The long and winding path to the Himalayas

Written Monday June 20, 2016 at Veer Guest House in Manali, India

Feeling pretty exhausted as we unwind after some serious travel. The craziest part is today is our first real day of relaxing and exploring after leaving our home last Wednesday! We began our journey that Wednesday at 2pm by walking to our local light rail from the Tiny Castle in Folsom. This was followed by catching a Megabus in Sacramento to San Francisco where we met up with a friend who offered to let us stay at her place for the night. After giving us her house key, we boarded a Tokyo-style subway, standing in a human-squashed sandwich bus with our big packs on for a 45 minute ride to Western San Fran.

The alarm clock went off on Thursday (6/16) at 3:50am and we quietly crept down the stairs of our friend’s apartment to catch a white-knuckle airport shuttle to SFO, our driver running a red light and swerving as if sleep was a distant, longing memory for him. Air Canada flew us to Toronto in five hours, followed by 2 more nearly 8 hour flights to Zurich and onto New Delhi. 31 hours later, we found ourselves in New Delhi, India at 1am on Saturday morning – with a 12 and a half difference in time now from California where it was 12:30pm on Friday afternoon. However, a hustle and bustle outside the airport made it seem as though it could have been the middle of the day. Groggy-eyed, we made sure to get a pre-paid taxi, the safest route to be sure to get where you are expecting to go for a set price.

Our driver did not speak a word of English, but new the street when we poorly pronounced it and we were our way, appreciating the breeze in the 90+ humid evening air. In India, drivers drive on the opposite side of the road, lanes are a suggestion, and horns are used, on average for a few mile drive, about 50 times. I want to break every horn here – they are used too often, almost just for fun, and drivers are so aggressive with no sense of patience.

Our pre-paid taxi got us to our hotel, Hotel Krishna, where we managed to get 4 hours before we woke up at 6am (5:30pm the prior day for us). We knew we did not want to stay in Delhi too long, as the poverty and pollution are so thick, you almost feel strangled. The first time walking out of our hotel and into the city streets, we both felt the expected overwhelming sensation of another world. Trash and waste on the streets, yelling and chaos as drivers honk their horns obsessively and speed down alley ways expecting everyone to jump out of the way. Crumbling buildings, dingy smelling streets, men, whose every bone seemed to be clearly visible through their skin, sleeping in their tuk-tuk taxis during the early morning lull.

The capital of India is bustling and because our bright, white skin and blonde hair makes us stick out, we were constantly bombarded by people asking us if this is our first time in the country (the answer is always “No”), where we are from, how long we are staying, if we need somewhere to go and something to do. Men would walk up to us from behind, trying to keep our pace and attempt to socialize with us, working to sell us whatever they get commission for. Sadly, the feeling is that everyone is only trying to trick you in order to get some money in return. The conversations we have had with a couple of locals we trusted (who repeatedly had to tell us they were not asking for any money before we would make eye contact and converse for a bit) gave us insight into the corruption and short-sightedness of earning the “quick buck” at any expense. I have never been to an area where I felt so on-guard that almost everyone was out to just get your money from you.

This being said, we had our first experience that, as Justin says, “really ruffled our feathers.” We decided to get into a moto-taxi to go to the government tourist office, where we were assured by trustworthy locals we would get unbiased information. We felt we were quoted a fair rate on the taxi and knew the direction we were to be headed. The driver appeared friendly and after socializing a bit, he commented on how much respect teachers deserve as we are the ones who are “making the future.” Before he departed, I had noticed that he pulled out his phone and texted someone. When I reflected on the entire scene to follow, I realized this must have been his connection to a fake tourist office he worked for to bring in naive tourists.

Justin knew something was fishy when we pulled up and we were on a major round-about rather than straight street as our mediocre map showed the office to be on. We were greeted by someone from inside who pointed to the other office we were supposed to be at on our map and assured us we were in the right place. Justin paid the driver his fare (which was fortunately only 50 cents USD) and we went in and sat down. We both were on edge, knowing something just did not seem right.

After about a minute, I reached into the pack Justin was wearing to pull out my phone we had for emergencies. I turned it on for the first time in India, hoping that the service we had gotten would work here (Thank you Mom!). The sleazy “officer” started talking about how he had a special way to get a tourist ticket for the train (which we knew was sold out), and how we needed to go a different route (to an area more dangerous for Americans on the Pakistan border) due to mudslides in the area we wanted to go (which we also knew was not true). As the phone showed reception, I immediately clicked to a map, and I have never been more happy to see the blue navigation dot to let me know where we were. I interrupted the fake officer and told Justin, “We are not in the right place, they are all lying.”

As we got up and walked out, we saw the taxi driver waiting outside, hoping for his cut in the money they were expecting us to give the fake officer for fake tickets. I walked away from the circle of men, quickly looking at my phone to find my bearings and memorize which way we needed to go before hiding the expensive device from sight again. I have never before seen Justin raise his voice, but with fire in his eyes, he walked straight up to our driver and yelled at him, loudly calling him him a liar and thief in front of everyone in the area. Then we quickly took off walking, following my lead and trusting no one who approached us, as we made our way to the right office about six blocks away.

After finding the right government agencies we could trust, we purchased tickets to get out of New Delhi as fast as possible. By 5pm the same day, we boarded a Volvo bus and found ourselves in the magnificent Himalayas after 17 hours of some serious winding roads. The bus had no bathrooms on it,` so we had to be cautious of drinking water during that time, as the bus only made two stops during the long, arduous journey. We were three hours later than expected, but that seems to be common amongst foreign bus travel in these parts.

We threw on our packs at the dusty bus terminal next to the fast-flowing Beas River and hiked up into the mountain town of Manali. Manali is separated into a new and old section, the latter of which is much more mellow and low-key where many international travelers end up to prepare for trekking trips. We hiked through New Manali first on our way up the hill to the old part of town.

Lunch was on our minds, as we had not had a proper meal since 2pm the day prior. As we decided on a small restaurant near the center of a major market, we entered to find 6 men in colorful turbans sitting at three tables together in the small, close quarters of the venue. Their eyes all widened as they saw me sat down but I did not think much of it as by this time, I have started to adjust to being stared at by almost every human around – white girls are rare in these parts. These men were also visiting Manali from the state to the West of us that is adjacent to Pakistan. One of them spoke a very small amount of English and started trying to communicate with us, asking questions that each of his friends asked him to translate. Then, the selfie sticks came out, and they started taking turns coming up for pictures with us. What made it awkward was when they received their food, they would still hold up their phones from their tables, and take selfies of themselves with just me in the background. At one point, Justin asked if I would be alright if he left for a moment to use the restroom, and we both chuckled as I said I’d be fine. I simply read my book, ignoring the 12 eyes almost piercing through me.

With a delicious meal of paneer butter masala and chai tea gobbled up, we finished our trek uphill, dodging the moto-taxis, to old Manali and immediately fell in love with the relaxed vibe, and villagers who were more accustomed to seeing white people with little to no harassment to sell us things. We splurged on a room with a private porch overlooking the massive peaks around us and with a personal bathroom. As jet-lag set in, we fought to stay awake, walking around the village area, until the respectable bedtime of 4:45pm, when we both fell asleep immediately as our heads hit the pillows.

At 2:45am (2:15pm Cali time), we both woke up and enjoyed the peace and quiet of not a single horn in the distant streets. At first I thought someone must have had a loud fan going, but then realized that the noise I was hearing was the gushing rivers and waterfalls all around us from the walls of mountains that tucked us into this valley. We attempted to get a few more hours of sleep before calling it quits at 4am and enjoying the sunrise from our balcony.

It has felt like a rarity these days to be alone outside with the hustle and bustle of so many people everywhere in the second most populated country in the world. We decided to take the opportunity this morning to hike to a nearby temple and enjoy the clear views of the mountain peaks while the rest of town slept and before the clouds came in as the day warmed up. As we hiked past the town temple, a dog, who we fondly named Spruce, followed us from the temple up a trail along the mountainside. We huffed and puffed up the trail’s steep incline with Spruce, who peacefully joined us with a smile and simply enjoyed our company. We tried giving Spruce a little cookie as a treat, and realized he was not even following us for food, just the friendship. He was a special dog and we loved having him by our side for the beautiful trek into the mountainous countryside. As the sun crested the mountain-tops, warming up town with its powerful rays, we decided to turn back, hoping now that someone had opened their shop for breakfast.

Indeed, the town locals were getting along with their day, trimming stinging nettle and filling their baskets to sell it in the new town market. Spruce said his farewell to us back at the temple where we first met him, a genuine Buddha dog if I ever saw one. We gobbled up delicious omelette sandwiches with yak cheese and tea on our porch and reveled in our happiness to be in such a fantastic place in this world.

Electricity comes and goes throughout the day here, and Internet is even more of a rarity. We are currently planning two major treks in the Himalayas, and I hope to share more stories but I am not sure if the Internet gods will allow. We couldn’t be more excited to explore this beautiful region, and look forward to sharing the adventures to come whenever possible.

Sending love and light to all of you!
Melissa & Justin