Shimla

Usually we get bangers without seat-belts, so we were both surprised to find that our prearranged car for the trip to Shimla was in good condition. The eight hour trip was rollercoaster-like, similar to the journey from Dalhousie to Mcleod Ganj. We finally reached a damp and gloomy Shimla in the late afternoon.  I was still feeling the effects of Mcleod Ganj’s evil onion quiche, so went straight to bed after checking-in to our hotel. Noticing that I wasn’t well, the hotel wallah made me some kitchari (grain broth); apparently particularly nourishing and easy to digest, so good for the Delhi Belly.

view from our room

As a treat towards the end of our trip, we booked a room at the five-star Oberoi Shimla for the next couple of nights. Rising early, we checked out of a temporary hotel and made the short walk down the hill to the Oberoi. Top-end hotels in India are known to be amongst the best in the world, and the Oberoi didn’t disappoint. We spent the afternoon relaxing in our room, and rounded the day off with a badly needed western style buffet at the restaurant. The injection of something familiar finally put my stomach back in order.

Breakfast was great, the first fry-up we had in three months. We spent the rest of the morning admiring views of the surrounding mountains and valleys from the comfort of a hot Jacuzzi. After Shejal’s afternoon spa treatment, we headed out for a walk into town. Shimla is the undisputed king of the old British hill stations. By the mid-1800’s Shimla had become the official summer capital of the Raj. Until 1939, the entire government of India migrated here annually to avoid the soaring heat of the plains. Many of the old British administrative buildings remain functional, now housing agencies of the Himachal Pradesh state government. Shimla resembles a 2205 meter high version of a large English market town strung out along a 12km ridge (with added monkeys). Having both gotten used to the chaos, colour, vibrancy of the standard Indian town/city, being here felt like we’d arrived home early.

We decided to spend an extra day in Shimla, so checked-out of the Oberoi the next morning and walked back to the nearby hotel that we’d spent our first night at. After checking back in, we headed out to visit Shimla’s main sights. First stop was the Viceregal Lodge, built as an official residence of the British Viceroys back in the day. In 1947, the decision to partition India and create the new states of Pakistan and East Pakistan (Bangladesh), was taken here. Included in the entrance fee was an interesting guided tour of the building.

After the Lodge, we walked to the town centre, visiting Scandal Point, The Ridge, and Christ Church. 

The weather had improved since we arrived, overcast, but no rain and relatively warm. We spotted a few snug looking Indian tourists; obviously not used to anything colder than 30 degrees.

The start of the steep thirty minute trail to Jakhoo (Shimla’s highest point) is marked with this handy sign offering guidance on fitness levels. Congratulations to anyone over 70 who makes it to the top!

We spotted this vehicle parked near to the Jakhoo path, perhaps waiting people in the ‘need improvement’ fitness category.

We rounded off our time in Shimla with dosas at the Indian Coffee house, a restaurant/old boys’ club where the waiters wear uniforms and turbans; felt like we’d been transported back to the 1940s.

The penultimate stop on our tour offered a rare chance to relax, exactly what we needed considering the hectic schedule of the last month! Shimla is unlike anywhere else we’ve visited on the trip so far, being quite distinct from standard Indian towns/cities. The weird ‘out-of-place’ Englishness of Shimla combined with surrounding Himachal Pradesh scenery makes for a very interesting mix. 

Mcleod Ganj (Dharamsala)

It would have been nice to spend more time in the Chamba Valley area, but the weather wasn’t really up to it. We decided on an early hotel check-out after the manager told us that the government had, for some reason, cut power to the whole of the town; took this as sign that Dalhousie just wasn’t meant to be.

There’s a state bus from Dalhousie to Mcleod Ganj, but we decided to cab it after hearing about a recent fatal accident on the route. We had car suitability issues again, which put us back a bit. On the map, Mcleod Ganj doesn’t look all that far away from Dalhousie, but the cab ride took six hours, descending down to the plains, only to have to climb back up the same range of hills. We arrived in Mcleod Ganj feeling totally wiped out from the windy journey and altitude changes.

The hotel we’d booked in advance was terrible, but ‘luckily’ a slightly less terrible one was located next door. Being disorientated from the journey, we didn’t really have the appetite for a haggle, so no big room-rate discounts this time. After a bit of rest, we went out for a walk around the town.

Mcleod Ganj is famous for being the headquarters of the Tibetan government in exile and the residence of the Dalai Lama. The town is all about Tibetan culture, with many Tibetan restaurants, handicrafts shops, museums, and Buddhism schools. It’s very popular with the hippie crew who come here in hope of meeting his holiness. Trekking in the mountainous surrounding area also draws travelers. 

We hadn’t eaten all day, so headed straight for the nearest traveler café to fill up. I hadn’t seen quiche on a menu in India before, so ordered it for a change. It wasn’t long after leaving the café that I started to feel very unwell in the stomach region. Shejal wasn’t feeling that great either from the trip, so we headed back for an early bedtime at the hotel. Since Rajasthan I’ve not been 100%, so getting hit again in Mcleod Ganj was a bit crap. 

Things looked a little brighter the next day after a good night’s sleep, so we headed out to see the sights of town. Firstly we visited the Tibetan Museum which tells the sad story of Chinese occupation and subsequent population migrations to Himachal Pradesh. 

 

The museum is located in the Tsuglagkhang Complex along with administrative offices of the Tibetan government in exile, the Dalai Lama’s residence, and a large temple. 

When leaving the temple, we spotted an official looking ambassador car pulling up to the Dalai Lama’s residence; couldn’t quite make out whether it was the great man or not, but others nearer were very excited about something.  

In spite of feeling ill, I was determined to do some walking in Mcleod Ganj, managing a short 8km route around the area in the afternoon. At the highest point I came across a quiet café, stopping for a while to soak up views of the valleys and snow capped peaks. Whilst supping on a chai, I noticed a steady stream of colorful butterflies making their way over my head and then down the valley. Can’t quite make them out in this vid, but it was an impressive sight. 

Mcleod Ganj was good fun (despite not feeling at our best). The Tsuglagkhang Complex was very interesting, and the scenery surrounding the town is amazing.

Dalhousie

The hotel owner in Amritsar decided to disregard the discounted price agreed before check in. He lost his rag when I said ‘the customer is always right’. After we explained that it was a matter of principal (rather than the cash), he buckled, but gave us the silent treatment in the foyer whilst we waited for our prearranged car to Dalhousie. The first car that arrived had seen better days, so we asked for another one to be sent. The second car wasn’t much better, only difference being a large Nike swoosh sticker running down one side. The third car sent was ok, but lacked the seatbelts we asked for. After two hours waiting, with the help of the hotel manager (who’d stopped sulking), an acceptable vehicle was finally delivered.  Taxi wallahs think we’re fussy, especially when it come to seatbelts, which when asked for is usually met with a funny look; but as we were heading into Himachal Pradesh, which is almost exclusively mountainous, we weren’t going to take any chances.

The ride up to Dalhousie was initially fine as we made our way through Northern Punjab. Things got a little rough and windy the higher we climbed towards the Himalayas. After five hours, we reached Dalhousie just as it was getting dark. First thing we noticed was the drop in temperature; it couldn’t have been much over freezing, considering the heat we’ve gotten used to, it was a bit of a shock. The hotel recommended in the book turned out to be a wrong-un; manky room, and worst of all, no heating! It was too late to find another hotel, so we made do, cocooning ourselves in blankets. After a chilly night, we got up early and found another hotel. The manager of the original hotel was so embarrassed when we mentioned the issues with the room, he didn’t charge us for the stay. Bonus! 

Dalhousie is another old British Hill station like Ooty and marks the most northerly destination of our entire trip. It’s located close to the Kashmiri border, 2036m up in the Chamba Valley region, an area known for its scenic beauty and Himalayan mountain views. Unfortunately, whilst we were there, the latter was obscured by bad weather. The local valleys and mountain tops were however in full view, and the more impressive with the mist/cloud rolling through.

We spent our only day in the Chamba Valley area at nearby Khajjiar (known as India’s mini Switzerland), a 44km return cab ride from Dalhousie. The trip up to Khajjiar was interesting, occasionally glimpsing 200-300ft sheer roadside drops though the fast moving mist. Our driver was an old fella, but that didn’t stop him kitting his car out with furry toys, day-glow dashboard coverings, and a sound system (which was pumping out pop music). Being totally underdressed for the cold rainy weather, we spent only a couple of hours in Khajjiar; enough time to get some horse riding in and a chai break.

On the drive back down to Dalhousie, our driver stopped off at some nice view points, some of which still had decent coverings of snow left over from winter.

Our stay in Dalhousie was a tad disappointing due to the weather, but the landscape and views were amazing. We’ve never before seen mountains the size of those in Himachal Pradesh! 

Amritsar

Unable to get train tickets, we booked a flight from Delhi to Amritsar. Riding the wave of national euphoria, I finally purchased a Team India cricket shirt from the airport. The plane was up and down in under an hour, door to door in three hours with the 45 minute journey by cab from Amritsar airport to the hotel – mercifully short trip. When we showed up at the hotel, the staff informed us that they only had a room for one night (rather than the two we’d actually booked over the phone). We argued it, but they didn’t budge. The hotel porter flagged down a day-glow pink turban wearing cyclo wallah (who looked about eighty). After the poor chap struggled to load our packs onto his steed, we set off and found a new hotel quickly. As we turned up without a booking, the hotel chap gave a good discount. Unusually for an Indian hotel they had Wi-Fi, so before heading out, we both Skyped home.

Amritsar is all about one thing – Sikhism’s holiest shrine, The Golden Temple! It’s up there as one of the must-see sights in India, and it’s the last ‘biggy’ on our itinerary. After our Mother’s Day Skype, we headed out to the temple, firstly visiting the shoe drop-off area, which is run like a military operation due to the numbers of worshipers that visit the temple. Visitors must cover their heads before entering the complex; caps and hats won’t do, but thankfully the temple provides a stock of bandana style head coverings. Realising that I was having trouble tying my bandana, a friendly chap came over and helped me out.

After going through the foot bath (obligatory when entering Sikh temples), we got our first view of the golden temple. We arrived just as the sun was going down; greeted by groups of worshipers bathing in the fading light, accompanied by a soundtrack of chanting priests over the speakers. Sitting and soaking it up, we both decided that this was one of the most amazing places we’d ever visited.

As we were coming back the next day, we decided to put off the visit to the inner sanctums of the temple until then – also, the queue looked pretty crazy at the time! Instead we did a couple of circuits of the lake and then headed for a bit of dosa and idly action at a nearby restaurant. Our first visit to the temple was amazing.

We kicked off day two in Amritsar back at the golden temple. My bandana tying skills hadn’t improved over night, again needing the help of a local volunteer.

This time we joined the queue to visit the Golden Temple building (Hari Mandir Sahib) in the middle of the sacred lake. The uncomfortable one hour wait in the midday sun was helped along by chatting to inquisitive worshippers. The temple has two floors; on the ground floor just by the entrance a group of priests keep a continual chant which is broadcast via loudspeaker around the complex. Worshipers crowd around the priests and offer prayers. The original copy of the Sikh holy book (Guru Granth Sahib) is housed up on the first floor. We were also allowed up to the roof which provided some nice views over the sacred lake. Unusually for a busy temple, we weren’t hustled through quickly by the crowd, instead being allowed to take our time to explore and soak up the atmosphere. From the little I picked up, Sikhism is known for its inclusive nature; worshipers and temple staff alike (even the security) were super friendly and very welcoming! Not surprising the place has such a great vibe. This might be my favourite spot on the trip. 

Amritsar is only 30km from the India-Pakistan border at Wagah. Every day before sunset, the Indian and Pakistani armies meet to close the border gate. It’s not just a matter of closing the door and saying ‘see you tomorrow’, instead taking the form of a thirty minute theatrical performance with flag waving, goose stepping, chanting, dancing, etc. The event is so popular that grandstands have been built on each side to house the patriotic crowds. We’ve seen the ceremony on TV documentaries; no chance we were missing out on the spectacle! We booked rs60 seats in a shared jeep for the short trip to the border.

On the road leading to the border crossing, men and woman are split up and given the shake down treatment by the army.

Once past the security checks, we came across all the usual things you’d expect to see at an international border – immigration, customs offices etc. This is however the border between two hostile nations, so in addition to the usual stuff is a high double layered electrified fence with machine gun sentries placed at regular intervals. We’re told that the fence runs the length of the Punjab/Rajasthan/Gujarat; hundreds of miles!

Foreign tourists are given access to the VIP stand, which is closer to the gate. Not sure why we get special treatment, but we didn’t complain; perhaps the Indian government likes to show off their successful tourism industry in front of the Pakistani’s, which I’m guessing doesn’t get many foreign tourists - the whole ceremony is about outdoing one another. After flashing our passports, we were led to the VIP stand where we get a nice view of the craziness. The action started with an Indian army ‘Mr Motivator’ chap in a gleaming white tracksuit inviting the ladies in the crowd down onto the road for dancing to patriotic songs. The same ladies then queue up for a bit of flag running along the length of the road, all the while Mr Motivator getting crowd fired up with some call-and-response over the PA – ‘Hindustan - Zinabad’, which means long live India. Each step is countered with similar antics on the Pakistani side, the Indian crowd laughing in response to the ‘long live Pakistan’s’. Bit rude, but there’s a fair about of hate between the two nations, so to be expected.    

The ceremony proper was slightly confusing. Each soldier involved in the ceremony shouts continually into Mr Motivator’s microphone until out of breath and then goose steps out towards the gate area. This went on until all Army wallahs were dispatched. Before the gates are closed, representatives of each army lower their respective flags with synchronised movements. About ten minutes of fancy moustached goose stepping action followed until the gates were finally shut. Soldiers for both sides then angrily march back to their holding areas, and the show is over.

Watching the show unfold in my new Indian cricket shirt and shouting ‘zindabad’ like a madman, I felt like an honorary Indian for half an hour! Shejal felt very patriotic. It was weird seeing the difference between the two sides, the Pakistanis not as numerous and much quieter than then Indians. I found it odd being within touching distance of Pakistan, a place the average western wallah probably wouldn’t currently consider visiting. The ceremony was excellent, definitely worth seeing. 

We finished off our trip to Amritsar with a hearty Punjabi meal at a nice restaurant - butter chicken, butter paneer, and lots of butter naans; heart attack food, but ok once in a while. The Golden Temple was amazing, and the border ceremony very entertaining; won’t forget the trip to Amritsar in a hurry, definitely a highlight.