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Leaving India

Well, sadly it’s time for us to be on our way back home to Oregon.  I know we’ve been a little behind on the blog, but hey, we’re living it up in Mumbai and there’s just no time for sitting in a computer lab typing in this amazing city.  We will continue updating the blog when we get home since we still have half of Rajastan, Goa, and Mumbai to write about.

We are currently feeling a strange mix of sadness to be leaving Asia and excitement to see our family, dog, city, and even some rain.  Even the horribly long plane ride is sounding like an adventure right now.

See you all soon,  Andy and Denae

We’re not in Mumbai

Hi everybody, just a short note to reassure any of you that might be worried.  Our hearts go out for the folks in Mumbai, but we’re thankful that we’re currently far away from there.  Denae and I spent our Thanksgiving in Chitwan National Park, Nepal.  We took a jeep safari into the park and managed to see one of the endangered one horned rhinos and some other jungle critters, and then splurged on a wonderful $13 candlelit Thanksgiving dinner.  We’re going on an elephant-top safari this afternoon.  We’ll get some more blog updates up soon, Andy and Denae

Don’t worry if you don’t hear from us…

Hey friends and family,

Right now we’re in Pokhara, Nepal. In the morning we’re going to catch a bus to the starting point of a 20-25 day (16 to 20 days for those more pressed for time, and probably in better shape) trek, or backpacking trip for you non-Euro folks. We’ll be walking in the middle of the Himalaya range on the Annapurna Circuit trek, and should see some beautiful sights and take a few thousand pictures. We’re still backed up on putting up our blog posts, and when we get back we’ll try to catch up on Indian trains, the ancient and beautiful city of Varanasi, and then into Nepal. Eventually we’ll even fill you in on our trek. This will be it for a few weeks though, because there isn’t much internet access out there in the boonies. Wish us luck, and we hope all of you are doing great as well.

Cheers,

Andy and Denae

PS.  When we come back we expect Mr. Obama to be president.  Don’t let us down!

Bus from Manali to Leh; aka “bus of death”

Pashmina goats getting a haircut at our first rest stop

We’d come to the Manali area in the first place because it is a gateway for Ladakh, a high altitude Budhist area tucked into and isolated by the Himalayas. It’s a two day bus trip through some of the world’s highest motorable passes to get

Uniquely Indian English at the second highest motorable pass in the world. We were feeling a bit lightheaded.

there, and it’s a short season there because once it starts to snow the roads close and the only way in or out is to fly. It was mid-September and the busses weren’t going to be running much longer; it was time to head to Ladakh. We booked a relatively expensive ($80 for the two of us including room and board for one night) “deluxe” government bus for the two day trip to Leh with a one night stopover in Keylong. We chose this over the slightly cheaper private buses because they all stayed the night in Sarchu, which was at a higher elevation than Keylong and we’d heard that many people ended up vomiting and feeling very uncomfortable during the night from symptoms of altitude sickness.

Pretty setting, pretty lady

The bus wasn’t all that deluxe, but the driver was fairly cautious which was a huge relief after the trip to Manali, and considering that most of the time we were driving on a winding one and a half lane road with a cliff on one side. The scenery was spectacular, and changed from green and lush to barren high altitude desert mountains. We stopped periodically for pee breaks in the middle of nowhere, and being desert there wasn’t much cover to protect people’s modesty. Privacy for the women meant everyone simply pretending they couldn’t see their shockingly white bare asses.

A few hours in we knew our seat neighbors were going to be trouble. Two Spanish ladies had reclined their seats as far back as they could go, which was way too far, and the poor Indians behind them ended up sitting with their noses a couple inches away from the headrests. They were getting visibly more and more irritated with the reclining Spaniards,

Tea and Pee break; it's a vicious circle

and finally asked them to move the seats forward a little bit. Incredibly they refused, and an argument broke out with the Spanish women yelling for the Indians to recline their seats also, and the Indians saying they didn’t want to and their space was being intruded on. We watched all this happening and tried to stay out of it, but eventually I couldn’t take it and, feeling sorry for the Indians, asked the Spaniards to please put their seats forward out of common politeness. We argued for a bit and it went nowhere, so the day was spent with the Spaniards heads in the Indian’s laps, and every time I looked over to see the smug and self-satisfied smirks on the ladies faces I had to hold myself back from getting into it again.

Now that's a steep road!

On the second day of our journey the seat wars erupted almost immediately. This time, one of the Indians who’d had the seat in his face had had enough, and started yelling and pointing his finger only inches from the ladies faces. It went on for quite a while, and we were genuinely worried that there might be some violence. I thought maybe I’d step in and pull the Indians off after they’d had a chance to slap the Spaniards around for a while. Maybe. But it never came to blows.

High desert dhabas

The bus ride was very, very long and uncomfortable. The scenery was good enough that we could almost ignore the people vomiting out the windows due to altitude sickness, but it was one of those things that you’re happy you did once and don’t really need to do again, so we decided we’d probably be leaving Leh on an airplane.

Nice view from the first day, on the way to Keylong

How to catch a bus

Here’s a tutorial, from two very experienced India hands, on how to book and catch the 16 hour bus from Delhi to Manali. First, walk aimlessly around Delhi. Make sure to look slightly lost and unsure of yourself. Allow yourself to be befriended by a nice young Nepali lad who speaks great English and seems to have no agenda, unlike all the other damn touts around who keep bugging you. Your significant other will then elbow you in the ribs and hiss that see, not everyone we meet is a tout and you shouldn’t be so rude to everyone. Mention, after several blocks of walking and friendly talk, that you’re planning to head to Manali, and your new friend will helpfully lead you to the government tourist office that you’d heard about and where you can book the tickets. The office will look legit; it will say it’s the government office and even have the Incredible India logo and website painted on the sign. Go in; let the helpful tourist agent sell you two tickets for 650 Rupees ($16) each. Realize only a few minutes later that no, in fact that was a private tourist agency and you’ve been ripped off. Don’t get too upset though because it was probably at most $10 over what you should have paid. Do look at your ticket though, which says Mr. Andy x 2 and looks rather unofficial now that you think about it, and doubt whether there will be a bus at all.

Got that? Now for catching the bus the next day. First go out for breakfast and be waited on by a very familiar young Nepali lad who suddenly can’t speak English at all, and definitely can’t remember you. OK, now grab a rickshaw and ask the driver to take you to the address on your ticket. He won’t know where it is, but don’t worry; he’ll ask at least half a dozen people on the street as you drive around and will figure it out, maybe. Eventually he’ll drop you at what he says is the correct spot, which is a wide spot in the road with no indication at all of being a bus stop. At this point you can be pretty sure you were scammed. Sit on the sidewalk feeling frustrated and unsure. But wait, here come more rickshaws bearing more tourists. Eventually a bus will come and, even though this one is going to Dharamsala and not Manali, the driver will say you should stand on the other side of the road and wait for your bus. Let the street children entertain you with circus tricks for small change while you wait. As you were told, your bus will come. Inexplicably, it will be the same bus to Dharamsala. Everyone inside will be just as confused as you are. You will drive 45 minutes or so through Delhi, and then be dropped off at a gas station and be told to wait for your correct bus. Suddenly you’ll be alone with two other Manali bound travelers (one of whom paid 950 and is pissed about it) and regret that you gave your tickets to the bus driver. Realize you’re sitting at a gas station in some unfamiliar part of Delhi with no proof of ever having bought a ticket. Think, is this a scam? One hour later, a bus will come. Be excited, jump up and run to it. It will be the same #@!! bus to Dharamsala! Think, this is definitely some weird and inefficient scam! Buy chai. Calm down. Two hours later your bus will come.