Shimmering Shimla

16th June, 2010

Welcome to Shimla! 2000 metres above sea-level and 2000 metres closer to the sky.

As nice as it is to travel in groups, I have found one major flaw: you take for granted that someone else will remember how to get back. Or in my case- if you get left alone and you have no one to follow back. I was lost for 3 hours. Three. Normally I wouldn’t mind. But in this case I was walking up and down the steep slopes of Shimla in circles with burning calf muscles and without a clue. In hindsight, it was fun, I guess. I stopped wherever I wanted, walked at my own pace, ventured down curves, stairs and alleys that I wouldn’t have otherwise. Shimla is so nice. In every sense of the word. The people, the nature, the buildings, the history, the food, the atmosphere, the vibe…nice. I felt no sense of danger or irritation. I was just left to my own devices to wander as I pleased. No beggars. No pushy vendors. No vulgar wolf-whistles or wet strawberry air-kisses. Just the odd, curious stare for looking so out of place. Very pleasant. What I love about Shimla is that it’s a complete 360 degree visual splendor. Whichever direction you look, including up and down, there’s something interesting. The multi-leveled infrastructure of this densely populated mountain city is a fusion of mother nature and man’s creation. When looked at from a distance, all the hotels, restaurants and housing look like they’re loosely placed and balanced on top of one another. From a further distance, the mountains look as though they’re snow capped with gleaming, fresh snow… at nightfall the town is even more impressive: the twinkling of nature’s stars is mimicked beautifully by the man-powered ones below.

So finally after trekking through the Mall, the Ridge, down to Lower Market, past Gossip Place, back up to the Ridge, through the Mall again, back up to the Church (on the Ridge), pausing at Gossip Place, then back down to Lower Market, and then longer pause in the middle of the Mall, I at last admitted defeat and asked for directions. Perhaps something I should have done 2 hours earlier. Turns out the hotel is near ‘High Court’, literally 10 meters away from where I kept stopping and turning back to head back up to that bloody Church on that damn Ridge. As I made a beeline for High Court, I noticed this strange figure that kept falling into step with me. A small, skinny, hunched figure in a bright green vest and bucked teeth kept reappearing at the corner of my eye. Finally I stopped and looked at him in the eye. He spoke (sort of):

‘tualekghossjgheia High Court?’

I took that to mean ‘are you going to High Court?’ I gave him my raised eyebrow look and decided he was harmless enough and let him follow me. My question was: why the hell was he following an obviously displaced foreigner when he could speak the local language? Not wanting to be nasty, and empathizing with the embarrassment of being lost, I led him to a comfortable distance away from my final destination. I stopped. Held my arm out to keep him out of my space and motioned that he stay and I go. He was a strange character. His stature and demeanor reminded me of a tortoise. His eyes flickered away from mine and looked defeated. Oh well. And I skipped down a steep set of stairs, out of sight and happy to finally reach ‘home’.

I made it back just in time for dinner with the rest of my group. We were all heading out. To the Ridge. DAMNIT!

It’s a shame we’re leaving in the morning. I only just figured out how to get ‘home’.