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India May 2009 Delhi, Rajasthan and Uttaranchal

India May 2009 Delhi, Rajasthan and Uttaranchal

Old Jun 10th, 2009, 12:12 PM
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India May 2009 Delhi, Rajasthan and Uttaranchal

Here we go, per request - a journal of our second trip to India - two weeks, with a few days in Delhi, and travel to just one area of Rajasthan which we have visited before, and sampling of the north in Uttaranchal, which we had not visited before. First some background: I am an ex-pat Canadian, married to an ex-pat Brit now living in central Texas. We enjoy traveling, and given the funds, would do it much more. Our past forays have included much of Australia (except the west), New Zealand, Scandinavia, the Netherlands, China, Thailand, Cambodia (3 times to Siem Reap), Spain, and of course, Canada and the UK (including Wales and Scotland). I have also spent time in Moscow and my husband in Rio de Janiero and Mexico City. So, we are experienced travelers. But beware, nothing prepares you for India. The first section will include and introduction and then cover our arrival in Delhi up to the start of our stay in Chirawa.
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Old Jun 10th, 2009, 12:50 PM
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This was our second trip to India. We were now “informed”. We knew what to expect. As the kids would say…“Not!” Surprises met us when we least expected them, and even the known side of India presented new results.

Lesson #1. If you feel frustration, doubt or even delight, or conviction, remember a mantra: “This is India.”

We are Star Alliance loyalists because of our status with them, and the superior mileage credits that we earn. Thus, as we were doing the flight without any stopover, we booked a more expensive flight on United ($1500) to Delhi, so that we could upgrade to Business class using miles. The previous trip, we flew on Singapore Airlines west via Bangkok, one of our favorite cities, where we spent a day. We returned home on Asiana Airlines via Seoul, another great city, with a stopover of 4 days. This time we flew east via Frankfurt. I much prefer the first trip’s routing, but if we did fly east again, I would take a layover in Frankfurt.

We had planned to travel from Delhi to one area of Rajasthan (Jhunjhunu province) to visit friends, and then also head north to the foothills of the Himalayas to be tourists for a while. After weighing the excitement of having our first train journey against the flexibility of hiring a car and driver, we settled on travel by road. We hired Ramesh Meena, (contact: phone numbers - 919829807074 and 91925246594;email addresses - [email protected] and [email protected]), after reading positive reviews of him on a Fodor travel blog. We booked no hotels ahead of time, as we had not fixed our itinerary, were traveling off-season and staying with friends some of the time.

We landed just after midnight on the morning of May 14th. We were met by our friend of many years, Jagdish Chander (Jags) who is a professor at Hindu College, Delhi University. It went much more smoothly than the arrival on our first visit. I should explain the Delhi airport is large, noisy and somewhat confusing. The exits can lead you to opposite sides of the terminal and away from your greeters. Meeting the first time was complicated by the fact that our friend is blind and we had never met his personal assistant, Bhupender Singh (Bhupen). So, there we were, like a Verizon commercial, saying “Can you hear me now?”, over the din of the crowd on our cell phones. This time we connected with no trouble, and were grateful for the speedy transition from arrival to taxi.

After the drive to Jags’ home on the campus, and a few beers in his garden, we drifted off to sleep in the unexpected air-conditioned bedroom he provided us. However, morning greeted us with a bang. The summer heat of Delhi in the is not to be trifled with. After a late breakfast, we headed out, small towels in hand, to investigate the shops of the neighborhood with his teenage daughter, Namita and to get some rupees (we never bring cash with us - it's almost always more cost-effective to get it from an ATM). The area is complete with food markets, clothing shops, bookshops, banks, etc. It might be similar to any urban neighborhood, if not for the smells, the items stocked …and the litter.

Trash is a nearly constant detractor to the beauty of India. We were offered an explanation that it is hard to break the habits of a life before plastic; a time when items which were discarded simply decomposed over time. I reject this as an excuse. It is said that India has much larger problems for the government to solve. This is true, but I also reject that as an excuse. I believe respect for the land is part and parcel of overall respect for oneself and others. Also, water-borne disease is still a huge problem in India that is compounded by festering trash contaminating so much of its territory. There are small efforts to support change – street side trash cans, for example. However, it is discouraging that some educated people continue to ignore, and sometimes even participate in exacerbating, the situation. This is not time to use the mantra.

Back to the story... After shopping for novels for Jags’ daughter (she loves Harry Potter), and acquiring cash and neck scarves (to help with wiping down the perspiration), we returned for lunch. Later in the afternoon, Ramesh came by to introduce himself in person, and set a departure time for the next day’s travel to Rajasthan. We were very much taken with this young man. Aside from his excellent English, he was the ultimate professional. We were given a packet with local customs and tour information, as well as a gift of a map of India and some personal items. We spent much time discussing the trip north with him, Jags, and Jags’ friend, Dinesh. But despite all the advice, we settled on nothing except to “decide later”.

Friday morning arrived, and we were reminded that “India time” is not western time. I had thought our plan was to have an early breakfast at Bhupen’s in old Delhi, and then head out to Rajasthan. Our planned departure of 7:00 a.m., in order to beat the city’s rush hour, became 9:00 a.m. when we actually hit the road. That part of the city is a maze of narrow and narrower streets, not built for cars. Bhupen lives down an even tinier lane, in a tidy home surrounded by the homes of his extended family. The area is far from wealthy, but we felt he must be very happy to live with such a support system. However, our late departure meant we had with little time to spend visiting with his family. We had a quick, but delicious meal made by his wife. Then Ramesh, with Bhupen's assistance, set about extracting the car from its parking place. A wedding had set up a tent in front of us (mantra, please)and so they were forced to navigate the exit in reverse. This meant convincing vendor carts, and other cars, motorcycles and pedestrians to move. This was not an easy task, and it took many minutes to cover a few blocks. In fact, it was probably closer to half an hour before we were on our way not to Chirawa but back to the University, for a meeting that Jags’ had forgotten to mention the day before. It was about noon before we actually began our journey to Rajasthan.

Lesson #2. Whether it’s the heat or the culture, time in India holds a different value. If you really need to leave by a certain time, tell everyone you depend on to be ready at least an hour earlier. Better advice is to do as we were told many years ago in the Bahamas, “Mellow out”.

We had told our hosts in Chirawa that we would be there in time for dinner. Fortunately, dinner is late in India, so we would still meet our deadline. Chirawa is about 115 miles from Delhi, and Google Maps will tell you it will take you a little over 3 hours. “This is India”. Even at what seems to be a conservative rate, this calculation in travel time is greatly underestimated. Try 5 or 6 hours. Driving on the highways of India, even the multi-lane ones, one is confounded by traffic unknown the western world. It includes the usual cars, trucks, and buses, as well as camel carts, elephant carts, herds of cattle and sheep. Ok, so maybe you’ve dealt with sheep in the UK. But on an interstate highway??? We arrived in time to check into one of the 2 hotels in town (the cheap one). I won’t impinge on their prospective traffic by naming it, but simply suggest you try spending more than 600 rupees per night ($12 US)if you want clean sheets and towels.
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Old Jun 10th, 2009, 12:57 PM
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Oh, this is great stuff! Looking forward to more.
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Old Jun 10th, 2009, 01:29 PM
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Thanks! It's great to read an entertaining India report.
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Old Jun 10th, 2009, 03:10 PM
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Fascinating read.
Looking forward to more.
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Old Jun 10th, 2009, 06:03 PM
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Loving it, and your sense of humor. Can't wait for next installment -- and to go back to India.
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Old Jun 10th, 2009, 08:37 PM
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keep it coming. Great writing.
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Old Jun 11th, 2009, 01:54 PM
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The colors of Rajasthan have resonated in my memory since our first trip during which we spent a goodly amount of time exploring a portion of the state. While the landscape is a wonderful mix of desert, hills and lakes, it is the women and their dress that truly add vibrance, and the men add charm. Surely the Rajasthanis are amongst the most handsome and appealing people in the world. Drive any countryside road in the morning or the evening and see the scores of women in their glorious saris, heading for work. And I don’t mean sitting behind a desk, or even housekeeping for a middle-class family. It is more likely they are heading off to haul bricks for construction. And I have learned that I’m a easy target when it comes to any smiling face.

The trip to Chirawa was not just a chance to revisit Rajasthan, but an important motivation for our trip. For several years we have been communicating with Munni, a relative of Jags. Her daughter’s education has been very important to us, as higher quality education is difficult to find outside of the large cities, especially for a girl. When we visited about 5 years ago, Pinky was a child of about 11. The girl we met this time had grown into a young woman, to be called now by her given name, Ekta, rather than her nickname. She and her mother have worked very hard on her academic work, and Ekta is succeeding at one of the most highly regarded schools in the region, perhaps in India. It was also a delight to see that she is still such a loving daughter, but one who also shows the spark of a teenager. Her English is now very good, so we could communicate easily and learn more about her and her delightful town.

After checking into the hotel, we had showers and lay down to rest for a short time before heading down the street to their home. Munni and her husband used to teach at a local school, but found an opportunity to work from home when they partnered with another person in a computer literacy business. The change was very important to Munni, as she was determined to be more available to her daughter for any educational needs. However, it also meant a change in home – from living above the school, to having a school inside their home. A walled courtyard with a large wooden gate marks the entrance to their new abode. They remodeled somewhat and replaced the domestic style entrance door with a commercial glass door, which leads to a reception area, a small room on the left of reception and a larger bedroom on the right. Ahead, the main room in the house is now a large classroom with multiple computer stations. There is a covered front porch, leading to the kitchen, which is separated from the rest of the house. A fairly large detached bathhouse and toilet completes the setting.

We settled in on the porch and after the initial hellos, Mike wanted conversation, while I headed to the kitchen to get some cooking tips. First on the list was chai. Normally, in the summer, the tea is not made with spices, but as Jags had informed Munni that we like spiced tea, that’s what we were to be served. The most important difference that I could discern to Munni’s tea, which is the best in India I might add, is that she adds a little black pepper (freshly pulverized of course). Next on the list was dinner. She had already started the dal. But I was able to see her methods once the dal was complete – how she mixed the spices with water in the mortar before grinding them; how the onion and tomatoes were chopped and sautéed in oil and then mashed before adding these spices; and how the whole combination was then added to the dal and stewed a further hour or so. The final lesson was the bread, but I have to admit I was sooo… hot that I escaped the kitchen without learning much at all. And yet Munni toiled away the entire time, and emerged with all the food, looking as elegant in her sari as when she entered. It was a picture that repeated itself over and over again, in home after home, village after village – these amazing women who made it all look so easy. After dinner and cold drinks under stars which were hidden by the lights of Delhi, we drifted back to the hotel to sleep it all off.

My husband began the morning with a very early walk around the market. Then we both headed for breakfast. The heat really destroys one’s appetite, so our plans to eat heartily were pretty much ruined. But equally important things were in store for us. We had taken this trip as a pre-anniversary (40th) gift to ourselves. Munni had taken this as a challenge to show us an Indian side to marriage. She had managed to hunt down some clothing large enough for westerners, but the finishing touch was to be a henna treatment for each of us. A young man appeared at her door, with an armload of materials and a binder full of designs. So much as one would pick a permanent tattoo, we chose our temporary henna designs. I settled on an elaborate floral work for my entire forearms and hands. My husband wanted the monkey god Hanuman, but as the artist only knew marriage designs, Mike had to settle for Ganesha. It took over 2 hours of immobility, which did not compare to the anguish I felt watching him hold his henna tube tightly for that amount of time. After a drying period, we scrubbed down. Then we grabbed our rain umbrellas and headed out to investigate the now open markets. Do you recall the phrase, “Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the noon day sun”? We were the ones in question. Even the shopkeepers wanted to know not just what westerners were doing in their town, but why were we out shopping in the middle of the day. But what a wonderful market there is in this small place! The selection of wares and produce is quite good and you don’t have to fight the city crowds. Plus you can walk rather than drive. After picking up a few goodies as gifts, we headed to the bangle maker. From the street, all you see is a woman with a huge selection of bangles for sale. However, venture behind the front room, and you find an area set aside for making bangles. Munni’s plan was to request custom bangles to match the clothes she had purchased. After much discussion with the artist, he settled in to stoking the open coal fire and getting to work. This type of bangle is traditional and made from lac. Lac is produced by a unique scale insect indigenous to Indian forests. It can be heated and shaped repeatedly and can be fused with a dyed material to create designs. It can be hold its own shape or be fused to a metal bangle for greater durability. Munni’s choice was for deep royal blue a white in a barbershop style swirling stripe fused to a brass bangle. It took about 45 minutes to make 2 bangles – hot work on a hot day – and we were all delighted with his effort.

Time for a drink and Munni surprised us again. We had noticed a particularly unusual fruit growing on a tree in Jags’ yard, and it turned out they made and excellent drink. Bel fruit look much like a very large apple with a tough skin and a squash-like pulp inside. Mash the pulp, mix it with cane sugar, add water and you’ll be saying “yum, yum” in no time. By then, afternoon had yielded to evening and dinner and bed. The next day would be a busy one.

This would be our last period with Munni and family. We headed out for one last scour of the market. There was a hope to find sandals made of camel leather for Mike, but no such luck. We could have had a custom pair made, but it would have meant returning to pick them up in a couple of days, and we didn’t know if we would have the chance. We grabbed our last chance of AC for the day when we returned to the hotel for a shower and nap. Then there were the obligatory pictures of farewell – I think I take these just because I find it so sad to leave. It’s a way to bridge the change.

Onward! We loaded ourselves into the car and soon were on our way to a new adventure – a return visit to more of Jags’ greater family in his ancestral town and a night at a relative’s country place – this time sleeping under the stars. His brother had come from Jaipur to get everything set. He was informed we liked folk music and had hunted down a group of itinerant musicians. First, though, visits to various members of Jags’ family, and in correct order. Then on to another member’s house for dinner on the rooftop. As a western visitor, I was not excluded from accompanying the men to the roof, but I decided instead to investigate. I’m not sure if I visited merely neighbors or other family members. Call me slow or call me confused, perhaps due to the fact that I had been suffering from headaches on and off for several days – probably from dehydration. I should probably explain that life in rural Rajasthan is rather conservative. Women are expected to cover their faces in the presence of certain men. If I understood the explanation, if a married woman sees a man she knows coming within eyesight, she must cover her face. If he is a stranger to the area, it is not obligatory. (corrections would be appreciated) In the end, out of a desire for quiet, I simply settled in with the woman, who offered me space and opportunity to relax. The side benefit was that I was also the first to eat. Yum, yum again.

Having eaten and relaxed, I was renewed. Mike needed no renewal. We were off again, this time to party! (to be continued)
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Old Jun 14th, 2009, 01:30 PM
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Wonderful, thank you for sharing. Look forward to the next installment
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Old Jun 14th, 2009, 07:50 PM
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loving this
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Old Jun 15th, 2009, 08:44 AM
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Thanks for the positive feedback. I have company, so it will be a week or two.
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Old Jun 16th, 2009, 07:50 AM
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Hi bonnieheather,

I am enjoying your trip report immensely. Thanks so much for taking the time to post. Love your sense of humor and insight. Looking forward to the rest!
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Old Jun 29th, 2009, 01:59 PM
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If you are in Central Texas, it sounds like Austin where we spend a chunk of the winter to escape the Indiana winter. Yes, no???
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Old Jun 30th, 2009, 03:38 PM
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Near by, indiapearl. Let me know when you're in the area and we'll touch base. Now on to another installment.

Chirawa continued

It was a relatively short, if bumpy ride out to the village. To all those who would chide drivers who do not live and breathe by maps, I would remind you, “This is India”. Many roads are not even on maps, and many maps are not accurate. I felt fortunate that Ramesh, rather than an ordinary western man, was at the wheel. He did not hesitate to stop over and over again to learn at which corner, tree, or other landmark to turn. When we were quite near, a friend met us on the road to lead us on the final stretch.

Our anticipation was great, but disappointment greeted us when we reached Jags’ brother’s house: the itinerant musicians had “itinerated”. However, Ramesh was soon on track to search and bring them back, if at all possible. The rest of us were left to the hard task of sampling the beer we had recently purchased. Rumors and advice abound on what and where to buy alcohol. Suffice it to say that the evening’s brew had the same wonderful flavor and had the same affect as our Delhi purchases. Two pieces of advice: watch out for anything labeled “extra strong; have a designated driver or bring your jammies. We were covered on all fronts.

Fortunately, it wasn’t too long, before Ramesh returned triumphant with one singer one player and 2 young dancers, as well as a couple of extra family members in tow. We were warned that the singer was not the musician’s regular partner, but the pair made wonderful music to our ears. The dancers were little more than children, but showed signs of real talent and had such charm and enthusiasm.

We began as a “family” gathering, but village life is different. I was reminded again that no one needs an invitation. I had already had this lecture the day before, when I had voiced concern that with no hotel in sight, Ramesh would have to sleep in his car. I was told that in these circumstances, he was not a driver, or a guide, or any other stranger – he would be treated as family. Indeed, this had been the case throughout the trip. All of our friends included Ramesh as part of the group. This suited us well, as we tend to function that way anyways. However, our attitude of inclusion has been a problem in the past, and would cause trouble again later in this trip.

So it was that, without having to bother with invitations, our little audience grew over the hours to include virtually everyone in the village. Also, these are participatory events and in short order, several men were taking their turns singing or dancing. Then came the encouragements to those of us too shy. The children would not take “no” for an answer, and I soon found myself up and dancing. But where were the other women? On the sidelines, covering their faces whenever a man was near, probably green with envy at my freedom. Not that they begrudged me my fun, laughing with me and asking to have their pictures taken.

It was now very dark and very late. The village power went out and someone brought his truck near and turned on the headlights. The elderly man who had invited himself for tea earlier joined us. It wasn’t long before he too was up dancing – and what a show he put on for us, for all his 75 years of age! His pleas to join him were as irresistible as the children’s. And so I now had the most elegant partner. His grace and musicality were a delight, his energy unmatched. Each time we thought that perhaps the musicians might like to leave, he would say, “Just one more...” In the end, after everyone had finally left, he rounded-out our evening with an a cappella solo.

The village had dispersed and the silence was consuming. I was exhausted and exhilarated…and quite sad it was over. Mike disappeared into the dark to have an outdoor bath while the cots were brought out. We were to sleep under the stars. There had been much talk of things that go bump in the night, and suggestions that I take one of the “inner” cots more protected by the three men. I would hear none of it. Thank goodness! It was worse than a girls' slumber party! When the talking and giggling finally stopped, it was replaced by an assortment of snores. At least with an “outside” cot, I could get some small relief. And as a northern hemisphere city person accustomed to light pollution, the stars were a fantastic distraction.

Despite the fact that we were late to bed, the early dawn was to be met and appreciated. The heat comes quickly and with a fury. Mike and I took a short stroll around the village and when we returned, breakfast was under way. I was enlisted to help churn the milk. It looked simple enough, but like all tasks that require talent, it was harder than it appeared. And tiring! I had succeeded enough to be left on my own, with instructions to continue…and continue and continue. No one who lives a rural life need ever visit a weight room. Later it was on to a machine that cuts up the grass for the cattle. It involved turning a cutting wheel, while a partner fed the grass into the cutter. I found this job easier, but that was probably because I was doing it wrong. I was “fired” almost immediately. When I asked why, Ramesh explained that I was not turning the wheel at a constant rate, and the woman feeding the grass feared for her fingers.

After a delicious breakfast of chapattis and tea, we would head back to Delhi. However, we would have to wait for everyone to get ready, so I went for another walk. Others in the village were also starting their day, and I made a point of greeting everyone I could see. This led to an invitation from an elderly man who was sitting on a cot in his courtyard. He could speak no English, and I speak no Hindi, but that didn’t stop either one of us from babbling away in our own language. Eventually, some other family members came out, and one did speak English, so I was able to have him translate my rudeness: I must “drink and run”, as no one knew where I was.

Soon enough we were all piling ourselves into the car. After dropping Jags’ brother and sister-in-law at the station for their trip back to Jaipur, we decided to ignore the blistering heat and go by way of Nawlagarh, as it’s known for its havelis. These are former mansions whose architecture and frescos can be quite magnificent. The one that Ramesh chose for us was, I believe, the Ramnath Poddar Haveli Museum, however my notes are hopeless. I can say that the guide was excellent and well informed about everything exhibited. As well as wonderfully restored frescos, the museum contains several collections. Among them are: miniature paintings, historical photos of Gandhi, dolls in various types of wedding dress, and turbans particular to individual sects.

By the time we finished, we were drooping, and despite the prospect of the long drive back to Delhi, the air-conditioned car was most welcome.
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Old Jul 1st, 2009, 04:45 PM
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You're fortunate to have friends in India --- it makes it so much more welcoming!

We'll be in Austin on 12/21 and will stay until the end of January. We arrive back from India about ten days before we leave for TX, so I'd better get my holiday shopping done pronto.
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Old Jul 1st, 2009, 06:18 PM
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bonnieheather -- this is wonderful! I am loving your report. Can't wait for the rest.
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Old Jul 2nd, 2009, 07:31 AM
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Thanks for the positive comments. I agree that having friends on the ground is a huge improvement to the travel experience. Indiapearl should consider holiday shopping in India. The savings can be dramatic, and most of our family and friends seem to appreciate the wonderfully different gifts that they receive. We always make sure we pack extra collapsible bags "just in case".
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Old Jul 11th, 2009, 03:16 PM
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Uttaranchal and the Foothills of the Indian Himalayas

Back in Delhi, we were happy to kick up our heels, eat and drink in Jags’ garden. Then there was the inevitable repacking of the bags. We would need warmer clothes for the mountain evenings. We had come with 2 large suitcases and a couple of small ones. The large ones stayed in Delhi, and I transferred the necessary clothes for each part of the trip to the small ones.

This business of dealing with more than one climate seems to be a recurring problem in our travels. It’s much easier to pack for warm weather than cool, and packing for both is just a nuisance. For years, we have traveled very light – usually just a good-sized backpack for each of us. We’ll bring along durable, lightweight collapsible bags in case we’re stricken with buyer’s disease. If there’s room, I’ll throw in some bubble wrap, too, as it’s hard to find in many places.

I also wanted to unearth the bottles of bubbles and Play Doh for kids we might come across. I had intended to take to these things on the trip to Rajasthan, but had forgotten. Prior to other trips to southeast Asia, I’ve collected used clothing and brought insect repellent, or made up little first–aid kits to give out. This has been well received in Cambodia, where the villagers and farmers are so very poor, and malaria is such a problem. And lack of government cooperation on fighting malaria has meant that even Medicins San Frontiers (Doctors without Borders) has pulled out of the Siem Reap region, where we usually head. This time, I had neither the time, nor the direct knowledge to know what it might be useful to bring. But for fun, there is no doubt that kids (and adults) love to blow and chase bubbles. We’ve even caught Buddhist monks enjoying what was meant for the young trainees. Play Doh seems to come as a complete surprise to most East Asians – I think it must be uncommon and in any case, is far more colorful than modeling clay.

As we prepared for the next part of the trip, we needed to shift gears. We were about to leave the security of familiar territory and head north to become true tourists. We spent much of the drive back to Delhi discussing just what our destination would be. We had tossed around many ideas. Jim Corbett Tiger Preserve, a national park in the north, had been top our list, as a stopping point at the very least. However, the past week’s searing temperatures of the high 40’s had disabused us of that notion. The park sits in the lowlands, and we felt we needed relief from the weather.

Before we settled on hiring a car and drive, we had planned to take the train to Haridwar and then continue on to Rishikesh, Dehradun and perhaps Mussorie, in Uttaranchal (known alternately as Uttarakhand). Perhaps we should still do that. Our friends offered the assessment that perhaps they were too much of a tourist trap for our sensibilities. So, what else? Although this was a hastily planned trip, I had done a little research on the southeastern portion of this same state. What about heading to Nainital? Same response. Champawat was suggested as an alternative; Jags was familiar with it; also it is much less developed and less visited. However, I had printed out some information about a rather up-market hotel in Nakuchiyatal (‘tal’ means lake). Despite our relatively limited resources this time around, we’d planned to treat ourselves for at least a night or two. The pictures looked glorious. My vote went to that location, despite the possibility of it being perhaps another area too full of tourists. Champawat promised peace and tranquility, but perhaps fewer creature comforts. Which did we want to soothe more: our souls or our bodies? Ramesh came to the rescue. He suggested that we try Ranikhet. It was further down the road, but he knew a hotel there, and thought that it would provide relief on both fronts. He was a little concerned that as it was the beginning of the high season, that there might be trouble securing a room. However, in any case there would be other hotels, and we could use Nakuchiyatal as a Plan B if we didn’t like Ranikhet.

We were determined to make an early start and avoid the abominable Delhi rush hour traffic. This time we succeeded, and in no time at all, it seemed that we were making our way across the dreaded Uttar Pradesh, UP for short. We had experienced UP on our last trip, when we had visited Fatehpur Sikri, and then The Taj Mahal in Agra. Granted, we spent very little time there, or on the drive from Agra to Delhi, but despite the glory of these two landmarks, we were left with the indelible memory of touts and aggressive behavior. Add to that the negative attitudes of our Delhi and Rajasthani friends, and we were prepared for an unpleasant half-day, at least.


After all the foreboding, the beauty of UP was all I could absorb. While everyone around me was pointing out first the litter, then keeping count of the number of truck accidents, all I could see was the lush countryside. Even the roadsides seemed to me to be remarkably clean compared to Delhi, or even the villages of Rajasthan and Haryana. As far as the accidents go, there must be some truth to the truckers of UP. We saw truck cabs flattened to inches, windshields with body-sized holes in them, a bus that was sliced in half from front to back. It was a gruesome collection. Whether these were frequent occurrences, or whether it was years of detritus, it was impossible to tell. However, we saw no accidents on route, and for that I am very grateful.

The concern of traveling had another effect: Ramesh was extraordinarily cautious about where we stopped to eat. This took part of the joy of touring away; roadside food had been a positive delight on our previous visit to India. There is nothing like a fresh paratha, prepared to your specifications (in our case with loads of green chilies and perhaps potatoes and onions). And the kitchens of these establishments are not hidden away, so you have the added enjoyment of watching the creative process.

What we did find was a good substitute. First, we came across a roadside vendor selling limeade. Stacks of sugar cane and bags of limes sit beside these stands. The vendor crushed the sugar cane by machine and mixed the cane juice with freshly squeezed lime juice. This was a vicarious experience, as I was too timid to expose my bowels to the risk of poor sanitation. Mike and Ramesh had no such qualms, and did not hesitate to tell us how delicious the concoction was. It was the season for many fruits, so while it was too early for mangoes, we leapt at the chance to buy fresh lichees and plums.

Finding a clean toilet was another matter altogether. Men have a clear advantage here, which can lead to great resentment I discovered. Large restaurants offered no guarantee. The gas stations I steer clear of in the U.S. turned out to be a better option. A posh hotel was the safest choice, although not frequently available. On minor roads, I’ll first pick a bush anytime.

Our first stop in the hills was at Bhimtal. The lake (remember ‘tal’?) was only slightly appealing, and made me think that perhaps our choice to bypass Nakuchiyatal was a good one. We took time for chai and then continued on our way.

As we headed further into the hills the rains began. Our first worry was for poor Ramesh. He’d already had a long day of it, and now he had to cope with navigating the slippery roads. None of us anticipated what happened just as we started a particularly windy portion of the road. Like thunderbolts coming from nowhere, rocks bombarded the car. One hit the windshield and cracked it badly. Judging by the state of the roof, it was damaged by a much larger one. How fortunate it was not the other way around, or I probably wouldn’t be here writing. Fortunate as well, that we weren’t hit by a rock large enough to crush the car. Rockslides are a common occurrence in Colorado, my longtime home, sometimes closing roads, and frequently causing severe accidents.

I can’t imagine how Ramesh remained so composed. After surveying the extent of the damage, and deciding the windshield would hold, he was back at the wheel, happy that no one was hurt.

The scenery on the drive was quick to distract us from the incident. The road twisted and turned as it climbed. The vistas were spectacular. The hillsides were covered with terraces posing as bright green pastures against the darker trees and rock. The types of trees changed as well. While we expected deodars, a variety of cedar native to the Himalayas, we did not expect the vast variety of other evergreens and plants. As we neared Ranikhet, the rains which had abated, returned. My mind whirled with concerns: the road was slippery again; we had just turned onto an even more narrow and windy road; it would soon be getting dark; what if we didn’t like this hotel, or if they had no space. It seemed like an hour before we pulled up to the Holm Farm Heritage Hotel www.holmfarmranikhet.com. It was love at first sight. What had been an estate dating to around 1869, is now an inviting boutique hotel. Ramesh and I took a dash through the rain and inside to the reception desk. He was a familiar face to the manager and warmly greeted. There were rooms available, and I was taken on a tour those available. I viewed two suites, both quite charming and we returned to reception to talk about rates. I fully expected a reduced walk-up price, as would be common in many parts of the world. Not so here, so if you go, book online ahead of time. When I balked at the 5000 rupees per night for 3 (including breakfast and dinner), another choice was offered. There were cottages, and a room in one of them was available at a considerably lower rate. It turned out to be perfect, and more appealing to me than either of the suites. There was large bed, plenty of room for a cot, a sitting area, a fireplace for wintry days, and a private bath. The minor disadvantage of being outside the main building was more than balanced by the advantage of a large covered porch. Although the room was very large, there would be three of us in the room, so it was great to have another space. The total came to around 4000 rupees per day, including beds for 3 and daily breakfast and dinner for four. I helped the porter rearrange the furniture to make a space for the cot, while Mike and Ramesh helped ferry in the bags and get Jags oriented to where everything was. We ordered the requisite beers and relaxed on the patio furniture, enjoying the cool air. It was awhile before dinner, and Jags decided to take a nap. Ramesh disappeared to tend to the car and find his quarters. The rain had ended, so Mike and I took a walk to investigate the gardens around the hotel and find a place to watch the sunset. The clouds had settled into the valley and we were favored with the sight of the Himalayas in silhouette against the glowing sky.

We met up again in time for dinner. We had arranged for Ramesh to join us for meals. I have to say the management did not initially appear to be happy about this. Mike had talked to someone and mentioned that “our driver” would be eating with us. When they discovered that the “driver” also owned his own company, it seemed less of a problem. In the end, while apparently remaining puzzled by our behavior, the staff treated us all extremely well.

We have seen this attitude before. Drivers and guides are treated with a fair degree of disdain by hotels and restaurants. In fact, it seems to be almost universal. I first encountered it in Moscow in the early nineties, and I can imagine what would happen if I invited a taxi driver into a Manhattan restaurant. This would not ever be an issue with many travelers, who are more comfortable keeping a more formal relationship with their drivers or guides. For us, though, it is an essential part of the trip. We grow close to these incidental companions, and want to share as much as possible with them in the hope that they will share with us also. In some cases, this relationship has blossomed into a friendship that continues.

This seems an appropriate chapter end, and I’ve rambled on long enough. More later….
bonnieheather is offline  
Old Jul 11th, 2009, 04:18 PM
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Oh my gosh, bonnieheather, that rock slide must have been terrifying! And wasn't Ram's vehicle new, too? I sure hope they have comprehensive insurance over there. More importantly, I am so relieved that none of you were hurt. I'm so glad Ram handled it so well.
With regard to inviting the driver to dinner, we've run into that attitude as well.(We also lived in Russia in the 90's!) We try to respect that it puts them in an uncomfortable position, but when you spend hours on end with a person, yes, sometimes you do become friends. Ram didn't eat with us too often while he was driving for us, but that may have been because he was still working for Rajasthan 4-wheel drive during our trip with him. He really is a gem. My family considers him a friend after our wonderful trip experience together.
Thanks so much for continuing your report. It's fascinating!
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Old Jul 11th, 2009, 10:58 PM
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Amazing that you eat street food in all these places, bonnieheather. Apparently, you don't need to acclimitize yourself to the local conditions like I do.

Couldn't agree more that the best way to enjoy a trip is to get to know the people. Not always easy to do.

You are truly an admirable world traveler....I am impressed.

Loving your report...keep it coming.

Yeah you hear or read about present day problems in UP state...glad you did not find the problems... however, this is the region of India (alongwith Rajasthan and Punjab)where a good 80% of India's history has occurred. So it's also the most sought after (or fought for land) as well...it has mountains, fertile soil, famous old cities, and of course the sacred mother Ganges.
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