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Monday, 30 October (Quebec Referendum Day in Canada)

Our trip started off well. The weather was perfect, clear and sunny, as we walked to the ferry, and we were almost tempted to say no to the offer of a ride from a neighbour. Anne picked us up downtown, took us to her place for lunch and then drove us to the airport for our 4 p.m. Air Canada flight to New Delhi via London. It was a full load, with at least 75% Sikhs, many of them elderly, and all with incredible amounts of luggage. With all the congestion in the departure lounge - not enough seats and too much carry-on baggage - it seemed like we were in India already. The plane was an hour late leaving.

We had some interesting conversations on board after the results of the Quebec referendum were announced. With 98% of the votes counted, it was 49.5% Yes, 50.5% No. So for the moment, Quebec will remain a part of Canada.

Tuesday, 31 October (travelling)
Wednesday, 1 November, Simla

Everyone had to disembark at London Heathrow while the plane was cleaned prior to departure for New Delhi. An Air Canada official went through the transit lounge eyeing all the mountains of carry-on baggage and insisted that several passengers check some of it. We arrived in New Delhi only slightly late at around 12:45 a.m. and in spite of all warnings about how long it was going to take to get through Customs and Immigration, we sailed through in a few minutes. We noticed Moe Sihota, who had been on the same plane, getting VIP treatment.

We had thought to try and catch a few hours' sleep in the terminal before heading into Delhi. There was nowhere to stretch out in comfort so we decided instead to take the early morning train to Simla. This would save us the hassle of looking for overnight accommodation in Delhi at this ungodly hour. We were surprised how easily we got away from the airport without being set upon by touts. We took the Ex-Serviceman's bus into Delhi - very cheap and infinitely better than coping with taxi drivers. We didn't mind that it was slow since we had hours to kill. We were the last ones to be dropped off at the New Delhi railway station and almost didn't see it. After the imposing Victorian architecture of Bombay and Madras railway stations, New Delhi appeared to be just a big empty car park with a small semi-covered area where we eventually found the booking office. At this time of night the ground was covered with sleeping "bundles". We booked 2nd class (unreserved) on the Himalayan Queen to Simla, and spent the next three hours sitting on a cold bench on the platform until the train came in. We never saw signs of any facilities at the station - restaurant, waiting room, etc., not even a toilet. We had hoped to get breakfast before we set off but had to be satisfied with biscuits from a platform vendor. We realized when we returned to Delhi later that we had approached the station from the rear.

It was still dark when the train left at 6:00 a.m. We were a bit taken aback to find that all the unreserved seats were wooden, so after checking the reservation lists (plenty of space) we moved to better seats in the reserved second class area. Nothing was said when the ticket collector came around checking. The train never got crowded and there were always seats to spare. As we were passing through the suburbs of Delhi and subsequent towns at morning toilet time, we got to see the usual line-up of bare backsides (men only) pointing to the track. It was nice to feel the sun come up. We bought breakfast from the first vendor we saw - omelettes and vegetable cutlets between slices of white bread - tasteless but necessary! We were travelling through Punjab - the landscape was flat farmland, mostly in grain. All stations had huge mounds of sacks of grain waiting to be loaded onto trains. It was 5 hours to Kalka where we changed to narrow gauge (2 ft 6 in). This train had tiny coaches, and again the unreserved section (where we stayed this time since the train was full) had wooden seats. We had a young Australian couple for company. The few other foreigners were all in 1st class. The single track railway wound its way up the mountainside for 5 hours, travelling at little more than walking pace, with long stops at three stations to wait for trains coming down. The journey by road would have been much quicker but not nearly so much fun. All the stations were neat and attractive, painted in blue, and there were spectacular views down into the valleys. We ought to have been taking pictures but by now both of us we were groggy from lack of sleep and weren't thinking too clearly.

A mad rush of porters (Himalayan type) converged on the train as it stopped in Simla (5:20 p.m.). Most of the roads are too steep and narrow for vehicles, so baggage has to be carried by hand. We were soon "accompanied" by a porter who wanted to carry our bags and find us a hotel. We declined both offers, but after trying a few hotels (either full, too expensive or not very appealing) we ended up going along with him to a hotel he knew. It turned out to be at the opposite end of town, and uphill all the way of course. The porter kept looking behind at Jill and saying "Madam she looking very tired", and in fact she was only just managing to keep going. The 88 steps up to the hotel on top of a five-storey building was almost the last straw.. The City View Guest House turned out to be quite nice, with balcony, good views, hot water, king size bed. Interestingly all the rooms we had been shown in Simla had these king size beds. We hadn't the energy to go out for dinner so ordered room service (two plates of pakoras) and then crashed into bed. Even with blankets and a heavy quilt it was still cold and Jill slept with all her clothes on.

Thursday, 2 November, Simla

We were rudely awakened to reveille sounding at 5.45 a.m. from a nearby army camp. Both of us had a restless night, and Jill has developed a cold. We knew there was no point in going out to look for breakfast until after 8 o'clock - things don't get going early in India. The sun was only just beginning to touch parts of town and it was still cold as we walked down the hill to the Indian Coffee House. We were waiting on the doorstep when it opened at 8:30 a.m. The great thing about Indian Coffee Houses, apart from the coffee, is they have a big menu, mostly South Indian dishes but they also serve "ordinary" stuff like eggs, toast, etc. The only people we saw on the streets were kids going to school (little ones with their parents) wearing heavy school uniforms - tweed jackets and trousers, even for girls.

The Mall, the main shopping street, was now in the sunshine and we enjoyed a little promenade here. Most of the shops didn't open until 10:00 a.m. We bought samosas for lunch, cold pills and throat lozenges for Jill. Thank God for our immersion heater. It's worth its weight in gold in providing us with hot drinks in our room in minutes. We bundled up in as many layers as we could when it was time to go out for dinner at a Chinese restaurant - a concession to Jill who just wanted a bowl of soup. The Himachal Pradesh Police Band was playing outside the Municipal Hall that evening in honour of the Conference of Mayors of HP in town. They played standard instruments but they managed to produce a totally different sound from what we are used to. It was so cold in our room we rented an electric heater for an hour in the evening before settling down for bed (at only 8:15 p.m.).

Friday, 3 November , Simla

This morning we set off to walk up Jackoo Hill, a viewpoint above the city. It was a steady climb up through the pine forests where we met with some rather aggressive monkeys along the way. At the top naturally there was a temple - to Hanuman, the monkey god, and a good view north to the Himalayas. We bought lunch in the Bazaar (samosas and pakoras) and fruit, The apples (local) looked good but were tasteless and soft. The only other fruit available are bananas and tangerines and, amazingly, gooseberries. We spent the afternoon relaxing on the balcony. It was almost too hot in the sun, yet as soon as the sun had set it got chilly again (altitude is over 7000 ft). Jill is worried by the appearance of big red itchy spots on her waist and legs and wonders whether she has picked up some contagious disease. They were especially itchy at night once she got warm in bed. (They turned out to be bed bug bites!)

Saturday, 4 November, Simla

We had a room service breakfast for a change, (parathas and curd for Denys, French toast for Jill) so that we could get off to an earlier start. We planned to walk along the ridge in the opposite direction as far as the Vice-Regal Lodge. Simla has lots of stately, old mansions as well as fascinating Olde English cottages (some even half-timbered). We knew that the movie "Staying On", based on Paul Scott's novel, had been filmed in Simla and wondered which was the cottage they had used. Many of the bigger mansions are now occupied by various government departments. We noticed one very grand one is now the office of the Assistant Deputy Accountant General.

Most of our walking was along small, almost traffic free roads (vehicle access to roads on the Ridge is severely restricted). On the way we passed a big concrete TV tower - the concrete work looked atrocious. We had hoped to visit the museum but we were too early for opening time so we contented ourselves watching the monkeys playing. The Vice-Regal lodge, the farthest point on the walk, was well worth seeing. It is presently occupied by the Institute of Advanced Studies, although we read in the paper there are plans to turn it into a 5-star hotel. There was supposed to be a botanical garden in the grounds, and a big sign described the six different areas. We could only find two marked, and when we asked about the others we were told that this is a new plan "in progress". Still, we enjoyed our walk through the grounds with lots of lovely, old trees: huge oaks (Himalayan), elms. Japanese maples, deodar cedars, and hardly anyone in sight. The paths and gardens, especially around the back were very neglected, but still very enjoyable and with hardly anyone else in sight.. Everywhere there were superb views. An engraved plaque dated 1935 indicated all the mountains on the horizon, most between 19,000-21,500 feet. We wandered into the nursery area and the mali (gardener) there was happy to show us around, pointing out his first prize winners. We walked back to the Lower Bazaar for snack lunches and more cold pills - Denys now has the cold. What a way to start our trip!

We checked the dinner menus of some of the fancier restaurants on the Mall; prices were much higher than we expected and none started serving dinner until 7:00 p.m. and it's so cold outside by then. There are few foreign tourists about; the well-to-do probably eat in their hotels. There are several top class hotels here, including the Oberoi which is a refurbished old time hotel. We ended up eating at a Jain restaurant for the second time.

Jill kept looking enviously at all the handknit sweaters people are wearing and wished she had something better than her old acrylic cardigan (handknit 20 years ago!). Most men wear handknit sleeveless pullovers - we never saw two the same. Not surprisingly there are quite a few wool shops in town.

Saturday, 5 November, Simla

We decided to have an easy day today and take the bus to Kufria, a ski resort 13 km away. The "easy" day turned out to be a bit of a disaster. First of all we went to the wrong bus stand (long distance instead of local), then we couldn't find the right bus. Every time we asked a driver if he was going to Kufria we never got more than a simple "no". Eventually a driver who had previously said he wasn't going to Kufria told us to get on, and then we found out he was only going half way. We had to wait ages for the connecting bus which we just managed to squeeze onto. We decided to get off at Wildflower Hall, 3 km before Kufria, which was supposed to have extensive grounds with pleasant walks. Then we found out the hotel was closed and there was no entry into the grounds. There wasn't much to see in the hamlet and so we set off walking up the main road to Kufria. We were well up in the pine forest here, above 8000 ft., with spectacular views over the foothills to the main Himalayan chain. After 3 km all we found was an ordinary little village, not the resort we had expected.. There was a narrow side road going steeply uphill to "Kufria Outdoor Park - 2 km" but neither of us felt like adding another 4 km walk along a narrow road, especially with the traffic (mainly tour buses). So we gave up and waited (only half an hour) for a bus to take us back, this time straight through to Simla. We were worried for a time the bus wasn't going to make it back - it almost died on the last uphill before Simla. There were bad traffic jams outside town creating tons of filthy exhaust fumes.

The bus dropped us at the bottom end of town and we took the elevators and saved ourselves the long slog uphill to the Mall - well worth the Rp3.

Monday, 6 November, Dharamsala

Breakfast arrived at our room at 6:15 a.m. as requested. The young guy who had been looking after us asked for a tip for good service, which we weren't very happy about since we had already been charged Rp10 a day for room service. We got to the bus stand at 7:00 a.m. for the 7:50 bus to Dharamsala. The tourist office had given us the times of several buses and where to buy tickets but Wicket #9 didn't exist and we had trouble getting any information out of anybody. We found out we had just missed a 7 o'clock (we saw it leaving only we didn't know where it was going - no English anywhere). There was no bus at 7:50 and the next one wasn't until 8:30, which may or may not be the semi-deluxe we wanted. An elderly porter who had attached himself to us, said not to worry, he would look after everything. We found out where the next semi-deluxe bus was parked, near the back of the lot, and went and stood nearby to keep our eye on it. This was an improvement on the main area where we were choking on the appalling exhaust fumes. When we heard an announcement at 8:15 which mentioned Dharamsala, we rushed over to another bus which was just loading - by now it was 8:15 a.m. Jill grabbed two seats while Denys dashed off to buy tickets. We found then it was an "ordinary" bus, i.e. a local bus going a long way. It took 11 hours to cover the 250 km. We later found out that the semi-deluxe bus left at 9:40 and did the journey in only 8 hours, which made for quite a hairy ride).

The route almost the whole way was on a single lane road, very winding and hilly. The bus had to almost stop each time there was an approaching vehicle. We dropped down from the 7000 ft of Simla into a tropical climate with citrus and mango trees, bamboo, bougainvillaea and hibiscus. Besides countless stops to pick up and let down passengers at all sorts of odd places, we had four extended stops, three in bus stands in major towns and the other at a collection of meal stalls by the roadside. Although the bus started off less than full, it was packed with standing passengers most of the time. However, we were reasonably sheltered, having the two seats away from the aisle in a block of three. By mid afternoon we were loaded with school kids. When it started to grow dark the driver only used his lights when something was approaching - a dangerous game on a winding mountain highway. It was a relief when it was completely dark and he kept his lights on.

Only two other passengers had gone the whole way from Simla and they got off just before the bus stand. Too bad we didn't do the same, because when we arrived at the bus stand (we were the only ones left now), we found it completely deserted. Not a tout in sight, just when we could have used one. We had to backtrack to where all the other passengers had got off and walk uphill to the centre of Dharamsala, what centre there is. We would have preferred to go directly to McLeodganj where we planned to stay, but didn't feel like spending another hour on a bus, even if we could have found one. There were several hotels around, although none looked too inviting. The one we picked was a bit grungy but it had a TV and we were able to watch the BBC World Service news, most of it coverage of Itzhak Rabin's funeral. We had dinner at a fairly fancy restaurant across the street - pizza for Denys, and a mammoth vegetable sizzler plate for Jill - both pretty good. We weren't too happy with all the noise going on around the hotel - other TVs and barking dogs but after 10:30 things quietened down and we both slept well, on comfortable foam mattresses.

Tuesday, 7 November, McLeodganj

The bus to McLeodganj was packed solid, but everyone was very good-natured. Most of the 9 km was through a big military cantonment. At the terminus there were crowds of people, mostly Tibetans holding burning incense sticks, lining the street. We guessed correctly that the Dalai Lama was about to pass and about 15 minutes later his motorcade roared through, His Holiness in a yellow Mercedes. He was on his way home (just outside McLeodganj) after a visit to South Africa. The road had even been washed beforehand! An American woman we had met before in Simla told us that tomorrow the Dalai Lama is to speak a function in the neighbourhood. It took us a while before we found somewhere suitable to stay; many of the guesthouses never saw the sun and felt damp and chilly. We got a nice well furnished room at the Dreamland, a Tibetan run hotel, with good mountain views. It has a balcony which gets the morning sun, with plenty of room for drying washing.

In the village we found a bakery selling brown bread, croisssants, doughnuts, etc. Lunch was a treat - fresh brown bread with cream cheese. Later we went exploring further afield, through the village of Bagshu where there is a spring and a temple. Dozens of young Buddhist monks were bathing in the pool and playing ball games. Beyond the temple a trail led up to a waterfall. More monks and nuns along the way - it's hard to tell them apart with their heads shaved - who were all having fun. People were working high on the hillside above the river cutting slates, which are loaded onto donkeys for the journey down.

We had dinner at the Om restaurant, one of the old originals - excellent vegetable momos and stir fried tofu. We were joined by a Swiss woman visiting for two months (2nd time) who was staying at the monastery and learning Tibetan. Our bed was very hard with pillows like bags of cement (a common complaint throughout the trip). Jill's spots were itching very badly at night.

Wednesday, 8 November, McLeodganj

The Om was closed when we showed up for breakfast because all the staff were going to the opening of the Norbulingka Institute, where the Dalai Lama is giving an address. We expected to have trouble getting transportation there but most people had gone earlier and we only waited a few minutes for a taxi (Rp 150 for a 45 minute ride) and arrived in time to see the Dalai Lama coming out of the temple. There were hundreds of people, 90% of them Tibetans. The Institute, dedicated to the preservation of Tibetan culture, was in a large compound containing a big traditional Tibetan Buddhist temple, guest house, studios, workshops, classrooms and so on. While the dignitaries were having lunch, the crowd was entertained by a performance of Tibetan opera for an hour or more. We wandered around the gardens and ate our lunch by a stream. After that we found ourselves a reasonable vantage spot (the best areas were reserved for holders of "guest" badges only) to watch the official opening ceremonies starting at 2:00 p.m. This consisted of long, boring speeches by Indian politicians - one, the Minister of Religion and Culture, spoke for over an hour, first in Hindi and then in English. We gave up and left at 3:15 p.m. before the Dalai Lama had spoken. We caught a bus back to Dharamsala and then to McLeodganj, only Rp14 this time. On the second bus we met a NZ woman and her university age daughter, and they managed to get a room at our hotel. We had an excellent dinner at the Lhasa restaurant (we were the only non-Tibetans there) of vegetable/meat momos followed by a huge banana pancake. The electricity was off for a time and when it came back on it was very low.

Thursday, 9 November, McLeodganj

People seem to get up quite late here (perhaps because it is so cold). The Om doesn't open until 7:30 and there is never anyone else around until we have finished breakfast. Jill tried the tsampa (barley) porridge with banana while Denys had the regular oatmeal variety. We soaked up some sun on our balcony, chatting with the New Zealanders who have moved in next door. We just heard about a special audience the Dalai Lama will be giving tomorrow and went dashing off to the Tibetan Security Office, to investigate. We had to show our passports, details were entered into a big ledger, and were told to come back tomorrow to go through Indian security.

We took a picnic lunch up to Dal Lake (3 km). It was a nice walk along a small road through larch/pine/rhododendron forest. At one point we stopped to listen to what sounded like bagpipes and soon identified "The Gay Gordons"! It was Ghurka soldiers from the cantonment down below doing some practising. Along the way we passed a vocational school financed by the Swiss, and a Tibetan Children's Village. The lake, sacred to Hindus, was brown and not at all attractive but was surrounded by forest and a peaceful place to sit and picnic. (No toilets and nowhere to put garbage) .It is hard to believe we are in India -to be able to sit for a couple of hours and not be bothered by someone. On the way back down we noticed how neat and tidy all the little shops were and spent a few minutes looking at the stock in one where we stopped for a soda. Back at the centre of the village we saw the Dalai Lama driving through, then spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the sun and eating tangerines just up the hill, watched by hungry monkeys. We went to the Lhasa restaurant again and had the same meal, this time with the New Zealanders.

Friday, 10 November, McLeodganj

The Om was closed again so we went to the Green Restaurant where Denys had a farmer's breakfast (a huge omelette with potatoes, cheese, tomatoes and onions) and Jill had tsampa porridge. We lined up again at the Welfare office, supposedly for Indian security but all the Indian officials were still tied up at the Norbulingka Institute. Instead, local officials laboriously copied out all the same information we gave yesterday into a different ledger. At the stated time we assembled at the temple grounds (10 mins walk) for the audience with the Dalai Lama. Security was very tight. Everyone had numbered passes, we were called in numerical order for a thorough body search as well as going through a metal detector. While waiting our turn we enjoyed chatting with some Americans, two from Utah and one (who became a Buddhist 22 years ago) from San Francisco. It was a glorious setting for the audience, in front of a building draped with brilliant bougainvillaea with a rose garden in front. We lined up to shake hands with the Dalai Lama, and a big smile, then on to receive a silk cord that had been blessed by the Dalai Lama. Jill was quite choked up for several minutes afterwards.

In the afternoon we walked up a trail past the Tushita meditation centre, amused to see most of the participants (it was the tea break) laughing and smoking, in full view of the notice warning "Silence. No Smoking". (Just about all Europeans we see are smokers.) Jill spread out her heavy sweater which she had washed this morning on the rocks to finish off drying. One of the disadvantages of our room is that we only get the sun in the morning. We read newspapers (several bus crashes and robberies on buses) while waiting for our dinner at the Green. We were the only customers. We wonder where everyone else is eating.

There is a particular breed of small dog that is popular here. They are taken out by their owners and you don't find them wandering around on their own. Dogs in general seem to be well-cared for around here; but they still bark just as loudly at night! The cows that wander the streets here eating garbage (cardboard mostly) look like regular dairy cows. There are hordes of monkeys, especially around the rubbish dumps.

Saturday, 11 November, McLeodganj

Denys walked up Triund, a 9325 ft pass on the way up Dhauladhar. Altitude gain of about 3500 ft. The path, used by mules, was good all the way. He saw two birds with foot long tails like birds of paradise, except they don't have those in this part of the world. The first two and a half hours, through larch and rhododendron forest, was a fairly steady climb, then another hour of switchbacks to the ridge. The views back to McLeodganj and Dharamsala were good on the way up but the top was totally socked in with cloud (the first since arriving in India). He didn't hang around at the top as it was so cold. The ridge would have made a good camping spot, - flat and grassy - except there was no water. The people who owned the tea-shop there had to walk half an hour for water. Nearby was also a forestry department cabin. There were four other westerners and four more arrived while he was at the top. On the way down he passed a party of about 40 students from Dharamsala College Mountaineering Club who were going to stay at the cabin. No hope of any peace and quiet once they arrived. He arrived back in McLeodganj at 2:30 p.m., just 6 hours for the round trip, still feeling quite fresh.

Jill spent the day with Marilyn and Caroline (NZers). First stop was at the doctor's where Marilyn started a series of three rabies injections. She had been licked on the gums by a puppy and didn't want to take any chances. It means they have to spend another week here, but that is no hardship for them. They are going on to Nepal next so have enough warm clothes. We looked at the long line-up at the bank to change money and decided to give it a miss in favour of a walk to the waterfall. Caroline, who has a problem with heights, needed some encouragement at times. (How will she manage when they go to Nepal?)

We sat on the roof at the Om to watch the sunset and had an interesting talk with an Indian-Australian girl who had just come across from Turkey through Central Asia and over the Karakoram Highway into Pakistan; Pakistan was the toughest of all, she said. Later at dinner we shared a table with a German girl in her 30s who looked very pregnant - and she told us she is here for treatment for her cancer (liver and ovarian). She has been staying at the Om for the past five months. The electricity was very low again this evening, which meant no fluorescent light in our room, making it hard to read.

Sunday, 12 November, McLeodganj

The German couple from our balcony arrived back from Triund at breakfast time. They lost their way yesterday and had to stay out overnight. Denys saw several people only just setting off when he was almost down. The recommended time is 4 hrs up, 2 1/2 hrs down.

Last day for tsampa porridge if we leave tomorrow. We walked down to Dharamsala by the old paths. It was nice and quiet apart from the odd scooter. On the way we passed the Central Secretariat of the Tibet Administration of HH the Dalai Lama, (Tibetan Government in Exile) including the Public Service Commission, Auditor-General, Finance, Budget, Education and Culture, Security, and Public Relations.

We didn't spend long in Dharamsala - the Sunday market wasn't up to much and very little else was open. No Sunday papers either. We went to the bus stand and booked our seats to Pathankot tomorrow morning. It was unbelievably easy, fully computerized and no-one waiting. We took the bus back up only as far as Forsythganj to visit the church (St. John-in-the-Wilderness) and have a look around the graveyard - the usual collection of soldiers, young wives and infants - which only appears to have been used from when the church was built in 1860 until about 1910. There was a service in progress so we didn't go inside the church but we could see some good stained glass windows. The tower was damaged and the bell dislodged in the 1905 earthquake. The bell was recently rededicated (October 1995) by the Duke of Gloucester.

We didn't hang around long after lunch on the roof at the Om - too hot - and went for a walk up the last remaining unexplored (for us) road up out of the village. We bumped into the couple from Utah (Craig and Nancy) who know a Bill and Carol on Bowen Island who spend every winter in San Blas. Too bad they couldn't remember their last names.

When we told the Tibetan girls at the Om that this was our last meal there they seemed genuinely sorry and took our hands in theirs and said to take care. It has always been a pleasure to be around them; they are always cheerful and in the mornings they chant or hum softly - a really pleasant sound - as they work. We ate incredibly cheaply and well there. Today for example:

Breakfast: Banana tsampa porridge/banana oat porridge (big bowls) @ Rp24

Lunch: Stir fried vegetables with tofu/ vegetables with noodles @ Rp30

Dinner Veggie burger on Tibetan bread, chips and salad (2) @ Rp40

Total Rp94 - less than US$3 for three big meals for two!

Marilyn came to borrow our "Trains at a Glance" before we leave, to plan the rest of their trip. They said they had hoped to take over our room when we leave tomorrow for the same price as we paid (Rp150) but the manager wouldn't go for it. We pointed out to them that although our room is bigger, the lighting is poor - no light over the bed, and only one small bulb if the electricity is too low for the fluorescent to work, which is usually half the evening.

We are really sorry to be leaving here. It's an easy place to be, the food is great, it's cheap and the weather is just about perfect during the daytime. The only drawback is the cold nights. As soon as the sun has set the temperature drops considerably and when we go out for dinner we need all the layers of clothing we possess. The rooms aren't heated and we have to wrap up, blankets on our lap, to try to get warm before we get into bed. Jill wishes she had a hot water bottle.

Monday, 13 November, Amritsar

The bus to Pathankot turned out to be going all the way to Jammu. Denys was expecting to put his pack on the roof (chained and padlocked after hearing of someone who had their pack stolen from the roof of the Delhi bus) but decided to take it inside and suffer from the crowding. The bus was an ordinary (not express) bus and never really got crowded except for short periods. After dropping down from Dharamsala we travelled parallel to the mountains, soon in among bamboos and bananas again. At one town vendors brought locally grown tangerines onto the bus. two for Rp1. We stopped for lunch in a small town: Denys had samosas and dhal from a roadside stall (spicy enough to burn his lips) while Jill made do with nuts and bananas. Before Pathankot we were travelling for miles beside an enormous army base and much of Pathankot itself was military. The journey took only three hours instead of the four we had expected. Within two minutes of getting down from that bus we were on another bound for Amritsar. When the conductor saw us hesitating because the bus looked full, he quickly made some people move over on the seats so we could sit down. It seems that buses from Pathankot to Amritsar leave very frequently - just as soon as they fill up (then they fill up some more as they drive through town). Now we were in dead flat country and the road was mainly straight. The driver drove with his hand on the horn (one of those that plays tunes) all the way. We saw three major accidents - two trucks and a bus all rolled over off the road.

As we drew into Amritsar we wondered if we had made a mistake coming here - it was heavily industrial and very polluted and the traffic jams were horrendous. We had difficulty in finding a hotel, but our auto rickshaw driver was happy to wait (we had agreed on a price before setting out) each time we stopped to inspect a place, which was either full or not up to standard. We gave him an extra Rp10 on top of the agreed fare (unusual for us) and he went off happy. The Rivoli was more expensive than we expected to pay (Rp225) and not great, although our room had AC (we used the fan instead because of the mosquitoes), TV and mirrored headboard! We thought we heard a mouse in the wall and later discovered it was a peeping tom - a small hole through the plaster to the corridor ouside; a wad of paper stuffed into the hole easily solved the problem. One pleasant surprise was the hotel restaurant, quite posh, with white tablecloths, where we had an excellent Kashmiri dinner.

Tuesday, 14 November, Amritsar

In spite of the noise, both on the street and inside the hotel, we both slept reasonably well. The dining room didn't open until 9:00 a.m. so we had breakfast brought to our room (Indians always eat in their rooms). We hadn't been able to have our early morning cuppa as the outlet we needed to plug our immersion heater into (same one as for the TV) didn't seem to work.

We spent the whole day in and around the Golden Temple. First to Jalianwala Bagh, the site of the big massacre of unarmed civilians by the British Army in 1919. The area has been converted to a park, with big signs everywhere (in English, Hindi and Punjabi) explaining how the ground is saturated with the blood of Indian martyrs. After having absorbed the guilt of our forefathers, we walked on to the Golden Temple, (covered with 110 kg of gold leaf) which is a big quadrangle of imposing white buildings with a big square lake inside. This covers an area of about four city blocks. The Golden Temple itself (built in the early 1700s) sits in the middle of the lake with a causeway for access and an entrance point in the middle of each side. We had to leave our shoes and socks at the entrance - unlike most Hindu temples you were not expected to pay - and walk through a trough of water to wash your feet prior to entering the temple. Jill was dressed very respectably in salwar kameez with dupatta (scarf) over her head. (She received several approving glances for this.) All the interior floors are white marble as are many of the structures. Men were stripping down to their underwear to bathe in the lake. (One of the requirements of Sikhism is to wear long underwear, along with uncut hair, kirpan, comb and steel bracelet.) There is a special screened area for women. Inside the Golden Temple hymns are sung continuously from 4:00 a.m. until 11:00 p.m. by teams of three singers. People sit and follow the singing in the Sikh holy book. We walked all around, sat for awhile watching the goings on, then decided to take the free tour and went round again.

We went outside the complex and started to wander through the narrow streets of the old city. One quarter of the way round brought us to the Sri Guru Ram Das Sahib dining room and kitchen where free lunches and dinners are served to all comers, (10,000 meals served daily) hundreds at a sitting. We went in for the experience, where we sat in long rows on the floor, crosslegged (except Jill can't manage this and gets very uncomfortable). First they brought everyone a large stainless steel plate and bowl, then chapatis, dhal, and pickles, to be eaten with the fingers, and water to drink. We had to wait for the prayer before eating. Second helpings were offered for those who wanted them. After the lunch we carried on with our walk through narrow bazaar streets, stopping for a drink and a snack at a little dhaba (foodstall). We were fascinated watching the cook make naan (bread) - slapping them on the tandoor, then when they were done flipping them with long irons straight onto the plates. Our only purchase was a set of 12 glass bangles for Rp10 for Jill. We ambled back to our hotel, meeting two westerners on the way, the only ones we saw all day. When we discovered we were all Canadians, we stopped and chatted on the sidewalk for over half an hour. They are also planning to go to Sri Lanka next, to take an acupuncture course at a hospital in Colombo.

We had had a wonderful day, absolutely no hassles. We hadn't expected to spend so long inside the temple, but it was so interesting and people were so friendly. Many people came up to us to share offerings of some sweet concoction. No one pestered us; in fact everyone has been very nice to us and not in the least pushy.

Back at the hotel the old Sikh man came to our room to deliver our train tickets for tomorrow. We were happy to part with the extra Rp100 (his fee) when we found we had reservations straight through to Jaipur by a route which we would never have discovered for ourselves (Amritsar-Jullundar Cantonment-Delhi-Jaipur). We had another good dinner in the hotel dining room. The waiter asked to be paid for "good service" and we had a discussion with him about the 10% service charge already added to the bill.

Wednesday, 15 November (on train)

We were at a bit of a loose end since we were leaving this afternoon and there didn't seem to be anything else of significance to see. We walked to and explored the new city. The streets were broader and we noticed several fancy looking private hospitals/clinics, but everything else was just as ramshackle. We sat down in a park to rest and were immediately surrounded by about 20 schoolboys, supposedly out to play badminton, who were on their break. They gave us no peace so we decided to leave, but not before shaking hands with them all. On the way back we stopped for a kulfi (something like ice-cream) served with rice noodles and syrup. We killed some time back at the hotel watching TV in the lounge - India vs NZ cricket - before heading off for the station again.

The station was very busy because some major trains were late. We had been trying to decide whether to take the 14:25 or the 16:25 to Jullundar Cantonment (we got conflicting information as to which trains stopped there). We decided on the latter because it started from Amritsar; the 14:25 still hadn't arrived when we left.

It was dark when we arrived at Jullundar, two hours later, where we had a chilly 4 1/2 hour wait for the Jaipur train. There were a lot of military personnel about, and some of the trains that stopped had armed guards in every carriage. Our train arrived on time at 22:50, jam packed. The usual chaos while people fought to get on and off in the few minutes before the train set off again. We couldn't find our names on the lists posted on either coach S10 or S11 (we had been told it would be one of these) because the computer printout was so faint as to be illegible in almost total darkness. We had to jump on just before the train pulled out. All berths were already occupied and the people in the ones we thought were ours appeared to be there legitimately. The coach was enormously overcrowded, aisles piled high with baggage and people on top of that. At the next stop, about an hour later, Denys scrambled out to have another attempt to read the reservation lists, this time with a flashlight, and found we were in the wrong coach, but still he couldn't identify our berth numbers. Anyway, at this point there was so many people in the coach we couldn't possibly have got out with our baggage - Denys only just managed to get back inside in time and the door was being held shut to stop more people from getting in. We just had to resign ourselves to a rather uncomfortable night, both perched on the edge of a lower berth, which had someone sleeping in it, our feet packed in among various pieces of baggage. At each stop more people got in and came clambering over everyone to try and find a spot to squeeze in. Amazingly no troubles erupted; even though we were all packed in like sardines, people were generally very good natured and accommodating. Denys managed to doze briefly, his head ending up resting on the shoulder of his neighbour (a reserve policeman). When Denys awoke looking embarrassed, his neighbour pointed to his shoulder, indicating it was OK to go back to sleep again. We reached Delhi by 5:30 a.m. where the majority of people got off. We moved to the next coach to claim our rightful seats, occupied by someone else now, but managed to negotiate a pair of seats nearby.

Thursday, 16 November, Jaipur

Curiously, even though we were in Delhi station for an hour, no vendors came round with drinks or breakfast, and it was a couple of hours before we stopped at a station where we could buy something to eat (cold vegetable cutlets between two slices of dry bread.) Tea now comes in clay cups which are used once and thrown away. After half an hour or so, Jill gave up trying to stay upright and climbed up to the top bunk for a doze. Once we were clear of the slums of Delhi, the journey was quite interesting and time passed quickly. We were soon into camel country and the scenery changed from flat to the hilly outcrops of Rajasthan. Denys chatted with a university student (4th year electrical engineering) from Jaipur University who completely ignored Jill, - didn't even so much as glance in her direction. She reminded herself that this is the way men show respect to other men's wives, and she will have to get used to it.

A rickshaw driver offered to take us to any hotel for the incredibly low price of Rp10 (and later hopes you will hire him for more lucrative sightseeing.) The hotel we had picked out turned out to be some sort of old palace, loaded with character, but very rundown. The rooms were enormous rooms, with dressing rooms bigger than most regular hotel rooms. When we found out the water pump was broken and they would have to bring us buckets of water we decided to look elsewhere. We ended up taking our driver's advice and went to Madhuban guest house in a residential area, with a nice garden. It was further from the centre than we would have preferred and at the top of our budget at Rp300. This may well be the fanciest place we stay at. Both of us luxuriated under good, hot showers, Jill did a load of washing and hung it out to dry on lines in a little yard outside our room, then we both slept for an hour or so. We had lunch in the garden, then Jill fell asleep on the patio and had to take herself off to bed again. Later she discovered her waistpack was missing and was greatly relieved to find it had been picked up (from the chair where she had fallen asleep) and handed in to reception.

Feeling refreshed from our afternoon naps, we walked into town keeping our eyes open for places to eat. The problem with many Indian cities is there are no eating places between the dhabas/roadside stands with very limited choice and fancy (i.e. pretentious) places with bigger menus and higher prices. The one we chose was a fairly fancy (just opened) restaurant on MI Road where we had an excellent meal of navratin pullao and vegetable korma. We had to put up with a lot of diesel fumes on the way there and back, and we noticed a lot more traffic, especially motorbikes, since we were last here five years ago. An itinerant Rajasthani puppeteer was entertaining in the garden when we got back, as people were eating dinner, and he tried to get us to sit and watch his show, fee expected of course. We both wrote letters before bed.

Friday, 17 November, Jaipur

We thought our rickshaw driver of yesterday might have been lying in wait for us to take us sightseeing, but it was probably too early for him. Our main business for the day was to change money at the State Bank of India. It was quite a long way (opposite end of MI Road) but very efficient once we got there, involving only one employee. We wandered around the old city keeping our eyes open for a replacement for one of our plastic beakers which has broken (probably from being stepped on in the train). It needs to be a particular depth to accommodate the immersion heater, but a stainless steel tumbler, which you can find anywhere, probably won't do because it would get too hot to handle with boiling water in it. A young man who must have been watching us pick up various mugs and tumblers, suggested we might cut down a plastic mineral water bottle - he had an empty one that was quite sturdy. His place was just across the road. We might have known he was selling something - it was a school for painting miniatures. We had to politely sit through his demo, when he painted both our names on a grain of rice, feeling guilty because we had no intention of buying anything. We vowed this is the last time we will be taken in - earlier this morning it was a gem salesman - and will in future ignore anyone that tries to get friendly with us in this city.

Time was moving on and Jill was getting desperately hungry. We had hardly seen anything of the sights, just the Palace of the Winds (featured on the cover of the current Lonely Planet Guide to India) - nothing like as impressive as the photos, tucked as it is in the middle of a block of buildings. We found a reasonable place for lunch and realized we had been in before - on our last trip where we ordered S. Indian food. This time we both ordered pizzas. It was 2:30 p.m. or so when we got back to our room - time for a rest after a cup of tea. The evening was spent writing postcards (we bought a big batch today) and our journals. We didn't feel like going out again for dinner and ate a (very disappointing) meal at the hotel. Mosquitoes were biting.

Saturday, 18 November, Jaipur

We packed up in readiness for moving out (our room had been pre-booked for the weekend). We were in fact looking forward to moving closer to the centre, although we could do without the hassle, but when Denys went to pay the bill we were told we could move to a "Super Deluxe" room (Rp550) for the same price later this afternoon.

We spent the morning sightseeing - Amber Palace and Jaigarh (Tiger Fort). From the main road a narrow, steep winding road led up to Amber Palace, jammed with elephant traffic. They were charging Rp250 one way . We walked up, faster than the elephants but had to be flatten ourselves against the wall several times to allow elephants to pass, and dodging their football size droppings. People on the elephants were constantly harangued by touts to buy postcards and souvenirs - we were hardly bothered, especially when we gave the "no" hand signal that Indians do.

Amber Palace is some 500 years old, built before the Maharaja founded the city of Jaipur. It sits on the spur of a hill, with the Jaigarh Fort overlooking it. This was not as ornate as some palaces we have been in, being older, but was still impressive. Scenes were being shot for an Indian movie in one of the courtyards. Male dancers were dressed in shocking pink jumpsuits, females in very un-Indian short skirts and high boots. Neither group impressed us in their dance routines.

We continued on up a rough cobbled road to the Fort on the hilltop. This covers a much greater area than the palace with high crenellated walls, which in turn sit on cliff tops. In the 1000 years of its existence it was never conquered. Covered reservoirs inside the fort hold 6 million gallons fed by ducts from neighbouring hills; these reservoirs were only used in emergency - there were more reservoirs outside. The fort had its own cannon foundry and there were numerous examples of its work there, each cannon (named) with its full history of every battle from when it was made, some in the early 1600s. The biggest wheeled cannon ever made was on display.

We had a surprisingly good lunch at a very ordinary looking restaurant inside the fort, owned by the former head chef of the Maharaja of Jaipur. It was nice to be able to get half portions so we could try a greater variety of dishes.

It would have been nice to sit outside in the late afternoon and early evening and enjoy the cooler temperatures, but we were always driven inside by the fierce mosquitoes. Our new room is beautifully decorated and has a huge four poster bed. The bathroom is very deluxe with a tiled shower (but the water still floods over the whole floor and takes ages to drain). Since we had had a big late lunch, we ate snacks/sweets from nearby dhabas for dinner, and then went out to investigate band music playing not far off. The focus was a house up the street which had been set up for a wedding reception; the bridegroom's procession was making its way towards it. First came a big cart illuminated with numerous green fluorescent tubes and all the amplification equipment and seven big loudspeakers, the singer and an accordionist - the car being pushed/pulled by several men. Behind this, to define the group, seven women down each side carried the electric cable powered by a big generator carried on a bicycle cart at the back. Each woman carried a pot from which sprouted two "chandeliers" and two green fluorescent tubes. Inside the two lines were all the guests and a band of at least 20 musicians, including two euphoniums. All the men were mixed in with the musicians and danced all the time, tossing money around. Behind them, all the women watched. Then came the bridegroom on his horse, both elaborately clothed, the horse decorated with mirrored brocade, who didn't seem to get much attention at all. It took easily an hour for the procession to move a hundred yards, meanwhile causing a big traffic jam. The wedding reception place was incredible to say the least. It looked like an enormous marble palace until you realized it was all just a facade - a temporary structure built on a wooden framework like a movie set. Fancy carpets were laid down and banquet areas set out. Hundreds of guests were all decked out in their best finery. An entertaining experience.

Sunday, 19 November, Jaipur

At the Indian Coffee House where we had breakfast we got into conversation with an Indian (Krishnan Goyal) we had noticed at a nearby table on Friday. He is a high school teacher of accounting/economics and an avid stamp collector. Incredibly he has been to Lions Bay (Max Wyman's home). He invited us to his home in the old city for lunch ("simple chapati and vegetable"), which we accepted. We had planned to visit the city palace after breakfast but some boys told us it was closed Sundays, like all government offices. Foolishly we believed them and turned around again, walking back by way of the Arya Niwas (where we stayed five years ago) and the bus stand to find out the times to Ranthambore for tomorrow - only one bus a day in the evening.

After a rest in our room we took a rickshaw to the old city, passing an accident where a wheel had come off a camel cart loaded with timber, trapping the camel which was making a terrible noise. We found Mr. Goyal's house, built when Jaipur was originally built; not a separate building but a tiny apartment (a couple of rooms off a courtyard on the second floor) which belonged to his great grandfather. His wife is from Sri Lanka, but typically she did not socialize with us as foreigners. He had met her as a pen friend and gone to Sri Lanka to get married, against his family's wishes. He told us he had made a bad marriage and had only stayed with her for the sake of the children (now aged 16-20). One of these slept on the floor at our feet throughout our two hour visit. Lunch was excellent, - chapatis with ghee, potatoes and dal. Even the black tea was good, with pepper and cardamom. As a favour we changed a $20 bill (Canadian) for Rp500 (Indians have great trouble in changing foreign currency). He showed us some of the batiks he paints in his spare time and asked us if we would sell some in Canada for him. We tried to be as non-committal as we could without being rude - they would never sell here.

Back at the guest house, a mouse jumped onto Jill's lap while she was having tea in the room - so much for the "super deluxe"!

Monday, 20 November, Sawai Madhupur

We have plenty to see before we leave this morning: first the city observatory (free on Mondays as it turns out) - quite incredible enormous (up to 100 feet high) instruments 300 years old; then the city palace (not closed on Sundays!). As at the observatory they wanted Rp50 for cameras, and when Denys said he wasn't taking photos and asked for a locker, it was clear they didn't have any, and they told him to keep his camera in his bag. Compared to some palaces we have seen it didn't seem that special.

We left Jaipur in the afternoon for Sawai Madhupur, a small town adjacent to Ranthambore national park. We had a bit of a problem buying the tickets. The man at the first wicket said he couldn't sell us a ticket for Sawai Madhupur; the second one who was even more difficult to understand sold us a ticket to Kota, further down the line than we needed to go. Eventually we found out there is a minimum charge on "superfast" trains, and Kota was the minimum distance in this case. We hadn't expected to have any trouble getting seats since the train was starting from Jaipur but there were crowds of people waiting. When the train stopped (it was arriving from Bombay) there was a mad stampede as people tried to board before everyone had got off. Denys thought he had lost his glasses which he had on a cord around his neck but later found he had put them in his pocket before starting the mad dash. We are getting more assertive at dealing with these situations now and managed to get two seats together which we held onto despite all pressures. We saw people paying porters Rp100 to find a space for them to sit on the luggage rack. By the time the train left, in our compartment designed for 10 there were 28 people, including 6 on the luggage racks. Even so, our main discomfort was from the wooden seats. Getting off the train at Sawai Madhupur was only slightly better than getting on. The town turned out to be a real dump, with garbage, mud and pigs rooting around everywhere. None of the hotels looked too appealing either. We allowed ourselves to be "guided" to the Hotel Swagat (hot and cold water, "many foreigners stay here") which was one of the worst places, certainly the worst value, we stayed at in all our four months. We were told that Sawai Madhupur is more expensive because the tourist season is so short (Nov-Mar). We were pleasantly surprised to get a decent meal including excellent tandoor roti, in one of the restaurants in town. When we got back to our hotel we were told that all the places in the jeeps for tomorrow were filled so we arranged to go on a truck (holding 20).

Tuesday, 21 November, Bharatpur

A poor night's sleep - too cold. We had asked for two blankets (quilts actually) last night but when we got them didn't feel like risking using them in case of bedbugs. We were waiting for the truck at 5:45 a.m. and then found that plans had changed. We were to go by jeep with one other person, a German girl, who agreed to cover the extra cost (normally shared by 6 people) as she was desperate to have one last try (her fifth) for a tiger. It was freezing cold driving in an open jeep at that hour; we really hadn't anticipated and prepared for it. Our guide was wearing a heavy overcoat, scarf, gloves and fur hat. We spent three hours driving around the park on small tracks. Unfortunately, our guide (perhaps to please the German girl) was fixated on tigers and paid no attention to any other wildlife. We did see fresh spoor on the road and a park attendant reported seeing two tigers shortly before we got there. The park itself, previously the Maharaja of Jaipur's hunting reserve, was very attractive, with long escarpment, valleys, lakes and open woodland.

Back at the hotel we tried to warm up with hot coffee in our room before going out for a second breakfast (good cheese parathas and dhal), and made a quick decision to leave town. We booked tickets to Bharatpur (2 1/2 hrs) packed up and left. After yesterday's experience we weren't looking forward to getting on the train (Frontier Mail - Bombay to Amritsar) in mid-route.. The Assistant Stationmaster came over to talk to Denys (he wants us to write and let him know if Michael is coming next year) and assured him there would be no problem.. We had plenty of time to board the train, and managed to get seats after a bit of pushing. The train wasn't too crowded but a lot of people were lying on their bunks and Denys had to sit bent double under a middle berth for half the time. As usual we were dusty and dirty by the time we got off, even after such a short journey.

In Bharatpur we got an autorickshaw, unusually large and a real boneshaker, to take us to a hotel near the park. Fortunately there was a whole string of them nearby as it wasn't until the fifth one that we managed to negotiate something suitable in our price range. Most were nearly full with no mid-range rooms left. Our room at the Eagle's Nest was pretty good, with a big grassy area for sitting out in. The beds have foam mattresses with clean white sheets (top as well as bottom) and nice big white towels in the bathroom. On the negative side, the one window is blocked by a massive air conditioner, the so-called hot water is only tepid, and the restaurant is lousy. We waited well over an hour for our dinner to appear. Mosquitoes were very bad, both inside and out, and the hotel supplied us with a plug in electric mosquito repellent.

Wednesday, 22 November, Bharatpur

We needed our blankets (nice clean ones here) last night and Jill had to get up and put on sweater and long pants as well to keep warm. No hot shower either this morning - we had to make do with tepid water from the tap. We went into Koeladeo National Park with a rickshaw driver who turned out to be quite knowledgeable about birds and pointed out lots of species to us. The park covers 29 sq. km. of flat land, much of it shallow lake and marsh. Road and tracks allow you to get around much of it. Highlights included: a pair of whitebacked vultures mating (making a great deal of noise), huge colonies of nesting painted storks, snake birds with outstretched wings, three large (15 ft) pythons basking in the sun. We paid our driver off after 1 3/4 hrs and walked back to the entrance on our own. There were quite a lot of people in the park, Indian and foreign, some with enormous camera setups. Entry fee Rp25 and rickshaws at Rp25 per hour - very reasonable.

We were in the restaurant ordering lunch when one of the two English girls who arrived yesterday came to tell us that one of them had been throwing up in the night after eating dinner there. It tended to make us lose our appetite a bit. We had pakoras and stuffed parathas, neither very good, and decided to go into town for dinner. We ate food off the street, which at least we knew was freshly prepared, and bought fruit for tomorrow. We are getting a ride with the English girls in their chauffeur driven car as far as Fatepur Sikri.

Thursday, 23 November, Bharatpur

Only a trickle of water from the tap this morning, and it took 20 minutes to fill a bucket. We left at 8:00 a.m. and arrived at Fatepur Sikri half an hour later. There was hardly anyone around at that time, perfect for taking pictures, and too early for the "guides". Someone who was "not a guide, just a custodian" kept following us babbling away until we told him in no uncertain terms that we preferred silence. The palace and mosque were built by Akbar in 1500 and was only occupied for 14 years before being abandoned, perhaps because of water problems, or perhaps for political reasons. After we had seen the palace we went for breakfast in the nearby village - omelettes and butter chapatis - before starting on the mosque area. This contains the big white marble tomb of Sheik Salim Chisti who foretold the birth of Akbar's three sons and led to the construction of Fatepur Sikri. The big main gate to the mosque, at the top of a long flight of steps (always very steep), is very impressive. After some further exploring we found the path to the caravanserai (a protected area for trade caravans to overnight) down by the river. This has not been maintained in the same state as the main parts but was still worth a visit.

In the village we saw a dentist set up on the sidewalk with an ancient foot operated drill; also dancing bears. We managed to get a bus going directly to Bharatpur and got dropped out right by our hotel. We spent a while talking in the garden to a Dutch family from the Dutch Embassy in New Delhi. They invited us to visit them on our way through at the end of our trip. Denys walked into "town" alone for dinner - pakoras, samosas and patties (Jill was having peanut butter she inherited from the English girls) and brought back freshly made carrot halva for dessert. On the way back he was gored by a cow on the street! He carried the marks on his thigh for weeks.

Friday, 24 November, Agra

We rented a pair of binoculars for our second visit to the park. Yesterday's rickshaw driver (No. 58) wasn't around so we took No. 53 who turned out to be more knowledgeable and offered more information. Although his command of English was quite good, his pronunciation was sometimes difficult to figure out. We saw several "rare" birds. This time Denys wrote down the names of birds we have seen - 56 species by the time we had finished.

Packed up and walked the few yards to the intersection to catch a bus to Agra. The driver of a jeep stopped and tried to persuade us with go with him for Rp200 ("only one hour direct"). We offered Rp100 maximum (which he wouldn't take) and the next minute along came the bus, we got good seats and we were in Agra an hour an a half later, for only Rp16 each. We got an auto from the bus stand which promptly got rammed by a motor bike. Both drivers exchanged "looks" but neither bothered to inspect for damage. The Hotel Jaiwal ("All the facilities of a two star hotel; in heart of poshed centre; reputed restaurants on stepping out"). Management was very anxious to please, and when we agreed to take the room they changed the sheets (hard to tell whether the original ones were clean or not) gave us top sheets, toilet paper, a mosquito zapper and freshly laundered curtains. It turned out to be a pretty reasonable place, with a really good bathroom (after they had got the hot water working). Nearby were several restaurants and a bazaar.

We decided not to rush off straight away to see the Taj Mahal but to save it for tomorrow which is Jill's birthday. Jill did a load of washing that had piled up, then went for a haircut at the Imperial Beauty Salon in the hotel lobby. The tiny salon was bursting at the seams with half a dozen women waiting their turn, all for perms it seemed. She wondered what was going on in the curtained off area at one end of the room, and then realized it was where the shampooing was done, out of sight of the two male stylists. She was well pleased with the cut and blow dry for Rp50.

Later we walked to the main post office and explored the area of Sadar Bazaar which has some quite classy shops and restaurants. Tour buses regularly come by this area for shopping. We enjoyed browsing in the book shop next door to our hotel and saw several books by Indian authors we would love to read. It's a good thing we don't have space in our packs. We need to trade what we have before acquiring new ones. Just as we were getting ready to go to bed we heard a wedding procession approaching. It took over an hour to reach the hotel and recede into the distance.

Saturday, 25 November (Jill's birthday) , Agra

Jill awoke during the night feeling sick and didn't eat any breakfast. She decided to go ahead anyway to see the Taj Mahal, and we arrived there a little before regular price tickets (Rp10) go on sale at 8:00 a.m. (From 6:00-8:00 a.m. and 4:00-7:00 p.m. entry is Rp100.) The ticket seller tried the usual trick of holding back part of our change. There were few people about but it much busier by the time we left. The majority of foreigners appeared to be French today. We were surprised by the absence of touts and guides -in fact we were amazed all the time we were in Agra after everything we had heard about the aggressiveness that tourists are subject to in Agra. Perhaps it's because so many "green" tourists visit Agra that it has that reputation.

The reflecting pools in front of the Taj were all dry and the gardens were quite neglected. Still, the Taj itself was impressive - not at all the letdown we thought it might be. Denys carried his flashlight so we were able to examine the jewelled inlays in the marble, particularly seeing the translucence of all the stones. Like many places you visit here you have to take your shoes off, and for the first time we saw you could rent cloth overshoes instead. To commemorate World Heritage Week (Nov 18-25) there was a photographic exhibition of World Heritage sites. (This is the fourth of these sites we have visited in four days: Bharatpur, Fatehpur Sikri, Taj Mahal and Agra Fort.) By the time Jill got to the exhibition she felt so queasy she was clutching a plastic bag, and so she took an auto back to the hotel where she spent the rest of the day in bed.

Denys had breakfast and wandered the streets around the Taj, which turned out to be quite a travellers' area. He also went down to the river to get another view of the Taj. From there he walked to Agra Fort. The map shows parkland between the two, and it is, sort of. However, it is all fenced to keep you out and you have to walk along the road. He didn't visit the Fort, saving this for when Jill can come too, but continued on to the old city. After lunch he walked some more, this time getting into the old city. One rickshaw driver trying to deflect him so that he would ride with him, said there was no point in heading for the Jama Masjid since it was for Moslems only and under heavy police security, and he wouldn't be allowed near it. Also, the Kotari bazaar, the main old city bazaar was closed today. Both these were total fabrications. The Jama Masjid - absolutely no problem getting in - was quite old but is nothing special. Wandering through the old bazaar he found himself in the shoemaking area - wholesalers of soles and other shoe parts as well as completed shoes, then walked all the way back to the hotel again - a total of about 16 km. today. He ate dinner alone - Jill wasn't eating - and later when she started to vomit and have diarrhoea he went to a pharmacy for medication (20 pills - 10 for each symptom for 5 days). All she ate today was two tangerines with lots of ginger tea to drink. So much for the fancy birthday dinner!

Another wedding procession passed the hotel, but it was still fairly early and didn't prevent us from sleeping. (We are still going to bed early, 9:30 p.m. at the latest.) Instead, to plague us a large party of Indians arrived next door with much shouting, door banging and moving of furniture, etc. Denys rigged up a towel to cover the window above our door to cut out some of the bright fluorescent light in the hallway that disturbed us last night.

Sunday, 26 November, Agra

Jill was feeling better this morning and ate some breakfast, although she didn't want to risk venturing out yet. Denys hired a rickshaw for the morning to do some sightseeing: to Itmad-ul-Dalmah, tomb of Ghiyas (1622); Chini-ka-Rauza (another tomb in state of advanced decay) and Ram Bagh, believed to be the first mogul garden in India, now in ruins. It was difficult to get any idea of what it must have been like originally. On the way back the rickshaw driver got into an altercation with the driver of a herd of buffaloes which had jostled the rickshaw. After the shouting match the herder slapped the rickshaw driver across the face! Rickshaw drivers in Agra have a racket that they receive Rp5 if they take a tourist to certain shops, so they ask you to go as a favour -"just look, no need to buy anything". To humour the driver he went to one shop, walked straight in and out again - and the driver was happy.

After lunch Jill was feeling well enough to go out to Agra Fort. Being Sunday it was very crowded, (95% Indians) with busloads of tourists from Delhi, but it was well worth it all the same. It even adds somewhat to the experience. Once inside you don't feel you are in a heavily fortified enclosure until you look through a window and see the enormous drop below into the double moat. Inside the fort there are a series of palaces built in the 1600s. A lot of the white marble here is starting to turn brown. The Taj Mahal is being treated to stop this and no more heavy industry is permitted in Agra to protect the marble. There is still plenty of pollution from vehicles. We had hired a rickshaw there and back but had to walk up the first hill back from the fort as the driver couldn't manage it, then he had the nerve to complain when we paid him off that the price was for only one person. Denys went to eat out alone (at a fairly fancy place - "Hot Bites") where he had a very mediocre vegetable biryani.

Monday, 27 November, Gwalior

This morning we had an easy 3 hour bus ride to Gwalior. This road used to be notorious for attacks by thuggees and dacoits. It was mainly a straight, flat road through agricultural land, although one stretch took us through badlands. A small girl with her father on the seats in front of us was sick out of the window almost constantly. A man next to us asked if we believed in God, then told us about the Hindu stone god who is drinking milk which is the big news in all the papers at the moment. In Gwalior we took an auto straight to a hotel recommended in "Rough Guide". The Manmandir turned out to be a bit of a dump and obviously was not used to having foreigners. All notices, including room rates, were in Hindi only; in the lobby a board with slots for names of guests had only Indian names. There was only one room left, very grungy with paan stains on the wall and it obviously hadn't been cleaned since the last occupant. We couldn't be bothered to go looking anywhere else though. We demanded and got "clean" (i.e. freshly washed) sheets and pillowcases. No top sheets, which are a rarity anyway, but there were quilts. The bathroom (cold water only; perhaps we are out of the hot water area now) had the expected squat toilet but with an old cast iron toilet tank patented by Shanks! Unexpectedly there was a TV in the room, which the boy took some trouble to adjust for us. Later in the trip we realized that just about all Indian style hotel rooms have TV and we learned to avoid them like the plague (because the Indians in the room next door are sure to be playing them at maximum volume).

Our first priority in Gwalior was to change money. A nearby branch of the State Bank of India turned out to be just offices, but the security guard told us where to go to for foreign exchange, put us in a tempo going in that direction, and gave the driver instructions where to let us off. First impressions of the town: dirty and squalid (worse than usual filth around) with bad air pollution from traffic. The main square is nicely laid out, royal palms and interesting architecture but the once splendid old palaces and buildings are now being used as stores and are almost obliterated and ruined by billboards. One side of the square was taken up by an enormous State Bank building, but when we went in there we were told to go to yet another branch across the road. We were getting concerned since it was now almost 2:00 p.m. which we thought might be closing time (it was at 2:30 p.m.). Even though there was no one ahead of us it took a full half hour to cash some travellers' cheques. We received 124 bank notes - a stack one inch high - which was not easy to get into our money belts. It was an eye-opener to go into this enormous and imposing bank building (the main "hall" was three storeys high) which showed an appalling lack of maintenance, and find everywhere drowning in paper, with multiple employees to approve every transaction. We couldn't help thinking what a shock the staff would have to see a Canadian bank operation, and to realize the freedom even a junior teller has to approve transactions.

Although it was getting quite late in the afternoon we decided to go and do the fort, so that we could move on tomorrow. We mistakenly paid off our auto driver at the ticket entrance when we could have ridden all the way to the top, another kilometre or so up a steep hill. We noticed the driver hung around for a bit after we bought our tickets, but of course he never said anything. We had negotiated the fare in advance. The rocks by the road between the first and second entrances were carved with enormous figures, mainly Buddhas. Gwalior fort is an enormous fortification sitting on top of a ridge with vertical cliffs all around, 2.8 km long. There isn't much inside now, - a couple of palaces, a private school (the Scindia School, founded 1897), a TV tower, a telephone microwave tower, and a lot of empty land. One of the palaces - Man Mandir - was particularly interesting, covered in blue and yellow tiles depicting ducks, elephants and tigers. Overall, it was a pleasant place to escape the town below. We had to walk all the way down past both gates and to the nearest village before we got a ride back. We ate at the hotel next door, Banjara, which to our surprise turned out to be fairly fancy with a varied menu and reasonable prices.

We tried to phone Anne from the long distance office across the street but couldn't even get a line to Delhi in the time available to call (between 9:00-9:15 p.m. here which is just before she leaves for work at 7:30 a.m. in Vancouver). It was very noisy on the street until quite late. Jill's bed, which she complained about when she first tested it, (with a webbing mattress, not much different from some of the folding ones you see people lugging about on train journeys) turned out to really comfortable, in fact one of the best of the whole trip! Denys's stomach is now a bit "off " so he got pills from a nearby pharmacy.

Tuesday, 28 November, Orchha

We thought of going to the Banjara for breakfast, but neither of us had much appetite and we wanted to get moving. We made do with cookies, bananas and coffee in our room. We were lucky to get a bus (to Jhansi for Orchha) within half an hour. When we arrived at the bus stand at 8:00 a.m. and asked for a bus to Orchha (expecting them to be every half hour or so) we were told there wouldn't be one until 10:00 a.m. That would be the Khajuraho bus (luxury) coming from Agra, which meant it would most likely be full. We were considering changing our route to do Khajuraho before Orchha - might as well go the whole way while we had the chance. As Denys was wandering around, a man came up to him and said he was the head of the bus stand, and if we just sat in one spot he would tell us when the bus came in (more importantly where it came in so we could make a dash for it) Less than 30 minutes later he appeared and said "Come now" and told us to get on a bus which was leaving at 8:40. The bus had arrived from somewhere else. We had missed the first mad rush but managed to appropriate one seat for Jill and Denys got a corner of another seat and then about half way through the journey we got two seats together. When we found it was no luxury bus but the regular state bus we decided to stick to our original plan and go only as far as Orchha today. The bus had tire problems, which is why the journey took so long (3 hrs) and when we got to Jhansi it went straight to the bus garage instead of the bus stand, where the driver proceeded to patch the inner tube. The state bus company, with hundreds of buses, doesn't even manage to keep a spare wheel ready. After an hour wasted there we backtracked into town to the bus stand. Jhansi bus stand is remembered as a particularly obnoxious place - garbage, smelly stagnant water and mud everywhere. Denys went to try and find out where to catch the Orchha bus. One man told him there was no bus, another said there would be one at 3:00 p.m. (it was now 1:00 p.m.), then changed his mind (under pressure from the first man) and said we could get a bus-taxi (tempo) "over there". As we headed "over there" we heard someone calling "Orchha" - a private bus ready to leave with seats available! It only took 20 minutes to get to Orchha.

When we got off the bus, we stopped in a restaurant for a cold drink and to enquire about accommodation. Although we were told it was "very expensive" we decided to try for the Sheesh Mahal Palace, recommended by the guide books as "out of the Arabian Nights". In fact, it wasn't that expensive and to us was utter luxury - peace, quiet and space in a totally exotic setting. We were thrilled to get a room (for one night only unfortunately; all rooms are booked for a group tomorrow night). The palace was built around 1550 and hasn't had a lot done to it since, except the creation of 8 guest rooms and a reception/dining area. Even the menu was a treat - we both had fish and chips ("done the English way") with "boiled vegetables". Not haute cuisine but a welcome change. The Sheesh Mahal is the highest of the three palaces, with superb views all around, temples and forest, and the dozens of cupolas of the palaces themselves. Sitting on the big terrace outside our room, (at the opposite end of the terrace is the maharaja's suite) it was not hard to transport yourself back in time. Dozens of parakeets fluttered around noisily at dusk and a number of big vultures used the cupolas as perches. Jill had trouble getting off to sleep - it was all too exciting and far too quiet!

Our "room" (apartment size) was 32 ft. long with an anteroom and an enormous bathroom. Apart from the two beds there were two lounging divans, one in a window alcove. Since we only have it for the one night we decided we should spend as much time in it as possible and leave the outside exploring till later. Jill was anxious to get started on the pile of washing - plenty of hot water and room to string lines up in the bathroom - but couldn't get going until the workman had finished trying to fix the toilet seat.

Wednesday, 29 November, Orchha

It was cloudy when we first got up, the first time in a month that it has been anything but totally cloudless. After breakfast we sat around the hotel soaking up the atmosphere and then went out looking for alternative accommodation for tonight. Besides this place and Betwa Cottages (even more expensive we were told) there were only a couple of very cheap places (Rp70 and 90). The Palkih Mahal, recommended by Rough Guide, was an old haveli in a nice location, but unfortunately the rooms didn't live up to the exterior. They were all three bedded with very ratty sheets and pillowcases, and only two outside bathrooms for the lot. So we headed for Betwa Cottages, where we got our own really nice individual cottage (one year old) in nicely landscaped grounds overlooking the river. Like the Sheesh Mahal it is owned and operated by the Madhya Pradesh Tourist Development Corporation and was without doubt the most luxurious place we stayed in. We went to see the two most important temples, neither of them very exciting. We wondered why they fell into disuse and were allowed to decay. Both are much grander buildings than the temple currently in use, painted a bright pink, but then this one has an idol which came from Ayodhya.

Finding somewhere to eat in mid-afternoon turned out to be more difficult than we expected. The town was almost deserted in comparison to yesterday, which we found out later was a market day. Denys settled for a very mediocre thali which Jill didn't even want to look at although she was starving and consequently very ratty. She bought half a papaya (quite expensive here, a bit early in the season) to eat back in the room. Late in the afternoon staff came to the cottage to take our dinner order (same menu as Sheesh Mahal) and we were most impressed to find it ready at 7:15 p.m. as requested. We enjoyed chatting with a NZ couple en route home after a long stay in the UK.

Thursday, 30 November, Orchha

A good, peaceful night. After breakfast we went for a walk, crossing the bridge over the river. It was hard to ignore the fact that the river bank by the bridge is the local toilet. Hotel washing gets done nearby and spread out on the rocks to dry. The river was full of boulders and flowing quite fast. The bridge, perhaps 100 yards long, is just a causeway of arches, only just wide enough for one vehicle and no rails of any sort. If someone is on the bridge when a vehicle comes they have to almost hang over the edge. We walked in the woods on the other bank for a while from where we could get a good view of the chattris. Most rivers we see at this time of year, though clearly enormous in the rainy season, are almost dried up.

We spent the rest of the morning exploring the palace complex. The top (and latest one), the Jahangir Mahal, is the most spectacular with three main levels above ground (and more below for the hot weather and defence) Superb lookouts in every direction, some of it quite precarious with holes in the walkways and often missing rails with three storey drops beneath. The palace area is all surrounded by a substantial wall with battlements. We discovered that the entrance in use for the Sheesh Mahal is really the back. There is an impressive gateway with a gate studded with spikes, to prevent elephants from battering it down. The other side of the palace, the front, is much more imposing and has camel stables nearby. We decided not to get caught out for lunch today and bought pakoras and excellent samosas just being made on the street. A small group of Americans arrived at the hotel in time for dinner, five of them in an Ambassador, and we talked with one of them later, (Tom Harris from Seattle).

Friday, 1 December, Khajuraho

Today we plan to catch the Khajuraho bus from Jhansi at 11:45 a.m. This was starting from Agra, and we were less than enthusiastic, recalling how crowded the bus was from Agra to Jhansi. We took a tempo from Orchha to Jhansi and Denys immediately set about making enquiries at the bus stand. He came upon a luxury bus, empty now, and due to leave (he was told) at 12:30 p.m. This seemed a much better option than the Agra bus and we booked seats (our choice) and enjoyed the relative comfort of the bus instead of the squalor of the bus stand. Someone outside the bus tried to persuade us to go in his car leaving now ("bus doesn't go till 1:30 p.m."). The bus actually left at 1:00 p.m. packed out and people standing. There were six other travellers on the bus, the first time we have been on a bus this trip with other westerners.

We made good time at first, covering the first one third of the journey in 1 1/2 hours; then we stopped in a small town for half an hour and by the time we left, the bus was more crowded than we have ever seen - well over 100 people standing in the aisle and crushing the people sitting down. From then on it was slow going with another half hour stop and not much later (50 km. from Khajuraho), another stop of 1 hr. 40 mins. The bus staff just disappeared each time without a word on how long we were stopping for. We finally arrived in Khajuraho at 7:30 p.m. - 6 1/2 hrs. for 176 km. Denys was having stomach cramps and in a tearing hurry to get to a bathroom. We decided to go along with a rep of the Hotel Lakeside waiting at the bus stand and five minutes later we were checking into this clean, new hotel. Denys made a beeline for the bathroom, not a moment too soon. We went out later for a meal and managed to call Anne, although not using Canada Direct.

Saturday, 2 December, Khajuraho

Denys was up several times in the night and didn't have much appetite for breakfast. We looked around for a pharmacy but the only one open looked very dismal and disorganized and didn't inspire confidence. We went to the same restaurant as last night where Jill had a strange version of French toast - bread was dipped in a heavy batter. We wondered whether this was another "pure veg" (no eggs used) as so many seem to be in Khajuraho. Since Denys wasn't eating he had plenty of time to watch the food preparation and he wasn't impressed.

We went into the western group of temples sited in an area of parkland, two minutes from our hotel in the centre of town - an unusual oasis of calm here. Given the prominence of the place as one of the foremost temple sites in India, it was surprisingly quiet. The stone carving, extremely fine and detailed, is incredibly well preserved, so that it looks almost freshly carved. It isn't clear what restoration may have been done, probably not much more than cleaning. We went across the road to the museum, included in the 50 paise (half a rupee) admission to the temples.

We rested in our room for a while in the afternoon and read today's "Times of India". We also bought, wrote and mailed another batch of postcards. On the way back from a walk in the afternoon we came upon an old man struggling to push a cart uphill and he asked Denys to give him a hand. He cracked up laughing when Denys stuck his hand out and said "baksheesh". Jill who had been eating lightly for the past few days, has got her appetite back, just as Denys's has disappeared. We went to a so-called Swiss place where Jill had "grilled vegetables" - stir fried actually - which was quite good.

Khajuraho is the worst place we have come across for being hassled. As soon as we set foot outside the hotel we were set upon by vendors (postcards, books, see my shop etc.) and rickshaw drivers, no matter how many times we passed by them. Locals blamed this on a drop in tourism - there were not many others around, except when the odd tour bus came in, and they didn't stay for long. The kids here were also the cheekiest we have come across, always asking for money, chocolate, bonbons, etc. Some tourists have a lot to answer for in encouraging this sort of behaviour. Denys kept giving them lectures on how rude it is to ask for things and many times we were sorely tempted to smack them.

Sunday, 3 December, Khajuraho

Jill did a mountain of washing after breakfast and hung it to dry on the balcony. We walked to the Jain temples, east of the village. These are slightly later than the others, smaller and less intricately carved. On the way there we had to walk through the potters' area, passing two very unfriendly dogs. (We returned by another route.) We set off to find the Madhya Pradesh tourism hotel thinking of having lunch there but turned back before we found it in favour of a little restaurant just across from the main temple complex where Jill had a good cheese rosti and tandoori chapati while Denys had rice pudding (made with custard?). Worth a second trip.

We wrote more cards back at the hotel and spent the rest of the afternoon at the western temples, this time going inside a few of them. The main attraction for us is that we are out of reach of street vendors, although we still have to respond to the many "hellos" and to have our photos taken. Sunday afternoon is obviously the most popular day for outings in India. There were two groups of schoolchildren with lunches, their teachers constantly blowing whistles to control them. We had an excellent dinner at an Italian restaurant (the Mediterraneo) - pizza and eggplant parmesan.

Monday, 4 December, Satna

Denys's stomach is a bit better but he still hasn't much appetite. It's a good thing we are not going to Satna by bus. We fixed up yesterday to go by jeep (Rp100 each) at 1:30 p.m. We went into the park (which is what we now call the temples across the road) for peace and quiet. It was quite chilly at first. We watched five men cutting the lawns with machetes. After about half an hour's work (one strip each) they sat down and rested for well over an hour. Then a motorized lawn mower came and did the whole lawn they were working on, after which they started doing another strip.

We ate a good lunch at the Mediterraneo; Jill had the same as yesterday but Denys only felt like risking a soup. Our jeep didn't show up until 2:15 p.m. due to some problem at the airport where it was coming from. We spent half an hour messing around the airport, waiting to pick up some newspapers (a jeep load) which were late in arriving. When we left Khajuraho we expected to be the only passengers but at the first village we picked up several more and stayed full after that. The jeep was fairly old and the road surface pretty bad so we travelled quite slowly - 3 hrs to do 117 km - and it was dark when we arrived in Satna. It was also cold riding in an open jeep, but we managed to get our sweaters out of our pack in the back at one of the short stops to drop off newspapers. The ride was quite interesting, climbing over a ridge of wooded hills.

The jeep dropped us off at the railway station where we tried to reserve tickets for the next morning for Varanasi, only to be told there was no quota. We talked briefly to an English guy who had been in the line several times and was still getting the run around. I think they ended getting one berth for three of them on the overnight train. We got a rickshaw to take us to Hotel Pratap which turned out to be a big dump with a restaurant we didn't even want to sit in. There were no other restaurants in the area so we finished up buying hard-boiled eggs off a cart on the street. There were three televisions in rooms next to ours, all tuned to different channels at full volume. We asked the desk clerk if he could do something about it but no one would pay any attention. It is on occasions like these that all our negative feelings towards Indians start to surface. How inconsiderate they are to others, etc. The racket went on until after midnight.

Tuesday, 5 December, Varanasi

We were both still tired when it was time to get up to go to the station. We had planned to catch the 8:35 a.m. train but managed to catch the 7:25 a.m., jumping on just as it was pulling out. We nearly missed it because we had been waiting on the wrong platform. We found seats in sleeper class and after Allahabad the train was almost empty. The railway crossed the Jamuna river going into Allahabad, and the Ganges on its way out. We were surprised by how small a flow there was in the Ganges, much more in the Jamuna. Where we crossed the Ganges was right next to the confluence of the Ganges and Jamuna where a big mela (fair) attracting millions of people is held every year. We spotted two freshly skinned carcasses of cows left in gullies for the dogs or to rot. Because of delays due to track repairs, the train was over an hour late by the time it arrived in Varanasi.

Outside the station at Varanasi we were grabbed by a tout who wanted to charge us Rp40 to take us to the hotel we wanted. We asked another auto driver, a much pleasanter individual, who agreed to take us there for Rp20, which seemed reasonable. We decided to go with him and the tout got so mad he said he would take us for Rp10 (impossible) which resulted in a big scene culminating in our auto's tires being let down, us ordering the tout out of the auto and the police slapping the face of the guy who had let the tires down. After getting some air in the tires we had an uneventful ride, quite a long way , to the south edge of town. Other than the distance out from the centre, the hotel was well located, right on the Ganges with some farmland in front of it and near the southernmost of the ghats. There was a restaurant on the roof, which was a good place to sit, and a reasonable menu, given the fact that it is "pure veg". The hotel wasn't quite up to the standard we expected, given the recommendation (including 15% discount) from the Hotel Surya in Khajuraho, and they had none of the cheaper Rp150 rooms left. We were not that impressed with the Rp200 room (which with the discount we got for Rp170) but we revised our opinion somewhat when we received clean sheets, blanket, towels and soap (the latter rarely being supplied except in more expensive places). We also have a small balcony facing south, good for drying washing on. We watched the sunset from the roof before dinner.

Wednesday, 6 December, Varanasi

It was a treat to eat breakfast on the roof. Denys had muesli, honey, curd and bananas. It looked so good, Jill wished she could enjoy curd. She had a banana honey paratha (no pancakes which use eggs). Then we set off walking along the ghats, the stepped banking of the river. It seemed unusual that there was no development on the other side of the river, across from a major city, just sandbanks and then forest. The entire waterfront of Varanasi is made up of over 100 ghats. These have been built at different times over the last couple of hundred years, possibly even earlier, often very haphazardly. In some cases they don't join up leaving muddy sections, usually occupied by buffaloes, in between. Although the ghats are the focus of Varanasi since all the pilgrims must come here to bathe (or be cremated), there is no civic pride apparent. Any bit of blank wall is used as a bathroom, building rubble and other garbage is tossed down from buildings above. Still, it was all very interesting and photogenic. The water intakes from the river for the Varanasi water supply are right in the middle of town, adjacent to the cremation areas where the burnt remains are dumped in the river, sewage outfalls, buffalo washing areas and river landslides. (Not to mention that untreated sewage from a number of major cities, like New Delhi, is dumped in the river upstream.) Although we always buy bottled water for drinking and use tap water (which gets boiled) for tea/coffee, here we decided to take no chances and use bottled water for everything.

Many of the riverfront buildings are actually palaces built by various maharajas in the past to provide a place to stay when they make their pilgrimage. Most of them look in poor shape. They tower high over the river, since they have to be built to accommodate massive increases in water level during the monsoon (30 ft. or more) so the bottom parts are just steps or blank stone walls. Most ghats have a specific purpose now. The main ones are used for prayer and bathing from. Immersing yourself in the Ganges is supposed to wash away all your sins. Sunrise seems to be the preferred time to do it. We wouldn't dream of putting so much as a toe in it. Some ghats are used for laundries, some for cremations. In spite of the fact that traditional cremations using wood are expensive ("thousands" of rupees, compared to Rp60 for an electric cremation in a nearby crematorium), there are about 100 cremations each day at the main ghat. 450 kg of wood and three hours are required; after that whatever is left is thrown into the Ganges. Children, pregnant women and lepers are not burned, but simply weighted with stones and dumped in the river. The first are considered free of sin and therefore not in need of purification; the lepers are considered too dangerous - "the smoke from the fire would contain bacteria which would infect many people". When we reached that ghat there were several fires burning, several corpses waiting to have pyres built, and one pyre just being lit. The flame is carried from the temple, usually by the oldest son, who then walks around the pyre five times, representing each of the elements, and then puts the flame to the pyre. (Much of that information came from a man who came to talk to us and then demanded money for being a guide!) Many people come to Varanasi to die so that they can be cremated in the Ganges; there are hostels for people who are waiting to die (death houses). It is not unusual to see dead bodies arriving on top of or in the back of a jeep on a bamboo bier. When the body is being taken to the cremation ghat, it is carried on the bier by the men of the family who chant as they go to tell people to clear a path.

We headed "inland" from the ghats in a couple of places to buy cold drinks and fruit. These areas of the bazaar are a maze of narrow alleyways and it would be very easy to get lost. We were struck by the number of armed police in one area which we could see was heavily fenced above and behind the shops. There was also a high watchtower and at one gateway people were being body searched before being allowed through. There was even a closed circuit TV camera trained on the gate. We thought at first it must be a prison then realized it was a mosque, actually the Aurangzeb mosque, and we guessed correctly that it was built on disputed ground (one of the major temples of Varanasi was adjacent). What we learned later was that this was the third anniversary of the destruction of the mosque at Ayodhya and the police throughout Uttar Pradesh were on high alert. Over 600 people were arrested as potential troublemakers.

The dhobi ghats, of which there are several on the way from our hotel to the burning ghats, were quite entertaining. Brand new silk saris (for which Varanasi is famous) were being washed in the Ganges and spread out to dry on the ghats and on any available patch of dirty sand. No attempt is made to keep people and animals away. The dhobi wallas must wash thousands of garments every day - swinging the wet garments in the air and beating them down on rocks.

We sat on our hotel roof for the rest of the afternoon and caught up with the news in a couple of Time magazines that had been left behind, then went out to explore the area around the hotel. It was quite smokey, everyone was getting their cooking fires going with cow dung or coal. There is a good selection of food available, obviously catering to foreigners, many of whom seem to be on extended stays - items like granola, peanut butter, tahini. We talked to the hotel owner about booking rail tickets and were directed to his other enterprise, which just happened to be a silk shop. We had to make a pretence of looking at some silks and sandalwood while the phone calls were made. We requested sleeper class on Friday night, and since there didn't seem to be a problem we left money (Rp500) with them to cover the cost of the tickets plus their charge of Rp50 for each ticket booked.

Thursday, 7 December, Varanasi

This morning we did the obligatory sunrise boat trip (2 hours) on the Ganges. We left at 6:30 a.m. along with three others staying at the same hotel (two English, one Belgian). The sun comes up through so much haze (rising directly across the river from the city) it is a spectacular red colour but the light is so weak that none of the colour comes through on the buildings. There were lots of boats out, all rowboats, including some big ones with 30 or 40 foreign tourists in. From the water you get a different perspective on the ghats and a better view of the buildings - well worthwhile.

We decided last night to cut Bhodgaya (where Buddha achieved enlightenment) from our itinerary when we found out that the train for Gaya leaves Varanasi late at night, which likely means no seats, and we would arrive in the early hour of the morning. Instead we would go to Sarnath (where Buddha preached his first sermon). First though we wanted to go to the Indian Airlines office to find out about flights to Sri Lanka. (Jaffna fell to government troops on December 5 but we are still not certain at this point whether we will go to Sri Lanka.) We had just set off in a rickshaw when a man from the silk shop who was getting our train reservations came out to tell us he could only get wait listed reservations and that we were 17th on the wait list. We told him to hold off and decided that since we had the rickshaw we would stop by the railway station on the way back and see if we could do any better ourselves. It was much further to Indian Airlines than we expected, especially as our driver didn't know the area and took a wrong turn. The traffic in some areas was horrendous, and crossing the Grand Trunk Road in a rickshaw amongst wall to wall trucks was quite an experience. Our driver was an old man and we wondered if the long trip, some of it uphill, was going to be too much for him, but he had no problems. I suppose his long years of experience paid off and taught him when to be pushy and when to hold back. At the station, after lining up in the computerized reservation office, we were told, as expected, that the train was full. Off we went next to the Foreign Tourist Reservation Office, where we managed to get two sleeper class tickets for tomorrow, leaving not from Varanasi but from Mogul Serai, over 20 km away on the other side of the river. This is earlier than we had planned for but there were no other spaces for several days.

By the time we had finished all our business it was too late to set off for Sarnath and it was 2:00 p.m. by the time we arrived back at our hotel. Then Denys had the unpleasant task of going to the silk shop to get our Rp500 back. It turned out not to be a problem (he had to invent a story that we had decided to go to Patna by bus) as he was busy with two westerners looking at silks. The same story had to be repeated to the hotel owner too. Before dinner we went out and stocked up on food supplies for the long journey to Bhubaneshwar. Jill bought a can of baked beans so she wouldn't have to eat train food.

Friday, 8 December (on train)

The hotel stuck us with a 5% service charge which had never been mentioned (same old problem) or more correctly, refused to give us the Rp33 change due to us. We had to walk for 10 minutes before we could get an auto to take us to the bus stand - at 7:30 the few autos around were all full - where we hoped to catch a bus to Mogul Serai. We ended up having to take an auto all the way. Since there was fierce competition for our business we were able to negotiate a decent rate. The road (NH1) was in terrible shape and it was a bone-shaking 45 minute ride. Our train (from New Delhi) arrived on time and there were relatively few people getting on. There was no crowding and we had no problem finding and claiming our seats. We were pleasantly surprised to have good berths with three other westerners, although two of these got off at Gaya (if we had known about this train earlier, we could still have followed our plan to go to Bodh Gaya). The other was an American Hare Krishna priest, married to an Indian wife and living in Puri. He spent a good part of the journey talking (to anyone who would listen) about his religion. After talking with him we decided not to stop at Bhubaneshwar but to continue on to Puri, the end of the line, where he and his Indian travel agent friend were getting off. We told the ticket collector of our change of plan and were told it would cost us an extra Rp62 each, the minimum fare on a "superfast" train, a lot for only 63 km further. The travel agent told us not to worry - he would look after getting regular tickets when the train stopped at Bhubaneshwar.

Because we had come prepared with plenty of food, naturally there were all sorts of things available on the train. Jill felt very conspicuous eating her can of baked beans and she was glad she had her stainless steel bowl with her and didn't have to eat straight from the can. The man sitting across from us, a Sikh insisted (incorrectly) that Denys was using the can opener (on the Swiss army knife) all wrong. He was an engineer from Jamshedpur, a steel city, and he suggested we get off the train with him there and be his guest for the next day. We thanked him for the offer but said we didn't want to break our journey at this point. Jamshedpur looked anything but inviting as we passed through in the dark and it was probably even worse in daylight.

By nightfall there were very few people occupying berths and only the four of us in our compartment all continuing on to Puri. It was quite chilly as some of the windows kept falling open by themselves.

Saturday, 9 December, Puri

The Indian travel agent slept through the stop at Bhubaneshwar so we didn't get our tickets. We weren't too bothered as we have never yet had our tickets checked when we got off. From Bhubaneshwar to Puri there were only the four of us in the entire coach. When we got off at Puri, to our horror there was a ticket collector at the gate and we were caught out! We were marched to the office where we were told it would cost us double the minimum superfast fare we should have paid (Rp124 each). After a lot of shouting the travel ag