Logging Off

Hey Y'all,

Just wanted to give you a heads-up that I'll be offline for the next 10 days.

Tomorrow, I'm due to start a 10-day Vipassana meditation course in Dehradun. Vipassana is basically 10 days of sweet F.A. No drinking, smoking, talking, communicating, touching, reading, writing or blogging for 10 days.

I've had a few people (travellers and locals) recommend the Vipassana course, and I have to say, I'm rather intrigued by the paradox of doing nothing to achieve something. And even though it sounds pretty easy, they tell me it's tough. Really tough. Apparently quite a few starters bail within in the first few days. But I think I'll be ok. 6 months of commuting from Wollongong to North Sydney seems like a pretty solid warm up in the fine art of sitting on my ass and staring blankly.

This will be my daily timetable from tomorrow until the 03 Aug:

4:00 am		Morning wake-up bell
4:30-6:30 am		Meditate in the hall or in your room
6:30-8:00 am		Breakfast break
8:00-9:00 am		Group meditation in the hall
9:00-11:00 am		Meditate in the hall or in your room according to the teacher's instructions
11:00-12:00 noon		Lunch break
12noon-1:00 pm		Rest and interviews with the teacher
1:00-2:30 pm		Meditate in the hall or in your room
2:30-3:30 pm		Group meditation in the hall
3:30-5:00 pm		Meditate in the hall or in your own room according to the teacher's instructions
5:00-6:00 pm		Tea break
6:00-7:00 pm		Group meditation in the hall
7:00-8:15 pm		Teacher's Discourse in the hall
8:15-9:00 pm		Group meditation in the hall
9:00-9:30 pm		Question time in the hall
9:30 pm		Retire to your own room--Lights out

There is just one small problem, I'm not in Dehradun. I'm actually in Chandigarh and I haven't left myself a lot of time to get there. Even though the first stay starts late, if I miss tomorrow's 4:30am bus out of town, I probably won't make it.

So, my dear readers, I promise I shall return to you soon (very soon if I miss the bus), and hopefully as a more enlightened, self-aware PJ.

Vital Stats - 20 July, 2009

Vital Stats - 20 July, 2009

Time: 8:30 pm
Location: Shimla, Himachal Pradesh - map
Health: Excellent
Weather: Misty
Mood: Joyous (I have a TV in my room... with Ashes coverage!)
Bowels: Satisfactory
Beard: Bushy
Next Destination: Chandigarh, Punjab
Interesting Fact: Shimla is the former summer capital of the British Raj and is now home to a Domino's, Subway and a Baskin-Robbins ice cream store. In just 6 hours, I visited them all.


Me and some kids that are not me. Rajasthan, about 2 weeks ago.

Manali Oregano

Whilst wandering the misty hills of Himachal Pradesh, I accidentally stumbled into the small town of Manali. Ok, it wasn't an accident, I actually came here by bus, and quite deliberately.

Manali is a odd town. Well, it's a great town, just with a very odd mix of people. Allow me to explain...

Manali, situated on the rocky banks of the Beas River at the northern end of the Kullu Valley, serves 3 important functions:

1. Honeymoon retreat. It's a super popular honeymoon haven for freshly-hitched Indian lovebirds, or arrangedbirds as the case may likely be.
   
2. Pre-Himalayan hub. With conflict-magnet Kashmir so often off limits, Manali has become the new #1 jump-off point to get to the big hills. Hikers, trekkers, trampers, walkers and wanderers all pass through here on their way to the real mountains, the 5000+ stuff.
   
3. Stoners' paradise. Yes, Manali is home to some of the world's most luscious and plentiful gardens of wild marijuana.

So as you can imagine, it's an odd bunch here in Manali. The super libidinous, the super fit, and the super hungry for some cake, all together, all here for completely different reasons, all having the time of their lives.

I chose to stay in the small outer village of Vashisht where most of the white folk congregate. A place where you're more likely to be woken by a skipping Bob Marley CD than by muffled groans and creaking headboards.

The perpetually green Kullu Valley is ultra fertile, receives a seemingly endless supply of both sunshine and rain, and is hidden high in the foothills of the Himalayas. And I wasn't joking, not even slightly, when I said it was a stoner's paradise. Marijuana is EVERYWHERE! Seriously, if you just fell over at random, you'd be unlucky to not land face down in a pile of it. It's so plentiful that in some places you could dive into it backwards, thrash your arms and legs about and leave a beautiful imprint of a pot angel, if you were so inclined.



It grows all over the place. In every garden, next to every footpath, even in the cracks of the pavement:



On the rickshaw ride up from the main town, an open palm and gentle lean to the left would be rewarded with fist fulls of fresh green leaf. It reminded me of that scene in Gladiator, where preceding every emotional what-his-perfect-life-used-to-be-like flashback was a poetic lead in, in which, Russell Crowe strolls through a field of wheat, running his fingers gently across the stem tops.

I'm not in any way, shape, form or function a stoner, but I still can't help feeling a giddy sense of excitement about being surrounded by the forbidden fruit.

Ok, I really hate to break the light-hearted tone of this blog, but it's time to get a serious. Just for a minute, I promise. Apologies in advance.

I've had a very lengthy internal debate as to whether I would admit to this here on my blog, but I've decided that I will. Earlier, I promised you that this would be an honest blog, and an honestly blog it shall be! I understand what I'm about to say will disappoint some of you, and for that I am sorry. Truly sorry.

And before I go on, I think it's important that you first understand this, I'm a 28-year-old man now, I need to start living by my rules, my choices, and to not be influenced by the values and expectations of others. To borrow (steal) a few wise words from the 21st-century's greatest social commentator, I can eat a chicken sandwich if I want to.

So, my friends, family, loved and liked ones, I ask you please, don't think any less of me when I tell you this, but... I... didn't... smoke... anything. Nothing. Not a damn thing. Not one bickie, blunt, bong, bucket, chillum, cone, cookie, fatty, hookah, J, joint or spliff.

I came all this way, saw more drugs in 10 seconds than I'd seen in near three decades, and I shall be leaving town with a clean conscience and an even cleaner urine sample.

I'm sorry. Truly.

Wagah Border

Even though I've long since left Punjab, there's one more little activity I'd like to share with you all, my trip to the Pakistan Border.

Amritsar lies just 30 km from Wagah Village, which is the only point along the entire 3,000km Indo-Pakistan border where it's possible to cross by road.

At sunset, each and every night, ceremonial soldiers from both sides of the border gather for the official closing ceremony. The ceremony is free to view and hugely popular with the spectators. Thousand of civilians on both side of the fence gather in the massive arena-style stands to watch this comical parade.

It's a phenomenal spectacle. It has the atmosphere of a football grand final, with music, singing, dancing, cheering, and loads of flag waving. Each side has an MC to really rev up their crowds. India's will shout "Hindustan!", to which the packed stadium replies "Zindabad!". Long live India, essentially.

And this is all before the official ceremony even starts...

The whole thing runs for about an hour, and both sides (dressed, bar colour, in identical peacock-inspired uniforms) essentially perform the whole ceremony in unison. There's lots of yelling, and each member of the ceremony squad takes his turn to charge at the open border, swinging his arms violently, and then pausing at the official line. Facing toward Pakistan, he then pulls his most aggressive don't-fuck-with-me pose. Well, it's supposed to look aggressive, but it's hard to look tough with a parrot strapped to your head.

The whole thing was scarily reminiscent of the infamous Zoolander walk off.

It all finally concludes with the lowering of the flags, which is done in perfect diplomatic unison.

If you're ever 'in the hood', definitely get down to see it. It's brilliantly entertaining, and a fascinating insight into Indo-Pak relations.

Forbidden

Take your unholy, hormonal moodiness elsewhere, please!

Golden Temple

Yep, it's made of gold. Real gold. Not solid, but it's plated at least. Some reports say 750kg of pure gold was used in its construction, others only 100kg. Not that it matters, it looks brilliant regardless.

Built by the Sikhs, this holy temple is the feature piece of Amritsar city and lies just to the north of the great Thar Desert. Amritsar was, disappointingly, my only stopover in Punjab.

The Golden Temple (or Harmandir Sahib) receives more visitors than the Taj, and I'm not at all surprised. Not only is it a magnificent sight, but the Sikhs (and Punjabis in general) are some of the most welcoming people on earth. Visiting the temple is free, staying in the dorms is free, and eating in the food hall is... yes, free.

I've seen a lot of temples so far, and I often wonder how the locals feel about the hoards of camera-wielding tourists infesting their most holy places of worship. But here at the Golden Temple, they seem more that perfectly happy about it, proud that you want to be a part of it too. Even if you don't share any of the same ideologies.

Karni Mata Temple - The Temple of Rats

On my way north I visited a small city called Bikaner, a HOT desert town, former capital, and an essential stopover to restock my clean underwear supply.

Bikaner itself wasn't all that interesting, but just a few kms outside the city is one of the most unusual temples I've seen so far.

Here's the two minute back story:

Karni Mata, a 16th century Hindu sage, once got into a fight with Yama, the god of death. KM had wanted to reincarnate the son of local story teller but couldn't do so as Yama had already claimed the young boy's soul. KM was annoyed. Very annoyed. So in an act of revenge, she vowed that Yama would never again receive another soul from her tribe. So now whenever one of the KM clan passes on, they're reborn as a rat. Take that Yama!



So obviously the place is crawling with rats. They're everywhere! And they're very well looked after, being fed milk, water and grain by the visiting worshipers.

Oh, and it's believed that having them scuttle across your feet brings good luck. If anyone would like to kiss my lucky feet when I get back home, just let me know.

Safari!

A camel safari! My most stupid decision yet.

Don't get me wrong, it was fun, but spending three days in the desert sandwiched between the sun and sand so hot it can melt the soles of your feet, was too much.

Still, I'm glad I did it. I'd have regretted it if I didn't, and sleeping outside under the stars was genuinely lovely. But if you ever decide to follow in my sandy footsteps, I have a few tips for you:

1. Do it in winter
2. There's no need to do a 3-day safari. Sand looks the same every day of the week.
3. Do it in winter
4. Do it in winter

This is me and my camel Michael Jackson:


The scenery:


Contrived camels at sunset shot:

Rubbish Rubbish Rubbish!

It's disgusting. Sometimes I feel like I'm walking through one big tip. It's everywhere, and the locals seem to be completely oblivious to it.

Take Jaisalmer Fort for instance. This thousand-year-old fort is the biggest tourist attraction in town and also home to about 4 thousand Rajasthanis. It's an amazing place, but there are parts that are totally inaccessible due to the rubbish build up. You'd think such an important site - one essential to their very livelihoods - would be due a little more care.



On the train, the kids laugh at me because I collect my little chai cups instead of just throwing them out the window.

But it's not easy being clean. Sometimes I carry my rubbish around for hours before I find a bin. And as I drop it in, I always wonder if it's just going to end dumped on the street later anyway.

Ranakpur Part 2: The Trip

I know I've already poked fun at the driving here in India, but it really is beyond belief. It's insane, crazy, and plain fucking scary.

Within the city centres, people (mostly) drive on the left hand side, but outside the city limits, it's anything goes. There really are no rules. None.

Some interesting facts:

• India has just 1% of the world's vehicles, but accounts for 10% of the world's road accidents. BBC
• Nearly 100,000 people die every year on India's roads. ABC
• Mortality rate is 14 deaths per 10,000 vehicles. Australia's is 1.8. IJS

What this all means is, when I jump in a taxi, my chances of ending that ride by becoming fused to the front end of a speeding truck is nearly 800% higher here than it is at home.

Anyway, the trip to Ranakpur was unforgettable, for more reasons than one (my guess is about 2 dozen-ish reasons). 2 dozen-ish times where I genuinely thought we might not make it. There were moments when I'd involuntarily pull my legs up to my head - as if my thin legs could somehow deflect the fully-loaded bus that's just swerved onto our side of the road.

Our driver would constantly overtake on the right hand side of the road, in the dark, around blind corners, all while driving at 50kms over the 90km/h speed limit. But don't worry too much, he'd always sound his horn as he did it.

The horn, the all-purpose magic wand for the Indian driver.

And just a little side note - half way through writing this post I had to switch internet cafes (my computer kept resetting itself). On the walk over, a white hatchback wiped out a small kid right in front of me, sent him skidding across the road. He hit the ground pretty hard but came away relatively unscathed - only an injured, perhaps broken, arm. His own fault really, silly kid should've been carrying a horn.

I've seen plenty of smashed up cars on the side of the road, but that's the first 'live' accident I've witnessed here. I'm sure it won't be the last.

Vital Stats - 10 July, 2009

Updating this blog is proving to be fairly time consuming. Aside from the writing component, slow internet speeds, unreliable computers, frequent blackouts and keyboards with missing keys are all hampering the process. Despite that, I'm still online most days (booking tickets, checking maps, looking for hotels, etc), so I've decided I'll start adding some short posts in between the 'features', just so you know that I'm still breathing.


Vital Stats - 10 July, 2009

Time: 10 am
Location: McLeod Ganj, Himachal Pradesh
Health: Excellent
Weather: Cloudy and pleasant
Mood: Relieved (to be out of the heat)
Bowels: Stable
Next Destination: Unknown
Interesting Fact: McLeod Ganj is home to the Dalai Lama, the Tibetan Government in exile, and a million backpackers.

Ranakpur Part 1: The Temple

I get the feeling I'm going to use the word spectacular a lot in this blog, so I apologise if you get a sense of deja vu while reading it. But, I would never use such a powerful word lightly, so when I do begin to sound like a broken record, know that it's not from laziness but from genuine, vocabulary-suppressing wonder at the endless supply of jaw-dropping sights on offer.

It's time, ladies and gentlemen, to take a trip to Jain heaven...

Whilst waiting on the train platform in Ajmer, I met an American girl and amateur photographer named Laura. We were both heading to Jodhpur so we chatted while we waited for the hour-late train to finally arrive. From a friend back home, she'd been given a must-see tip for Rajasthan, the Ranakpur Temple. Turned out to be an awesome tip.

Ranakpur isn't easy to get to (it's in the middle of nowhere, 220km+ from Jodhpur), so for AU$50 Laura and I hired a car (with private driver and petrol included!) to take us on the 440km round trip.

Ranakpur is spectacular. Spectacular, spectacular, spectacular!

The main temple is constructed from white marble, nearly an acre in size, and around 6 stories high. Inside there is something in the order of 1,400 pillars, and every square inch of space, inside and out, has been detailed with supremely intricate religious symbols, shapes and idols.

The lack of colour makes it pretty hard to photograph, but some say it's a spectacle to rival the Taj. I'm yet to see the Taj, so I'll reserve my judgment for now, but this temple is going to be hard to top.

From Pushkar to Jodhpur

The heat is unbearable.

It's unrelenting, crippling, physically and mentally draining. It just sucks the energy right out of you. I knew it'd be hot, but not this hot.

I haven't seen a day under 40 in over a week. Even at night it rarely dips below 30. Eeeeeerrgh.

Anyway, I've manged to gather together enough of the melted slush that used to be my brain to sit down and update this blog. I know I've been slack. Well, very slack. But I've been busy! The catch-22 of doing lots of blog worthy activities is that you're so busy doing blog worthy activities you don't have time to blog about them.

Clear? Good. Back to the blog...

Pushkar was lovely, but it's a small town and by the third day I'd well and truly run out of things to do. So I packed my bags, bought myself a bus ticket to Ajmer (about 12km from Pushkar), and then I left. From Ajmer I took a train that same day west to Jodhpur, the 2nd largest city in Rajasthan.

Jodhpur an amazing sight. The crowded city surrounds a steep hill, on top of which is built an enourmous, 500-year-old fort. No matter where you stand in Jodhpur it looks spectacular.



I spent an entire day inside the fort, and it's just as breath taking inside as it is out. It's amazingly well kept (unusual for India), and as you can see from the pic below, the city views from the outer walls are pretty special.

Now, I'm not sure how this came about, but it seems sometime ago Jodhpur's residents got together and decided to paint the town blue. Thanks to this initiative, Jodhpur has now been given then rather cryptic nickname 'the blue city'.



I stayed at a great little hostel/hotel in Jodhopur called Yogi's. It sits right below the fort - the top pic in this post was taken while eating my breakfast at the roof-top restaurant. Delicious.

And just on a personal note, all is very well with me. The bowels are holding up nicely, and no injuries, bugs, bites, fights, thefts, or any other problems whatsoever. It's been surprisingly smooth sailing so far. (touch wood).

It's washing day for me tomorrow, so while some Indian woman beats the life from my clothes at the local washing ghat, I'll hopefully have a few spare mins to update you all on some of my other recent activities.

Hope all is well back home!