The last week (or two/three) - yeah I realise it's been THAT long - should be nicknamed Indulgence Week, as thanks to the crazily cheap pricing and amazing, freshly baked goodness that is the food in Nepal, I've been stuffing my now fat face with food and drink.
Nepal has turned out to be completely different to India: full of friendly, welcoming people (the majority speak good English and most are extremely polite and humble, verging on awkward at times), nice Buddhist related shrines and stupas (pyramid shaped shrines basically - enough so that you feel like you are getting your sight-seeing fill) and a very well developed, untacky tourist area. The latter includes nice and cheap guesthouses - one of the those that I stayed at even included a bathtub (this is a BIG deal!) - as well as steak houses that serve 16oz steaks for 2 pounds a pop, bakeries that don't stop churning out the tastiest of danish pastries, croissants and cakes plus bars that serve local and imported beer (why Carlsberg though, why??).
Nepal also is a country which seems to have it all, minus the beaches. It took me roughly 12 days to storm the Annapurna Circuit - though I'm sorry I rushed it at times, without trying to sound too cheesy I feel privileged to have undertaken the most exciting journey of my life. The circuit covered just about every kind of climate and scenery one can imagine. I started the journey at around 50m above sea-level, taking in rich, green rice paddy fields, that gradually began to appear on shelves cut into the sides of hills as the landscape began to undulate more. Passing through forests, walking along muddy, thin walking tracks (sometimes no more than a few inches of anything that provided grip below your feet), I carried on up and up, always walking parallel to an amazing powerful river, verging at times on white water rapids. The whole beginning of the trek verged on tropical: plants and trees were dripping wet and lushious, waterfalls were aplenty and everything was just so green.
Over the days as I inclined, this turned more mountainous: the temperature slowly began to drop, the height of the hills turned to that of mountains, snow capped peaks could be seen in the distance. I staying in valleys full of volcanic sand (think the setting of Cold Mountain) with only fir trees for vegetation. I walked through desolate, remote and dry stone places, with only rocks and craggy cliff faces to be seen from miles around. As I got even higher, I took in steep, finger like crags and glaciers. Getting nearer the top, walking and even breathing became harder. I slowed it down from 6-8 hours of walking a day to about 2-3 max. At night it was freezing - thank god for the thermal sleeping bag and Nepalese style (like a tea cosy) hat that I bought. By the day we climbed up to the top of the pass, we hit 5500m (19000 feet or so) and snow was everywhere. I must have walked through 3-feet of it at one point.
Coming down was just as dramatic: in 4 days I went from snow to desert (think Arizona style, Marlboro country) to pine tree forests to tropical jungle again (with a wonderful set of bakeries - best of the circuit - and hot springs at 20p for a whole day's session). Bliss!
I'm setting off to Bangkok from Kathmandu now, in about 10 minutes actually. Need to run. I'm staying with a friend in Ko Samui - hopefully will be there by the weekend - so will use the opportunity to upload some photos. Then finally you guys will get to see what the hell I'm raving about.
J :)
Monday, 22 October 2007
Thursday, 4 October 2007
Nepalese, If You Please
Am in Pokhara, about to set out on my trip around the Annapurna Mountains (the Annapurna Circuit). Nepal is completely different to India - still cheap, but quiet, peaceful, beautiful, has decent food and beer, plus no cow shit!
Up at 6am so it's a short post. Will be cut off from the real world for the next two weeks, so next installment should come from Kathmandu or Bangkok.
J
Up at 6am so it's a short post. Will be cut off from the real world for the next two weeks, so next installment should come from Kathmandu or Bangkok.
J
The Ganga
Am sat on the best computer I've found in India yet, but unfortunately in a room infested with giant cockroaches, sand flies, mosquitoes, green flies, grasshoppers..... you get the picture. There's a big desk fan next to my head that, whilst keeping me cool, likes to send all the creepy crawlies flying my way. Oooops, spoke to soon - a power cut, the power is restored but no fan. GASP!!
It's 9.27PM yet despite this I'm roasting (thanks to no fan). I'm currently staying in Varanasi, a town on the edge of the great Ganges river, famous for it's ghats. One in particular is used for cremating people upon, before scattering what's left of their ashes/carcass into the river. Hindus believe the river has all sorts of mystical powers - those that are cast into it after death are rewarding with a trip straight to Nirvana, those that wash in it are cleansed of bad karma and those that drink it are just plain mad (and lots do).
I left Bikaner a few days back, having seen the rat temple. It wasn't so much a temple but a room, but it WAS full to the brim with rats! The rodents are supposed to represent reincarnated storytellers and visitors go there to worship them: men, women and children alike (I saw one child even pick up a really skanky rat and put it in his mouth). Thinking this to be as far as rationale as you can get, I had to smile when on dropping my book and sending multiple rats scattering, a few Hindu ladies jumped and screamed. They were human after all! I was also auspicious enough to bump into the holy white rat, which wasn't that impressive at all. I've got a picture though, so that should be good to trade in for some karma.
From Bikaner I jumped onto a sleeper, night train back to Delhi. The carraiges are pretty basic: rows of bunk beds, in sets of three, the lower two changing to seats for the day time. The journey was pretty smooth, apart from on one memorable occasion when I agreed to swap beds with another man (an Indian who spoke particularly good English, who wanted to be near his family). It was about midnight, and with the help of the man's family I moved my stuff further down the carraige to my new bed, leaving the light off so as not to disturb anyone sleeping around me. I got down on my knees under my bed to find something to thread my security chain to in order to lock my bag down. Feeling a bit groggy, this took me some time. After a couple of minutes, I heard the sound of someone swinging around on the bed behind me, followed by a women shouting loud Hindi, presumably directed at me. I withdrew from under my bed and turned around to see movement from several bunks. One girl sat up from a higher bunk, caught my eye, and with a look of absolute terror on her face began to scream.
At this point, several people had got up and a man from the bed above mine - presumably the father of these girls - grabbed me by the lapels, pulled me up to his height and started jabbering god knows what in my face. In the meantime, all I could do was look innocent, flail around a bit and try to point at my bag!
Fortunately, the man who I'd swapped places with turned up, just in the nick of time. He quickly defused the situation, though the 'father' was far from impressed. What was most amusing was how quickly everyone turned over and went back to sleep. Within moments it was like nothing had happened. Very dramatic. Very Bollywood!
That wasn't even the end of my train mishaps. After wasting a few hours in Delhi - seeing the Red Fort but forgetting my camera, then taking a trip on the back of a scooter with a policeman to swap some dodgy money notes for new, mint ones - I caught a train to Agra. There were no westerners on the train - I hadn't seen any really since saying goodbye to Matt and Martin, last week - so I got some friendly Sikhs to look after my bags. They were REALLY friendly, shaking my hand and not letting it go, directing all sorts of Hindi at me, smiling and laughing lots. I hadn't a clue what was going on. However, they all meant well and so I thought nothing of it when everyone directed me to get off at what I believed to be my stop ("Agra?" I shouted to lots of vigorous head nodding and friendly prods in the direction of the exit).
Turns out I got off 60km from my intended destination! :(
Long story short, I made it eventually to Agra - at one point playing the hopeless tourist in order to skip an increasingly long, irrational queueing system - taking general ("sardines in a tin can") class. It was only an hour so I survived it. The Taj Mahal turned out to be nothing short of what I expected it to be. The building is a real marvel: perfectly symmetrical on all four of its sides, set against a backdrop of nothing but a perfect, simple blue sky. It, the surrounding gardens, the enormous red gate which leads to it and the complimenting red temples (set either side with similar proportions, to uphold the symmetry) were stunning. Took lots of pics, which along with the rest will eventually find there way onto the web eventually (promise).
Had a bit more monkeying around on trains, after arriving at my destination of Varanasi a whopping eight hours late!! Met a huge group of young Poles in my carraige - about twenty of them in all - who helped to keep me entertained with card games and listening to music by Dave Matthews (seems the Polish really love Dave Matthews band).
Finally in Varanasi and I'm off to Nepal tomorrow (8am), but not before taking a river boat trip up the Ganges (around 5am-ish). Am hoping to spot a dead body or two if I'm lucky (they unceremoniously dead lepers and children straight into the river, as they are unfit for the burning ceremony). Also, may get some pics of the burning pyres on the Ghats if I'm lucky too. Spent a day in some very cool company today. One was an Indian ambassador for South Africa (Raj Govender, head of Arts Culture and Tourism), who is here finishing an Anthropology PhD, a part of which involved his taking part in a "Puja" (meditation with a babba - some sort of Hindu priest - having his head and facial hair all shaved off, bathing himself in the Ganges, dedicating flower/spice/rice mixture balls to dead ancestors before offering them up to the river, then praying in the nearby Golden Temple). I got lots of this on film for him and have been promised a mention in his book!
The other member of our group was a bit of a nutty Russian girl who a year earlier had 'rediscovered' herself, submitting her life to Vishnu, Brahma and Shiva. She's taken to dressing like an Indian, likes to speak Hindi mixed with broken English and Russian (when she's not giggling inanely), and takes regular Pujas as well as drinks Ganges ("Ganga") water. Clearly nutty, but she's incredibly good looking, so I don't mind.
Going to call it a day now as much to do tomorrow.
J
P.S. This has been uploaded at a later date than written, thanks to the internet going offline halfway through writing it. Blame the "bugs".
Bathing in the Ganges, the filthiest river in the world
The nutty Russian, kitted out true Indian style. Hubba.
A "babba" (a Hindu holy man, centre) being tipped by Raj (left), on the way back from his Puja.
The burning ghat (centre). This was the closest I dared take a photo, as it is supposed to be disrespectful to do so (what with the ceremony being the Indian equivalent of a funeral). Supposedly, the 'eternal flame' at the top of the ghat has been burning for thousands of years. If it ever goes out, the world will be sent into chaos.
It's 9.27PM yet despite this I'm roasting (thanks to no fan). I'm currently staying in Varanasi, a town on the edge of the great Ganges river, famous for it's ghats. One in particular is used for cremating people upon, before scattering what's left of their ashes/carcass into the river. Hindus believe the river has all sorts of mystical powers - those that are cast into it after death are rewarding with a trip straight to Nirvana, those that wash in it are cleansed of bad karma and those that drink it are just plain mad (and lots do).
I left Bikaner a few days back, having seen the rat temple. It wasn't so much a temple but a room, but it WAS full to the brim with rats! The rodents are supposed to represent reincarnated storytellers and visitors go there to worship them: men, women and children alike (I saw one child even pick up a really skanky rat and put it in his mouth). Thinking this to be as far as rationale as you can get, I had to smile when on dropping my book and sending multiple rats scattering, a few Hindu ladies jumped and screamed. They were human after all! I was also auspicious enough to bump into the holy white rat, which wasn't that impressive at all. I've got a picture though, so that should be good to trade in for some karma.
From Bikaner I jumped onto a sleeper, night train back to Delhi. The carraiges are pretty basic: rows of bunk beds, in sets of three, the lower two changing to seats for the day time. The journey was pretty smooth, apart from on one memorable occasion when I agreed to swap beds with another man (an Indian who spoke particularly good English, who wanted to be near his family). It was about midnight, and with the help of the man's family I moved my stuff further down the carraige to my new bed, leaving the light off so as not to disturb anyone sleeping around me. I got down on my knees under my bed to find something to thread my security chain to in order to lock my bag down. Feeling a bit groggy, this took me some time. After a couple of minutes, I heard the sound of someone swinging around on the bed behind me, followed by a women shouting loud Hindi, presumably directed at me. I withdrew from under my bed and turned around to see movement from several bunks. One girl sat up from a higher bunk, caught my eye, and with a look of absolute terror on her face began to scream.
At this point, several people had got up and a man from the bed above mine - presumably the father of these girls - grabbed me by the lapels, pulled me up to his height and started jabbering god knows what in my face. In the meantime, all I could do was look innocent, flail around a bit and try to point at my bag!
Fortunately, the man who I'd swapped places with turned up, just in the nick of time. He quickly defused the situation, though the 'father' was far from impressed. What was most amusing was how quickly everyone turned over and went back to sleep. Within moments it was like nothing had happened. Very dramatic. Very Bollywood!
That wasn't even the end of my train mishaps. After wasting a few hours in Delhi - seeing the Red Fort but forgetting my camera, then taking a trip on the back of a scooter with a policeman to swap some dodgy money notes for new, mint ones - I caught a train to Agra. There were no westerners on the train - I hadn't seen any really since saying goodbye to Matt and Martin, last week - so I got some friendly Sikhs to look after my bags. They were REALLY friendly, shaking my hand and not letting it go, directing all sorts of Hindi at me, smiling and laughing lots. I hadn't a clue what was going on. However, they all meant well and so I thought nothing of it when everyone directed me to get off at what I believed to be my stop ("Agra?" I shouted to lots of vigorous head nodding and friendly prods in the direction of the exit).
Turns out I got off 60km from my intended destination! :(
Long story short, I made it eventually to Agra - at one point playing the hopeless tourist in order to skip an increasingly long, irrational queueing system - taking general ("sardines in a tin can") class. It was only an hour so I survived it. The Taj Mahal turned out to be nothing short of what I expected it to be. The building is a real marvel: perfectly symmetrical on all four of its sides, set against a backdrop of nothing but a perfect, simple blue sky. It, the surrounding gardens, the enormous red gate which leads to it and the complimenting red temples (set either side with similar proportions, to uphold the symmetry) were stunning. Took lots of pics, which along with the rest will eventually find there way onto the web eventually (promise).
Had a bit more monkeying around on trains, after arriving at my destination of Varanasi a whopping eight hours late!! Met a huge group of young Poles in my carraige - about twenty of them in all - who helped to keep me entertained with card games and listening to music by Dave Matthews (seems the Polish really love Dave Matthews band).
Finally in Varanasi and I'm off to Nepal tomorrow (8am), but not before taking a river boat trip up the Ganges (around 5am-ish). Am hoping to spot a dead body or two if I'm lucky (they unceremoniously dead lepers and children straight into the river, as they are unfit for the burning ceremony). Also, may get some pics of the burning pyres on the Ghats if I'm lucky too. Spent a day in some very cool company today. One was an Indian ambassador for South Africa (Raj Govender, head of Arts Culture and Tourism), who is here finishing an Anthropology PhD, a part of which involved his taking part in a "Puja" (meditation with a babba - some sort of Hindu priest - having his head and facial hair all shaved off, bathing himself in the Ganges, dedicating flower/spice/rice mixture balls to dead ancestors before offering them up to the river, then praying in the nearby Golden Temple). I got lots of this on film for him and have been promised a mention in his book!
The other member of our group was a bit of a nutty Russian girl who a year earlier had 'rediscovered' herself, submitting her life to Vishnu, Brahma and Shiva. She's taken to dressing like an Indian, likes to speak Hindi mixed with broken English and Russian (when she's not giggling inanely), and takes regular Pujas as well as drinks Ganges ("Ganga") water. Clearly nutty, but she's incredibly good looking, so I don't mind.
Going to call it a day now as much to do tomorrow.
J
P.S. This has been uploaded at a later date than written, thanks to the internet going offline halfway through writing it. Blame the "bugs".
Bathing in the Ganges, the filthiest river in the world
The nutty Russian, kitted out true Indian style. Hubba.
A "babba" (a Hindu holy man, centre) being tipped by Raj (left), on the way back from his Puja.
The burning ghat (centre). This was the closest I dared take a photo, as it is supposed to be disrespectful to do so (what with the ceremony being the Indian equivalent of a funeral). Supposedly, the 'eternal flame' at the top of the ghat has been burning for thousands of years. If it ever goes out, the world will be sent into chaos.
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