another cliché
travel blog

We woke up at 6:50 for yoga at 7:30, which was held on a roof of a nearby hotel overlooking the beach. Not bad.

After yoga, we walked back up to our hotel, had breakfast, talked with the front desk about what the hell happened the previous night (their story was that he confused the room numbers with some other guests who were leaving that night), and showered. I answered email and scheduled my flight back to Delhi, while Bethany met up with Shaji to work out costs. I got an Ayurvedic massage (eh), met up for lunch, then headed to yoga at 3:30. This time it was held inside, still on the roof but in a cavernous windowed room. Pretty cool. Part way through, someone in robes came in with what looked like a censer, but that sprinkled water (maybe salt?). Following that, we went swimming with the other person in the class, Fanny, a french woman visiting there with her mom. She seemed to give zero fucks, and stripped down to her underwear right on the beach to go swimming, drawing many a look from the Indian men. I glared back at them in return, and they quickly looked away.

We showered again, then wandered the strip looking for dinner. We ended up having s nice slow dinner, at Spice Garden, then head back to the room and passed out at midnight for 7 am yoga.

Woke up around 6:30, well before my alarm went off, turned on the geyser (geezer in local parlance) and lounged in bed for another hour. Finished the Use of Weapons, then took as long of a nice hot shower as the geezer allowed. Unfortunately, I knew it wouldn’t run long enough to shave, so the beard stayed. Ugh. Started malaria prophylactics. insert Sir Mix-a-Lot’s “ugh double ‘ugh’ ugh ugh”. Had a couple cups of tea upstairs at Nick’s, ran into Catherine one last time, and then hired a taxi back to the airport. The driver’s name was Lucky, and we had a nice conversation down the hill. He was hoping to buy a car next month, rather than having to rent/pay someone else for the use of the car he was driving. Among other things, we talked ut local traffic laws both in Himachal Pradesh and California, and I mentioned it was something like a $200 fine for not wearing your seat belt. He looked at my shocked and said that was like two months salary for him.

At the airport, waiting the flight, the whole place lost power for about ten seconds before things had way clicked back on. Interesting.

Walking out to the plane on the Tarmac, it struck me how very different it felt than the last time I was here. Anxious, nervous, unsure how I was going to find my destination, unsure about the week ahead. Coming back couldn’t have contrasted more. I wonder how much of that was having at least a rough plan, and how much was having data, having the knowledge that I could look up whatever info I could need. Maybe it’s just that my next step is to go lay on a beach and get a massage, rather than do something I hope I’m prepared for up in the mountains.

We arrived in Delhi with just under enough time to comfortably leave the airport, check out a coffee house, and return, so after making it through security (having my boarding pass reviewed or stamped on no less than five occasions, all for things that no one seemed to care about) I began rereading Use of Weapons and wandered. Saw a single ladder being carried by four people, with a fifth to supervise. Walked to the end of Terminal 3 by gate 26B, and saw an airport employee with an oversized butterfly net hanging out. Hmmm. Not far past him, at the end of the terminal where the class walls come to an overhung point, pigeon feathers littered the ground. Walking back, I even saw one flying down the terminal like it was no big deal.

Unrelatedly, I’ve decided I’m not a fan of Delhi.

Something that occurred to me: so much of India’s pop culture is about attraction between men and women (not to say the US is any different) but arranged marriages are still common, at least outside the metro areas. Hmmmmm.

##later After reaching TRV (whose name I’m still hopelessly unable to pronounce), I got out of the airport and met the driver outside. I realized that if I was somehow unable to meet him (or her), I was kind of a pickle. Bethany was likely passed out, I had no idea the name of the hotel I was staying at, where exactly it was, who I was supposed to meet…really any details. Whatever. It was 80 degrees and swampy. I could literally spend the night nearly anywhere and be fine. Luckily though, a man holding a sign that said Mr. Matt Sugihara was out front. We exchanged pleasantries, then took a 20 minute drive to the hotel. Checked in, and the bell hop was exceedingly eager to take my bag. Unfortunately so. I figured he was working for a tip, but when we got to my room, he dropped my bag and promptly disappeared.

Bethany and I were both stoked to see a familiar face. We spent the next hour trading highlights while I got ready for bed, then we passed out around one.

At three, the same bellhop burst into our room, saying “wake up wake up wake up” turned on the lights, and then, once he saw he had out attention kept repeated “luggage”. Really? I tried to figure out what he was after, but Bethany had the right idea. “First off turn off the light!” Which he did, then when I got up in only my underwear to try to figure out what he wanted, she just shouted “Leave! Get out,” which he understood.

We promptly deadbolted the door and passed back out.

After passing the night in a literally freezing, but otherwise comfortable room (no electricity, uninsulated wooden walls), having had some pretty wild dreams, I woke up before dawn and alternately watched it get progressively lighter and dozed. Around 7:45 John woke us up with tea and we slowly collected our things as the weather improved.

We took our time coming down off Triund, descending in four hours what easily could have been two, but it didn’t feel bad to take it slow. The cook and I started out by high tailing it until we reached the magic view chai shop, at which point I ordered tea and chatted briefly with two doctors from Calcutta, (Apurva and Ayan?)

We had passed everyone coming down the mountain, and it was early enough that no one had made it that far up, so for the better part of fourth minutes, we sat in relative silence. Then asshats with speakers, dub step, and litter showed up and started yelling. Eh.

Once Catherine and John caught up, we sat for a bit, then continued slowly down, letting the guides go on ahead of us. We hiked to Himachal Trekkers HQ, where we had a great lunch, then back to McLeod gang via tuk tuk to pay Malkeet the remaining balance.

We squared up, then both got rooms at Kunga guest house. I wandered for a bit, bought the cheapest cell phone I could find that had wifi for testing, then sat reading and drinking tea all afternoon. A man who turned out to be the owner struck up a conversation about phones, and after that conversation ran its course, I stood up to use the restroom in my room. As I walked out, one of the staff stopped me and asked if I was hungry, indicating to an extra plate of bruschetta the kitchen had made for a Swiss couple. I accepted the food, ate it, then dropped stuff in my room. I came back for another cup of tea and some reading. Even though I came by the food because of a mistake in the kitchen, I still benefited form it and felt compelled to pay for the Swiss couple’s meal (and I had a slice of cake). The couple came by and thanked me for their meal, and we chatted for a bit. Turns out they run a guest house in Einzeidel, Switzerland, just north of Zurich, a place called St. Joseph’s, and offered me a room if I ever came by. She also slipped me a Swiss Army knife, which was totally unexpected, but awesome.

After that, Catherine and I talked about the importance of genetics on relationships, then Amy and I talked for a couple hours before I passed out.

Gorgeous hiking. The best so far, by a long shot. It occurred to me without strong conservative land use policy, in a country of over a billion people, if it’s a place worth spending time, people will live there. So, it’s really hard in India to get anywhere nice that doesn’t have a village stuck there, too.

Got some great photos.

Hike hike hike. Saw a beautiful updraft through the valley. Had a great conversation with Catherine about sins of the father, what right a 20 year old German person has to feeling guilty about the holocaust, what right I have as the grandson of people sent to interment camps AND a captain in the Air Force during world war 2 to feel guilt and or indignant, what right I would have, if I were to convert to Judaism, to the Jewish legacy, and how the discourse of rape in the United States lacks nuance. So, light conversation.

Got to our guide’s home where we spent the night. After setting up the tent, Catherine and I both journaled fir a bit, then I went out and walked around John’s village for an hour. As I was coming back, John was just bringing cups of soup to the tent. That woke Catherine up and we took them along with us as we scrabbled around the hills by John’s house. From the top, I snapped a photo of my shoes for today’s shoey back in mountain view, and had enough signal to send it off. After that, we both sacked out for a bit, then once John came back from the village, we had dinner (dal and rice, which I still don’t think I’ll ever get sick of), saw the baby get washed, rubbed down with mustard oil, and swaddled in the cutest blanket that had one corner doubled to turn it into a hood. John then brought out his wedding album and we checked that out.. Pretty cool stuff.

At this point John had one half tied on, I promised him a phone. He’s relatively well off, has a TV, glass windows in wooden frames, a Pooja sewing machine, and a nice house, but no toilet. So sending him a nexus, eh.

Had an interesting conversation though. The first adjective John used to describe Apple was “expensive” and “not worth it”, which itself is interesting, because it further suggests that Android is popular because of price, not just because it’s android. However, another data point is one of Natasha’s aunties, who said that she had Apple phone and returned it because she didn’t like it.

Mr. John woke us up with tea. What kind of luxe shit is this? At the time, I was half a world away dreaming that I was in a restaurant/something close to a Google cafe. Natasha was definitely involved, we had a big group table downstairs, and we were going somewhere together. Vishanka (but not her. She looked like some one else, blonde, used a cane) ordered a sugar doughnut, but they only had glazed sugar donuts. That was ok. 500 calories, still. It turned out we had less time than we thought, so I went upstairs to the kitchen to get the attention of the staff to try to get everything to go. The kitchen staff was busy, so to get their attention, I basically threw a shit fit by piling my three bags right in the walk way in front of the counter, blocking the way. As soon as the staff noticed, a couple other people in our group were coming up the stairs, one of whom was Not-Vishanka, and then I woke up to mr. John, chai, and the Himalayas. Ok.

Hiked up, will attach pictures when I can.

One photo of a beehive/shrine to the God of work.

First snow in our path

Snow hovels

Bear tracks

Got back. Had lemon and honey tea. Passed out for a bit, had dinner. Finished dinner, went dancing. Taught the kids thriller, the chicken dance, the shopping cart, and wanted to teach them to tweak, but Catherine gave me the stink eye. Probably for the best. Then around ten we went to bed. Venga boys is playing. boom boom boom, I want you in my room.

Get up and out, grab a what looks like a veggie turnover, and eat it in front of the guest house. Girl passes by, asking where I got it. Start talking. She got to India two days ago, and mcleodganj less than an hour ago. She decides to join my trek.

We trek the day, then get to a little village that evening. We hang around for a bit,my then our guide takes us around the village to meet his brother and his family. They’re adorable and invite us to a dance that night in honor of another villager’s upcoming marriage.

We eat dinner. That was a hell of an experience. Write more about it.

After dinner, Catherine decides it’s bed time, so she passes out, mr. John and I watch a bit of cricket with the local school teacher, then head to the dance.

I saw a twelve year old boy from a tiny village in the Himalayas that probably has no more than 1,000 USD pass through it a year make it rain. We danced.

I went to bed. Then they played delhiwali girlfriend.

Things you need

1. Photocopy of your passport*
2. A passport photo
3. A copy of your visa*
4. Your home address in the US
5. Your father’s name

*if you don’t have copies of those, they may have a photocopier there. Or they may not.

The process

1. Have an unlocked phone
2. Find a shop that sells SIM cards. Vodaphone and idea both seem reliable.
3. Tell them you want a SIM
4. They’ll ask you for a copy of your passport, a passport photo, your visa, and then your home address (i.e. not in India) and your father’s name.
5. SIM cards cost Rs. 150. and data is roughly Rs. 150/Gb. Tell them how much you want.
6. They’ll give you your SIM card. SIM cards come in different sizes, but larger cards can be cut down to smaller sizes. If you’re not sure what size SIM card you need, ask and they can check for you by taking out your current SIM card. Be sure to keep track of your current SIM card—you’ll need it when you get back home.
7. The shop will give you a phone number to call in about a day. Until you call this number, your phone will have signal, but you’ll only be able to make emergency calls.
8. The next evening, call the number they gave you. Generally, the person on the other line will speak enough English to understand that you’re a foreigner and will transfer you to someone else who deals with foreign SIM activations. Just stay on the line until you get someone who speaks English. They will ask you for your name, address, and your father’s name.
9. You’re done! It can take anywhere from a few minutes to several hours to get full service.

It’s funny. Right as the flight attendant announced the decent, I realized I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m going from one city to another. I don’t know where, exactly, I headed, other than “it’s near a water tank”. I’m not sure where I’m supposed to be tomorrow morning, or when. I’m flying into an airport that’s probably about the size of the Santa Rosa Airport, and probably has fuck all facilities.

And the hardest part about it is I’m alone. No one to struggle through this with, no one familiar. No internet, unless I can find wifi, so no one I can even talk with stateside. Which, want difference would it make? I’d still be struggling through the same issues. Not too far from monkeys, are we?

Then I saw this:

And I figured, eh, it’s going to be fine. This is what I came for, it’s gonna work out.

And work out it did. I got off the plane (it was 70 something and sunny), and into the airport, which, as expected, was about as elaborate as STS. No wifi. I don’t like it. Off to a bad start. Walked out hoping to see a cab, but no luck. Well shit. Tried to walk back in the airport. The nice army man with an assault rifle said no, just after I walked out. I didn’t even leave his field of view. This is going swimmingly.

I walked further away from the airport, hoping that I could figure out which way “town” was and could find a taxi. Passing through the barricade, I hear “taxi, taxi” and my ears perk up. Of course he notices and comes running over. McLeod ganj? 800. Non negotiable. See, it’s written right here on paper.

Well, at least I got a ride to McLeod ganj. On the way, we pass by a cell phone store, so manage to communicate to my driver that I need to stop, he pulls over, and I get a SIM card. Hopefully, this leads to data.

Make it to McLeod ganj, and start wandering. Find myself a cafe that if I woke up in, I would assume was in Berkeley, at least till I got a good look out the window. The sound of milk foaming, burnt coffee, and hippies. Home. I get on wifi, and start getting my bearings. I decide on a game plan and pay my bill. The waiter asks where I’m staying and I tell him I was just about to find out. He shows me a couple rooms they have at a reasonable price, so I bite. And within an hour of landing a city away, and $20 later, I have a ride to the right place, a room, and a cup of ginger honey tea. Not bad.

I drop my stuff and wander some more. I get water. Then I get 16 veggie momos. For 80IND. So, awesome. I prep my bag for the next day, and crawl into bed to do so,e reading before passing out. fireworks have been going off all day, but then they start to pick up. First I just figure it’s just because it’s dark. Then I realize. Fuck. It’s Chinese New Year. Which is Tibetan new year, aka losar, which is why all those “happy losar” banners were hung up. I struggle between girls in blindfolds and comfort, and eventfully convince myself I have to prove it to me nothing’s going on. So I get up, throw on a jacket and wander. After wandering for 15 minutes, I managed to convince myself I wasn’t missing anything (I wasn’t, steets were deserted, shops were closed), and crawled back in bed and passed out.

Today was the only day without dancing! After a fairly quiet morning inside that castle, we made it over to the Air Force Auditorium lawn around 2:15. It took us about an extra half hour to forty minutes because only Air Force personnel and their families are allowed on the base, which Uber tried to route us through, rather than staying on the freeway a bit longer and going around. Eh. It’s much more difficult to argue with someone while they’re holding onto an assault rifle.

But once we did get there, it was positively sedate in contrast to the other days. More food than three times the number of guests could eat, Thai, Chinese, American, continental, and northern Indian, plus a dessert bar with all kinds of stuff, appetizers being passed, chaiwala, and a full bar including a bunch of mocktails.

That night, I got packed for the next week (five days hiking in the Himalayas) and booked flights to Kovalam beach from Dharamshala.

I was planning on heading to the afterparty, but things fell through. So it is.