's kind of pretty. |
 |
| Getting our early morning snaps in while it's relatively quiet. |
 |
| A random Hindu festival burst through the streets of Agra with loud music, color throwing and dancing. Plus the ladies were carrying some pots on their heads. |
 |
| One of our friends in an Agra rooftop restaurant looked cooler than Colin in his shades. He wanted us to take several photos of him with the sunnies...this is one of them. |
 |
| The Golden Temple in Amritsar is kept incredibly clean by the efforts of hundreds of volunteers. |
 |
| The temple illuminated in golden light. |
 |
| Amanda cheers with the crowd at the Pakistan/India border closing ceremony. |
 |
| An Indian guardsman trying to kick himself in the face. They do this every night. |
 |
| The streets of McLeod Ganj, upper Dharamsala. |
 |
| Colin sitting precariously on the rock that stayed on top of Triund. |
 |
| Basking in the sun, lizard style at Triund. |
 |
| The Tibetan struggle for freedom was seen in many forms in Dharamsala. |
 |
| We took a momo class and learned four different styles of momo and ways to fold them. Here is our teacher Sangey in front of the steaming trays. |
 |
| Scorpion!!! Beware, they are in the Himalayas. We found this one in our room and it wasn't the only one we've seen . |
 |
| Some hobo with a couple of dogs, Old Manali. |
 |
| Where did Colin find that yak? Old Manali. |
 |
| Taking a stroll through the Shanti Valley, Old Manali. |
 |
| Orchards and mountains, mountains and orchards. |
 |
| A traditional house in the town square, Old Manali. |
