INDIA (1)
Part
1 - Amritsar to Delhi
9
September – 15 October 2008
9 September – Lahore, Pakistan - Amritsar, India – 67 km
Following the canal (while kids were jumping
into the muddy waters), the distance was a mere 35 kilometres to the Pakistan/Indian
border. The border was modern, efficient and unexpectedly quiet. From the
immigration office, an additional 30-kilometre ride ran to Amritsar.
The difference between Pakistan and India was
clearly visible. Seeing ladies in colourful saris billowing in the wind made me
fall in love with India forever. Add cycling slap-bang into a parade, elephants
and all, confirmed this was indeed India.
The province of Punjab was the land of Sikhs
and abounded by turban-clad men. Amritsar was further home to the Sikh’s
holiest shrine, The Golden Temple. The temple wasn’t only one of the most
sacred but a symbol of brotherhood and equality; anyone was welcome,
irrespective of colour, race or creed.
We headed straight to this well-known temple,
where there was free accommodation and food. Entering the temple required the
removal of shoes and the donning of headscarves. 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 was said to have healing power added to the temple’s
immensely tangible spiritual vibe.
While I soaked up the tranquil atmosphere, Ernest
searched for beer (which we hadn’t had in three months). He returned drunk, was
reprimanded by the monks and almost got us kicked out of the dormitory.
10 September - Amritsar – Jalandhar - 78 km
Breakfast was at the temple and in the
company of other pilgrims, where we sat on the floor eating our chapattis and
dhal using our fingers. The road to Jalandhar continued in a westerly direction,
a short and pleasant ride through an exceptionally green countryside. Seeing
women out and about, riding scooters and bicycles, was refreshing, something not
seen in Pakistan or Iran. Even though generally ladies wore the Shalwar Kameez,
at least the clothing was colourful.
The day’s ride ended shortly before Jalandhar,
where the room felt like an oven as power cuts mainly were at night, and hence no
fan. Phew!
11 September - Jalandhar - Roper - 115 km
The flat and smooth road came as an immense
pleasure. However, the weather stayed hot and humid, and it sometimes felt like
I was breathing pure water vapour. With Ernest having a man-cold as well as a
broken wheel rim, it turned out a good thing the ride wasn’t too demanding. Although
he tried fixing the rim, the damage was too severe by then. In Roper, a hostel that
had seen better days provided inexpensive accommodation.
12 September - Roper to Chandigarh - 25 km
cycled (& 20 km by truck)
Breakfast from a roadside stall, 10 kilometres
further, consisted of dhal and chapatti accompanied by a small salad. Not far
beyond that Ernest had a flat tyre, presumably due to the broken rim, as a few kilometres
further the same thing happened. A kind Samaritan gave Ernest (and his wheel) a
ride on his scooter to the previous town, without success. He then loaded our
bikes and us onto a truck for the 20-kilometre ride to Chandigarh, where he
dropped us at a hotel and pointed Ernest in the direction of a bike shop that
sold suitable rims.
I used the time to find a new SIM card and shopped
for essential items. In the meantime, Ernest made new friends at the tavern and
later staggered back in a somewhat intoxicated state.
13-14 September - Chandigarh
The following morning, a more professional
bike shop was sought, where a new rim, cycle computer, decent tubes and tyre sealant
were bought.
As one couldn’t be in Chandigarh without exploring
the city’s well-known rock garden, we popped in. Nek Chand created a 20-hectare
park with walkways, staircases, waterfalls, and figures made from junk, a pure
fantasy world.
En route to our digs we ran into the
well-known Mr Narinder Singh, a retired civil servant who welcomed tourists to
Chandigarh, pointing them in the direction of cheap places to stay and eat. To
him, nothing was too much trouble, and he recommended places of interest in his
hometown.
15 September - Chandigarh – Nahan – 103 km
Narinder Singh walked me to a market to
locate a detailed roadmap, and thus midday before departing Chandigarh.
The way, at first, was flat through farmlands
until reaching the village of Naraingarh, situated at the foothills of the
Sivalik range of the Himalayas. From Naraingarh, an exhausting 30-kilometre
climb took us through spectacular scenery. The going was dreadfully slow, and Nahan,
while only situated at an altitude of 932m, was reached after two long hours of
cycling and in darkness. The experience was hair-raising along a terribly
narrow road congested by trucks and busses. Reaching our destination safely
felt like a pure miracle!
Albeit way off the regular tourist route, Nahan
had a delightful old town, narrow alleys and ancient Hindu temples and shrines.
Established in 1621, the place was bound to have a few old temples and lakes. One
could be found right in the centre of the village. Being a typical Indian town,
cows had the right of way. Considered holy, they wandered around at leisure –
the way stray dogs and cats would do in other places. These cows could often be
found sleeping on the pavement and in shop doorways.
16 September - Nahan
Due to our late arrival the previous evening,
the following day was spent meandering the old city and resting our tired legs.
Ernest became concerned about the girls calling him “Uncle” and shaved his
beard for the first time in more than three months and, 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 ever-present monkeys took a liking to one of the
items. Hotel staff later scaled the tree to retrieve the T-shirt (by then with
a big hole).
17 September - Nahan – Dehradun – 98 km
The route to Dehradun was a beautiful ride
through the countryside. Villages were close together and each one sported 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
continually had to ask for directions that weren’t always accurate or
understood.
Again, we were delayed as Ernest had
punctures, likely due to the tyre damaged by the formerly broken rim. It was dark
by the time we arrived in Dehradun. The streets were chaotic, jam-packed with rickshaws,
motorcycles, bicycles, people and animals, making navigation a confusing nightmare
on a bike. Eventually, we located the hotel we had in mind. Hallelujah!
18 September - Dehradun
The day allowed investigation of the well-known
Tapkeshwar Hindu Temple. The temple had an unusual shrine inside a cave
dedicated to Lord Shiva. It was, hence, not surprising to find a Shiva Linga
enshrined in the main complex. It’s believed that praying here grants the
wishes of all who seek the Lord’s blessings.
No visit to Dehradun would be complete
without a World Peace Stupa tour, the world’s largest stupa. The stupa is in a
Tibetan community on the outskirts of town and consisted 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 consisted of a large and busy area with a warren of
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 evocative, filling the market with masala and basmati rice fragrances.
At the same time, ladies in colourful saris jostled for position at the many
stalls.
19-20 September - Dehradun
Caught by the late monsoon, we woke to an
overcast and rainy day, a rain that continued through the next morning. Floods
were reported from all over India and it was best to wait out the weather. So we
stayed put, watching endless replays of India winning cricket matches and
reports about the Delhi bomb blasts from the previous week.
Walking around made me realise there’s a
definite pecking order in India regarding 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
stopping a bus”, The Holy Cow. Cows could hold up traffic on four-lane highways
and at busy intersections, and no one seemed perturbed. I had yet to see a cow
knocked down.
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 basically at the bottom of the pecking order. Saying
that, I still loved India.
21 September - Dehradun – Rishikesh - 49 km
At last, the weather cleared, and we could
resume 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, Rishikesh was reached early. We
settled for a lovely place on the Ganges overlooking two 13-storey temples
across the Lakshman Jhula suspension bridge. Good thing, too, as unknowingly it
turned out our home for the next ten days.
22-30 September - Rishikesh
Rishikesh, considered the world’s Yoga
capital, had masses of ashrams and offered all kinds of yoga and meditation
classes. The town had an exquisite setting upon the banks of the Ganges while
surrounded by forested hills. Coupled with the constant ringing of temple bells
and Hindi music, the location set the scene for soul-searching activities.
No sooner had we arrived, and I became ill
with a high fever, a feeling which got worse as the days progressed. I
eventually sought a Yoga and Natural Therapist’s help simply because I’d no
energy 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,
as well as a bag full of (unpalatable) herbs.
In reality, I contracted dengue fever and thought
dying entirely possible but 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 started feeling better and could at least gather the strength to walk to
the shop. Each day I forced my unwilling legs to walk a little further as I was
determined to get out of Rishikesh.
1 October - Rishikesh – Muzaffarnagar - 113
km
Recovering took ten days and I couldn’t wait
to make my way out the door. Finally, to Ernest’s great relief, we packed up
and cycled out of Rishikesh. The change of scenery was greatly appreciated and made
even better by our chosen route along the Ganges. We passed Haridwar, a famous
holy city to Hindu pilgrims. I still wasn’t 100% and tired quickly but 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 delivered a whole stack of never-ending
surprises. The main roads were tremendously congested with vehicles, cars,
motorbikes, bicycles, buffalo carts and people. It was a matter of time until I
was knocked off the bike. I’m not entirely sure what exactly happened, as 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 in sight. He must’ve thought, “I want nothing to do with this!” and
fucked off. I must’ve been concussed as I felt disorientated and experienced double
vision. What a picture I must’ve made - dirt all over my face and squint eyes.
Ernest possibly relented as he eventually returned (I couldn’t believe he did
that!). I knew I wouldn’t be able to cycle as I couldn’t use my left arm.
While surrounded by a crowd, a passing
motorist (who spoke English) stopped to help by phoning 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, dislocated
shoulder, and a broken collarbone. That’s what I call things not going to plan.
3 October - Ghaziabad – Delhi
I hailed a taxi from Ghaziabad as Delhi was barely
20 kilometres away. Ernest and I agreed to meet at a hotel in the city, not the
cheapest, as he insisted on a TV, which I thought pretty greedy. The accommodation
was never for his account. He most likely figured he would be stuck there an
additional ten days. I could do little about the situation as cycling was out of
the question.
The weather cooled but remained hot and humid
and the temperatures were around 34/35°C. The air pollution was particularly
severe in Delhi. In fact, we hadn’t seen the sun in days.
4–6 October - Delhi
I felt frustrated, as I dearly wanted to resume
my journey. Ernest was becoming increasingly agitated, and I wished he would get
going. I’d enough on my plate as it was and couldn’t still deal with his problems.
I tried to make the experience as pleasurable
as possible and suggested using public transport instead of sitting around
doing nothing. I planned on doing what is known as the Golden Triangle which
meant taking a bus to Jaipur in Rajasthan.
7 October - Delhi – Jaipur (by bus)
From Delhi to Jaipur, was a six-hour ride. I’d
previously stated the holy cow was the only thing stopping a bus.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t entirely correct. Shortly before our destination,
the bus collided with a cow, damaging both the coach and the cow. Fortunately, the
bus managed to limp the last few kilometres into Jaipur, the capital of
Rajasthan and known as the first planned city in India.
8 October – Jaipur, Rajasthan
The day was spent roaming the old town, known
as the Pink City due to its colour. The story went in 1876, the Prince of Wales
visited India. Since the colour pink was symbolic of hospitality, the entire
town was painted pink. The palace is still home to the ruling royal family, who
lives in a private section.
Hawa Mahal, or Palace of Winds, was even more
impressive. This striking palace, large and pink with many small latticed
windows is Jaipur’s most iconic landmark. Built from pink sandstone the palace
was constructed in 1799 by King Sawai Pratap Sing as a summer retreat. The many
windows served as a place where ladies of the royal household could observe
everyday life without being seen. The outer honeycomb structure served as
air-conditioners, and the palace is fitted with 953 windows.
A cycle rickshaw took us to the Water Palace
or Jal Mahal. The experience of being pedalled by someone else left me awkward
and half embarrassed. The Jal Mahal made a pretty picture with its sand-coloured
stone walls and reflection in a lake.
There were heaps to see around the old city, and
I dragged a reluctant Ernest around a few more hours before picking up a few
beers. We very nearly didn’t make it back, as our poor rickshaw wallah spoke no
English and didn’t know our hotel’s location.
9 October - Jaipur – Agra
An early morning bus was our best bet 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 not too uncomfortable a
ride. With the allure of the Taj Mahal, Agra was (as could be expected) a
tourist trap, as, understandably, tuk-tuks, cycle rickshaws and taxis all
competed for the same business.
Touts and hawkers were a menace, but we
persevered as no one can be in India and not see the Taj. A reasonably priced hotel,
remarkably close to the Taj Mahal, sporting a glimpse of this famous monument, provided
an escape from the madness while exploring India’s most renowned tourist
attraction.
10 October - Agra
Up early to catch the sunrise over the Taj
Mahal, one of the three UNESCO World Heritage sites in Agra, we surprisingly
found the monument closed on a Friday. The closure provided time to walk around
the Taj and see the memorial from the rear, where a boat operated across a small
and especially polluted river for a view from a different angle.
Passing an X-ray office, I popped in and they
confirmed a broken collarbone and dislocated shoulder. Seeing we’d the day
free, I uncovered a hospital to see if anything could be done to speed up
recovery. The hospital visit turned out quite an experience with mice running
around. I gave up by the second power cut and returned to our abode.
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, 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 was going to 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. 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 use this
unfortunate time to visit South Africa. It was not 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 enjoyed.
The plan was to take the train to Mumbai and
fly from there to South Africa as there was a substantial price difference in
flying from Mumbai. However, shlepping around a bicycle and four panniers
wasn’t easy, seeing I could only use one arm. I further 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 walked me through the procedures. Once again, the visit came
with being shunted from office to office where a piece of paper was signed at
each one. 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. With a prescription for painkillers and
calcium, I was on my way but felt even less mobile than earlier.
12 October - Delhi - Mumbai (By train)
The
train to Mumbai departed at 5.30 a.m. Ernest lent a hand (I think he wanted to
make sure I got on the train, hahaha), and by 03h00 we were on our way to the
station. First, to the ticket office to confirm my seat (where staff wanted a
bribe as, according to them, the train was full). In the end, a different officer
arrived and I was assigned a spot without parting with any additional money.
Then, off to the parcel office in the bike and panniers. Thank goodness, Ernest
was there to help with the bicycle and panniers. Next, we went from Platform 1
to Platform 16 and back to Platform 3. Thankfully, many willing porters in
India always help cart luggage to and from the train.
I
was relieved to find myself on the train to Mumbai. Ernest must’ve been happy
as well. A huge weight lifted off 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. Travelling by train always felt like an adventure. I was as happy
as the proverbial pig as the carriage had sleeper seats and was comfortable
enough. The compartment accommodated four people and had a curtain that could
be drawn. Tea and coffee were consistently offered, and every so often trollies
came around offering typical Indian snacks consisting of, among other things, samosas
and biryani.
13 October - Mumbai
Spot on time, the train arrived in Mumbai. Porters
were available on the platform. Getting my stuff off the train and in a taxi to
Bentleys Hotel was significantly more straightforward and less stressful than
anticipated. Bentleys Hotel wasn’t merely centrally located for my return but they
could store the bicycle and panniers.
The rest of the day was spent wandering
around Mumbai (still referred to as Bombay), a fascinating city with slums on
the one side and designer stores across the road. To me, India was a country of
contrasts, something nowhere more visible than in Mumbai. Mumbai is home to one
of the largest slum areas in the world as well as 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 wasn’t only modern and the financial and commercial
centre of India but it was also graced with an ensemble of magnificent colonial
buildings (my dislike of the colonial era makes this hard to say). It was further
great to be by the ocean, last seen in Turkey.
14 October - Mumbai
A short meander brought me to the waterfront
and India’s iconic Gateway of India, where people milled around catching
ferries to various islands and other parts of the city. It’s where seagulls
swooped low, hoping for morsels thrown their way.
A pleasant walk led 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 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, indicating destination and recipient. However, I understood
200,000 lunches are delivered daily with a 99% accuracy rate, quite a remarkable
feat.
15 October - Mumbai, India – Cape Town, South
Africa
As usual, the flight to Cape Town was a long,
tedious affair, and I thought it was the price paid for being born at the
southernmost tip of Africa. Still, it was good to see family and friends.
16 October-2 November - Cape Town, South
Africa
In Cape Town, my visit resembled a fiesta of
red wine, pizzas and braais. I’d a haircut, facial, leg wax, pedicure and
manicure, and I looked and felt almost normal.
