BootsnAll Travel Network



Out of the Big Sewer

As I wrote before, I was not enamored with Agra.  I kept calling it Agar… isn’t that the stuff in a petri dish in which one grows mold or other cultures?  Fitting name as far as I am concerned.  The highlight of Agra was sitting above the Host Hotel enjoying a beer and watching the Taj through sunset.  Above the scum, we could enjoy the beauty of the architecture, watch the ever-present monkeys and watch the birds, most notably the pigeons controled by their young masters.  Unfortunately, my lasting images of Agra are of opium addicts, the most dangerous tuk-tuk rides of my life, the unbelievable stench of raw sewage and the little boy who walked to the edge of the wall above the hotel room, looked down at me with a scowl and proceeded to urinate towards me.  We left Agra as soon as possible on a train to New Delhi headed to Shimla in the north.

Delhi has to be one of the most disgusting and worthless cities on earth.  It has some redeeming qualities, but they are far overshadowed by everything that is a mess.  First, like Agar it is a big open dump and sewage facility.  There are characters in Delhi beyond anything I have seen before.  We arrived at the train station around 10:30 PM and planned to stay the night before catching the next train going our way.  The station, like many of the ones we have seen only ten times worse because Delhi is huge, was full of people camped out for the night.  India is the only place I have seen homeless beyond my comprehension.  And the true homeless are further eclipsed by all the people living in homes that make an African refugee camp or slum dwelling look like a palace.  I truly do not understand what is going on in India as far as poverty, but I am sure it is directly connected to social stratification or the caste system.  The only caste we have heard mentioned is Brahmin and I guess I am suppose to be impressed by someone of such caste, but I do not give a damn and probably think less of one telling me their caste.  You’re all just Indians to me. 
The train takes us to Kalka where we then catch the “toy train” up to Shimla.  When it arrives in Chandigrah, we knew we had escaped the big sewage system of crowded India because the train station was spotless, the grounds around the trains had not been used as a toilet, the temperature was cool and a line of official white taxis awaited the travelers.  I asked Mr. X if we had gone through any passport control to get into this new country.  No, still in India, I was told.  Kalka was similarly nice although we only had ten minutes before the toy train started its five hour climb into the mountains.  The British in fine colonial spirit decided they needed a cool retreat from the heat of Calcutta so they built a town in the hills called Shimla.  They built a narrow-gauge train of very small proportions in order to make it just a two-day trip to relief.  The town is full of colonial buildings on the “mall” where they banned Indians so they built bazaars that tumbled down all sides of the “ridge”.  It’s a crazy mix of India and Britain architecture including churches and temples.
Crazier than the architecture is the way of the residents.  The men stroll around in tweed jackets and argyle sweaters right out of Britain.  The kids are decked out in the most conservative/classy school uniforms.  The women wear traditional clothes (baggy pants with a top that goes down to the knees and slit on sides below the waist, plus another top and a scarf which is worn with the ends in the back), but they wear earth tones rather than the garish colors of Rajasthan (and to a lesser extent in Agra/Delhi).  English is spoken very nicely here.  There is nary a piece of garbage on the ground and the stench of sewage is hard to find.  Spitting is banned according to the signs.  There are garbage cans and garbage trucks come by to actually haul their contents away.  I think the rest of India just relies on wind to move the garbage.  I prefer Shimla’s way.  Shimla is the first place in India that I recognize.  It is more British than today’s Britain. 
Shimla is the first place an Indian has said “no” to me.  The word and concept apparently does not exist in the other places visited.  When something is doubtful or not going to happen, they either fade away, shake their head or leave it as “maybe” or “possibly”.  It’s a bit odd, but also easy to adjust to.  There are times when Indians are too “yes”.  The service has been tremendous, but it can be cloying, too.  Please leave me alone, I can take care of myself!  Shimla is different.  Apparently, the British regular usage of “no” has stuck.  We ate breakfast at the Indian Coffee House and I ordered French toast.  Mr. X ordered jam toast so I asked for a side of jam.  The waiter said “no”.  I looked at him and explained that I just wanted a bit of jam in a dish.  He said “no” with a cocky smile.  I was thinking he might be a bit brain-dead so I explained it slowly with some premium charades acting thrown in.  He smiled and said “no” again.  The image of Jack Nicholson trying to order a chicken sandwich in Five Easy Pieces came to mind.  Apparently, I cannot deviate from the menu and the only way jam is coming to the table is already applied to the toast.  I could not order a jam toast minus the toast!  I was ready to blow a gasket.  Still, I prefer Shimla’s lifestyle we beyond what lies to the south.  We certainly have had some good jam laughs since.
A great experience in Shimla is eating at Sita Ram and Son’s shack.  They have a big wok filled with what I believe is dhal (lentils).  They cook a flat bread much like a tortilla (not naan) except better than any tortilla I have ever eaten.  They also make something like a potato cake filled with green stuff.  Don’t ask me what half of the Indian food is that I have eaten.  They put it all on a metal plate and you stand in the street and use the bread to scoop up the lentils.  This is one of the best foods I have ever eaten and will miss Mr. Ram’s lunch especially since it costs about 80 US cents… for two people!!!  Shimla may be a bit more expensive than other places 😉 , but not with everything.
One other major difference that we notice here is that there is a big difference with women.  We can tell that women have freedoms here that are not enjoyed in the other places visited.  Women run stores/shops, are seen everywhere, are not covered up with clothes on their heads, are educated and are more beautiful.  Some of the better looks come from just better eating and the other results of higher economic standing, but the majority is just from the mix of different people that we see here.  Shimla is near Kashmir so it is thrust between western and eastern Asia and historically a crossroads on the silk road.  I see Chinese/Tibet, Pakistan/Afghanistan as well as bits of Southeast Asia and even European mixed into the people of Shimla.  Women with dark, chiseled features and green eyes are not uncommon.  Finally, the women here are not adorned with the two kilos of gold and silver jewelry such as the very large half-circle pendants attached to their noses as was the norm in Rajasthan.  It’s just a little more like home here in Shimla.  At this point I am really not sure how to discuss a lot about India.  Between Rajasthan and Shimla, I can’t think of such differences in another country and we’ve just scratched the surface of this immensely complicated country.
The monkeys are all over Shimla as they are in all of India.  One great thing about Indians is that they don’t eat meat so they still have a great amount of wildlife unlike Cambodia and Vietnam.  And a great amount of cows roaming the streets!  We were walking through the bazaar today when we came upon a group of people watching a monkey fight.  The unusual thing about this fight between two troops is that there was a dog manning the street and stairs.  Each time a monkey ended up on the ground, the dog gave chase.  It was quite a scene.
Tomorrow we take a bus further north to Kullu Valley and some remote areas.  We cannot venture to where we would like to go in the Himalayan Mountains to see the best of the Tibet-in-exile villages because the high passes are still closed due to snow, but we will make due below 3500 meters.  After Manali we will head further north and more west to take another toy train as we make our way to Dharamsala where the Dalai Lama and the seat of the Tibet government resides.  We still plan to make it to Varanasi, Kolkata and Nepal, but we’ll see how it all plays out here in the north between China and Pakistan before we worry about more to see.  We came into this knowing Kolkata would be difficult and now that we have seen Agra and Delhi we are more than convinced that Kolkata will be a mess.  Someone told me over the past three years that Kolkata is the worst of the world and I have been planning to see it ever since.



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