Amritsar

A must go when you come to India

I remember the first time I heard of Punjab was from our Bhangra instructor. She said she was from that region of India. The best thing about traveling is that though I drew a blank then, my India map is slowly getting drawn up. For the entire region, only this city was recommended, I would say skip the Taj and come see the Golden Temple instead. Structurally, the Taj Mahal is very aesthetically pleasing, but if you compare the inlaid marble artwork and sensual arousal, the Golden Temple beat it by a long run. The marble artwork of the Taj are laid like tiles, with the pattern repeating all around, whereas the ones around the Temple differ and tell a story. The amount of work exuded into each piece perhaps reflects the devotion of the Sikhs. The real gold added a nice contrast to the white marble as they both shimmered on the holy water. The water was deemed holy after the disabled husband of a faithful wife was healed with divine intervention. Now, a lot of devotees head to the temple to bathe and cure themselves of all physical aliments. My senses were disturbed when I witnessed a man scoop the water and drink it. The only method of cleansing the pool appeared to be the use of a long bamboo stalks to move the solids floating on top to one end of the pool where it would be filtered out. All of my OCD hygiene senses were going off as my legs were thinking, keep walking!

The sight upon entering. The line seems very long but they keep it moving surprisingly fast

A Nihang on guard. This is the backside view.

One of the intricate pieces. Photography inside the temple was actually not allowed.

Cleaning the pool.

Many different varieties of achar. Punjabi food is all about the chili.

The other point of interest was the Wagah border, India's only road border crossing with Pakistan. When the troops retreat for the day, each side puts on a big show of power through loud music, flag waving, vocal contests, dancing and marching. The middle three activities were the efforts of the crowd. This surely made up for the cricket game that I would be missing. To backtrack a little bit, I want to tell you about the bus ride. The day was another hot Indian day, humid also from the previous day's downpour. I sat down with the window to my left and decided to take a nap for the hour and a half long ride. When the bus got going, I felt a brush to my right side and opened my eyes to check if anything was up. I assumed it was an accident and closed my eyes once more. Shortly after, I again felt a brush close to my breast and my eyes bolted open. His arms were crossed and he shifted it back as if to imply it was an accident. I pulled my bag firmly between us and shut my eyes again but not my brain. And then again, the nerve! This time I was certain so I opened my eyes and glared at him with enough malevolence to make him leave the seat. I was appalled to think something like this could happen. No wonder people don't recommend girls to travel alone in India. All of this frustration is going to explode on some poor bugger. I just know it. Sigh.

The previous day's downpour. Storm drains don't exist.

So much for single file. Don't expect Indians to form a line. Get out of the way or get tramped on.

Running their hearts out to show national pride.

The dancing. At one point they even played "Jai Ho" from Slumdog Millionaire. 

The marching. The aim was to see who could kick the highest and stomp the loudest.

Next stop: Bikaner, Rajasthan by sleeper bus.

Definitely a Next Time

Himachal Pradesh: an apple a day didn't keep the doctor away

The ride down to Manali was exceptionally long. Tae-gyu and I shared an SUV with 4 college boys and the driver of course. As the driver tried to fast and furious his way to Manali, which didn't work for a 16 hour long night drive, I fell asleep from the nausea and woke to grumble back to sleep. It got very cold at night so I found myself trying very hard to roll into a ball in the back backseat, which also didn't work very well. I felt bad for not being livelier for the breaks we took along the way but life moves on to Manali. The town is a transfer hub more or less as it did not have anything noteworthy to visit. The only significant event was food poisoning. Both of us caught it but I'm not sure if it was the water from a public refill station that did it or the fish tikka we had for lunch. I had already decided to move on to Naggar and then Kullu, but only made it as far as the former. In a nice guesthouse, I was bedridden for three days, hardly eating anything and fighting a pounding headache. On the second day I looked up the diarrhea medicine I had been taking, Quiniodochlor, and decided to stop that and the Paracetamol, aka Tylenol. The first is banned in a lot of Western countries as it can cause the loss of eyesight. The second had no effects as I think the headache was due to lack of food. Three days, one papaya, one banana, one apple, a bowl of rice, a bowl of vegetable rice noodles and loads of water later, I was able to walk without feeling like heaving. I went around dizzily with an Israeli girl to see the sights before running off to McLeod Ganj, new home for the Dalai Lama, the next day. She tried to convince me that Indian guys ask to take photos with a foreigner so they can brag they slept with her to their friends or jerk off. I hadn't thought of it at the time but why do females also ask to take photos with you. Are we that much of a novelty? An exotic animal in India's zoo? We also were picking apples from the numerous trees but this was not kosher as we got some head shakes. The apples, though tasty were generally oddly shaped. Plus, the trees were sprayed with a toxic, white residual pesticide. As their cash crop, the locals could benefit a lot from the ODW fund on how to better manage their crops, use of effective and non or less toxic pesticides, and improved tools to pick the fruit. As a mountainous region, the trees are grown non-uniformly, therefore increasing the risks of injury (goodness knows how far a proper hospital is from here), or the neglect of it from being harvested.

At a tent rest stop around 3 AM on the way to Manali.

In Manali, they were giving away rice porridge with milk and coconut for a Hindu celebration.

Look who I found hiding as we took a walk through the park in Manali.

Interesting houses in Manali. Can anyone tell me why one would want to build the second level bigger than the first?

At the Roerich Art Gallery in Naggar.

Anyway, the road to Dharamsala/McLeod Ganj was more interesting than Ladahk's. The bus stopped an hour before reaching there from a huge landslide. Trees, rocks, and dirt that kept falling. Luckily, a driver in a car picked me out to be a tourist (and tourists have obvious destinations) and offered me a ride by going around through small dirt roads. His regular job was to transport tourists so he knew his way very well; so well other Indians asked to follow him. So the remaining one hour turned into an extra hour but when we got back to the main highway, we saw the bulldozer going in the opposite direction. However, the driver told me that with the rain that was coming down now, they probably wouldn't be able to clear the roads by tonight and whoever remained there would be spending the night. I was feeling very lucky and grateful! By this time, I started to believe that I was being chased by the rain. So far, it's winning the race....but hopefully not the marathon.

The landslide....duh duh duh!

I instantly loved the vibe of the town as I sat down for dinner and met a couple from Spain with a writer from India. I was glad to meet other travelers as it is one of the main reasons I like to travel: meet, share stories, and more fuel to keep going. It was in McLeod Ganj I learned a new English word, one I wish didn't exist: self-immolation. On my way to the Tibetan museum, I saw a large poster with all the names and portraits of people who had set themselves on fire to draw worldwide attention to the lack of religious and cultural rights in Tibet. These people included young, old, students, monks, males, females, and all Tibetans in or outside of Tibet. Though their leader the Dalai Lama and the Prime Minister of Tibet, both in exile, discourage such rash behavior, it continues to happen. How we can help? By joining the Solidarity With Tibet campaign to discourage self-immolation of Tibetans. After checking out more temples, a waterfall, and gorging on mo mo's, I began my long journey to Amritsar to escape the dreary weather that would persist for another month at the least in the area.

Cool street art.

The menu outside a fast food restaurant. Psy wants you lol. Pardon the blurriness. 

An albino monkey that came to say hello when we were feeding other monkeys bananas. 

On the way to the Bhagsu waterfall in McLeod Ganj.

Outside a Hindu holy area with a swimming pool. The weather was like this the whole time I was here.

P.S. I was voted Japanese in this district by a landslide.

Split

Jammu and Kashmir: A state divided in many ways

After walking around like a zombie my last morning in Delhi as I was still fighting off the food poisoning, I headed early to the train to secure my sleeper bunk (otherwise, there would have been a lot of unwanted visitors). I was knocked out for the whole fourteen hour journey to Jammu plus another two more hours of the initial jeep ride to Srinagar. I felt refreshed from the sleep and water, but sadly more rounds to come. As the jeep began to approach Srinagar, there were men on motorbikes soliciting to the passengers inside. Being the only foreigner, I was their sole target in the jeep. One motorbike passenger even hopped off and got into the jeep to convince me to stay in their houseboat, the popular means of accommodation in this lake city. On my way to my couchsurfing host's house, I tried pinpointing the déjà vu feeling as I plugged my ears to represent my response to touts that I did not want a tuk-tuk, houseboat, gondola ride, or hotel. It wasn't until I had met the creepy guys that I realized this city was the "Venice" of India. One particular creepy guy, that I had hitched a ride from, decided to profess his love to me after having only met me for less than 30 minutes. The result was a sharp shove after he tried a kiss-hug. I quickly exited and he quickly stepped on the gas before someone came to reprimand him. The majority of the population in Srinagar are Muslims. According to my host, they do not tolerate defiant behavior towards women and would punish any man in such acts. Luckily, I had nice hosts to come back to at the end of the day. They took me in even though they were busy with Ramadan or school. They were the ones from whom I learnt about the political situation in Kashmir, especially about the breaches of human rights by the Indian Army. If you would like to learn more, click here.

Gondolas on the right and houseboats on the left of Dal Lake. A lot of the locals are hired to clean the lake as a result of urban pollution. 

A large fried bread stand. One of many to keep up with the masses.

My favorite type of bread in this region. This slightly salty Kashmiri bread is usually served with salty milk tea.

One of many who migrate to the busy city to beg. Sometimes you see the parents setting up the children in a specific manner, adjusting the arms or legs, that must have proved the most fruitful in the past. Imagine laying in scorching heat all day on concrete with flies circling you. Help end global poverty, One Day's Wages vision!

Sunset from Pari Mahal.

A bee enjoying the nectar of one the flowers in one of the many Mughal gardens.

In the herbal garden section of the botanical garden.

Kids cooling off in a mosque.

In Leh, I was struck first by the difference in aridity, then the altitude. I was reminded of Colorado in the day by the shortness of breath, and by night with visible static electricity as I adjusted my blanket. However, it was much more than that. The region comprises of a large number of Tibetan refugees, so it's as though I've entered into a different country. The people, food, religion, climate, elevation, and culture all come to welcome you to this fabulous region. There are endless activities here for the nature enthusiast but do bring your wallet or lots of time. After a time, the conditions of the roads and climate wear you out. Therefore, I went around the restricted areas with a friend from South Korea, Tae-gyu, I met on the bus from Srinagar and decided to save the trekking for next time.

Tso Moriri, lying southeast of Leh. 

Hanging mini prayer flags.

Typical road conditions.

Om Mani Padme Hum carved on rocks. They can be seen on the side of the road all around Leh.

Pangong Lake: ~25% Indian territory and ~75% Chinese territory.

Near the site of the world record amount of trees planted. I recognized it from the film Pad Yatra, which I saw during the Vail Film Festival. Very inspiring! 

One of many cautioning road signs. Another rendition of this one read "Be soft of my curves." A lot of these signs are painted onto the rocks as you drive by.

Driving along. No wonder they say the gas station in Leh is the last one before you reach the moon.

On the way to Panamik, we got stuck in traffic because the truck hauling the tractor on the left broke down. The passengers alight the vehicles that try to drive through, as the drivers brave the rocky road. 

Inside the Sumur Temple, Nubra Valley.

Students and a monk repairing a Buddha statue in Hunder with a clay, glue and cotton mixture.

A "Before i die..." board in Leh. What would you add after this preposition?
Watch her TED talk here.

View of Leh, Ladakh from the Palace Ruins.