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’.

Transit to Shimla

15^th June 2010

All aboard! Transit by train to the foothills of the Himalayas- Shimla! If I was to be sick during this 2-week trip, yesterday was the best day for it. Well rested and fully rejuvenated, albeit a little hungry, I was bright-eyed and enthusiastic for the 12-hour journey.

The streets of Delhi are a lot more bearable when one is not half-comatose from exhaustion. Although the elements of the city described in the previous entry remain true, the ride to the train station was much more enjoyable as we sputtered and jerked our way through traffic. The infrastructure of Delhi is gobbsmacking. It’s more like infra-no-structure. In preparation for the Commonwealth Games that are taking place in 4 months time, the Indians have ambitiously torn up all the main roads with pick-axes and chisels to build more adequate roads. Piles of concrete and rock litter the streets, creating new terrain for drivers and pedestrians alike. I didn’t see much heavy machinery to help with the process, nor did I see much man power, save a few skinny women scooping small piles of dirt from the ditch to the growing pile next to the ditch. I’m scratching my head. I’m no town-planner or civil engineer…but something tells me there’s going to be a bit of struggle. I was glad to be heading out of Delhi. The hustle and bustle of a chaotic, polluted, overpopulated city was certainly not for me.

Due to the rushed nature of my first day and therefore my first entry, I was grateful for the peaceful train-ride. We boarded the second-class (second best) carriage of the express train from Delhi to…not sure where…found our cushioned recliner seats, plugged in our iPods (it was too early in the day for chit chat) and looked out the window with glazed eyes and I began to reflect and absorb my presence in this colourful, mystical country.

In the immediate sense…I have no money. Mistake number TWO. Argh. I was trying for the minimal approach to travelling and extended that philosophy to cash. I waived the need to withdraw money back at home to exchange into Rupees, assuming (in typical Gen-Y fashion) that ATMs would be readily available anywhere and that my card would simply be accepted. Enter Mother Jen. Without so much as a blink, and thankfully without me having to ask (oh the shame!), she loaned me R2000 (AUD$65 or so).

In the intellectual sense, it hasn’t quite hit me that I’m in India. I didn’t really give myself time in Melbourne to register that I was leaving. LEAVING. For a YEAR. Not to set foot in Australia for a YEAR. My plan is to be in India for just shy of a month, and then head for Kampuchea to resume work with the NGO, Senhoa, contracted there for a whole 12 months. India was a spur of the moment decision that was inspired by the well-anticipated event of a dear friend’s wedding. A full-blown traditional Indian wedding! When Kiwi, the groom-to-be, mentioned casually in conversation that he was heading home to India to marry, the back of my head immediately began to tingle with excitement and I just KNEW I was bound for India. So, like the good friend I am, I invited myself to the wedding, found out the dates and organized a holiday around it. Ta Da!! Here I am!

In the spiritual sense, I’m in India to discover MORE. And where more appropriate in the world than the birth place of Buddha Himself??? As I suggested in my first entry, I was rather unhappy at home. My feet and heart were itching for something new, different and exciting. In the last couple of years I’ve developed this seemingly insatiable desire to learn more of this complex world that we live in- of both the physical and non-physical. Life in Melbourne was becoming far too habitual, routine and comfortable. Much to my discomfort. It’s strange. The times that I am most comfortable is when I’m not.

Zooming out of my pensieve of thoughts and back into the physical events of the day, the first half of our journey was smooth and uneventful. Air-conditioning, recliner seats, serviced meals, story-swapping with Traveller Karin…but it was the second-half of the trip that made the memories…

We hopped off the train of luxury (as luxurious as you can get in India anyway) and hopped on to the heritage-listed Toy Train. Absolutely adorable! It looked like a train set that Reverand Lovejoy would have in his collection. It was a no-frills ride with BYO food and drink- like a picnic on rails. The rattling rhythm of the train sychronised all the passengers as we swayed from side to side, looking out to the amazing scenery that unfolded before us. We snaked up the mountain gaining more and more height and altitude. My ears popped as much as my eyes did at the greenery. It was especially fun when we plunged into darkness through stone tunnels, and the kids would all scream with joy. The idea was that if you’re going to be fearful you may as well have fun doing it!

The highlight was the people. The local people, that is. They were absolutely fascinated with foreigners. Even me! They couldn’t seem to comprehend an Asian-looking girl speaking perfect, concise English. And also why I was with a bunch of Caucasians (one of these things are not like the others…) There were a few points of the journey where the train stopped at a station for longer periods at a time and the young Indian guys from another train would spot us (when I say ‘us’ I really mean my white-skinned, blue-eyed counterparts) scrambled up to our windows to take photos of and with us! Some even had the spunk to board our carriage to shake our hands, pose right next to us and one had the balls to raise my hand to show his mates and kissed it! The best part was when their train whistled and started rolling away from the platform. They all panicked and had to run after the train and fight each other through the tiny carriage door. Oh, the affect young, attractive women have…