sarah. on the run. : Cold Feet in the Himalayas

Namaste!

Much like the great United States of America (California 4 Life!), India is split up into various states, each with its own special customs, languages, histories, and terrains. Once you're inside the country planning itineraries and zeroing in on the must-sees, knowing your states helps narrow things down tremendously.

After the madness of Delhi we chose to venture into Himachal Pradesh, a northern Himalayan state west of Tibet and south of Kashmir. Originally we'd planned on crossing into Nepal at some point during our trip, but Himachal Pradesh seemed like an easier, and an equally rewarding, alternative.

From Delhi we took a train to Kalka, and then boarded the famous "toy train" north from Kalka to Shimla, which was a ton of fun. Lots of sweeping vistas, precarious cliffs, the works. Temperatures starting dropping pretty rapidly as we climbed in elevation, which worried us a tiny bit given the prevalence of sarongs and tank tops in our backpacks, but we figured we could buy whatever we needed once we got up there. Brendan, who consistently surprises me with his lukewarm enthusiasm toward the world's finest railroads, diligently kept us toasty with miniscule cups of chai at every stop. Not really sure why the cups have to be that small. Grande chai, anyone?

We lost our race against the sun and arrived in Shimla after dark, found a room, got under the covers, and shivered helplessly through the night. Below are a few things we hadn't counted on:

- Himachal Pradesh can be really cold in December. I mean really, really cold. It's not the kind of weather you can just suck up. You need fleece. And wool. And two layers of socks. At high noon.

- Budget hotels in Himachal Pradesh don't do "heating". Sure, they'll offer you a small electric space heater for 150 extra rupees, but that it won't heat up a room built with plywood and tile. You're better off wearing every single item of clothing you own and huddling under five heavy blankets.

- Hot showers are not actually a given. I know that sounds terribly cruel and unfair. Indeed it is.

We were up and out of Shimla early the next morning, which was too bad, since it seemed like a nice town. But our plan was to continue by bus onto Manali, a major tourist hub and jumping off point for mountain trekking.

Did I mention the buses aren't heated either? And that when the roads get windy enough (and they do), people empty their stomachs out the open windows? It's like entering a new dimension of cold. You'd think the cold would just cancel out the nausea at some point, but alas, no. I've never witnessed so many motion sick people as I have in Asia and India over the last few months. Sure, the buses are driven recklessly and the roads are windy, but we tourists are fine. What's up with that?

Brendan and I stayed in Manali for three days, most of which were spent buying warm things to combat our frosty body temperatures. It was ridiculous. Between the two of us we bought two sweaters, two pairs of Tibetan wool socks, two pairs of mittens, a scarf, a hat, and a blanket - none of which we'll need in less than a month. I wanted to enjoy Manali's surroundings more, but we were so ill-prepared for the cold weather that attempting a trek suddenly seemed like a very dumb idea. We mostly kept inside restaurants with wood stoves and ate all day.

If you're ever in Manali, try the muesli, fruit, and curd at a little place called Chopsticks. Delish!

The only way to get from Manali to Dharamsala (our next destination) was on an overnight bus. I don't have to tell you how excited I was about that prospect, but we really had no alternative. Needless to say it was a chilly ride. The hands-down highlight was when our "deluxe but not really" bus dropped us off at a deserted intersection around midnight and we boarded a "local" bus whose driver took us the rest of the way by careening through twisty mountain roads without any headlights. I have no idea if it was a strategic thing or if the bus actually had no headlights. I was so tired I didn't even really care. He seemed to know the way.

We arrived in Dharamsala around 3 a.m., caught a short taxi up the hill to the northern part of town, banged on the door of our reserved hotel until someone woke up and let us in, and finally crashed.

Dharamsala is fairly famous around the world as the permanent residence of the Dalai Lama since his exile from Tibet. Indeed, Tibetan refugees seem to outnumber Indians around town, and Buddhism dominates. It's an interesting scene in a very lovely part of the world. We inquired about attending a "local meeting" to meet the Dalai Lama himself, but he wasn't offering one during our stay. Bummer.

As luck would have it, the runny nose I had in Manali had blossomed into a substantial head cold at this point, and wads of toilet paper acting as Kleenex piled up around me wherever I went. It wasn't completely debilitating, but spending a day trekking through the snowy peaks above town was obviously out of the question. The morning I started to feel better, Brendan started sneezing. I was beginning to see that we had no business being in the Himalayas at all, and were being punished for our foolishness.

Then Brendan got food poisoning. Probably one of his worst 24 hours on record. We blame a batch of Tibetan momos that he ate, and I passed on, the night before. When he stopped throwing up, I threw in the towel and booked a bus out of the mountains the next afternoon.

In hindsight, I'm not sorry that we ventured into Himachal Pradesh. It was an enriching experience that toughened us up, and I'm glad we stuck it out for two weeks. But I don't recommend a winter visit unless you're a wookie or are willing to pay for ample heating.

Next stop...Varanasi, with rest stops in Chandigarh (Punjab state) and Lucknow (Uttar Pradesh). I hope you're taking notes, because you will be tested later.

-s

Comments

how cold did it actually get? Pretty cold I assume. It's the middle of winter here in Regina Saskatchewan Canada. It's about minus 20 degrees Celsius here... Don't regret your winter wimpiness. I feel your pain.

Posted by: Patrick | December 22, 2006 at 11:07 PM