INDIA (1)
Part
1 - Amritsar to Delhi
9
September – 15 October 2008
9 September – Lahore, Pakistan - Amritsar, India – 67 km
Following
a canal, where kids were jumping into the muddy waters, the distance from
Lahore to the Pakistan-Indian border was only 35 kilometres. Upon arriving at the
immigration office, we were struck by its modernity, efficiency, and tranquillity.
The office was equipped with state-of-the-art technology, and the staff worked
with a calm efficiency, in stark contrast to the bustling streets outside. After
navigating the immigration formalities, an additional 30 kilometres remained to
Amritsar.
The
difference between Pakistan and India was immediately evident, and I was
mesmerised by the sight of ladies on motorbikes dressed in colourful saris that
billowed in the wind. This vivid scene instantly made me fall in love with
India. Cycling into a parade, with elephants and all, confirmed that we were
indeed in India.
Amritsar,
our first stop in India, is renowned for its Sikh population and vibrant
streets filled with turban-clad men. Amritsar was also home to the Sikhs'
holiest shrine, the Golden Temple. The temple stands as a powerful symbol of
brotherhood and equality, welcoming people of all races, colours, and creeds.
We
headed straight to the Golden Temple, which offered free accommodation and
food. Visitors to the temple were required to remove their shoes and cover
their heads with scarves. Once inside, the atmosphere was genuinely spiritual.
The main temple was covered in gold and stood in the middle of a sacred pool.
The continuous and melodious singing of hymns while devotees dipped in the pool
(said to have healing powers) added to the temple’s immensely tangible
spiritual vibe.
While
I soaked up the tranquil atmosphere, Ernest, desperate for a beer after three
months without one, returned drunk, earning him a reprimand from the monks and nearly
got us expelled from the dormitory. Urgh! How embarrassing.
10
September - Amritsar – Jalandhar - 78 km
In
the company of other pilgrims, we ate our chapatti and dhal breakfast with our
fingers while sitting on the floor. Soon afterwards, we continued our journey
in a westerly direction towards Jalandhar. It was a short and pleasant ride
through lush green countryside, a sight that never failed to inspire us.
Unlike
in Pakistan or Iran, it was refreshing to see women confidently riding scooters
and bicycles, actively participating in daily life. Generally, ladies wore the
Shalwar Kameez, or sari, which added to the colourful scenery.
The
day's ride ended just outside Jalandhar, where our room felt like an oven due
to the stifling heat. Due to the frequent power cuts, there was no air
conditioning or fan to relieve the heat. These power cuts occurred mainly in
the afternoon and night, exactly when we needed a fan the most. Phew!
11
September - Jalandhar - Roper - 115 km
The
road to Roper was flat and smooth, making for a pleasant ride. However, the hot
and humid weather made it feel like I breathed pure water vapour. Ernest was
battling both the wine flu and a broken wheel rim, making it fortunate that the
ride wasn’t too strenuous. Despite his attempts to fix the rim, the damage was
too severe.
Nevertheless,
we managed to make it to Roper, where we found a hostel that, although it had
seen better days, provided affordable accommodation.
12
September - Roper - Chandigarh - 25 km (& 20 km by truck)
For
breakfast, we stopped at a street vendor about 10 kilometres from Roper where
we had dhal and chapatti with a small salad. However, a few kilometres later,
Ernest, again, had a flat tyre, assumed due to the broken rim. Unfortunately,
the same thing happened again a little further down the road. Fortunately, a
kind Samaritan offered Ernest and his wheel a ride on his scooter to the
previous town, though no solution could be found. So, he waved down a truck
which took us 20 kilometres to Chandigarh. The driver dropped us off at a hotel
and pointed Ernest toward a bike shop that sold suitable rims. We were deeply
touched by his kindness and felt truly welcomed in India.
While
Ernest was busy fixing his bike, I took the opportunity to buy a SIM card and
some essential items. Meanwhile, Ernest befriended locals at the tavern and
indulged a bit too much, ending the day thoroughly plastered.
13-14
September - Chandigarh
The
next day, Ernest looked for a more professional bike shop and bought a new rim,
cycle computer, good quality tubes, and tyre sealant. Later, we explored Chandigarh's
renowned rock garden, an artistic marvel created by Nek Chand. The park spans
20 hectares and features walkways, staircases, waterfalls, and sculptures made
from recycled material, creating a surreal world.
On
our way back to our accommodation, we met Mr Narinder Singh, a retired civil
servant well-known for welcoming tourists to Chandigarh. He warmly welcomed us
and recommended budget-friendly places to stay and eat, along with must-see
attractions in his hometown.
15
September - Chandigarh – Nahan – 103 km
In
the morning, Narinder Singh accompanied me to a market to find a detailed
roadmap, and it was midday before we left Chandigarh. The journey started off
easy through farmlands until we reached the village of Naraingarh, located at
the foothills of the Sivalik range of the Himalayas. From Naraingarh, the road climbs
an exhausting 30 kilometres through spectacular scenery. The going was
dreadfully slow, and we reached Nahan, situated at 932 meters, after two long
hours of cycling in darkness. The journey along the perilously narrow road,
packed with trucks and buses, was truly hair-raising. Reaching our destination
safely felt like a pure miracle!
Albeit
way off the regular tourist route, Nahan was a charming old town with narrow
alleys and ancient Hindu temples and shrines. Established in 1621, the place
was bound to have a few old temples and lakes—one right in the centre of the
village. As in many Indian towns, cows held the right of way. Revered as
sacred, they roamed freely, much like stray dogs and cats might elsewhere.
These cows could be found sleeping on the pavement and in shop doorways.
16
September - Nahan
Due
to our late arrival the previous evening, we spent the following day meandering
the old city and resting our tired legs. Ernest was concerned about the girls
calling him “Uncle” and shaved his beard for the first time in over three
months. At least to me, he looked less of an Indian Sadhu. Next, we did our
laundry, which Ernest hung on the hotel roof to dry, but the monkeys took a
liking to one of the items. Hotel staff later scaled the tree to retrieve the
T-shirt which now sported a large hole! LOL
17
September - Nahan – Dehradun – 98 km
The
route to Dehradun was a beautiful ride through the countryside. The villages
were close together, and each one had a busy market. At times, India felt like
one endless village. However, finding the way wasn’t easy, as nearly all road
signs were in Brahmi script. As a result, we had to continually ask for directions
that weren’t always accurate or understood.
Again,
we were delayed as Ernest had punctures, likely due to the damage to the
formerly broken rim. By the time we arrived in Dehradun, it was already dark.
The streets were a chaotic tangle of rickshaws, motorcycles, bicycles, pedestrians,
and animals, turning navigation into a bewildering challenge on a bike.
Eventually, we were able to locate the hotel we had in mind. Hallelujah!
18
September - Dehradun
The
day allowed for the exploration of the well-known Tapkeshwar Hindu Temple. The
temple had an unusual shrine inside a cave dedicated to Lord Shiva. Hence, finding
a Shiva Linga enshrined in the main complex was unsurprising. It’s believed
that praying here grants the wishes of all who seek the Lord’s blessings, and it
was immensely popular.
No
visit to Dehradun would be complete without a tour of the World Peace Stupa,
the world’s largest stupa. The stupa is in a Tibetan community on the outskirts
of town and consists of a multi-storey structure, shrine rooms, elaborate
murals, a giant Buddha statue, and Tibetan art. The mood was surprisingly
tranquil and calm for such a well-frequented place.
In
town, the Paltan bazaars begged to be investigated. The bazaars are a labyrinth
of narrow walkways lined with a warren of vibrant stalls. This is Dehradun’s
most crowded shopping area and full of colour. While unable to buy anything, I admired
the colourful garments, footwear, bags, and tribal handmade woollen clothing,
perfect for high-lying areas. The spices were equally captivating, infusing the
market with the rich aromas of masala and basmati rice. At the same time,
ladies in colourful saris jostled for positions at the many vendors.
19-20
September - Dehradun
Caught
by the late monsoon, we woke to an overcast and rainy day, a rain that
continued through to the next morning. Floods were reported from all over India,
and waiting out the weather was best. So, we stayed put, watching endless
replays of India winning cricket matches and reports about the Delhi bomb
blasts from the previous week.
Strolling
around town, I couldn’t help but notice India’s unmistakable pecking order when
it came to traffic. Pedestrians were at the bottom and gave way to everything. Bicycles
made way for cycle-rickshaws, which gave way to auto-rickshaws, which stopped
for cars and were subservient to trucks. Busses never stopped, not even for passengers
who jumped on and off while the bus kept moving. The undisputed king of the
road was the only thing that stopped a bus, The Holy Cow. Cows nonchalantly
brought traffic to a standstill on four-lane highways and at busy
intersections, yet no one seemed the least bit bothered. Remarkably, I had yet to
witness a cow struck by a vehicle.
In
India there was a considerable amount of kissing the ground. Every day, on
reaching my destination, I felt like doing the same, seeing I was at the bottom
of the traffic pecking order. In saying that, I still loved India.
21
September - Dehradun – Rishikesh - 49 km
At
last, the weather cleared, and we resumed our ride to Rishikesh, a pleasurable route
past tiny settlements, and green rice fields. Luckily, the ride wasn’t far as I
was unwell (the onset of dengue fever). I stopped numerous times to fill my
water bottle, which annoyed Ernest no end.
Still,
we reached Rishikesh early, and I settled for a lovely place on the Ganges
overlooking two 13-storey temples across the Lakshman Jhula suspension bridge. It
turned out to be a fortunate choice, as it unexpectedly became home for the
next ten days.
22-30
September - Rishikesh
Rishikesh,
considered the world’s yoga capital, boasts many ashrams and offers numerous
yoga and meditation classes. The town is exquisitely situated on the banks of
the Ganges surrounded by forested hills. Coupled with the constant ringing of
temple bells and Hindi music, the location sets the scene for soul-searching
activities.
No
sooner had we arrived, and I fell ill with a high fever, which worsened with
each passing day. I eventually sought help from a Yoga and Natural Therapist’s,
driven by sheer exhaustion and the inability to walk any further. The verdict
was mal-digestion, low blood pressure, sluggish circulation and slow metabolism.
I felt ill enough to believe all of the above. Nevertheless, I left armed with
a list of what and what not to eat and a bag full of (unpalatable) herbs.
In
reality, I contracted dengue fever and genuinely believed death was a
possibility, though I felt too unwell to care. Every part of my body ached,
from hair follicles to toenails. The pain behind my eyes came as a surprise. I later
found this a common dengue symptom, as was the extreme fatigue, nausea and
vomiting.
Mercifully,
nothing lasts forever, and after a week I mustered the strength to walk to the nearby
shop. However, each day, I forced my unwilling legs to go further, determined
to get out of Rishikesh.
1
October - Rishikesh – Muzaffarnagar - 113 km
Recovering
took ten days and I couldn’t wait to step out the door. Finally, to Ernest’s
relief, we packed up and cycled out of Rishikesh.
The
change of scenery was greatly appreciated, especially as our route followed the
Ganges. During the day, we passed Haridwar, a famous holy city for Hindu
pilgrims. I still wasn’t 100% and tired quickly, but I could handle fatigue and
thought myself better off on the bike than in a room.
2
October - Muzaffarnagar – Ghaziabad- 85 km (& 20 km by truck)
India
was full of endless surprises. The main roads were tremendously congested with vehicles,
cars, motorbikes, bicycles, buffalo carts and people. It was only a matter of
time until I was knocked off the bike. I’m not entirely sure what exactly
happened, but the next thing I knew, I looked up into the faces of a horde of
Indians ready to pour water over me to wake me up. Ernest, cycling behind me at
the time, was nowhere to be seen. I imagined he thought, “I want nothing to do
with this!” and took off. I must’ve been concussed as I felt disoriented and experienced
double vision. Ernest possibly relented as he eventually returned (I couldn’t
believe he did stop!). I knew I couldn’t cycle as I couldn’t use my left arm.
Amidst
the crowd, a passing motorist who spoke English stopped to assist by calling the
police. The police then hailed an empty truck to take us to Ghaziabad.
I
slowly regained focus, but the arm remained useless. Mercury must’ve been in retrograde.
I wasn’t only still unwell from the dengue fever but also sported a perfect
black eye, a bruised leg, a dislocated shoulder, and a broken collarbone. That’s
what I call a day when nothing goes to plan.
3
October - Ghaziabad – Delhi
By
morning, I hailed a taxi from Ghaziabad, as Delhi was barely 20 kilometres down
the drag. Ernest and I agreed to meet at a hotel in the city, though it wasn’t
exactly budget-friendly. He insisted on having a TV, which felt a bit indulgent
since he never paid for the accommodation. He likely figured he would be stuck
there for an additional ten days. Still, I could do little about the situation,
as cycling was out of the question, and Ernest wasn’t obligated to wait.
The
weather cooled but remained hot and humid, with temperatures around 34-35°C. The
air pollution in Delhi was particularly severe, so much so that we hadn’t seen
the sun in days.
4–6
October - Delhi
I
felt frustrated, as I dearly wanted to resume my ride. Ernest was growing increasingly
agitated, and I wished he would just move on. I already had enough on my plate without
dealing with his issues.
I
tried to make the experience as pleasurable as possible and suggested using public
transport to explore what is known as the Golden Triangle. This trip meant taking
a bus to Jaipur in Rajasthan, then to Agra, and finally back to Delhi. I figured
it was better than just sitting around doing nothing.
7
October - Delhi – Jaipur (by bus)
A
reluctant Ernest followed me on a six-hour bus ride from Delhi to Jaipur. I had
previously claimed the holy cow was the only thing capable of stopping a bus.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t entirely correct. Shortly before Jaipur, the bus collided
with a cow, damaging both the coach and the cow. Fortunately, the bus limped
the last few kilometres into Jaipur, the capital of Rajasthan and celebrated as
India’s first planned city.
8
October – Jaipur, Rajasthan
The
following day was spent wandering around the old town, famously known as the
Pink City due to its distinct pink hue. The story behind this colour dates back
to 1876, when the Prince of Wales visited India, and the entire town was
painted pink as a symbol of hospitality. The striking City Palace, which remains
the residence of the ruling royal family, has a private section where they
still live.
Next,
we visited the Hawa Mahal, also known as the Palace of Winds, an impressive
palace and Jaipur's most iconic landmark. This stunning palace is large and
pink, with many small, latticed windows. Built in 1799 from pink sandstone by
King Sawai Pratap Singh as a summer retreat, the palace's many windows allowed the
ladies of the royal household to observe everyday life without being seen. The honeycomb-like
structure of the palace also served as a natural air-conditioner, with 953
windows to keep the building cool.
Later,
Ernest and I took a rickshaw to the Water Palace, or Jal Mahal. I felt a bit awkward
and embarrassed being pedalled around by someone else. Nonetheless, Jal Mahal was
a sight to behold. Its sand-coloured stone walls and reflection in a lake created
a beautiful picture.
There
was plenty to see around the old city, and I managed to drag a reluctant Ernest
to explore for a few more hours before we grabbed a few beers. However, we
almost didn’t get to our hotel, as our rickshaw driver didn’t speak English or knew
the location of our hotel.
9
October - Jaipur – Agra
An
early morning bus was our best option to get to Agra, and we were up earlier
than usual to grab a rickshaw ride to the bus station. The bus trip took around
five hours and was fairly comfortable. With the allure of the Taj Mahal, Agra
was, as expected, a tourist trap, with tuk-tuks, cycle rickshaws, and taxis all
competing for the same business.
Touts
and hawkers were a nuisance, but I understood their persistence and persevered,
as no visit to India would be complete without seeing the Taj Mahal. To our
surprise, a reasonably priced hotel nearby provided a glimpse of the Taj Mahal
and an escape from the chaos.
10
October - Agra
We
woke early to catch the sunrise over the Taj Mahal, one of Agra's three UNESCO
World Heritage sites. Surprisingly, the monument was closed on Friday. The
closure gave us time to explore the area and view the memorial from the rear, where
a boat operated across a small and incredibly polluted river, offering a
different perspective.
Passing
an X-ray office, I popped in and they confirmed a broken collarbone and
dislocated shoulder. Seeing we had the day free, I found a hospital to see if anything
could be done to speed up my recovery. The hospital visit turned out to be
quite an experience, with mice scurrying across the floor. I gave up after the
second power cut. LOL
11
October - Agra – Delhi (By train)
The
following morning, it was ‘take two’, and we were at the gate of the Taj Mahal by
5h50, only to find a long line of tourists already waiting. The entrance fee
was (not surprisingly) steep, but I guessed after all the hype, effort and long
queues, no one would turn around due to a hefty entrance fee. Once inside, the monument
was as remarkable as the brochures indicated. Constructed of white marble with
delicately inlaid semi-precious stone patterns, the monument was worth the
entrance fee. Afterwards, we rushed to the hotel, had breakfast, and then jumped
on a tuk-tuk to the station to catch the 10h30 train to Delhi.
Once
in Delhi, there remained quite a bit to do, including picking up my new reading
glasses. I decided to make the most of this unfortunate situation by visiting South
Africa. It wasn’t only my mother’s 80th birthday but I also wanted to escape
the stressful cycling partnership I found myself in. It was a collaboration I
found emotionally exhausting. It wasn’t doing any of us any good except the
financial support Ernest benefited from.
My
plan was to take the train to Mumbai and fly from there to South Africa as
there was a substantial price difference when flying from Mumbai. However, carrying
a bicycle and four panniers wasn’t easy, considering I was only using one arm. I
also wanted to find a hospital and see if they had any treatment for the
shoulder. A friendly man drove me to a nearby hospital and guided me through
the procedures. Once again, the visit involved being shuffled from office to
office, with papers signed at each stop. Eventually, a staff member appeared and
strapped the shoulder but half-killed me as they tried pushing the dislocated
shoulder to where it belonged. At least the consultation was free of charge. I
was on my way with a prescription for painkillers and calcium but felt even
less mobile than earlier.
12
October - Delhi - Mumbai (By train)
The
train to Mumbai departed at 5h30 am. Ernest lent a hand (I think he wanted to
make sure I got on the train), and by 03h00 we were on our way to the station.
First, I went to the ticket office to confirm my seat, where the staff asked
for a bribe, claiming the train was full. Eventually, a different officer
arrived and I was assigned a spot without parting with any additional money.
Then, I went to the parcel office to hand in the bike and panniers. Next, I
went from Platform 1 to Platform 16 and back to Platform 3. Thankfully, many
willing porters helped cart my luggage to and from the train.
I
was relieved to find myself on the train to Mumbai and a huge weight lifted from
my shoulders as the train pulled out of Delhi station. The constant effort of
remaining upbeat and dragging someone along who clearly didn’t want to be there
drained me emotionally, not to mention the financial expense.
I
was as happy as the proverbial pig, as travelling by train always felt like an
adventure. The carriage had sleeper seats and was comfortable. The compartments
accommodated four people and had a curtain that could be drawn for privacy. Tea
and coffee were consistently offered, and occasionally, trollies offered
typical Indian snacks, including samosas and biryani.
13
October - Mumbai
Spot
on time, the train pulled into Mumbai where porters were available on the
platform. Getting my belongings off the train and in a taxi to Bentleys Hotel
was significantly more straightforward and less stressful than I had
anticipated. Bentleys Hotel wasn’t just centrally located for my return, but could
also store the bicycle and panniers.
The
rest of the day was spent meandering Mumbai (still called Bombay), a
fascinating city with slums on the one side and designer stores across the
road. To me, India was a country of contrasts, nothing more evident than in
Mumbai. Mumbai is home to one of the largest slum areas in the world and one of
the most expensive homes in the country. Being India’s largest city, with a
population of 18.4 million from all walks of life, Mumbai isn’t just modern and
the financial and commercial hub of India, but it is also home to a collection of
magnificent colonial buildings (a sentiment I find hard to express due to my
dislike of the colonial era). It was also great to be near the ocean, which I
last saw in Turkey.
14
October - Mumbai
A
short amble brought me to the waterfront and India’s iconic Gateway of India
monument, where people milled around, catching ferries to various islands and
other parts of the city. Seagulls swooped low, hoping for morsels thrown their
way.
A
pleasant saunter led me around the Oval with its art deco buildings and cricket-playing
men. I strolled the broad streets, past the Victoria Terminus building, the
Prince of Wales Museum and the famous Taj Mahal Hotel, and I felt transported
to another era. I watched tiffin-wallahs deliver lunches to office workers
picked up from homes or restaurants and delivered by bicycle. The tiffins were
colour-coded as many tiffin-wallahs were of limited literacy, and the colours
indicated destination and recipient. However, I understood that 200,000 lunches
are delivered daily with a 99% accuracy rate, which is remarkable.
15
October - Mumbai, India – Cape Town, South Africa
As
usual, the flight to Cape Town was long and tedious, and I thought it was the
price one pays for being born at the southernmost tip of Africa. Still, it was great
to reconnect family and friends.
16
October-2 November - Cape Town, South Africa
My
visit to Cape Town was a fiesta of red wine, pizzas, and braais. I treated
myself to a haircut, facial, leg wax, pedicure, and manicure, and I looked and
felt almost human again.
3
November - Cape Town, South Africa – Mumbai, India
After
two weeks, I felt energised, refreshed, and eager to return to India. My sister
Amanda decided to join me on this adventure, and planned a three-month cycling
holiday across India. Although Amanda had no experience with cycle touring (or
much cycling in general), she was determined to try it. I did have some
concerns, though, as she was a picky eater and not a fan of camping. Still, I
was excited to see how everything would unfold.
