The Wobble

I woke up in Manikaran to some perfectly blue skies. All off a sudden I questioned my desire to leave the town, I felt myself wanting to know what was beyond where I turned back the previous day. But despite this pang and the protestations of the hotel clerk who put on an oscar worthy performance when he heard that I was going to leave a day earlier than I had informed them when I checked in, I jumped on the first bus out of manikaran. This bus was just going to the town of kullu which was about halfways to manali so I needed another bus from there to complete the journey. All in all it took about 4 hours, a relative blink of an eye.

The first two hours were complete torture though. I decided to take the front seat up beside the driver as the view was unimpeded and there was plenty of room for my two bags. What I didn’t count on though was the position of the speaker which was directly above my head. For two full hours really bad hindi music blasted out of this noise box, for two hours I plotted a way to sever the wire that connected the antiquated cassette deck to the offending speaker. But it wasn’t to be, I swapped buses in the town of kullu and got on the road at last to manali.

The road up to manali goes through the kullu valley, its pretty wide so it doesn’t have the same impact as the other two valleys I have travelled up. The last few kms leading into the town itself is lined up by either big ugly hotels or bigger uglier signs for hotels that are off the main road. As a first impression for a place it really sucked, though I have to admit from what I have heard of the place I wasn’t that surprised. The bus station is right in the middle of the old town, when I arrived the place was swamped, it was friday after all and the place was full of indian couples around for the weekend. Luckily enough there was a tout at the bus stop who was peddling his last free hotel room, reckoned it was worth at least a look. Managed to bargain him down to half the asking price for a really nice room with hot water and a big tv I could catch the weekends soccer on. Sweeeet out!!

After sorting out the room it was off for some grub and then bed, luckily enough I found a place that served some good pizza to almost, almost banish the memory of the previous nights misadventure. Back to bed and some snooze. Woke up early the next morning and made for the old part of the town, creatively titled ‘Old Manali’. It is such a departure from the new part, traditional black slated rooftops dot the landscape under the inevitable set of snow peaks, the most beautiful ones I have seen so far!! I sat in one cafe and devoured a bowl of muesli while I pondered the climability of the pretty large hill that looked tiny between two of the big peaks. I asked the doode who worked in the cafe if I could climb it and he muttered something not even the enigma war machine could decipher but being a generally optomistic kind of person I reckoned it was a positive response, so off I set. The first mile or so leads up to a fairly well visited temple, after that following the path was a solitary exercise with the exception of some mountain ladies (hardly the most flattering adjective) bringing down rather large bundles of sticks on their back. I figured that they were from the village that the sign back in manali pointed to that was 4 miles out of town. So curious to see what the village was like I went in the direction from where they came.

I met a local along the path who had good english, he was struggling with this big sack – I offeredto help him carry the bag as his load was already full, now its a good job that he didn’t say yes as I didn’t for one second consider the slope, the terrain or the sheer dead weight of the bag. I did give him a hand lifting it ontop of the rest of his load, I’m tellin ya these himalayan men are made of stern stuff. Off he went and I figured I would follow him but after about 20 yards or so he turned and pointed up the hill and said ‘Foreigners go that way’. Hmmmm wasn’t sure what to make of that, obviously my tan and tash needs a bit more work before I am completely assimilated here. I took his order and followed the steep path. After around 5 minutes I found what he was pointing at. The Rasta Cafe – it consisted of about 20 plastic chairs in a small field about 1/4 of an acre. There was also some very basic cooking facilities. I ordered a chai and sat and gasped at the view that this little field had. The little village was perched about 200 yards down from the field, over it you could see the full Kullu Valley over to the other side and up to where it starts with some dazzling mountain peaks. There were countless waterfalls on the other side all contributing to the flow of the Beas river that flows through the valley. I stayed there for the guts of 5 hours reading my book, though the distraction that was the view meant that I didn’t get to read that much…

The following day I was wrecked and went for a walk out another road to a small village, the weather was quite poor so the views weren’t as stellar as before. I had intended to go visit a glacier that day that a few local lads recommended called Rothang but when I inquired at the bus stop as to if I could go up there they simply told me that the weather had turned and it wasn’t possible. I found out later that that same day 15 people lost their lives just out that same road when an avalanche hit their bus. This gave me and the town a massive shock – everywhere closed down as a mark of respect and I thought to myself, tis a good job I didn’t try and find another way to get up there as buses were travelling up.

I stayed in manali another day or two before booking myself a ticket on the bus 17 hour bus to dehli. The bus ride was a mare!!! Didn’t get a wink of sleep, that coupled with the fact that the lad beside me seemed intent in giving me a broken rib with his stray elbow. Never again on a nighttime bus, just ain’t worth it. I arrived into dehli last wednesday morning at 7 and made my way to the embassey where I collected my replacement passport. The muppets in there – one in particular didn’t exactly do me any favours and spoke to me with little more than contempt which was completely unnecessary. The last time I visited he never said there would be a problem getting a full passport, now he produced an 11 month passport saying that because I didn’t have my birth cert he couldn’t issue a full one!! Surely if I couldn’t prove who I was that he shouldn’t have given me a passport at all, even at that I could have easily gotten diarmo to bring over my birth cert when he came to visit me. He was a fckn dick, expected me to bloodywell kiss his feet. Asshole. I will have to go through the same crap again when I get to australia.

Worse was to come, with no sleep I made my way with my flimsy, little better than a photocopy passport to the foreingers regional registration office to get my passport restamped and a visa issued. Now this place is the reason why people get frustrated with india. I had to queue for 4 bloody hours in the sweltering heat, no food, no water. The queue was unbearably slow and their way of processing people was a pure joke. By the time I got to the top of the queue I was told I had to have a letter from my embassey stating that I was missing my passport and pretty much when I arrived into the country. I was teetering on the brink, for the first time in india I raised my voice a little but figured that it wasn’t worthwhile getting thick at an entire country so I jumped in a rickshaw and went back to the embassey to my new best friend where squirmingly I had to ask for the letter which he knew I needed but didn’t bother his hole to tell me. Oooh what would I give to get that lad out in a game of 5-aside, 50-50 tackle…. screw that a 99-1 tackle, he is getting it!!!

Eventually I got my paperwork in order and went into the main square or circle in dehli known as connaught place. I rang the hotel I stayed in before out in the tibetan colony. With all the trouble in tibet this was a little risky but having watched the news things in dehli seemed quiet enough. As I got out of the rickshaw – what I seen really put my own little travails into perspective. All along the walls were pictures of dead monks, their brutal injuries for all to see. There were countless pictures, certainly more than the 9 the chinese have publically stated. In what was a buzzing little piece of tibet in dehli 1 month previous had the air now of a funeral parlour. Every shop was closed, all the stalls empty. All that was on the streets were the clouds of flies attracted my the oppressive heat. I had to knock on the door of the hotel where the cheerful guy from a month ago was ashened faced and looked on the verge of tears. I learnt later that people from the colony were on hunger strike in dehli prison, they wouldn’t even take water. You can picture a prison cell in india being pretty rough, the temperatures got up to almost 40 degrees – imagine no water??

I stayed in the colony to catch some sleep, I watched tv and ventured out as little as possible. I was heartbroken for the tibetan people there, they just looked lost. I left for rikikesh yesterday morning – I will return to dehli, hopefully for the last time on this trip next week to collect my visa. I am going to curtail my trip in india aswell, take it back by at least a month. I have seen all that I want to see bar one or two small things and I am ready for a new country, thailand by the third week of april I reckon….

Adios,

Phil

Before heading to the main tourist attraction in Himachel Pradesh I decided to take a little trip up the Parathi valley which is a tributary of sorts than runs off the main Kullu valley. The town that tweaked my interest up there while I went through the guidebook was a town called Manikaran – the site of several natural hot water springs. Figured it was worth a look seeing as I was in the area, twould’ve been fierce rude of me to not drop in and say hello.

To get here from Mandi was a relatively simple and short 4 hour journey that involved just two changes of bus. The trip up the valley was pretty special. It didn’t have the same edge of your seat tension that the trip up the chamba valley trip had – it was the surrounding scenery that really stood out. The river that runs through the valley was big and full of white rapid waters – even over the sound of the cranky old bus you could hear the roaring gush of the water. On either side of the river bank there were pine forests reach up as far and beyond the snow line – past that again there were the domineering mountain peaks. I arrived into Manikaran at about 4 in the afternoon. Its has a really dramatic setting but with mountains on 3 sides of the town it doesn’t get too much sunshine. Add to this the rising steam from all sorts of places it gives the town a murky almost eirie feeling. After booking into a hotel close enough to the bus stop I went looking for some food.

The town is seperated from the main valley road by the parathi river. Its a noisy body of water which can only be crossed at two points via footbridges. As a result there is no motorised traffic in the town. With the exception of one small bazaare the houses are very close to each other, the streets themselves aren’t the best,  you really have to watch your step especially after a shower as there are murky puddles everywhere. It was while I was trying to avoid one of these puddles that I ended up in the place where I had something to eat. I litterally had to step into the little shack of a building to avoid a sock soaking experience. The woman who ran the place was lovely, never seen someone smile so much. Before long there was a feast of samosas and chai in front of me – definitely what the doctor called for. With my belly full I took another little wander around the town, to be honest it didn’t take long as it is tiny. Twasn’t long before I retired for the evening.

I got up early enough the next morning with trekking on my mind. Before I arrived in the town I assumed that the town itself was the end point of the road in the valley, there was another village 14 km further up the valley. I knew this was never going to be done on foot, starting at 2,000 metres the road rose pretty quickly it would be two days walking at least. My plan though was to go up and explore what I could, walk till about 3 in the afternoon then turn and get back before sunset. The first mile or two was fairly flat, running along the roaring river with pine forests on either side it was pretty exhilarating stuff. As the road climbed up I got better and better views down to the valley and the river below and up to the skyline you just had to stop sometimes to try and take in the majestic nature of the snow peaks. It really did leave you breathless. There is loads of opportunity to get off the road and explore some of the steep terraced fields though you have to watch your step, one slip and you are a gonner.

As 3 o’clock approached I came across this group of young people, they were farmers taking a break from a hard slog. They were all gathered around this nice little campfire. Unusually (for india) it was the women who were the first to say hello, they asked me to sit down and then asked me every english question that came into their head. No matter what I replied with I was met with a barage of giggles. I think they thought my voice was a little funny, come to think of it I get that alot. Even the canadian girls in  mcleod ganj kept asking me to say mother – hilarious apparently. Hmmmm. I asked one of the young lads if he would take a few pictures of me with my camera, to kinda prove to you good folks that I am not making all of this stuff up. What followed was a pretty hilarious scene of him thinking that I wanted to just take photos of him rather than him take a photo of me. I eventually managed to get the message across and got some decent enough pictures. When we finished he asked me to go back to his house for some dinner, they all chimed in asking me to go back. I asked them where their house was and they pointed right up the side of the valley – I have to say that I was tempted and really humbled that they would ask me but spots of rain  had started to fall and I was still 2 hours out of manikaran. I declined their offer ruefully and set off back to the village. Tis a good job I left when I did, the weather turned nasty and those mountain roads are not a good place to be especially when they get slippery not to mention the permenant threat of a landslide.

The walk back was miserable, I don’t have any wet gear so I arrived back into the village resembling and oversized drowned rat – though if you have seen some of the rats I have seen here I was almost just a normal sized drowned rat. I dropped my wet clothes into the hotel and set off for something to eat. Now I figured that it was about 2 and a half weeks since I had some western style food, so as a bit of a treat for myself I decided I would splash out and go to the nicest restaurant as per the lonely planet and get myself some proper western grub into me. Now let me put this a little into the context, we are talking about a village that is buried right up in the middle of the himalayas, they do their own stuff well but its hardly michellen star territory, but even taking that into consideration it was no excuse for what was put in front of me. I am seriously considering writing to the UN to set up something equivalent to the war crimes tribunal to deal with the atrocity, the manglement the downright bastardisation of tomatoes and flour they had a cheek to call a pizza. All I wanted was some comfort food!!! I consumed what I could before defeated, desolate I took to the rain drenched broken cobblestoned streets of manikaran on my way home I picked up two fake mars bars, 1 bottle of coke and a small bottle of rum. Shakespeare couldn’t come up with such tragedy!!!

Back in the hotel I decided to make my way up to Manali, back to a civilisation of sorts. My passport has finally arrived at the embassey in Dehli so I will go to get it after a couple of days in manali. 

Happy Paddies day to all, and well done to Sean Gaffney on his stage debut. Looking forward to the dvd kido!! Oh and I have no phone anymore, ask no questions I will tell no lies!!!

later,

Phil

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