The Wobble

And so to Dalhousie - about a week later than I had planned but surely once you get there thats all that really counts. A quite enthusiastic reception committee welcomed me off the bus - it probably ranks just behind the reception I received in Jaisalmer for sheer frenzied shuffling of feet. About 8 lads with brochures open showing off their rooms at rock bottom prices. It does come as a bit of a shock especially after a fairly substantial bus journey but once you regain your composure it really has to be looked at as a very positiive situation. You have virtually the choice of the accomodation and have a very strong bargaining position. I had a look at what was on offer and went with Hotel Monal. The walk there was tough though, through a pine forest uphill most of the way. While I am not in the worst of shape the backpack on my back certainly made the going harder than normal. Dalhousie being a hill station set up for the british administrators in nearby lahore is a very quiet town perched ontop of 4 hills each over 2000 metres. Altitude!!! Lungs were in bits by the time we rolled up to the hotel…

The price quoted for the room was 200 rupees. The room was worth 10 times that amount, god bless the off season. The balcony alone had the most wonderful view. Perfect for reading a book while warming ones hands with the odd pot of chai. Tired after the journey and the trek up there I ordered some room service and had an early night.

The next day I got up at a reasonable hour and went out to explore. Dalhousie is really nice, really quiet and serene. Two words you would never associate with india. After a lunch with some local folk I explored the region, for 6 hours I walked around the place. On one side of the town you can see the vast expanse of the himalayas while on the other you can see the foothills level off till they eventually hit pakistan and kashmir. As hillstations go you really have to hand it to the brittish planners for picking this place. At one point along the way I was beckoned over to a family having a picnic on their weekend break. They were from the state of punjab and pretty well off it seemed. One of the spent alot of his time globetrotting managing a few restaurants they have set up here there and everywhere. They have one in san francisco, I told them my old man was from there. They liked that fact so paddy joe be sure to drop the name the next time your back in your old stomping ground - might be worth a free naan with your tikka masalla!! They were very nice people, very welcoming and even let me tuck into some of the food which they had ordered.

I did have plans to visit the local wildlife park the following day but a weather front came in from somewhere and covered the place in one massive blanket of cloud. It was impossible to see more than 50 yards. Bit of a bummer, spent the day planning out the rest of my trip. I have a little over two months left in india and I have to decide whether I can dedicate some time to nepal in that time. In order to fit that in I will need to speed things up a little bit. I will give the mountains of Himachel Pradesh another 2 weeks or so then it really is time to move up the gears, grab that ellusive passport and get a little further east. My next destination is Mandi at the mouth of the Kullu valley. 12 hours on a public bus, 6 o’clock start. Can’t wait!!!

Mandi lies at the mouth of the aforementioned Kullu valley. The valley is probably the most visited site in the state. Reckoned it was a good one to leave till last. More about Kullu later. I had to get up at 5.30 in the morning to grab the bus that went in mandis general direction. I say general direction because there is no direct bus and it is a whopper of a journey. My intention was to travel back to Dharshala and get some food there before completing the rest of the journey with a not so empty stomach. This plan fell apart when I was informed by the bus conductor with a bright pink turban and a big white bandage covering most of the rest of his head, that that idea was stupid ‘hey man, I might be stupid but at least I don’t look it….’ ah who am I kidding. The new plan was to stop in a town called Gaggal (I swear I am not making these names up) and then grab a bus straight to mandi from there. So I patiently sat there and counted down the miles to gaggal and food, I figured we were about 2 miles outside of gaggal when I get the poke in the shoulder to get off the bus, twas as if I was been taken out for a random beating - reckon the turbonator would’ve loved that!! The bus to mandi was directly behind us so the conducter let a roar in hindi to the driver who then stuck his foot on the pedal to get a bit of space between us and our pursuer  - then the conductor jumped out of the bus while it is still in motion and while stuggling to retain his feet below the rest of his body he hailed the bus down for me. I take it all back - though maybe the bastard knew I was starving and thought another 6 hours in a rust bucket with nothing in the belly would be ripe justice for me. Back to bastard status for him.

6 hours later and about 6 stone lighter I arrived in Mandi and wouldn’t you know it, the Shivatri festival was in full flow. This the same festival that was in bharmore - reckon those mountain boys are at least a week out of whack - occupational hazard I guess. The town was swamped, not a hotel room to be had anywhere. None at a reasonable price. I found one after an hour in the main square. It wasn’t the best but it will do for 2 nights. 2 loud loud nights. The square in mandi actually contains a well concealed 2 level shopping centre, to the north of the square a concert was in full swing. Indians don’t do quiet concerts, or even appropriately volumed concerts, they do cheap hotel window rattling concerts. Any thoughts of an early night were well and truelly scuppered. I had the tv in my room at full volume and couldn’t hear what the people were saying. This concert went on till 1.30 in the morning….

I went out for some food, I was starving. There was a lovely punjabi open to the street restaurant not too far away.  They operated a plate system in this restaurant, nothing as fancy as a menu - the waiter muttered a few dishes and I picked the one I could actually decipher. Shahi Paneer - mouth watering. I got 2 portions of the sauce it was that good / I was that hungry.

The next day I took a trip to Rewelsar. Its a town about 30 km south of mandi and the site where the st patrick of tibet got up of his lazy meditating behind and went to spread the good word to the people of tibet. It is therefore a place that is held really close to the hearts of the tibetan people and like mcleod ganj is a little piece of tibet far from home. Home for many of these people is just a word, what the Chinese are doing there is no worse than what Hitler attempted to do to the jewish people in the last century. Its truely despicable and I hope that common sense prevails and allows these people autonomy at least. The main site in the town is a small lake, all around the lake people are either meditating or feeding the enormous number of eager fish in the lake - wait for the pictures. There was also a massive amount of monkeys, very often they would go to the lake side and compete with the fish for the bread crumbs thrown in by the people. Its not a faceoff I counted on seeing on this trip, truely bizaare. Its such an attraction that several women ply a trade purely in selling bread crumbs to visitors. It was a nice place to spend a couple of hours, before heading back to the madness of mandi. I got back feeling ready for the festival action. I spent several hours walking around the stalls, sampling the cuisine and dodging pesky touts. Some people asked me if I came especially for the fair, they seemed a little amused by the fact that I didn’t have a clue it was on. Knackered I returned to bed. Tomorrow its all the way to the Paranthi Valley and the town of Manikuram.

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Hey All - I've posted up another batch of photos on my facebook. Should be able to see them here

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