It's not really that we're overdue for a post, more that we've done so much this week that we feel behind. And more pictures are coming, we promise!

Em & Pat's Embassy Adventure

To back up a little from Trev's last post, Pat and I had had officially my busiest (and most productive) day in Delhi so far. Trevor wasn't feeling so good, and with temps hovering around 100, with 80% + humidity, we left him home in the AC. The original visa-fixing plan was to head for Amritsar, home of the Golden Temple (the Sikh faith's Holy of Holies), then hop over the Pakistan border to Lahore, Delhi's sister city during the Mughal empire and home to more fantastic monuments. This would require a visa. We hopped an auto-rickshaw to the Pakistani Embassy bright and early (and already sticky), to find that they don't even let you inside the compound to apply. They have windows opening out onto the sidewalk, and we felt like cattle as we got into the appropriate line, narrowly confined by metal railing on either side. When it was our turn, he handed our applications right back, saying we needed a "letter of introduction" from our embassy. O.K.

Another short rickshaw ride away, and we were in the fast-lane at the US Embassy. The "Citizen Services" lane made us feel like VIPs zipping past all of the US visa seekers, and provided a bit of vindication after our long waits of the day before. It was still the 4th of July on American soil, and Ray Charles was singing America the Beautiful over the outdoor speakers, leaving me with a little bit of a lump in my throat. The helpful man at the counter gave us our letters right away, then asked us in his best David Spade voice, "Can I ask why you folks want to go to Pakistan?" before hitting us with the US State Department's info sheet advising against all travel there. O.K.... we just want to go to Lahore. Nobody's causing any trouble there. As I was calling Trevor on the courtesy phone, Pat read the sheet and decided to take Uncle Sam's warning to heart. Fair enough. There was also courtesy internet (God bless the US of A!) and we did some quick searching on Kathmandu tickets. We couldn't buy the cheap ones online, so off to the Royal Nepal Airways office. After paying another auto driver, and taking a minor detour through Janpath Market, where we bought Pat a very cute skirt, we arrive at the "Nepal Airlines" office, with the Royal adamantly covered up and crossed out (they recently stripped their corrupt king of his powers, and take the removal of "royal" from everything very seriously). Tickets in hand, we hopped another auto to the train station and bought tickets to Agra for the next day, as well as to Haridwar (post-Nepal). Then we went to Pahar Ganj and made some hotel reservations, before finally zipping home in yet another auto-rickshaw, triumphant but on the verge of heat-stroke. Pat, not surprisingly, took all of this in stride, and dealt with the heat much better than I.

Agra: India's Worst City With the World's Most Beautiful Building

After departing an hour late, our early morning express train to Agra was a treat. Bottled water, morning paper, full tea service, and breakfast all came in rapid succession. Our arrival in the city was less auspicious. Leaving the station we were mobbed by touts and rickshaw drivers, and actually penned in by a few of them. Trying to get away, my skirt caught on one of the autos and was totally ruined by oil. Not a great start.

Trying to get into Agra Fort was almost as much of a trial, with swarms of vendors shoving postcards, marble boxes, wooden elephants, and assorted necklaces and bracelets under our noses, completely undeterred by our more-than-slightly hostile responses. Inside we were hit with a fairly large entrance fee, and were still suspicious and rattled when the first of the government-approved guides offered his services. After some quick discussion, we decided we did want one, and finding Singh marked a definite improvement in our day. Eighty years old, with very few teeth, Singh assured us he'd been giving tours of the fort for 55 years, and sported a vest with "Save Heritage" embroidered in slightly crooked letters on the back. He showed us all kinds of nifty things, like the floor in part of the palace where the king and queen played Indian chess with female servants. Pat and I were really impressed with the way he painted a picture of what it would have looked like while occupied, describing the lavish furnishings and what the goings-on would have been in different areas. He also threw in enough structural trivia (cooling systems built into the wall, and ingenious water systems) to make engineer-Trevor happy.

The Taj Mahal... words don't really cover it. We got incredibly lucky with the weather, as it cleared up late enough so we stayed fairly cool, but had incredible light for our 4 o'clock arrival. The changing light on the white marble is every bit as fantastic as reputed, and we stayed until almost 7:30, after a spectacular sunset, completely happy to watch the light change on all of its
magnificent faces.

Kathmandu: One Valley, 7 UNESCO World Heritage Sites

At the airport, Trevor and I were more than a little relieved to get that exit stamp next to our Indian visas. (Formerly Royal) Nepal Airways served up a yummy rice and dal meal, which was a happy surprise on a flight that wasn't even two hours, even with the 15 minutes we lost switching to Nepalese time. We made it to our hotel without much incident in a dilapidated orange muscle car the pre-paid taxi booth arranged for us.

After breakfast at the Himalatte Cafe (they lived up to their name - great coffee!) we headed for Swayambhunath (aka the "Monkey Temple", due to an amazing number of monkeys, many of the younger ones having a blast swinging from the prayer flags). After climbing the 365 steps, we were a bit in awe of our 2nd UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2 days (the Taj, of course, makes the list). A large central stupa, topped with a golden spire and striking eyes painted on each side, was surrounded by an assortment of Buddhist and Hindu shrines, and liberally strewn with prayer flags. The site figures prominently in the mythology and history of the valley, and was an important Buddhist pilgrimage site from at least the 5th century AD, with animist roots probably stretching much further back. We caught a bit of the monks' afternoon chanting, before descending back down the stairs. Wandering back into the heart of old Kathmandu, we arrived in Durbar ("palace") Square as sunset was approaching. We spotted a rooftop restaurant, and had some yummy snacks (I tried some wild boar - would have been good thin-sliced bacon, but a little chewy) and local "Gorka" beer while gazing at the many rooftops of ancient pogoda-style temples. The pagoda (according to our guidebook) was actually developed and perfected in Nepal before being brought to China, and the intricately carved examples in Kathmandu's Durbar Square are impressive enough to qualify them as another UNESCO site.

The next day we took a bus to Baktapur, a beautiful town that's done a great job of preserving its traditional architecture and monuments. We were treated to more gorgeous pagoda temples, another well-located rooftop restaurant, and an interesting walk through Potter's Square. The potters in Baktapur still use traditional hand wheels, and dry their creations in the middle of the square, and the older gentleman in charge of feeding the massive burning mounds of straw to fire the pots was happy to show us how it was done. I even snuck in a tour of a thangka (Buddhist devotional painting) workshop/school, where a number of my questions about the intricate paintings were cleared up. Although we were slightly disappointed by the shrine to the "Great God of the Resplendent Phallus", everything else in Baktapur was very impressive. We went home happy but tired after hitting 4 World Heritage Sites in 3 days. Trevor and Pat later rallied to watch the nail-biter of a World Cup final in an Irish pub while I went down for the count, probably with the same bug Trevor had in Delhi.

Haridwar & Our Brush With Celebrity (Our Own)

We were a bit nervous arriving in Haridwar, after being warned of aggressive touts, but after Agra it was a friendly cakewalk. We made the enlightened decision to spend an extra couple hundred rupees for a place that boasted traditional hut-style accommodations (actually really comfy) around an immaculately kept garden, and its own private ghat on the Ganges. That's right, our own quiet, peaceful chunk of the holy river. We went down to action-central - Hari-ki-Pairi - the main bathing ghat, which boasts a stone with the footprint of Vishnu. This was supposed to be the most impressive spot to watch the Ganga Aarti ceremony, where every night at 7, devotees release floating lamps into the river. It turns out we had arrived at the kickoff of a 10-day festival, and the city and ghats were crawling with pilgrims, many carrying elaborately decorated frames over their shoulders, a container of Ganga water on each side balancing it out, that they would be carrying all the way home to their temples. Bright orange t-shirts (the holy color of Hinduism) emblazoned with images of Shiva and Vishnu were everywhere. Groups of young men in matching t-shirts, shorts, and orange sailor caps gave me bizarre flashbacks to my highschool trip to Atlanta for the Lutheran Youth Organization rally. Is there such thing as the HYO? Men and boys were jumping off bridges and stairs into the fast-flowing river, getting a pretty wild ride before swimming madly for the edges of the ghats, where chains extended out from the stairs. Any worries we had about how our presence there would be received were fairly quickly put to rest, as it soon became apparent we were just part of the attraction. We're guessing a lot of these pilgrims might never have seen a foreigner before, and there were surprisingly few of us floating around. Again and again (and again...) we were asked for "just one picture" which then turned into a waiting line as orange-clad pilgrim after pilgrim put an arm around one or all three of us while his friend snapped a photo. Babies were shoved into our arms, and everyone wanted to shake our hands. We decided it was a small taste of what celebrity life must be like, and we definitely got more than a little tired of our devotional paparazzi. By the time the ceremony started, my face hurt from smiling. The Ganga Aarti itself was beautiful. The lights reflecting on the river, and the obvious emotion of the devotees, some of whom were making the trip of a lifetime to come to the holy river, combined for a moving experience. Afterward, we hightailed it back to the hotel to avoid our adoring public. Trevor took Ashok, the in-house ayurvedic masseuse, up on his offer. Pat and I were kicked out of the room, after a short introductory lecture where he explained which exercises we should all be doing every morning to keep our veins "bubbling". Interesting.

Next morning, we had scheduled an early morning puja (prayer) on the river. The hotel brought us a panda (priest) who conducted a truly beautiful ceremony, where we offered food and flowers to the river, prayed for removal of obstacles and fruitful efforts (technically to Ganesha and Lakshmi, but those are their specialties), had lucky string tied around our wriests, and were liberally sprinkled with holy Ganga water (which is actually not so bad at Haridwar - it's milky gray looking, exactly as a glacial river should be). Afterward, Pat scored her own massage (though through the clothes, and with us in the room, as per Ashok's request). We wandered through the bazarre, and took the tram up to the hill-top temple for a lovely panorama view of the valley and the meandering Ganges. Then we had to scoot for our 7pm bus... which turned out to be a local bus. Read: non-reclining seats, five people (3X2) per row on bench seats and extreme overnight discomfort. 17 hours later, we were finally deposited in Manali. Truly heinous bus experience.

Back in Manali!

At the moment we're sooooo happy to be back at Peter's place. The guestroom is cozy, the food wonderful, and a more welcoming bunch than the Dorjees would be hard to find. Hooray to be back in Manali!

Labels: Delhi, India