Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Newcastle to India
The flight to Delhi was a long one, but Ive been on worse, New Zealand for example was a monster 30 hour bonanza of stopovers and 12 hour shifts, but then was way back when I didnt have deep lines on my brow, a rickety back and could hack being crunched up sideways in an econonomy airline seat next to a snoring fat man. Fortunately for me it turned out I was sat next to the exact opposite, a beautiful young American woman. I think its safe to say this did absolutely nothing for my ability to relax and concentrate on sleeping and remaining poised and calm for the onslaught of the Delhi chaos only a few hours ahead of me. But Joking aside, in reality the flight was a breeze.Its been a long time since Ive been on a plane and theyve certainly changed, I'd bought a paper and even considered buying a crossword book. Wrong! now you dont need any form of entertainment whatsoever, everything is provided at the touch of a screen in the back of the seat infront of you. I watched the newest releases on film and played backgammon, saw Razorlights most recent concert and saw an episode of cringeworthy friends all from the luxury of my seat, easy, or worrying whichever way you choose to see things. With a 4 hour stopover in the bling capital of bling Dubai, where you can purchase a classic 1960's convertible from the inflight magazine, or buy any kind of anything from the duty free, I nabbed a 1.50 chicken curry (Gorgous, shame on you heathrow airport with your prices and wilted lettuce!) and slept a couple of winks on the carpeted floor alongside an austrian guy and various other nationalities. Seems Dubai is the stopover capital of the world also, Ive never seen so many nationalities, cultures and clothing all getting along so famously, or at least sleeping along side each other so famously.
The last haul into Delhi from Dubai was all of 3 hours and I think I slept most of that which was good because I wanted to feel at least half human to take on the touts, crazed taxi drivers, mountains of forms and chaos everyone warned me about. But, in reality i had none of this. I dont really know what it is about me but people mostly leave me alone. Ive experienced this in most countries where folk tell me to be wary of hassles and chaos. Maybe I look scary or skint, I dont know, but I only had one taxi driver gingerly ask me if I wanted a taxi and that was that.Im sure that will change However I did encounter the usual Indian taste for formality,I was trying to catch the free shuttle bus between the International and domestic terminals and walked out of the terminal towards the bus, once I got to the bus I jumped aboard and was quickly told to get off by a soldier and instructed to walk all the way back through the terminal, through to customs , past various officials, and various gates, to return to the exact spot I started at where they could check my ticket and book me on the bus! Crazyness, I was a step away from the checking office. But nevermind I was grateful to be on a free bus and free of any hassles so all was good. I grabbed a tiny twin prop plane to Dharamsala which bobbed and weaved through some of the most amazing scenery I-744639.jpg)
ve seen yet. Out of my window, I'd thought ahead and got myself a window seat, I saw a big bank of clouds on the horizon and then far far way on my left I saw a jagged mountain way abovwe the clouds, the only one and it must have been Everest in Nepal it was so big and so far away, no other mountains look like that and none of the other mountains broke out of the clouds like that either, amazing! Flying certainly is beautiful.
Once I arrived at the airport I was picked up and taken to a hotel I'd organised and I tried to rest. Strange thing though, the owner of the Hotel kept smiling at me in an odd way and touching my knee while in the taxi. I kind of felt uncomfortable with this but put it down to my stuffy Englishness. The light didnt really shine down on me till I was in my hotel room and he got behind me and started massaging my shoulders and asked me to lie on the bed. Finito! woahhh not nice! I had been warned about this kind of thing but really hadnt expected it to happen just stepping off the plane! I got a real taste of how women feel with this sort of daily bullshit and in that respect it was a great practical lesson but in general a nasty, sleasy, dirty experience and one I dont wish to repeat. So I made plans to leave the next day which I did, to a Tibetan guesthouse, with a bussling community and much more beauty.
Dharamsala, or Mcleod Ganj to be correct, a little hill station above Dharamsala, is a strange mix. I remember Brendan at Lothlorien talking to me with fond memories of it in the late 70's, early 80's. However, knowing Brenadan I think its a very different place to the one he remembers. As much as the Dalai Lama has residence here,-776341.jpg)
and there are Buddhist monks in full crimson attire everywhere, this is very much a backpacker destination. Dreadlocked Isrealis charge up and down the stray dog streets on trooped up Royal enfield motorcycles, looking like something not too far removed from the motorcyclist from Bat out of Hell. Robed Monks rub shoulders with buisnessmen, tibetan refugees, backpackers, tourists, travellers, you name it its here. The shops -746204.jpg)
are a similar mix of real Tibetan Handricrafts, made by tibetan societies inhouse, and boutiques selling rucksacs, cargo pants, tacky souvenirs and such. This is all separated by fedex bureaus, ticket offices, barbers, scruffy tea shops, restaurants and beautiful Tibetan women selling Momo's. Of course you have the usual freeloading holy cows, stra-752862.jpg)
y bonking dogs, pleading beggars on rackety wooden scateboards, maniacal scooter riders and suicidal jeep drivers. But I gather this is the norm for India, just seems to me like a scruffy old place for his holiness to have his residence to be honest!
One of the highlights for me has been watching the monks shouting at each other in the coutryard of the temple. Sorry, one of the highlights for me has been watching the monks discussing serious philosphical points with each other in the courtyards of the temple. Now this to me seems-731246.jpg)
strange. Correct me if Im wrong, but isnt buddhism all about loving kindness and compassion. Well, these guys really go for it, stomping feet, slapping hands and at times I have to say I dont really detect that loving kindness so talked about, they seem pretty angry. Seems like this is a kind of sport to me, much bravado, and Im not sure how much of it is a display for the onlookers. But its pretty entertaining stuff. Ive sat with the robed monks during prayers and been served piping hot tea and bread with the other gatherers, followed in the foot-752971.jpg)
steps of little old men and spun the bronze prayer wheels of the Dalai Lamas temple, eaten steaming Momo's from a Tibetan steet seller, yum yum, and searched endlessly for a motorcycle to continue my travels.
To be honest aside from the Dalai Lama being here at Mcleod Ganj theres not a great deal to do unless you get involved in voluntary work or have -731188.jpg)
a penchance for one of the therapies or yoga schools that seem to have sprung up around and about. Theres a lot of voluntary work about and I think that would be the most fulfilling thing to do up here to be honest. You can work teaching Tibetan people various things from English to IT aside from working on social projects in and around the area. Ive thought about this myself, but I dont really think this is the right time or place for me to be doing that kind of thing. McCleod Ganj in reality -776256.jpg)
seems to be just another hopping off point on the traveller circuit of India, which I kind of thought it would be.
So, for now, Im just getting used to the way of life here and trying to ease myself into India while trying to find a motorcycle to continue my journey. This is proving a little more difficult than I thought it would be as every Tom Dick or Harry wants to sell you a bike,even if the wheels are falling off, the tyres are bald and the engine sounds like its about to shake itself to pieces. Aside from that the-745961.jpg)
prices up here are just crazy, crazy and Im sure this is becasue theres too many tourists and disposable money floating around. What you can buy in Delhi for 18,000 IRP costs you double up here, and being a foreigner hikes the price up immediately. Its also frustrating for me not having a working knowledge of these motorcycles, although I can rebuild just about anything I can get my hands on I dont really know what these things should or should not sound like. To me they all sound like a very loud rattly bag of spanners thats about to implode, but maybe thats how they sound. For all the bikers out there the gear shifts on the right on the older bikes ..hmmmhhh.
So my search continues.With a little research Ive also found out that its a normal operation to put your bike on the train, just wrap in straw and sack and stuff it in the luggage van with all the other crap! Great! This really helps me as the country is huge, distances vast and Royal Enfields SLOW! In effect this means I can tour the different states I want to see and then ship the bike between them at little cost and better care for the environment and my backside! This is a good finding, I can sleep while Im travelling over the vast distances and places I dont wish to see or ride through.
From the little cafe Im sat in I can see the thunder storms and rain crashing down over the mountains, its very beautiful and very wet as you can imagine in the foothills of the Himalayas, so today is a day for writing and doing very little, the roads are muddy the electrics keep failing and mooching about in these storms isnt a sensible option unless your a duck. So until next time many blessings and love to everyone. Jonny
The last haul into Delhi from Dubai was all of 3 hours and I think I slept most of that which was good because I wanted to feel at least half human to take on the touts, crazed taxi drivers, mountains of forms and chaos everyone warned me about. But, in reality i had none of this. I dont really know what it is about me but people mostly leave me alone. Ive experienced this in most countries where folk tell me to be wary of hassles and chaos. Maybe I look scary or skint, I dont know, but I only had one taxi driver gingerly ask me if I wanted a taxi and that was that.Im sure that will change However I did encounter the usual Indian taste for formality,I was trying to catch the free shuttle bus between the International and domestic terminals and walked out of the terminal towards the bus, once I got to the bus I jumped aboard and was quickly told to get off by a soldier and instructed to walk all the way back through the terminal, through to customs , past various officials, and various gates, to return to the exact spot I started at where they could check my ticket and book me on the bus! Crazyness, I was a step away from the checking office. But nevermind I was grateful to be on a free bus and free of any hassles so all was good. I grabbed a tiny twin prop plane to Dharamsala which bobbed and weaved through some of the most amazing scenery I
-744649.jpg)
ve seen yet. Out of my window, I'd thought ahead and got myself a window seat, I saw a big bank of clouds on the horizon and then far far way on my left I saw a jagged mountain way abovwe the clouds, the only one and it must have been Everest in Nepal it was so big and so far away, no other mountains look like that and none of the other mountains broke out of the clouds like that either, amazing! Flying certainly is beautiful. Once I arrived at the airport I was picked up and taken to a hotel I'd organised and I tried to rest. Strange thing though, the owner of the Hotel kept smiling at me in an odd way and touching my knee while in the taxi. I kind of felt uncomfortable with this but put it down to my stuffy Englishness. The light didnt really shine down on me till I was in my hotel room and he got behind me and started massaging my shoulders and asked me to lie on the bed. Finito! woahhh not nice! I had been warned about this kind of thing but really hadnt expected it to happen just stepping off the plane! I got a real taste of how women feel with this sort of daily bullshit and in that respect it was a great practical lesson but in general a nasty, sleasy, dirty experience and one I dont wish to repeat. So I made plans to leave the next day which I did, to a Tibetan guesthouse, with a bussling community and much more beauty.
Dharamsala, or Mcleod Ganj to be correct, a little hill station above Dharamsala, is a strange mix. I remember Brendan at Lothlorien talking to me with fond memories of it in the late 70's, early 80's. However, knowing Brenadan I think its a very different place to the one he remembers. As much as the Dalai Lama has residence here,
-776526.jpg)
and there are Buddhist monks in full crimson attire everywhere, this is very much a backpacker destination. Dreadlocked Isrealis charge up and down the stray dog streets on trooped up Royal enfield motorcycles, looking like something not too far removed from the motorcyclist from Bat out of Hell. Robed Monks rub shoulders with buisnessmen, tibetan refugees, backpackers, tourists, travellers, you name it its here. The shops -746223.jpg)
are a similar mix of real Tibetan Handricrafts, made by tibetan societies inhouse, and boutiques selling rucksacs, cargo pants, tacky souvenirs and such. This is all separated by fedex bureaus, ticket offices, barbers, scruffy tea shops, restaurants and beautiful Tibetan women selling Momo's. Of course you have the usual freeloading holy cows, stra-744600.jpg){kind=link}
-752885.jpg)
y bonking dogs, pleading beggars on rackety wooden scateboards, maniacal scooter riders and suicidal jeep drivers. But I gather this is the norm for India, just seems to me like a scruffy old place for his holiness to have his residence to be honest! One of the highlights for me has been watching the monks shouting at each other in the coutryard of the temple. Sorry, one of the highlights for me has been watching the monks discussing serious philosphical points with each other in the courtyards of the temple. Now this to me seems
-761490.jpg){kind=link}
-773833.jpg){kind=link}
-731258.jpg)
strange. Correct me if Im wrong, but isnt buddhism all about loving kindness and compassion. Well, these guys really go for it, stomping feet, slapping hands and at times I have to say I dont really detect that loving kindness so talked about, they seem pretty angry. Seems like this is a kind of sport to me, much bravado, and Im not sure how much of it is a display for the onlookers. But its pretty entertaining stuff. Ive sat with the robed monks during prayers and been served piping hot tea and bread with the other gatherers, followed in the foot-752984.jpg)
steps of little old men and spun the bronze prayer wheels of the Dalai Lamas temple, eaten steaming Momo's from a Tibetan steet seller, yum yum, and searched endlessly for a motorcycle to continue my travels. To be honest aside from the Dalai Lama being here at Mcleod Ganj theres not a great deal to do unless you get involved in voluntary work or have
-731203.jpg)
a penchance for one of the therapies or yoga schools that seem to have sprung up around and about. Theres a lot of voluntary work about and I think that would be the most fulfilling thing to do up here to be honest. You can work teaching Tibetan people various things from English to IT aside from working on social projects in and around the area. Ive thought about this myself, but I dont really think this is the right time or place for me to be doing that kind of thing. McCleod Ganj in reality -776275.jpg)
seems to be just another hopping off point on the traveller circuit of India, which I kind of thought it would be. So, for now, Im just getting used to the way of life here and trying to ease myself into India while trying to find a motorcycle to continue my journey. This is proving a little more difficult than I thought it would be as every Tom Dick or Harry wants to sell you a bike,even if the wheels are falling off, the tyres are bald and the engine sounds like its about to shake itself to pieces. Aside from that the
-746149.jpg)
prices up here are just crazy, crazy and Im sure this is becasue theres too many tourists and disposable money floating around. What you can buy in Delhi for 18,000 IRP costs you double up here, and being a foreigner hikes the price up immediately. Its also frustrating for me not having a working knowledge of these motorcycles, although I can rebuild just about anything I can get my hands on I dont really know what these things should or should not sound like. To me they all sound like a very loud rattly bag of spanners thats about to implode, but maybe thats how they sound. For all the bikers out there the gear shifts on the right on the older bikes ..hmmmhhh. So my search continues.With a little research Ive also found out that its a normal operation to put your bike on the train, just wrap in straw and sack and stuff it in the luggage van with all the other crap! Great! This really helps me as the country is huge, distances vast and Royal Enfields SLOW! In effect this means I can tour the different states I want to see and then ship the bike between them at little cost and better care for the environment and my backside! This is a good finding, I can sleep while Im travelling over the vast distances and places I dont wish to see or ride through.
From the little cafe Im sat in I can see the thunder storms and rain crashing down over the mountains, its very beautiful and very wet as you can imagine in the foothills of the Himalayas, so today is a day for writing and doing very little, the roads are muddy the electrics keep failing and mooching about in these storms isnt a sensible option unless your a duck. So until next time many blessings and love to everyone. Jonny
★ 0 Comments. | Jonny, Wednesday, October 15, 2008 8:48 PM
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