leh festival

As I tossed and turned this morning I could hear the wind outside in the garden, but by the time I woke up it was sunny again. I walked around the town this morning, attempting to book a littile outing for tomorrow. The bike excursion I was interested in (for the sake of acclimatisation, of course) may or may not happen, they told me, so come back later. Over a cup of tea and some almonds, I officially booked my Markha Valley trek with Dreamland Trek and Tours. I had a mushroom omelette and a banana pancake for breakfast, which admittedly, is not very Indian, but it is on every menu in town so I have been thinking about it for a while. I walked to the polo grounds, basically like the town square, where the closing ceremony of the Leh Festival was being held. I got there 45 minutes late and the crowds were big, but they were still in the speech making phase of the ceremony. I struggled to see over all the heads for a while as men in traditional costume, the same as the ones we saw in the street last night, did dances with swords. I noticed that there was an unspoken rule for viewing the dances: children and women could go up closer and sit, but Westerners could walk up in front of everyone and sit in the shade in the very front. That felt a bit strange, to go past all the local people to watch their festival, but it meant I had a good view of the rest of the performances. As some women in long furs and caps danced, some men in uniform, the army, no doubt, came out with big dogs on leashes. Now no matter how safe everyone says this place is, this is still Jammu and Kashmir, so my immediate thoughts are not comfortable. But they were just their to show off the tricks the dogs can do, like jumping over hurdles and through firey hoops. The usual. The little boy dressed in the monk robes got scared when the dogs came out, especially the big attack dog, so he came and hid behind me until it was over. At the end, all the dancers (because there were people from different regions in different kinds of dress) came out together and the announcer welcomed all tourists (no local people) to join in on the dance. I needed a cool break in the shade after the sun and the crowds, so I ducked into a German Bakery (yes, there are many German bakeries here in Leh) for a tea. I ran into Martin later and we walked the city a bit as I enquired after my bike trip again. We heard various reasons why it (along with Martin's jeep trip to the Nubra Valley) might not happen tomorrow: the road is closed because of snow; the road is closed because the llama from the festival is going that way; the road is open but there aren't enough people; and also, the road is most definitely open. Basically, this means come back tomorrow and we will see. Zoe always said don't plan too much in India because something always happens to alter the plans. So tomorrow I will see. On another note, while writing an email to Carolyn I realized I had 5 different kinds of tea in the last 10 hours: masala tea with Javeed while booking the trek, a black tea with breakfast, a milk tea after the festival, and then a Tibetan herbal tea followed by a mint tea at the "Pure Veg Tibetan" restaurant I went to with Martin tonight. Also a banana lassi for dessert. There are no mango lassis this time of year, we have realized, so now we just ask anyway as a joke.

more on india

In Delhi I got to try all kinds of exciting new things. Like coconut water straight from a coconut that they slashed open in front of us. And Masala dosa - South Indian food - when I was out and about with Tony. A full meal (and a burning mouth) for only a few rupees. With Zoe and Poonam, I went to Sikkim house and tried momos and thukba. Momos are a bit like won tons - can be fried or steamed - with chicken or veg or whatever you want in the middle. Thukba is a noodle soup. Most recently, with my new Swiss friend Martin, I had chicken korma with bananas and potatoes in a sweet sauce stuffed with nuts and fruit and lots of butter naan to pick up all the extra sauce. A good meal, though it was cold enough that we had to move inside from the terrace where we were sitting listening to the call to prayer from the towers of Leh.

When we are waiting for power outtages to end or just hanging around, Zoe would play around on her guitar. I managed a weak "happy birthday" but I don't think I have a future in music. On another earlier morning (anything before 3 was a success) we went to Qutb Minar. This is the tower that marks the start of the neighborhood where I lived for almost 2 weeks. I passed it for days, admiring it lit up at night and particularly admiring its red glow at sunset. Finally, I got to go up close. The motifs were Islamic, so geometric patterns and writing in Arabic formed most of the decoration (reminding me of my days in Granada). The tower itself was very well preserved and quite detailed, although the rest of the area, tombs and walls, were crumbling. The bright green parakeets offered an interesting contrast to the red-brown of the structures. We autorickshawed our way over to Lotus Temple, the new Ba'hai temple built in the shape of a lotus flower. We had to take our shoes off to walk inside. In our bare feet, Zoe and I took a turn around the quiet and cool room, though neither of us were really interested in sitting down to pray. The information center for the Temple was strange--it seemed like a propaganda center for a religion with a lot of private money... which is exactly what it is, I suppose. But the architecture was interesting to see and made me think of Andrew building exciting and practical buildings all over the world (ok, maybe in a few more years).

Today I walked around the city and bit and stayed low-key--the altitude still has its effect on me. In the afternoon, Martin and I met up for a walk to the palaces above the city. Winding through narrow white streets where tourists didn't go, I was again reminded of the little villages of the Alpujarras. Winded from the climb, we looked back over the city of Leh. It was marked by green trees in the very center, but otherwise it looks like a very dusty mountain outpost. The mountains nearby are all bare and brown--you have to climb up or look at just the right angle to see any snow-capped mountains--all this is so different from my last set of mountains: the grassy hillsides of the Alps so slippery from rain you could slide right off. The palace is really more of a ruin, but it was fun to duck into dark hallways and climb up ladders to explore the place. We continued up to what looked like another palace, the one we had admired the night before over dinner. The trail was just dirt and you had to pick your own way... I chose the direction that looked the easiest, but it turned out we had to boulder our way over some big rocks to make it back on the main track. As we pulled ourselves up to the top, the colorful flags, almost mere threads in the wind, greeted us with their flapping. We climbed up until locked doors blocked our way, then we sat and looked out at the view, doing a little language stalking in the process. (over tea the night before, I had explained to Martin how one of my newly acquired German words was genau since we heard an Austrian woman speaking English and struggled to identify her nationality... so today we both laughed as one of the Germans next to us said genau in the midst of their conversation) We picked the back way down, which led us through a non-touristy part of town once again. People were lined up in front of ovens, buying their naan for the evening. Back on the main Bazar, we heard an annoucement coming from a car. The only association I have with this kind of microphone is the one the Germans use in Casablanca that Ingrid Bergman translates for Rick and for us. But this announcement was in English--a woman telling us to pay particular attention to the clothing the men in the upcoming procession would wear. So out of nowhere, it seemed, a crowd formed and men beating drums, then men holding swords and women in traditional (and very warm-looking) clothing passed by us. A little dance, many flashing cameras, then they continued on. I imagine this was part of the touristy festival in Leh that ends tomorrow.

I will continue to reflect on the time I had in Delhi to see if I can scrounge up any more stories to write here. Tomorrow I will try to be a bit more active, as the altitude allows. It is hard to imagine that this is just the start, that the Markha Valley trek reaches 16,000 ft. Hmm.

A look back at the pictures I posted earlier...
I went around the city in the green and yellow autorickshaws. They are completely open, which is nice around 10pm when there is no traffic and you can feel the air on your face. Otherwise it means you are always close enough to hold hands with the truck driver next to you and to breath in the exhaust fumes. I also go to go on Tony's bike. Mostly that was a good experience, except for the time we ran out of petrol. I thought he was kidding when he said that, but sure enough, the engine put put putted its way to a stop. It was pleasant at 12.30am so we walked a mile or so to the nearest petrol station and went on our way again. When Zoe and I were finally both feeling well, we woke up early enough to make the trek (haha) to North Delhi. It took about an hour by autorickshaw and then by metro (surprisingly clean and quiet). It turns out everything, including the Red Fort, is closed on Mondays, so we didn't get to go inside, so instead we went to Connaught Place and to some shopping areas there. For the first time I saw a touristy part of the Delhi rather than the one where people simply live. This mostly meant that every place I passed in the shopping area would say "excuse me madam please." No jewelery or clothes shopping so far since I don't really do that anyway, but I did finally buy a couple of books to read yesterday (Kite Runner and an Orhan Pamuk--none of this milly-tilly nonsense).

first impressions: delhi and leh

I arrived in Delhi in the middle of the night and was struck most by the heat and the traffic. The heat jumped out at me, slammed me in the face in a way that not even high speeds on the roads with the windows down could solve. For 4am, the roads were busy, but it was not the congestion as much as the drivers' interpretation of road rules that struck. Basically, there are none. No lane dividers, no real red lights, no stopping for people or bikes... just an idea that you should stay to the left side. The more aggressive vehicle always wins and it is always a test of nerves. That made me glad I wasn't driving in India. The roads the first few days always felt crazy like I was hurtling down the street at ridiculous speeds, nearly clipping everything in sight. But like much here in Delhi, I got used to it.

Through a couchsurfing connection, I met my new friends Zoe, Tony, and Poonam. They have welcomed me into their home and made me a part of the harried city life here. From the first sip of chai to the yummy chicken Zoe made as a goodbye treat, the "home-food" has been good and comforting. Usually we eat when Tony, a DJ, comes back from work. which means 1 or 2am. That means I stayed in Delhi on a rather strange schedule. That was time because it meant I was outside less during the hottest part of the day.

I spent a week and a half in Delhi, and, because of my friends, lived almost like a local here for that time. That means traveling around in autorickshaws (after Zoe did the bargaining), seeing a few sites in the cities (with prices 10 times higher for foreigners), and even catching a movie in Hindi. Some of the things I saw were surprising. I was surprised by the lines at the gas stations (no waiting for petrol or diesel, but for gas you waited at least an hour). I was ready for the cows on the side of the road but I didn't think they would be so scrawny, so dirty. I was ready for a different kind of security, but I didn't think I would go through a metal detector and patted down at a movie theater. I was ready for heat, but not the dripping sweat when the fan stopped running when the power went out. None of these things, all new to me, were bad--they were just different from the way I was used to living.

Now that I have arrived in Leh, Ladakh, my experience in Delhi becomes even sharper. I had thought that I wasted too much time there, especially when I stayed inside for 3 days when I was sick. But just being there, breathing the dirty air until my throat hurt and buying huge bunches of bananas from the street vendors, was the real Delhi--all a part of the India I came to see. And I learned so much from talking with Zoe and Tony and Poonam while I was there, not just about Delhi but about the northeast, where they all come from, as well. Like how most Indians in Delhi assume that Zoe is a foreigner because of the way she looks. Or how traditional women might still fast during the full moon "for the health of their husband."

I could explain things like seti to my new friend in Leh, Martin, because of what I learned in Delhi. Martin, a Swiss guy (of all things) about my age, shared a taxi with me from the airport in Leh to the city center. We found a guesthouse together and so have shared a couple of meals together, which is nice for two people traveling alone. I could tell him about the heat and intensity of life in Delhi since I had just been there, and he came straight from Zurich. It was fun, too, to talk with someone from Switzerland, because of all that we now shared.

Leh is a great place to be a tourist. It was a brisk 5 degrees Celsius when we landed at 6.40am, but it warmed up to at least 12 or 13 in the sun during the day. The sky is bright blue and cloudless, the land is desolate and brown. We are at over 10,000ft here, which means my head hurt the whole day. The first walk through the town reminded me, somehow, of Capileira in the Alpujarras of the Sierra Nevada in Andalucia. That is a funny connection to make, I know, but this town has the same kind of white buildings, the same quiet in the streets. Most of the town center is focused on Western tourism. There are clothing and shoe and craft shops alternating with trekking agencies all along Fort Road and the Main Bazar. There are little German bakeries where westerners in hiking boots sit and sip chai. There are restaurants everywhere advertising their fare as Itealian (yes spelled like that) / Tibetan / Chinese / Israeli. And the food they have really does cater to the international clientele. For breakfast today with Martin, sitting in the shade of a garden, I had eggs and potatoes and toast along with my chai and mango juice. Now this is not very adventurous of me, I know, to order that when I am in India, but it was such a nice feeling of home. Of course yesterday's breakfasts was parathas and curd (potatoes-stuffed naan and a sort-of yogurt), so I balance it out.

I leave for a trek to the Marhka Valley on Thursday, the 18th, which gives me a few days to acclimatise and see some of the gompas (monasteries) in the area.

India part 2

India!