I dreamed a dream that was Nepal

Great first day cycling in Nepal.  Of course, it was a rather short day.  The good ones always are!  I'm in the decent-sized town of Atariya, just had a little map powwow with the son of the "hotel" owner.

Crossed into Nepal yesterday at quite possibly the world's most relaxed border crossing.  You wouldn't even know it was there if you weren't looking for it.  The Indian immigration treated me to tea and we discussed the price of sugar in India.  When I approached a guard station expecting a search, the guard looked at my passport, lifted his arm toward the dusty road and said "Go to Nepal".  Fine by me.  There were little villages 100m on either side of the border and people were walking all over the place, so I guess no one cares what the locals do (I saw my money-changer from India at my hotel reception in Nepal that night and was like "but wait, weren't you...over there?").  The Nepal immigration was a guy's house: we sat down at a table, I gave him $110 for a 90-day visa, and he took the calendar off the wall and counted out 90 days.  And that was it, I can stay here until Christmas Eve.

The Nepal side wasn't terribly different from my last few days in India, maybe fewer trucks and machines and simpler houses.  Mahendranagar was a rather large town with way more ammenities than I expected: I had fresh cake this morning!  But the real difference is the people.  Almost everyone I pass is so excited to see me, and they wave and shout "Hello" with these infectious smiles.  In India there is more shouting and staring and when you stop at a shop you have about 30 seconds before there are 50 people surrounding you watching your every move.  Here it seems so relaxed, people wave and go about their business.  Kids shout "bye bye" as I bike past or run up to the road, bring their hands together and greeting me "Namaste".  I really like this place so far.

The only real unfortunate thing is the plunge in hotel quality.  There's a bit of charm to these places but much more grime and wall cracks.  But they're cheap, part of the adventure, and survivable: this one has a small poster of a beach-scape which livens the room up a bit; I'll include a picture next time and you can decide exactly how much.

I'm realizing that everything I own is starting to break.  My bike pump kicked the bucket today, and I was lucky to be in a town where I could get a (much larger) replacement.  The bike has held up beautifully, and nothing catastrophic has befallen it yet, but slowly things are getting damaged.  Shifters are coming loose and brake levers have been tossed around.  The most serious is severe wear on the chainrings, to the point where the chain doesn't grip at all in certain gears.  Tomorrow I break the 8000km threshold, and I suppose that sort of distance is hard on a machine.  I'm hopeful that Betty the Bike can survive another 10 days or so to Kathmandu.

Anyway, tomorrow is the start of some big festival called Dasain.  Can hardly wait to see what happens.  In a few days I enter Bhardia National Park where I'd like to stop for a bit and go tiger-spotting on an elephant.  Camping seems to be more possible in this country but then again there are leopards and tigers running around so maybe I'll reconsider a bit.  Animals don't attack people once they're endangered, right?

The India Grande Finale

When we used to watch fireworks as a family, Dad would always whisper
"this is the Grande Finale" during the end bit, when the sky was
ablaze with more fireworks than you've ever seen at one time. I don't
know if anyone else uses this expression, it might rank up there as a
"Colautti"-ism. I mention it because if all goes according to plan,
tonight is my last night in India. And though the past few weeks have
been fantastic, the last two days have served as a definitive Grande
Finale.

I made the decision to visit the Taj Mahal during sunrise, to escape
the crowds and the heat. I forgot how much I dislike waking up before
the sun, but somewhat groggily I made it to the East Gate at 5:30am.
It was then I learned that you have to buy tickets about a kilometer
away, and then come back. This little detour, a slow security lineup,
and thinking that I had missed the sunrise had me a little grumpy when
I finally entered the courtyard past security. It's also worth noting
that tickets for the Taj cost 20 rupees for Indians and 750 for
foreigners, though they throw in a free half-litre water bottle.
Despite the cost, the guys checking the tickets don't have any
uniforms and look like two guys who just wandered over from a used-car
dealership.

I went through this elegant red sandstone gate and, seeing the Taj
Mahal framed through the opening, all my annoyances sort of
evaporated. And then, as I scrambled for pictures amid a growing
crowd, the first rays of golden sunlight fell on the east side of the
building. It was unbelievably beautiful. I might even say that
seeing the Taj Mahal at sunrise should be something you do before you
die. Believe all the hype.

Some fun facts from the audio-guide (yeah, whatever, I audio-guide sometimes):
-Emperor Shah Jahan built the Taj Mahal as a tomb for his favourite
wife who died giving birth to her 14th child. I guess he couldn't
have been happy with just 13 children, or even, say, 4.
-The four minarets, the white towers at the corners of the complex,
are inclined slightly so if they collapsed they would fall away from
the tomb.
-The Muslim rulers called the Mughals - who have built a lot of the
incredible stuff I've seen in India and haven't even gotten around to
blogging about - started to disintegrate after building the Taj,
reminding me of a line from Lord of the Rings: "Kings made tombs
more splendid than the houses of the living".
-Lastly, the rumour that the emperor cut off the right hand of all the
labourers so that they could never again build something as beatiful
as the Taj, is not true (and no he did not cut of their left hands
either).

After taking a few hundred thousand pictures I set off for the Nepal
border, a three day ride. This route passes through the state of
Uttar Pradesh (specifically the towns Kasganj and Bareilly), a very
non-touristy part of the country. I've probably seen more oxen than
cars the past few days, a few too many little kids without pants, and
a country's worth of corn being husked (sometimes all three of those
at the same time). I've almost collided with a cow. I've also had
one of my best meals while in this country.

The only issue is the reoccuring theme of people asking for money.
Not begging, mind you, but instead usually college or high school kids
who cycle up next to me, ask the usual bunch of questions, and then
ask for 500 rupees. Then they keep asking until they get tired. It's
started to get really annoying, certainly subtracting from the visit a
bit, maybe even detracting from the Grande Finale. It's strange
because it's happened to me all over India, but here, in an area where
I've been told I'm the first foreigner people have ever seen, I wonder
why people think I would hand out money willy-nilly. I wish I had
some Monopoly money. Anyway you do get a few who are so excited to
see you and practice English and never resort to the money question,
and those are the more meaningful encounters. Oddly enough, those are
the ones I stop and buy drinks for.

Tomorrow I aim for the Nepal border (two days before my visa expires),
likely the last country of my Asia escapade. This should be an
interesting one, as based on the difficulty of finding meat, small
bills, English-speakers and internet in India, I assume entering into
Nepal will be like falling off the face of the earth. I'll be
crossing tomorrow at Mahendranagar, a small isolated outpost at the
far west of the country, and biking about two weeks to reach the
capital of Kathmandu (which apparently is the only place in the
country with ATMs). I don't yet have a map but it probably doesn't
matter since the country has basically just one road. I assume the
blog will be quiet for a little while. Despite the challenges, I am
beyond excited. Nepal is a country I have dreamed about for a long
time, and a slow meander through its heartland seems like the best
introduction one could ask for. We'll see how things go, I just read
that a plane full of tourists went down in Kathmandu so that's an
auspicious start to the journey. Also there was a major earthquake in
Eastern Nepal recently too. Come think of it, how much good news do
we ever hear about from Nepal? Edmund Hillary maybe?

Crossing the Ganges today and dipping my feet in the water of the holy
river was a fitting end to a month in India. I bid farewell to the
world's largest democracy, and wish it the best of luck making its
billion people happy, holy, honest, and prosperous. Namaste,
Hindustan.

Camel country

There are entire guidebooks dedicated to the Indian state of Rajasthan, so my six days certainly wasn't going to do much justice to the place.  I did see a snake charmer though, which I thought was a big score.

What can I say about Rajasthan?  I liked it.  All the men wrap their heads in curtain cloth so they look like they're from the movie Aladdin.  The women wear the brightest, most colourful saris they can find so they jump out from the green landscape, unless they are balancing a bunch of branches on their head, then sometimes they startle you: "hey that shrub is moving!"  There are camel-pulled carts everywhere, which is of course very 13th-Century of the place.  In fact, besides public buses and cellphones, there probably isn't a whole hell of a lot separating modern-day rural Rajasthan from that of antiquity.

The countryside is very beautiful and the people are interesting, I look at my photos and can't believe I biked through such an area.  Most sizeable towns have an old decaying fort perched on a hill overlooking town.  There are always higlights in between biking.  I felt like Indiana Jones exploring the overgrown stonework and faded importance of the Alwar Fort.  I was shocked to find wild peacocks and even more shocked to learn that they can fly.  I visited the tiny, simple village of a young high school student who offered me tea.  And I kept my eyes open for tigers in the Sariska Tiger Reserve (which apparently has no tigers anymore).  My search for a tiger pelt continues.

I spent a few days in the state capital of Japiur, also called the Pink City because all the walls are painted a uniform puke-red colour.  Had some delicious food and all that and then headed to the 9:30pm screening of the latest Bollywood extravaganza, The Bodyguard.  The movie was in Hindi, which wasn't as big a deal as you'd think until the tremendous number of plot twists in the last 3 minutes.  The whole experience was pretty wicked, since you're in a beautiful old theatre that is packed and that goes wild when their favourite stars come onscreen.  And now I realize that most ring tones I've heard while in India are the theme song from The Bodyguard.

While I was in Toronto last month pleading my case for a new visa, I bumped into an Indian lady named Reena who needed to go from the consulate to the visa office as well.  I knew the way, she had a car, and we became a team.  We were reunited in Jaipur, and what followed was a memorable two days zipping around the city and surroundings.  It was nice to have a guide and a vehicle, and someone as animated and funny as Reena, to show me around.

One day we were navigating the streets of Jaipur and she pointed to an iconic fort on top of the hill.  "We're going to go have a beer up there."  Her friend, Rajpal, was driving us, and apparently he was a bit of a well-connected man.  Several times we came to a ticket check and all I heard was something something Rajpal and then the ticket guy retreated and let us through.  Another day we journeyed a few hundred kilometers away so that Reena could visit the niece she is putting through college.  Together we went to a temple and they made a prayer and the niece said that it was one of the happiest days of her life.  Think about that next time you go to church.

All in all, a great stay in Rajasthan.  I am now on the road to Agra, the third and final city of India's Golden Triangle.  Except for one little monument you might have heard of, I am told Agra is an awful place.  I'll find out in few days, when I've got a sunrise date with the Taj Mahal.

D is for Delhi

Delhi is the third Asian capital city I've biked through, and it surprisingly felt like a big accomplishment when I arrived.  Part of the reason might have been the exciting last 20km into the city, with enough horns to make you go deaf and enough action to give you a seizure.  Strangely enough, not one vehicle came close to running a red light.  There is order in chaos.

I stayed on this "backpacker street" called Pahar Ganj where the price of a room was a third of what it had been the past few nights.  You know how a street in Toronto looks after a parade or a festival?  That's Pahar Ganj.  It was pretty central though, had lots of food options, and many Bob Marley towels for sale, which of course came as a relief.  From there I journeyed around the leafy green streets of New Delhi and the through the hectic bazaar of Old Delhi.  Also had a chance to visit the Ghandi Smriti (pronounced 'cemetery') and basically read an hour's worth of Ghandi quotes.  What a guy.  At one point, in the garden out back, I had to walk across the "Final Steps of Ghandhi" that are marked on the ground, and I was worried I'd be arrested or something for disrespecting the national hero.  Favourite quote: "I am prone to as many weaknesses as you are.  But I have seen the world.  I have lived in the world with my eyes open."

One evening I went to the Red Fort (the city's best known landmark) for the excitingly-titled "Sound and Light Show."  I arrived early, cheerfully bought my ticket, and then wandered into the deserted old fort and chose a spot at the front.  What a deal, I thought, only 50 rupees!  Maybe 6 or 7 other people wandered in, which seemed a little low.  When the show started it took about 5 seconds to realize I had made a terrible mistake.  I knew immediately why it was so cheap and so empty.  Sound and Light Show does not mean fireworks.  The lights were a few spotlights on the (admittedly, very nice) old architecture of the fort, but the sounds were a really cheesy narration with sound effects that described the history of the city.  So goofy.  I sat through the entire thing.  Sometimes I read a bunch of reviews for a place and then think I'm becoming too rigid a traveller, that I need to relax and just jump into things without any prep.  Not the case here.

Coming home after a Delhi-cious Murg Mussalman dinner another night, I wasn't in a rush so I opted for a cycle rickshaw, which is a bicycle with a rider named Rick attached to a small carriage for passengers.  Now maybe I'm a little starry-eyed, after several months of biking, from the novelty of having someone do the pedalling for me while I sit and watch, but a cycle-rickshaw ride at night was my favourite experience in Delhi.  You just sit there enjoying the fresh night air and shadows of the streetlights, and watch the world go by.  At the same time, you're part of that city portrait.  Your mind wanders.

It's on that cycle-rickshaw ride that I noticed the staggering number of people sleeping on the street.  I saw people just lying on a blanket on the sidewalk with barely any clothes or possessions, totally oblivious to the traffic noise.   And then I saw the little kids, curled up with their parents in a doorway, and was filled with sadness.  I've been confronted by poverty during my trip, but never on such a scale.  And never in such a pathetic state.  In Laos the villages were poor but at least the people had homes and neighbours and dignity.  Here, the large population of stray dogs is more active.  How is a child raised by parents living on the street ever going to have a chance at life?  How can anyone talk about India's progress when they've seen the streets of Delhi?  Indians are really proud when they describe their country, and they sneer when they compare it to China.  Well people aren't starving in China.  Not like this.  Maybe one day India will cut down on its gargantuan plush military and start doing something about its citizens, because the way they beg to us foreigners, it doesn't seem like the country is doing much for them right now.  I pay my guy double what we agreed on for the ride, and still he wants more.  A country should be able to take care of its people, especially during boomtimes.

The other sort of heavy thing arose while I was reading the newspaper this morning.  As you might have heard, a bomb went off outside Delhi's High Court a few days ago, killing a bunch of people.  There are posters up all over the city with pictures of the suspects.  According to the newspaper, restaurants and cinemas are empty because people are afraid to go out of their homes.  I never felt threatened during my short stay in the city, more annoyed at the number of security measures, but maybe I should have been.  I thought about all the police and military guarding the the city's iconic structures, the Parliamentary sites, and the lavish residences of the elite.  The thing about 'terrorism' is that the heads of state aren't in danger.  We are.  It's that random act coupled with being in the wrong symbolic place at the wrong symbolic time.  Police are searching hotels and the airport is on high alert but there's a horrible reality to the whole thing.  How do you stop random acts of killing in a city of millions?  For India, this isn't the first time and it won't be the last.  Man we're lucky that we can still walk around Queen's Park or take the subway without baggage scans and armed guards.

In other news, on page 5 next to all this terrorism stuff: police rescue a porcupine (http://articles.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/2011-09-14/delhi/30153550_1_porcupine-rescue-animal).  Indian newspapers are pretty funny.

Anyway, I'm out of Delhi and on the long scorching road to Jaipur.  The next week or so I will be in Rajasthan, the celebrated desert state of forts and conquerors and snake charmers.  Just before ending for the night I saw my first camel-pulled-cart so I have high hopes about where this will go.

A Break From India in Chandigarh

I was enjoying a well-earned downhill section after what amounted to almost an entire day of climbing.  I passed a sign that said "Welcome to Punjab".  And literally just past that sign the ground became level, marking my return to the plains.  I had been wondering if there was something wrong with me, since my speed in the hills had been so slow and the progress so arduous.  Was I sick?  Not getting enough sleep?  Bike trouble?  Back on the plains I was relieved to discover it was none of those things, that I could still put "the pedal to the metal" so to speak.

 

Shortly thereafter there was another monsoon.  It strikes so fast.  There's a telltale few drops and suddenly it's like being underneath a waterfall.  I made it to a gas station to take shelter, but after half an hour of chilling with some new Sikh friends, the rain wasn't letting up so I went back out there.  Again, biking in the monsoon is really enjoyable since it takes the edge off the heat and the roads are quieter.  It's just the strange, gigantic puddles it leaves behind afterwards that are a little gross.  Puddles that engulf the lower half of my front panniers.

 

I arrived at the biggest city I've been to so far, called Chandigarh.  After Partition a new capital was needed for Punjab so Le Corbusier lent a hand and designed this experimental city of grids and self-contained neighbourhoods and a numbering system.  I suppose it's a bit of a pilgrimage if you're a Corbusier fan, I'm not really, more a fan of his neighbor Corvoisier.  Zing!

 

Each sector in the grid is one kilometer square.  In most cases you have to enter a sector to access the homes and shops of that little self-contained neighbourhood .  How novel.  I wandered around Sector 17, which is obviously the downtown.  Know your sectors, people.  Indian people seem to think the place is like a Western city, probably because of the proliferation of roundabouts.  While that's not really true, it was nice to be in a city that was organized, clean, and well presented.  It was a pleasant stop.

 

The key attraction is the Nek Chand Rock Garden.  If you're going to come to Chadigarh one day, don't look at the pictures, as I feel they might ruin the surprise.  I didn't know what to expect, I just read that it was a park built of garbage from old shattered houses.  What it ended up being was this surreal sort of Tim Burton-Pan's Labyrinth-Gaudi world of waterfalls and little doorways and gardens.  It's tough describe but the big thing is that everything is made of garbage, but it's not immediately obvious what type of garbage.  I was walking through a tall corridor for a while before noticing that the walls were made of bedding and couch cushions, covered with some sort of asphalt or grout to keep them from decaying.  Then it took a turn for the very weird in the final section, where the guy has built hundreds of figures and animals.  You walk through these gardens of little people with faces made from shattered porcelain, all staring back at you.  There were no lost tribes lurking behind the trees to capture me and make a blood sacrifice, but the thought did cross my mind.

 

Chandigarh represents a bit of a decision point.  Due to time constraints (I could only get a one month visa, expires at the end of September) I won't be able to make it to Haridwar for my spiritual enlightenment.  I'll buy a Buddha keychain or something to make up for it.  I've cut back a bit, to a route called the Golden Triangle that connects Delhi (the capital) to Jaipur (the gateway to the desert state of Rajastan), to Agra (home to the Taj Mahal).  I've concluded that it's better to cycle without a heavy time constraint, and this gives me a few days leeway in case there are some exciting stops or detours on the way.  After Agra it's a beeline for the Nepal border and what dreams may come.

 

For the moment I'm flying across the plains of the state of Haryana, and in a few more days I'll arrive in Delhi.  My first hotel choice for tonight was a busy place labeled "resort" attached to a Reebok outlet store (that really contained more Rockport stuff) and is right on the highway in the middle of nowhere.  The price was way higher than any other place I've stayed in India, so I biked on to the nearby town, where I learned there were no hotels and my best options were 5km back near the Reebok outlet store.  I ended up in another overpriced "resort" where the guy at the desk studied my Chinese visa page of my passport for about five minutes before concluding it wasn't what he was looking for.  Tomorrow I will be sure to stop for the night in a city with some more options.  Travel can be a waste of money sometimes.