Moving up in the Himalaya's
Several folks I met in Macleod Ganj had recommended visiting Manali ... and departing at 6:30 am, I board the bus!
No, dear reader, it wasn't that simple! I woke up in plenty of time, packed, and went downstairs at 6 am ... we have a problem! Like many guest houses, they lock the door in the evening. And it's not just locked, but rather floor-to-ceiling metal gates bar the entry. Now what? Doesn't do much good to bang on the door because reception's similarly locked up. I go back up to my room to ponder. And at 6:15, I hear clanging. Whew! Wonder what would happen in a fire (probably nothing since everything's cinderblock and the fire equipment is, let's just say, understated).
It's back and forth about paying my bill and I'm desperately looking at my watch ... tick tock. I'm obviously rousing the staff out of bed, as they arrive with tousled hair. Finally, everyone wakes up enough to figure out what needs to be done and I sprint to the bus station (and sprinting doesn't come easy in the dark with my backpack). I arrive just as they are gathering up to leave and I (being the only passenger for now) grab a seat. Drat, no time even for chai.
The ride starts ... I had thought it to be a six hour ride ... nope, it's 11 hours. Ah, the accuracy of Indian info boggles the mind. Finally we reach our first stop ... breakfast time.
More food discoveries! Fried half sandwiches, which I guess are like a curried french toast. It's two slices of thin white bread with something sweet inside, dipped in a batter and fried. Yuck! I won't be trying that again.
But I'm hungry, so you can't really go wrong with the safe packaged butter biscuits (taste like shortbread). Learnings ... always check the expiration date on the package. These were about a year past-date. Yuck!
At least the chai was yummy!
Off we proceed, careening around the mountain passes ... uh oh, I'm getting car sick. Breathing in and out, getting ready to use the bag from some chips I had bought. Tried to meditate ... the sensations may be impermanent, but my body was having nothing doing. No worries, no hurling occurred!
Finally, we arrive in Manali, located in the northern Kullu Valley at about 2,050 m (not much higher than Macleod Ganj). I hadn't made reservations, but picked one out of the book and the auto rickshaw takes me there, albeit grudgingly.
I can't tell you how cold it is. There is ice forming on the street-side water, icy slush here and there. But the river down the middle of town is spectacular.
My selected guest house is in Old Manali, the more interesting and beautiful area of town. Except, I discover (to my delight, not) it shuts down in the winter which seems to have started last week. In this huge guesthouse, I am the only person. There's no where to eat. The good news ... I got a great deal on the room, with space heater (these always cost extra), and extra blankets. The owner whips up a pretty good onion omelette, butter toast, and chai and brings to my room ... as I sit huddled in front of the tiny heater, shivering in my blankets.
Morning arrives ... the view from my room is gorgeous! The trees have just finished their fall colors. The owner brings me some chai and I figure out that it is truly time to head towards warmer climes.
I wander up to the Hadimba temple, just a small temple and so different to what I've seen so far.
It's dark and smokey inside ... smokey from the candles and fires lit inside. Outside I see a stone that I conjecture from blood stains and feathers is where they sacrifice animals. Ugh! Along the way folks try to get me to pay for pictures of their yak and angorra rabbit. Nope!
Surprisingly during the day in the sun, it's quite pleasant and I walk around New Manali, eating to my heart's content, using the slower-than-molasses internet. For dinner I stop at Johnson's Cafe and have their wood oven baked trout with tomatoes and potato, followed by a hot apple cobbler topped with vanilla ice cream, and hot milk tea. Now that's a meal! On the way out I stop at their gorgeous toilets as recommended by the Loney Planet (see, I'm not the only one with toilet obsessions). I can speak from experience that Indian restaurant toilets (usually situated right next to the kitchen) could make even the strongest gag.
What an interesting day ... my bus to Chandigarh leaves at 6:30 pm at the bus station. Yes, they say it's an 11 hour ride. Northern India and the Himalaya's have been such a place to remember. I want to return some day ... some day when it's not winter (or I'm wearing more than just my red-tibetan-monk wool shawl).
No, dear reader, it wasn't that simple! I woke up in plenty of time, packed, and went downstairs at 6 am ... we have a problem! Like many guest houses, they lock the door in the evening. And it's not just locked, but rather floor-to-ceiling metal gates bar the entry. Now what? Doesn't do much good to bang on the door because reception's similarly locked up. I go back up to my room to ponder. And at 6:15, I hear clanging. Whew! Wonder what would happen in a fire (probably nothing since everything's cinderblock and the fire equipment is, let's just say, understated).
It's back and forth about paying my bill and I'm desperately looking at my watch ... tick tock. I'm obviously rousing the staff out of bed, as they arrive with tousled hair. Finally, everyone wakes up enough to figure out what needs to be done and I sprint to the bus station (and sprinting doesn't come easy in the dark with my backpack). I arrive just as they are gathering up to leave and I (being the only passenger for now) grab a seat. Drat, no time even for chai.
The ride starts ... I had thought it to be a six hour ride ... nope, it's 11 hours. Ah, the accuracy of Indian info boggles the mind. Finally we reach our first stop ... breakfast time.
More food discoveries! Fried half sandwiches, which I guess are like a curried french toast. It's two slices of thin white bread with something sweet inside, dipped in a batter and fried. Yuck! I won't be trying that again.
But I'm hungry, so you can't really go wrong with the safe packaged butter biscuits (taste like shortbread). Learnings ... always check the expiration date on the package. These were about a year past-date. Yuck!
At least the chai was yummy!
Off we proceed, careening around the mountain passes ... uh oh, I'm getting car sick. Breathing in and out, getting ready to use the bag from some chips I had bought. Tried to meditate ... the sensations may be impermanent, but my body was having nothing doing. No worries, no hurling occurred!Finally, we arrive in Manali, located in the northern Kullu Valley at about 2,050 m (not much higher than Macleod Ganj). I hadn't made reservations, but picked one out of the book and the auto rickshaw takes me there, albeit grudgingly.
I can't tell you how cold it is. There is ice forming on the street-side water, icy slush here and there. But the river down the middle of town is spectacular.
My selected guest house is in Old Manali, the more interesting and beautiful area of town. Except, I discover (to my delight, not) it shuts down in the winter which seems to have started last week. In this huge guesthouse, I am the only person. There's no where to eat. The good news ... I got a great deal on the room, with space heater (these always cost extra), and extra blankets. The owner whips up a pretty good onion omelette, butter toast, and chai and brings to my room ... as I sit huddled in front of the tiny heater, shivering in my blankets.
Morning arrives ... the view from my room is gorgeous! The trees have just finished their fall colors. The owner brings me some chai and I figure out that it is truly time to head towards warmer climes.
I wander up to the Hadimba temple, just a small temple and so different to what I've seen so far.
It's dark and smokey inside ... smokey from the candles and fires lit inside. Outside I see a stone that I conjecture from blood stains and feathers is where they sacrifice animals. Ugh! Along the way folks try to get me to pay for pictures of their yak and angorra rabbit. Nope!Surprisingly during the day in the sun, it's quite pleasant and I walk around New Manali, eating to my heart's content, using the slower-than-molasses internet. For dinner I stop at Johnson's Cafe and have their wood oven baked trout with tomatoes and potato, followed by a hot apple cobbler topped with vanilla ice cream, and hot milk tea. Now that's a meal! On the way out I stop at their gorgeous toilets as recommended by the Loney Planet (see, I'm not the only one with toilet obsessions). I can speak from experience that Indian restaurant toilets (usually situated right next to the kitchen) could make even the strongest gag.
What an interesting day ... my bus to Chandigarh leaves at 6:30 pm at the bus station. Yes, they say it's an 11 hour ride. Northern India and the Himalaya's have been such a place to remember. I want to return some day ... some day when it's not winter (or I'm wearing more than just my red-tibetan-monk wool shawl).
posted by CECILIA at 10:23 AM
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