I Love India

I have to admit I was somewhat scared of India before coming here. I had heard about the heat, the noise, squalor and congestion, touts and hustlers. There is all of that but there is also so much more.
A land of over a billion people it is a land of incredible contrasts that delights and distresses in the same breath.
We've visited Hindu, Sikh, Jain, Buddhist and Muslim temples and mosques. Survived the scalding Thar desert and the heights of the Himalayas. Marvelled at the awesome Taj,  the palaces and forts of Rajasthan and the mystical monastaries of Ladakh. Travelled by train, taxi, plane, shikara, tuktuk, rickshaw, horse and camel. Seen stunning scenery and sometimes devastating pollution and poverty and have met some wonderful people of all cultures, religions and walks of life.
I'll borrow a saying from the the stoned art cafe in Dharamsala. The world is not made up of the collision and chemistry of atoms but the meeting and chemistry of humans and the stories they make together (o.k I think I changed that a bit). But it is the people you meet and share time with in your travels that make it special.
Alot of travellers come to India for spiritual knowledge and enlightenment. I've certainly gained in knowledge but my spiritual muse still has to be this blue world that we all live in. India has it all. The grandeur of the mountains in Ladakh, the tranquility of the lakes and rivers in Kashmir, fabulous wildlife, an immense desert, beautiful people and an incredibly rich diverse heritage. But it threatens to be overwhelmed by pollution, poverty and carelessness. Somehow we all have to be responsible for that. India certainly gets under your skin and in to your heart and I've grown to love this country, warts and all. 

Time to start the journey home. Thank you to those who read my ramblings. I can't wait to see my special people in New Zealand.

Namaste Sandy

The Streets Of Old Delhi

Like an Indian

Pigeon wars

New Delhi/Old Delhi

Time to go home. One last day in Leh eating momos with friends, feeding stray dogs and donkeys and watching the sunset light up the mountains from our room with a view. For the first time in 2 weeks I can run up the stairs without puffing but just as I'm getting good with the altitude we have to leave.
The early morning flight to Delhi is stunning as the bare chocolate foothills give way to the true Himalayas and a frozen mountainous wasteland.
Delhi of 14 million people is strangely quiet. The roads are relatively empty except for lots of police. Apparently it's the swearing in day for Prime minister Modi and his new cabinet and the heads of state of Saarc including Pakistan, Nepal and Bhutan are in town so a lot of the central city is in lock down. Still Delhi is Delhi congested, noisy, full of rubbish and dogs. We try a wander through Old Delhi and chawri bazaar but after Leh the heat and busyness is a little overwhelming. Later that night the streets below our hotel are like a carnival with fireworks and music as people celebrate the future and hope of a new government. It seems a fitting end to our time in India as we've been here throughout the whole interesting election process.
After a good nights sleep we decide to give Old Delhi another go. This time we enlist the help of the lovely Anju who is passionate about her home streets and its old havelis. We also start walking at 7am to avoid the heat and the crowds. We spend the first hour on a rooftop watching a sport involving pigeons. One man sends up his flock of pigeons to circle and try and capture another man's pigeons. If he succeeds the loser has to pay 500 rupees to get 1 pigeon back. All over the city flocks of pigeons circle, flow and crash like waves before being called to their rooftop home hopefully with a pigeon prisoner.Good fun.
We spend another hour watching in the square. The tea seller is 5th generation working from the same spot as his forebearers. The main difference now is that he can make up to $500 a day selling tea! The guys in red hats are 4th generation ear wax cleaners. Bry has about 2 years worth of wax and draws a big crowd who seem fascinated to see what comes out of his ears. 10 rupee or 20cents per ear so I'm not sure how much they make in a day. We keep on wandering the warren of shops and alleys stopping frequently to eat delicious spicy food, drink chai and admire old havelis. Everyone is busy but seem happy for us to be part of their world for a morning. We cook pouris, cycle a rickshaw, drink the best lassis, get adorned with henna and bracelets, visit Hindu temples and Muslim mosques, chat to children and flower sellers, visit communal homes and wedding shops and become a small part of Old Delhi that has bustled and hustled in life and commerce for centuries. After more scrumptious curries for lunch we bid farewell to Anju and decide to brave the Delhi metro with millions of Indians. We descend at Chawri station and soon the ultra modern, sleek metro has whisked us into the future and the wide streets, fancy shops and hip youngsters of New Delhi. Now that we're like locals on the metro we spend the rest of the day riding the trains and tuktuks and exploring. At night Delhi really comes alive with lights, action and hordes of people.
We end the day watching cricket. The rajasthan royals are in an unbeatable position in the decider for the 20/20 finals. That is until kiwi Corey Anderson playing for the Mumbai Indians smashes enough 6s and 4s to cause the biggest upset of the season.
Politics, cricket, rickshaws and metros, chaos and calm in New Delhi and old. It does seem that anything is possible in India.

Ramram Sandy

Town compost factories

Bridges and waterways

Boys dodgy climb to find waterfall get views of k2 Pakistan

Another loo in the desert

Verdant oasis. Barley and apricots

The silk road goes really high

Two humps...

Isn't she cute.. And so is the camel

Met a kiwi... Do u recognize him Robyn

He is in disguise... Camel hair goatee.

The End Of the Road

The great silk route once wound its way through the Nubra valley, from India to Eastern Turkistan with caravans of camels carrying spices, pashminas and silk. For our last excursion in Ladakh we followed the silk road as far as it would take us. Bryan really wanted to take the bike but with the highest road pass in the world to negotiate I wasn't too keen and anyhow we got to share a jeep with a lovely Israeli couple, Ori and Shira, and fellow Kiwi Dave.
From Leh the road zigzagged and twisted up through mud, rocks, snow and ice to the impressive Khardung-La pass which at 5602m is probably as high as I'll ever go and still be on land. We then dropped down the over side, past fields of yaks, to the beautiful Nubra valley. Divided in two by a turquoise river and jade river the colors were dramatic and between barren hills burst pockets of emerald green where the apricots flourished. We stopped at Diskit monastery where a huge Buddha guarded the valley and watched dust storms dance across the dunes below. But not only Buddha guarded the way to Pakistan. Army camps, bunkers and barracks littered the dunes and we were stopped 3 times on our journey for passport and permit checks.
The road took us through chasms and gorges and sheer mountain slopes of grey granite, silver shale and red rubble. Boulders the size of cars were strewn carelessly around like a lazy child's toys. And always in the background the brooding snow laden peaks. Desolate but awe inspiring.
Finally we arrived at Turtuk and the end of the road in India. Suddenly dusty dry brown hills gave way to a fertile green valley and a fairytale village hidden amongst apricot trees and shrouded in mist. As soon as we got to our guesthouse in the trees the rain came down and the drumming on the roof sent me quickly to sleep.
We woke to a crystal clear day and a fresh dusting of snow on the hills. We explored the magical village of 2000 people almost completely hidden by the overarching apricot trees laden with fruit. Streams and aqueducts gurgled around every house, under walkways and through fields. Rich green terraced fields of wheat and barley jostled for space with stone cottages and pens of donkeys, goats and yak.
Ori had heard about a waterfall from which you could see the mountain K2 so we decided to find it. Getting slightly lost we instead came upon soldiers with guns and whistles telling us that the mountains were a no go zone. But the boys were determined. While Shira and I retired to our treehouse they tackled a precarious cliff side path and were rewarded with a view of the mighty K2. I was happy with the cross between a rabbit and mouse that I found in a hillside rock burrow. The boys returned triumphant and polished off a bottle of Ladakhi whiskey to celebrate.
Another night in the lost village and then back to Leh with a quick stop to ride a double humped camel through sandy desert dunes while gazing at snowy peaks. Once more over the snowy Khadung-La pass where I saw a marmot and then a hot shower, sizzling hot dinner and cake in comparatively cosmopolitan Leh.
Ancient Turtuk, 2500 years old, doesn't seem to have changed much since it was part of the silk route (except for maybe serious soldiers with guns blocking the road through to Pakistan).
It has to be one of the remotest most beautiful places I've ever visited and has the most delicious dried apricots ever. It's only been open to tourists the last 3 years so I hope the tourist route doesn't change things too much.

Jullay Sandy

Upgraded meditation caves- inquisitive donkey

Lamayuru is really old

Royal Enfield himalayan road trip

Wall paintings and thankhas

Good morning!

Look familiar??

Prayer wheels

His and hers.

This mornings vista from hotel room

The monk...he just disappeared??

And we saw monas - terys

Motorcycle to Moonland

All the way through India Bryan has coveted and admired the Royal Enfield motobikes and I have steadfastly refused to even think about getting on one. I think the boss at hotel mehak and Bry were in cahoots as somehow they managed to convince me that the only right way to visit Lamayuru was by motorbike.
So off we set from Leh on a shiny black Royal Enfield named Thunderbird. Actually we only got 7km down the road before we realized that the only working petrol pump in Ladakh was the one in Leh with the 2 hour queue. So eventually we were off through the bizarre snow sculptured landscape of Ladakh. Bryan loving the looping curves and me hanging on like a limpet behind. Our first stop is the monastery of Liker. A giant gold Buddha overlooks the surrounding mountains and monastery which houses a beautiful collection of thanka. What astounds me is that people live here all year round even when the river freezes over and the temperature plummets. Even now in summer the snowline is only a stones throw away yet the apricot trees are in blossom and the terraced gardens green with life.
Onwards to Lamayuru with plenty of stops for chai. The road follows alongside a startling turquoise river before climbing towards the snow again. I cling even harder as the s-bends become tighter and the drop-offs steeper. Finally the monastary comes in sight atop the strange corrugated rock formations that give the area the name moonland. We book in to a friendly guesthouse and wander the village. The village square is the place to be with yaks, donkeys and people gathering to partake of the communal water supply. Dinner and bed as we're both tired after 120km on the Thunderbird ride to the moon.
The monastary in the morning is full of centuries old statues and art. But then we have to venture back down the slinky snaky mountain road. I don't feel so bad when Bry admits it would be scary in a car let alone a bike. The feeling of being on another planet intensifies as at every village we pass dopplegangers abound. I see the same weathered wrinkled old woman in traditional Tibetan dress and swinging her prayer wheel untold times and the same tan wolf like dog seems to follow us. And with my layers of gear and helmet I reckon I could pass as a Dr Who cyberman. No sexy biker chick for me.
As we descend in to another valley we see a large herd of wild deer that blend imperceptively in to the sandy scree slope as they skitter away.
One last monastary, this time Alchi,  which lies in the curve of the green river. We stop for the night at the No Mind Homestay which offers yoga, meditation and five rhythms dancing, good food,good coffee and happy hippies. It's close enough to Coromandel to dispel my notions of being transported to another planet although still no beer for Bryan. He's even more disappointed because the 7th generation thanka artist is not at home because he's too busy painting thankas for the upcoming Dalai Llamas visit to Leh. Oh well you can't have everything.

Namaste Sandy