Preserving the Ladakh

The degree of consciousness about protecting the environment/reducing greenhouse gases impressed me while we were in New Zealand, but the developing world is a really different place. Here, especially in India, you are surrounded by trash. And it's not very surprising when you see people walking out of stores throwing the plastic wrapping off their item onto the ground, or people on the bus throwing plastic water bottles and chip bags out the window. Clearly, the idea of littering has no moral imperative here.

So I was pleasantly surprised during our first day in Ladakh when we went to the Women's Alliance of Ladakh (WAL) to see a film called "Ancient Futures: Preserving Ladakh." The film was interesting--talking about the changes families, the environment, and the broader culture are experiencing with more people, more tourists and more government intervention. But I was really moved by the WAL NGO (non-governmental agency) itself. They show the film as part of their tourist awareness activities, but they also develop brochures and posters about how to be a good tourist in the area: which restaurants use local produce in their cooking, which hotels use traditional composting toilets and solar-heated water, where you can fill up your water bottle with pressure-boiled water instead of contributing to the waste problems. They also work with local women to maintain knowledge of traditional ways of dying materials, making apricot kernel oil, farming without pesticides. They'd also successfully banned plastic bags as they were choking glacial water fed canals and killing livestock. Another project they carry out in partnership with the International Society for Ecology and Culture (ISEC) is the Farm Project. I wish I'd known about it before. You get to spend four weeks living and working with a Ladakhi family. I would love to try it someday.

Our visit to WAL really impacted us. Suddenly Tyler and I were very aware of our actions. We had a water bottle but hadn't brought it with us and bought bottled water on the way to the center. When getting a quick snack, we'd gotten chips in a plastic bag from a multinational company instead of getting something local with paper packaging. As at home, it's almost always just for convenience's sake that we make choices that might not be the best. Suddenly, we were thinking about the waste we generate daily, whether our hotel was built with traditional materials, and how we could make positive contributions during our time in Leh. It also occurred to me that I might not have ever had a day in my life when I haven't generated trash. Maybe at home sometimes it's just been recycling and compostable materials, but it was a striking thought and something I hope to pursue more when we get home. I feel like I'm really good about recycling (Tyler and I drove around with empty wine bottles clanking around the Spaceship until we found recycling facilities), getting better about reusing (ziploc bags have surprisingly long lives, and empty yogurt tubs serve as great tupperware at home), but it's the reducing that I'm still working on the most and something being in Leh helped me think more about.

We also discovered a place called Dzomsa, a co-op of Ladakhi people. When you go there, you can get your laundry done in environmentally safe ways, drop off old batteries to get buried in a safe place, drop off empty water bottles that they will sterilize and sell, refill your own water bottle for seven rupees (~20 cents), get traditional Ladakhi apricot juice (I'll save the description for my India food entry!) or Lassis, and buy locally produced foods--dried apricots, sundried tomatoes, dried food for treks (broccoli, potatoes, etc.), apricot leather, tea, real saffron, cloth bags.... You can tell I was enamored. Once we found it, we went everyday, and I wanted to buy one of everything they had--both because it all looked so good and to support their good efforts.

Some of the shelves at Dzomsa.

So far, Leh was definitely my favorite place in India. And for all the grousing we've done (and will probably continue doing) about our travel agency, we never would have gone there without their help and suggestions, so I try to keep that in mind when we get really frustrated with them.

A Moment of Weakness

That's how I'm coming to think of our decision to work with the travel agency in Delhi to set up our transportation and lodging for our time in India. The most tedious part of long-term travelling is dealing regularly with mundane details--where to sleep, where to eat, and arranging transport. After 3+ months of this, we thought we would "treat" ourselves to only having to worrying about food. We had had such good experiences in Vietnam, especially with the Easy Rider tour and even going to Halong Bay that we thought this would be a good idea, but we've regretted it ever since. We've definitely spent more time trying to deal with the agents from afar than we would have spent setting up our own arrangements. The worst part is that we're so unhappy with that decision that it's really putting a pall over this entire leg of the trip.

So after a few extra days in Leh (trying to get our ticket for a shared taxi or bus to our next location, Manali), the travel agency finally booked us a private taxi for the 22 hour trip. At 9PM yesterday, two young-ish Ladakhi brothers showed up at our hotel--one of whom spoke a little English, one seemingly not at all. So we took off into the darkness, Tyler and I wide awake as we hit the dark and bumpy road.

It was probably just as well that we couldn't see the cliffs on the other side of the car. The Leh-Manali Highway had been open for a few weeks, but we were still surrounded by snow on one side, crossing streams, and, at one point, journeying through desert sands. To make matters worse, Tyler and I had recently succumbed to some kind of stomach bug and a couple hours into the extremely bumpy trip Tyler started having bad stomach cramps. Fortunately, a break from the bumps and some medication made him a little more comfortable*.

We drove until about 2:30AM when we pulled into a makeshift campground where other buses, taxis and delivery trucks stop for a break in the driving. The driver turned off the car, made gestures to go to sleep, turned off the interior light and went to bed. Luckily for me, we only stopped for about 2 hours. I was up in the front seat, unable to get comfortable but fearful of robbing our driver of his rest. I was also getting increasingly cold--no blankets, no way to get warmer clothing from my bag--and you can imagine that the temperature in the car was only slightly warmer than the outside, mountain air. I ended up sitting, shivering, trying to distract myself and stay still. When there was a bit of light in the sky, the driver and brother got up and got started on continuing the drive.

Apparently all that exists between Leh and Manali are mountains.** We climbed up and down mountains for almost the entire journey. At one point, we saw a sign at the pass saying we were at 16,500 feet!*** But the scenery--the little that I saw, being quite sleepy from the "rest stop" non-nap and anti-motion sickness medicine--was amazing. Snow-capped mountains in every direction, villages set among terraced fields directly on the mountain side, glaciers, more pashmina goats and horses.... (The pictures aren't great since we were on the move and mostly had to take them through windows)

Snowy mountains at the 16,500 meter high pass


Mountain village (if you enlarge, you can see houses on the hills)

More mountains and farmland

With only about 100 kilometers left, we crossed our last mountain, which is also a favorite winter ski resort. Interestingly, though, it seems that many Indian tourists come here even in June during their family holidays. People can rent boots, skis, fake-fur full-length coats and hang out in the fog and snow. We passed a small area of old snow that people were climbing up to then sledding or skiing down. (You do have to admire their fortitude for skiing without a chair lift.) You could also pay for rides on horses and yaks or even parasail off the mountain. It was a very surreal scene.

So now we're in Manali. We haven't seen too much of it yet, but it seems to be a very popular holiday location for Indian families. As with most of this trip so far, we don't really like the location of our hotel and we're tempted to leave here early to have more time at Dharamsala/Mcleod Ganj, but that would mean more conversations with the travel agent. There is still sexism here, and sadly it is better for Tyler to deal most issues, and he's getting pretty sick of talking to them. We tried really hard in Leh to get out of our contract. If we're lucky we'll be able to recoup some money and be done with them when we get back to Delhi around the 20th.


Special Tyler Addendum: Because I was rewriting my Leh entry, Sarah offered to do the Leh to Manali entry. But, since I was the one who got sick, and because I had a couple other observations, I'm going to add some last comments... with her permission of course.

If you notice throughout her entry, there is a couple of asterisks (*). These in to my comment below.

* Yeah, this hurt. In fact, it was probably the most painful experience I've had on this trip to date. I'm not sure what exactly brought it on, but I'm guessing it was a mixture of bad food, and maybe the altitude. All I know is that about 2 hours into our 22 hour odyssey, my guts suddenly turned to cement. Then, it felt like someone was inflating a walrus-sized balloon in my stomach. After grinding my teeth and whimpering for a while, I finally gave in and had to ask the driver to stop the car for a bit until the pain subsided. Luckily, as she said, a few pills and some water, and things improved rapidly... today, I'm back to normal. Go figure.

Unfortunately, that was at the top of the first major pass we had to go over of, I believe, five). So, it was freezing cold, the middle of the night, and with gale force winds.

** This isn't entirely true. For example, we'd be driving along, and you'd see a sign for, say, Zingzingbar that would read: "Zingzingbar - 64km."

Then, a kilometer later: "Zingzingbar - 63km."

And so on, and so on. Eventually, you'd find yourself becoming oddly curious, and thinking "Wow, I bet Zingzingbar is going to be a really cool place!" Then, 63 kilometers later, you'd finally arrive at Zingzingbar only to discover that its only three or four yurt-sized tents with women selling food and tea to passing truck drivers. And that's all.

So, maybe Sarah is correct in saying "all that exists between Leh and Manali are mountains" after all.

(Oh, and I didn't make up the name "Zingzingbar." It's an actual location.)

*** 16,500 feet is really high up. For comparison, Everest's Base Camp is at 17,600 ft. And Washington's highest mountain, Mt. Rainier is only 14,410.

It's a beautiful Leh! (Rewritten)

Note: After typing this all out the first time, Blogger decided to eat my entry. I'm sure that there is some Buddhist message about patience I should have learned. But sadly, instead, I just threw a massive fit and Sarah had to deal wth me moping for the next couple hours. For that, I apologize to her. And, now that I've had a couple days to practice deep-breathing, I shall attempt to rewrite it. So, here goes nothing...

After five days in Srinagar, we were beginning to feel a little trapped. So, we were both elated to leave the houseboat behind and get on the road again. So, we boarded a bus to make a two day trip from Srinagar to Leh, approximately 450 km to the East, through the Western reaches of the Himalayas.

As our bus left Srinagar and began its climb into the mountains, we were pleased to find ourselves surrounded by an almost Bavarian landscape. Small villages in lush green valleys that rose to distant snow-covered peaks.

What the mountains looked like on our first day.

The first thing we noticed about the Himalayas and other mountain ranges in this region is that they are BIG. I mean, like, omigawd big. In my life I've seen a number of noteworthy mountain ranges (Washington's Cascades, the mountains of southwest Alaska, some of the Rockies, the French Alps, the Andes, etc), but none of them even begin to hold a candle to what we've seen here. These are the types of mountains that -if they were hollow- you could easily fit other mountain ranges inside and still have room to spare.

The second thing we noticed is that the "roads" in this region are... well.... unique. For the most part, they are all one lane, and you are sharing them with oncoming traffic which usually takes the form of brightly colored shipping or delivery trucks and other buses. This alone wouldn't be so bad, except that generally these roads are also perched high on top of sheer cliffs, with no guard rail. In addition, the roads generally aren't paved, but the Border Road Organization (or, humorously acronymed "BRO") is fond of putting up signs touting its own greatness or just providing road safety advice in a broken English that we've taken to calling "drunken Confucious" (for example: "Be Mr. Late, Not Late Mr." or "Drive with Safety, so you can have "safe tea" at home." ...These are some of the more coherent. As Sarah points out, the really confused ones are too confusing to even remember). Finally, rarely do the roads go straight from Point A to Point B; this is the land of switchbacks.

An average road in this region.

In addition, since the road travels along India's borders with Pakistan and China, there is a definite police and military presence. At about a half dozen different locations along our two day journey, the bus would stop at an army check point. All the tourist would unload (there were three other couples), and we'd have to show our passports before climbing back onto the bus. Meanwhile, the Indian's on our bus had to sit and wait, twiddling their thumbs.

Thus, travelling 450 km (about 280 mlies) takes two days.

At the end of our first day, we arrived in Kargil, a small, dusty, Muslim town which doesn't offer much except overpriced, shabby rooms and food to tourist who are trapped there. Our bus arrived at about 6pm, which gave us just enough time to find a room, eat dinner that go to sleep early... since the next morning we had to be back on the bus at 4am.

The second day of the trip, the mountains become increasing dry and deserted. And the culture shfted from Shiite Muslim dominated to Tibetan Buddhists. The number of mosques diminished and were replaced by Buddhist monestaries and temples (or Gompas).

Th mountains on the second day. It's worth clicking on and enlarging this photo to see the amazing monestary in the valley.

Arriving in Leh, we caught a bus to our hotel and checked in. At first, we were frustrated with our tour agency for booking us into somewhere so far from downtown (about a ten minute walk). But, we had to admit that the view was nice. In fact, its probably the best view we've had so far from a hotel room. Lets drool over it for a bit...




After checking in and cleaning up, we went and met Richardo and Silpie for dinner. Richardo and Silpie are a couple from Barcelona (he's actually Columbian and she's actually German) that were also on our bus. They were just beginning their own year long Round the World trip and were entertaining and easy to talk to. We all hit it off, and made plans to have dinner the next night; we also invited them to get in touch with us when their trip took them up the American West Coast.

The next morning, Sarah and I figured the first thing we needed to do was check out the Leh Palace. The nine storey palace sits atop the hill overlooking the town of Leh and is often called "Little Potala" because of its similarity to the famous Tibetan Palace. After getting lost a couple times making our way through "old town" we finally arrived at the Palace. Unfortunately, the insides are still being restored, so there isn't much to see except the fasincating prayer room, worn frescos and darkened hallways. The view of downtown was stunning though.

The moody prayer room that was watched over by a young, mute monk.

Sarah on a palace terrace overlooking the town.

Afterward, we continued our hike up the hill (you'll see a reoccuring trend as this entry goes on), to a gonpa on the top of the hill. The gonpa itself was closed, but a monk that was hanging around outside let us into one room where we could see a number of statues. Interestingly, the faces were covered on all the statues and would only be shown once a year. Afterward, we took a seat in some shade, enjoying the view, drinking some water and chatting with a pair of tourists who had also made the hike.

Me hiking up to the gonpa above the palace. Ifg you look closely, you can see the steep winding path behind me.

Then we made our way down another path and into another part of town. While the main part of town was a fairly crowded warren of streets, this outlying neighborhood was more rural. Sarah and I made our way down the country lanes to Sankar Gonpa, a monastery on the outskirts of town. The Sankar Gonpa is known for its depiction of one of the Buddhist Goddesses, with her 1,000 heads, 1,000 arms and 1,000 feet. Let's count them all...

The thing on her head that looks like a conical hat is actually 1,000 heads. While her 1,000 arms spread out behind her like a disk.

After that, we made our way back to the hotel to clean up and rest before going to catch a documentary at the local Women's Center. I know that Sarah wants to talk about this in more detail, so I'll leave it to her, but I will say that it provided us with a much better context for understanding Leh and the whole Ladakh region. After that, it was dinner with Richardo and Silpie again.

On our second day in town, we made our way to another Gonpa on top of a hill. This Gonpa was located directly in the center of town, which made it even more bizaare that it recieved no mention in our Lonely Planet. But, climing to the top of the small hill, it gave us a dramatic view of downtown and the palace.

The view from the Unknown Gonpa.

Tibetan Prayer Flags - its amazing how something that looks so trite hanging from a college students dorm wall can look so cool in the right context.

After that, we did a little window shopping in the downtown. Leh has a number of Tibetan craft markets, so we were able to spend a couple hours wandering through those and checking out the crafts spread out on their tables. In the end, Sarah picked up a Tibetan turquoise bracelet and a long-sleeved shirt (she was concerned that most of her shirts were too revealing by the Ladakh standards.

Then, at sunset, we climbed a final hill to the Shanti Stupa. Like the palace and gonpa, this stupa also rovided another stunning view of downtown... but this time it made us really work for it.... so many stairs.

The hike up to Shanti Stupa.

Sadly, the next day or two would be overshadowed by our arguments with the travel agency. Leh, which has been our favorite stop in India (and one of my favorites or the trip in total), became a bit of a Hotel California where "you can check-in, but you can never leave." For the next 36 hours, or so, I spent time of the phone arguing with our agents, who seemed incapable of securing us a ride to Manali. Personally, I would have been happy to spend the extra time in Leh, but we were never able to enjoy our additional time since we were essentally waiting for a cab the whole time (for example, Richardo and Silpie invited us to go check out some monestaries outside of town, but we passed on their offer, since we thought we were leaving).

Still, I try to not let that overshadow the great first couple days. Leh has definitely been one of the pleasant surprises of the trip. I mean, we still look pretty happy, don't we?

The Halfway Point

It's official. We've passed the halfway point of our trip. We now have a little less ahead of us than behind us. So it seemed like a good opportunity to take stock and see where we are at. And bear with me. This will probably be a bit stream-of-conscious writing as I'm still absorbing and interpreting all our experiences. Here, in no particular order, are a few observations I've made looking back at our travels so far.

* One of the many reasons I'm lucky to travel with Tyler is that he's got a great sense of direction. Almost always, when we step out of a doorway, I'm totally perplexed about which direction we should go and where we are in relation to anything, but he can confidently set off in the right direction. After about six weeks (I am a bit stubborn, you can see), I stopped doubting him and knew to trust what he said. (One thing that's lucky for me about travelling is an ability to sleep just about anywhere--a bumpy bus, train, car, hostel room with a beeping smoke detector outside the door. It makes long journeys pass much more quickly. Unfortunately, night buses and long trips don't do any favors for Tyler.)

* I think we're still working on finding the balance with how to deal with situations when people want to sell us stuff--goods or services. Especially since arriving in Vietnam and India, we've seen far too often people acting very rude and aggressive--usually unnecessarily. While we try to act with compassion and humanity (these are people just trying to make a living), we probably have at times also been taken advantage of.

* We very much have a love/hate relationship with Lonely Planet travel guides. While the times we haven't had guides or have had another kind of guide have been worse, we definitely get frustrated by it more often then we are happy with it. They have a definite bias; once you know what that is, it's better. But it's also been frustrating when some of our favorite experiences and places haven't even received a mention.

* People worry about a lot of things when considering travel--mugging, terrorist activity, identify theft, other random violence--but I feel confident saying that the State Department is right in saying that the most dangerous thing is probably being on the road. Driving in any non-Western country feels a bit like being on a roller coaster, with stoplights and lanes optional and safety precautions (guardrails, for example) non-existent. We haven't seen any bad accidents so far, and I think that local people have a mutual understanding about their own rules of the road, but I think it's one of those cases about people worrying less about the things that are probably the most dangerous.

* The things I ponder have really varied from place to place. In South America, where it was harder travel (language barriers, heat, threat of pickpocketers, etc.) I thought a lot less about myself and my life and more about what the people in these countries--who have less materially--still have things to admire and aspire to. Closeknit families and community, public places that are used and alive, cultures that are intact versus those that are maintained for tourist dollars. But once we got to New Zealand and Tasmania, I had the realization that when you travel, you bring yourself along. We didn't go on this trip to escape things or ourselves--rather to enrich our lives--but travelling brings out new and better parts of me and sometimes exacerbates things that I am much better at keeping under wraps under a more routine day-to-day life. For example, I've found to my pleasant surprise that I'm handling a higher degree of chaos and uncertainty better than I could have imagined. It doesn't bother me even after 2 1/2 months to be living from a suitcase, being on the move where I can be a bit of a homebody at times. But I can also see times when some of my lesser qualities (bossiness and stubbornness, especially) come out and rear their ugly heads, particularly when we're tired, hot, hungry and/or just arrived in a new town. I think some of this was just more evident when we didn't have a lot of the same challenges as you do in less developed countries.

* Travel has led to great conversations about everything from squatting policies and art and life with Tyler that just don't happen as frequently when we have work and bills and chores and such.

* It's surprising how many people want pizza and french fries and familiar food while on the road. Here in Ladakh, every restaurant serves Indian, Continental, Israeli, Mexican, wood-fired pizzas, Tibetan....and none actually serve Ladakhi.

* While some have laughed at our trip as being a "whistle-stop tour of the world," and while it's true we always wish we had twice as much time everywhere as we do, the way we structured our trip has been working well for us so far. After about five weeks, I think we tend to be ready to tackle something new. This is probably in part because we know our time is limited, and we knew we'd never get to see or do verything in any one country that we would with more time, but it will help us see what we want to come back and do or focus on.


A month ago, the idea of our travels concluding really bothered me. We were getting into our own groove of travel, feeling more worldly, ready for motorbikes in Vietnam, 22-hour bus rides, strange foods, knowing when to start taking Cipro, and otherwise feeling like we could take care of ourselves anywhere in the world. Lately, though, my mindset is changing a bit. Knowing we have as much ahead of us as behind us is exciting but also daunting. I've also finally felt my first pangs of missing home, family, summer in Seattle, and friends. And I'm also feeling more excited about life after the trip, which will just be an adventure of a different kind.

I also have to be honest and forewarn people that Tyler and I are likely to be totally obnoxious upon our return, with our, "Remember in Bolivia when..." and "Doesn't that remind you of that time in Tassie...". We've probably totally forgotten how to have a conversation that isn't about travel with other travellers. But I'm sure we'll re-learn quickly enough!

Smile, You're in Kashmir (Now With Pictures!)

Note: Pictures and some new text have been added. Tyler and I realized after the initial post that we were both in foul moods when we wrote these entries, and it showed.

This was literally on a billboard we saw leaving the airport on our way into Srinagar proper. Tyler pointed it out and we both laughed, as we were both in a bit of disbelief that we were, in fact, in Kashmir.

More than any other leg except for South America, we had scoped out our route here, with plans to hit some of the major tourist stops (Taj Mahal, the Ganges in Varanasi, Darjeeling tea plantations) while staying in the north since our itinerary brought us to India at one of the hottest and wettest times of year. But one of the best things about travelling so far has been throwing our plans out the window and doing something new and wonderful we couldn't have anticipated. We ended up here after talking to a travel agent about getting a train to Dharamsala (the home of the exiled Tibetan government and the Dalai Lama). They countered by suggesting a loop trip of Srinigar, the Ladakh province, then down to Manali and Dharamsala. So we're in Kashmir.

Srinigar is a small town (though the largest in the Jammu & Kashmir, or J&K region) set on Dal Lake. On the lake are tons of houseboats which are rented out as lodging for tourists. This area is hugely popular with local Indian tourists. Families from Delhi, Mumbai and other hotter parts of the country come here to sightsee and relax on the water--and escape the heat of their hometowns.


On one of the brightly decorated shikaras for a tour around Dal Lake


View of the lake from the shikara


View of Srinigar and Dal Lake from one of the Mughal-era gardens in the mountains

You can't deny a strong military presence here. Flying into the region involved lots of security (twice being scanned personally, after passing through a traditional metal detector, and our bags x-rayed and hand-searched) and touching down at an airport that seemed built more for the military (bunkers covering planes, soldiers with guns) than for tourism. The ride into the city mostly showed us lots of soldiers, lots of buses, and lots of mosques. Somehow, the presence of lots of security always tends to make me feel less secure. Though I wonder if Kashmiris would feel the opposite. However, the presence of many Indian families and the attitudes of the local people helped allay any lingering concerns we might have had. We felt safe and secure the entire time.


Typical Kashmiri bus, very colorful and a bit beat-up looking


Typical back of a Kashmiri bus, though I didn't get any photos when there were passengers hanging off the ladders and out the doors!

Lonely Planet had warned against committing to a houseboat before seeing them since the quality can vary widely--which is exactly what we did--so it was with some trepidation that we rode the shikara, or rowboat, to the Savoy, where we'd be spending the next five nights. Fortunately, our Delhi travel agents came through as we were welcomed by Rasrul (I think) into very nice accomodations with lots of Kashmiri embroidered fabrics and carved wooden features.


Houseboats on Dal Lake; we stayed in the Savoy

For the most part, staying on the houseboat has been what we wanted--relaxation for a few days in a pleasant climate. The scenery was fantastic--on a large, clear lake, surrounded by mountains, with many birds. What looked like hawks were referred to as "golden eagles," and it was amazing to see them careening around the sky in groups of up to 30 at a time.

We've had a few excursions, including taking a shikara ride around the lake and through the floating gardens on the water where much of the local produce is grown, visiting four local Mughal gardens, seeing some handicrafts like Kashmiri rugs and papier mache laquer products being made, and a day trip into the mountains for a bit of trekking. Leaving the town and heading to the mountains was interesting, especially to see the nomadic tribal people that live in the area. We saw many families herding sheep and long-haired goats, or leading a group of small horses loaded down with packs along the way.


Women in their colorful saris at a Mughal garden


Mughal gardens weren't that exciting as "gardens," but their terraces and locations were interesting and beautiful


Local tribal people with horses and packs


Person herding goats down the road. Note the goat he's carrying on this back!


The mountains we trekked up a long, steep, muddy track to see. Unfortunately, the weather didn't cooperate and obscured what should have been pretty great views.

The downside has been nearly constant attempts to sell us something, anything, which has been wearing on us since it's been the case since we got into India. Kashmiri rugs, papier mache lacquer, walnut wood furniture, Kashmiri pashmina shawls, fabrics, jewelry, saffron, what have you. With persistence. On the water or when sitting on the porch of the boat, there are merchant boats with items for sale. On tours they want to take you to see how handicrafts are made where it is then hard to extricate yourself without purchasing.

We did, though, buy two Kashmiri rugs. After hearing for days about the quality and workmanship of the local rugs, we visited a cooperative selling rugs made by families in the region. Though the price was initially a concern (and we don't even have a home to put them in at the moment), we decided we'd rather support the local craftspeople now than buy something from Pottery Barn in a year. (Unfortunately, you can see the design but not the colors of the rugs in the photos; the lighting in the showroom made all my photos turn out very yellow.)


Demonstration of how rugs are handmade locally


Our wool 4x6 rug; the colors are actually more blues and olives than this shows.


Our silk 6x9 rug

Probably the best part of staying on the houseboat has been Rasrul, the houseman, for lack of a better term. Though the clear evidence of the caste system here is discomfiting, he's a bright presence in our day as we enjoy our fourth serving of Kashmiri tea (tea brewed with cardamon, cinnamon and cloves) or eating omelets and Kashmiri bread for breakfast. Unfortunately, I don't have a photo of him.


We were almost always served our Kashmiri tea in these cups; we were always amused by the strange translation and picture!

Probably the strangest part of being here is the feeling that we have constant 'minders' with us. Even now, going to the internet cafe, we were sent off with one of the many young men who seem to work for Gopa, the owner, who accompany us everywhere we go. I think we're starting to feel a little bit captive, between being on the water and escorted everywhere. We'll be happy to get on the bus tomorrow, cross mountain passes, and enter the Ladakh region.

As a quick after-the-fact aside, we've been somewhat comforted to hear from other travellers that Delhi and Srinigar were tough for eveyone we've talked to, and that the first week is usually the hardest. Things have been looking up!

"This is India" EDIT: Now with pictures!

About a day after we arrived in Dehli, Sarah pointed out to me that "This is India" is basically the unofficial national slogan. We hear it used more any pretty much any other phrase.

Our tuk-tuk driver: "The traffic here is crazy ...this is India."

Or: "The airport says they will drop you baggage off here at 11am. So, it will probably be here about 4pm ... this is India."

As you can tell by the last quote, our baggage got lost on the flight from Hanoi to Dehli. The woman who checked us in to our flight from Hanoi to Bangkok assured us that our baggage would automatically be sent on from Bangkok to Dehli. But, what she didn't say was that she was sending it on a different flight from the one we'd be taking from Bangkok to Dehli. This, of course, freaked out the people in Bangkok and not only did our baggage not get sent on, but for a bit there, it looked like we might be stranded in Bangkok too.

Eventually, we did make it to Dehli, but when we arrived no one seemed to know where or baggage was. And, let me tell you folks, there's nothing quite like watching several airlines, in three different airports (Hanoi, Bangkok and Dehli or all places) try to figure out where our bags were.

So, while the airlines tried to get that sorted out, Sarah and I met a driver from our hotel who took us and our bags to where we'd be staying in Dehli. At least for the first night.

A quick note on the cows: While travelling, Sarah and I have been to several countries (Bolivia, Vietnam, etc) where its no uncommon to see cows, waterbuffalos, sheep or other livestock wandering across a rural road. So, we were fairly certain that the famous Hindu cows wouldn't shock us. Still, there is something entirely different between seeing a cow crossing a rural road. And suddenly coming across a herd of cows in a crowded downtown Dehli street. And every street in Dehli is crowded.

That quick generic travel observation aside, Sarah and I awoke the next day, and prepared to wander the streets a bit while we waited for our luggage to arrive. But, no sooner had we walked out of the alley that our hotel was in, than we were approached by a Sikh tuk-tuk driver.

"Excuse me, what are you doing today?"
"Well, we were just going to wander around a bit. Get our bearing."
"The shops do not open until 11. If you like, I can take you to a Sikh temple. It is very interesting, and we can be back in time for the shops to open."

So, Sarah and I shrugged in agreement. I mean, how often do you get to see a Sikh temple?

And, the temple was interesting. Our guide took us around, showing us the main temple, the area where they give free food and tea to anyone who would like it, and giving us some brochures of the "what is Sikhism?" variety.

Then, over a free cup of tea (cups of tea would become a reoccuring theme over the next couple days), he offered to take us on a tour of the city. And, since he seemed like a decent fellow, and we had planned on hiring someone to take us around anyhow, we agreed.

The first stop, of course, turned out to be a tourist agency. At first Sarah and I were rolling our eyes, but after talking to one of the travel agents (Raj) for a bit, Sarah and I decided to let them handle our transportation and lodging for this leg of the trip. Since about halfway through Vietnam, Sarah and I have been battling a bit of travel burn out. We've been enjoying the sightseeing aspects, but getting tired of arranging buses, trains and hotel rooms every other day. So, we figured by letting a travel agent take care of it for the India leg, we could take a break and just enjoy the parts of travelling we like for a bit.

Unfortunately, when we went to the bank to get money to pay the travel agent, it turned out that Washington Mutual's fraud department had closed our account again. And that they couldn't be reopened for about 24 hours. So, now Sarah and I were stuck in Dehli for 24 hours with nothing except the cash in our money belts, and the items in our tiny carry on backpacks.

So, while we waited for that situation to resolve itself, we continued our tour with our tuk-tuk driver. Unfortunately, for every location of note he brought us to (the old fort, the President's house, the India Gate), he'd take us by one shop where we'd be stuck having people try to hard sell us Inidan handcrafts for 15 minutes. When we complained about the shops, he'd plead back to us: "But they give me gas vouchers. Please, do it for me."

At the end of the first day, he offered to take us to his house for dinner. Again, Sarah and mine's reaction was "why not? I mean, how often do you get invited to a Sikh's house for dinner in Dehli." After we agreed, he then took us to two more shops, before driving us to his house on the outskirts of town.

What iniitally seemed like a nice offer quickly turned awkward though, as our driver threw back glass after glass of whiskey while his wife got increasingly frustrated with the situation. After an odd hour of yogurt dishes, broken glasses and stilted conversation, our driver had his son give us a ride home. So, Sarah, myself, our driver (who came along to give his son directions to the new hotel the travel agency was setting us up in), his son and a nephew (who they were giving a ride to the bus station all piled into a compact car together) and away we went into the Indian twilight.

Our driver (center, after a couple of whiskeys), his 22-year old son (left), and wife (smiling for the camera).

With music playing over the radio that would make the crowds at I Heart Shiva envious, the five of us wound our way back into downtown, down streets lit by strings of light, and through intersections seemingly gripped perpetual gridlock. During the ride, I remember seeing what will probably be one of the enuring images of India for me; a young woman in traditional dress sitting side-saddle on a motorcycle, her arms around the helmeted drivers waist as the roared down a highway past a park enshrouded the smoke of trashfires. Then, as we neared the hotel we even pasted a giant, 3-storey tall, statue/shire to Hanuman. Despite the various frustrations and annoyances of our first full day in Dehli, I found myself having a personal "this is India" momment.

The next day, as our travel agents continued to try to track down our luggage, our tuk-tuk driver took us out for another round of sightseeing. This day, we hit a number of impressive sites. First up was Humayun's Tomb. Made by rulers of the Mughal Empire, this tomb looks like a minature Taj Mahal, except in reds and peaches instead of white.

Humayan's tomb.

After that, it was on to the "Lotus Temple," one of the main temples of the Baha'i faith. Like Sikhims, Baha'is are another faith that you don't encounter much in the States. So, in addition to being impressed by their temple, it was interesting to learn about another unfamilar religion.

The Lotus Temple. About 100 yards from the temple, they made us take our shoes off... which was fine, except the pavement was HOT.

Then, it was on to Qutb Minar. Site of the earliest mosque in Dehli. And, even more impressively the massive Minar itself. The tower, which was stated in 1193, is nearly 73 meters high. Standing next to it, you feel dwarfed.

Entertainingly, Sarah and I proved to be an interesting attraction to the Indian tourists at the Qutb Minar. At first, we were getting the usual stares one encounteres when you are a foreign tourist. But then, one teenage girl got up the courage to ask: "Can we take a picture with you?"

Sarah getting her picture taken with Indian tourists.

This opened the floodgates. Next thing Sarah and I knew, we were being swarmed by Indian tourists who all wanted their picture with us. Bizarre, yet soft of flattering, Sarah and I made our way across the complex stopping to have our picture taken every couple of meters.

While waiting to have our picture taken again, I secretly snapped this photo of the crowd that had generated around us. Whenever Sarah and I would stop to look at something or just take a breather, a similar crowd would form.

When it came time to leave, we saw groups of teenagers and children waving to us, as we made our way to the gate. Our Rockstar Moment™ was over, for the time being.

We ended the day at the Lodi Garden. A small, peaceful garden, with a temple in its center.

Throughout the day, our guide continued to try to take us to shops. And, when he asked for money for gas, he faced near mutiny by us ("Wait a second! You said the shops gave you gas vouchers!"). It was only through quick verbal backpedalling that we didn't switch drivers.

Arriving back at the travel agency, we were pleased to see our bag waiting for us. We're not entirely sure what they did to get them tracked down... but we were complaining.

We ended our day eating dinner in a nice, quiet restaurant. Then retired to our hotel room.

Food Around the World III: Vietnam

Writing about all our food experiences in Vietnam felt like a monumental task. The food varied quite a bit, with dishes specific to regions and even individual towns. So rather than try and capture everything, I wrote about some of my most memorable meals for this collaboration entry with eddybles. You can read all about fresh rice noodle, DIY BBQ and spring rolls and more.

For Jody's part, she included a fantastic recipe for Vietnamese Rice Noodle Bun with Beef. Before going to Vietnam, bun was probably my favorite Vietnamese dish--fresh rice noodles, fresh herbs and vegetables, grilled meat, with sweet and tangy fish sauce. Before leaving Seattle, I was sure to memorize the Vietnamese name of the dish so that I could be sure to order it even if menus weren't in English. I had bun a few times in Vietnam--actually my first meal in Ho Chi Minh City was bun (Tyler had pho, his favorite)! I think Jody's would probably still have all the verions I had beat, though.

Enjoy!