New Photos

I've posted new photos. The links are below or you can go to the India album and select 'Photos by Amy.'
Varanasi to Pokhara
Chitwan to Bangkok

Kathmandu Valley

Kathmandu was great but not being a city person, I was quickly ready to escape on a trek. I found two trekking buddies, Michelle and Sara, who wanted to do the Helambu Circuit. We planned a route but then decided on a shorter town to town trek so that Michelle could do another half day of work. The next day, Sara, a Danish guy, a Norwegian guy and I all headed to Boudhanath, a town with a fantastic Buddhist stupa as the centerpiece. We did brunch on a nearby rooftop and then walked an hour to a a compound of temples along a small river. We sat on top of a hill next to a park and watched the town below with the funeral pyre, school, and people busy with morning food preparation and prayer. There were also monkeys EVERYWHERE who were very entertaining but sometimes a bit intimidating as the ran/swung/jumped right by us.
We all met up for dinner and Michelle stopped by on the way to a movie to let us know that she wasn't going to come with us (now we didnt have time to do Helambu) so Sara and I left the next morning for a fantastic adventure on the rim of the Kathmandu valley. A crowded local bus left us off at the halfway point where we were to catch the next bus to Narkagot. As we tried to find the connecting bus, we found that everyone was telling us very different directions. We began to only follow a road if we were told twice that it led to our destination (sometimes that didn't even work). A few KM later, we had found the bus and were jamming ourselves into its packed interior. After just one breakdown and many purses bumping our heads, we arrived at Narkagot.
The sun was setting as we walked up the hill to find a guesthouse. We were quoted some outrageous prices, up to $50 a night, and couldn't even afford the creepy haunted house, complete with old stairs, creaking doors and small dark hallways. On the road, we ran into three travelers and they said that they liked their guesthouse and even had a big bed on one of the rooms that we could share - it was perfect! The travelers were Canadians who had been volunteering for a few months just outside of Kathmandu and were taking a weekend excursion. It was great to get their perspective on life in the valley and they were even heading in the same direction the next day. We woke up at five to walk over an hour up a hill to watch the sunrise. It was beautiful and we overheard that one of the small peaks in the distance was Everest. we trekked to Dhulikel through towns and terraces. All the women were wearing red and we passed many carrying giant loads of leaves/bark/bricks in a basket suspended from a rope across their forehead.
In Dhulikel we climbed another large hill to a view that had potential but most of the larger mountains were hidden by the haze. Sara and I made the smartest decision of the day and stayed at a guesthouse on the hill (and not in the town below). We spent the afternoon playing cards and reading at the amazing panorama lodge.
The sunrise the next morning was beautiful but missing the amazing mountains that we knew were in the distance (good thing we didn't walk an hour up 600+ stairs at 5AM). The hike was similar to the day before and just as beautiful. The midway point was lovely Nomoboudha, a small, roadless town where Buddha had offered himself to the lioness (surprisingly uncrowded for such a famous spot). We ended in a bustling little town that did not receive a lot of western traffic judging by their lack of English letters and anything that looked like a restaurant. We returned to Kathmandu, ate an amazing feast and sadly parted ways - it is rare to find somebody on the exact same page about travel so it was hard to see her go.
Next, off to Bangkok!

Trekking and Whatnot

The redheads crowded in the taxi and headed up the winding, potholed, one-lane, two way road to Nayapul. An hour and a half of hairpin turns in the back of a mini-taxi and we had become very close, if not a little queasy from the adventure. We started out on the trail and in 10 minutes, Jo (the Brit) needed her second tea of the day (oh, those Brits). After the tea we were on our way following mules up a rocky path next to a river. At our lunch stop we were amused by shepherds losing control of their herds of sheep who decided to stray from the path and populate the adjacent farmland. There was wild waving, Nepalese shouting, rock throwing in a kind of display that left us amused but feeling very sorry for the frustrated shepherds. Joining us in our amusement were three Brits who had stopped to photograph the sheep debacle. Max, Emily, and Merlin joined us in the next few hours of huffing and puffing up the mountains. We climbed through many villages which was a great eye-opener for the challenges of living in a roadless town up the steep side of a mountain.
The six of us stayed in the same guesthouse for the evening and enjoyed amazing mountain views over the small town. After an interesting, eclectic dinner that would become the norm over the next few days (odd apple pie, strange spaghetti and moussaka) and a game of cards we attempted to get some shut-eye in our freezing bedrooms.
The next day was just uphill. Luckily it was short - but it was UP. We were entertained by local children along the way. One little boy was showing off by jumping off of a bench for over 15 minutes; I was tired just watching him. We arrived at the guesthouse by 3pm and settled in next to the wood stove dressed in our hats and coats. The view outside was amazing and from the window we could see at least half a dozen peaks in the Anapurna range.
We grudgingly woke up an hour and a half before sunrise the next morning to trek for a freezing hour up to Poon Hill. Our guide on the other hand, fueled by far too much local brew, failed to wake up or let us know that he would not be accompanying us on the dark ascent. Luckily, the other group's guide was great and led us to the top.
The sunrise was absolutely stunning. I took pictures but soon realized that the didn't even come close to doing it justice, and my hands were turning to icicles, so I just sat back and enjoyed it. We could see two or three of the world's ten tallest peaks and a whole lot of other really tall mountains. After soaking it in we headed down for a much needed breakfast before we set out for a very long day (it was supposed to take 2 days). It was by far my favorite day of the trek with mountains surrounding us for the first few hours before descending into beautiful forest with the path following a river. As we were walking through one of the nicest bits of forest (ie not steep downhill or uphill) we even saw a family of monkeys playing in the trees. We arrived in a large town just as the sun was setting and spent the evening nursing our tired legs (there was one knee and one ligament injury that made the steps quite a challenge for part of the group) and splurging on chocolate bars.
The next morning we woke up early to go to the cultural museum. This consisted of the smokey basement of a home that was filled with old farm and cooking tools - most of which are still being used today. After the 15 minute visit it began to pour with thunder throughout the valley. We returned to the guesthouse to wait out the first rain in over three months; quite an unusual drought for this time of year (good thing we weren't at Poon Hill because they got snow and no view).
The rain eventually stopped and we descended through amazing terraces and small villages. There were many people out tending to the rice and wheat and we the task of plowing done with oxen dragging a piece of wood pushed into the ground by the farmer balanced on top of it.
The windy bus ride back to town was uneventful and we were glad to rest our legs for a bit before walking to the other side of the lake for a local fish dinner. We took our adopted guide (ie the Brits' guide) out to dinner at a place he recommended with an amazing view of the lake and sizzling servings of freshly caught fish.
To continue our eating frenzy, we all met up the next morning for eggs and 'real' coffee (I even had halfway decent bacon - amazing). We decided that rest could be had later and set off for the cave and waterfall just outside of town (made famous by a tourist drowning in it - cheery). The cave was small and the waterfall not exactly thundering but it was a nice morning excursion.
We split up for our separate afternoon relaxations (Merlin's was spent bartering for 6 knockoff northface jackets and a backpack - doesn't sound relaxing to me). I found a very local place for a half serving of momos. There were just three booths, one of which was filled with 6 guys very enthralled in a game of cards. I watched a few hands and they let me join in for a couple which was a lot of fun - none of them spoke English so there was a lot of frantic yelling and laughing when I didn't abide by the rules.
Dinner was another group affair at a Japanese restaurant where I ate some great vegetable tempura and the others sampled the sushi (it looked relatively safe and cooked). This was followed by pancakes (crepes) and tea at another establishment with a special treat of nutella topping which had been purchased at an exorbitant rate at a nearby shop. We said our sad goodbyes and packed to catch our various early morning buses.
My bus ride to Chitwan National Park was very uneventful and I had a nice chat with the South African Canadian who was living in London. I was picked up by a jeep and taken to a virtually empty 'River Side Hotel.' It had beautiful views and unoccupied lounge chairs - I suppose this is low season in a bad economy.
My guide appeared and whisked me off to the Elephant breeding center (sounded a bit x-rated, I was worried). We took bikes on a dirt/large stones and potholes on every inch of it road. Our 5km ride led us to a river which we crossed on a 'traditional' bridge (elevated logs covered in plastic sandbags). I passed through a museum with information about elephants in Nepal and a horrifying step by step training process that young elephants are put through. We walked through the breeding center where female elephants were chained waiting for wild male elephants to arrive. There were some pretty cute babies roaming around and even one of the only pairs of twins in the world.
We returned for dinner and then departed the lodge for the traditional Tharu stick dance. I was happy to run into Emily, Max and Merlin and we were all entertained by the dancers and particularly the over-dramatic MC with a strange attempt at a British accent.
The next morning I went on an a short early morning dug-out canoe ride. The jungle was misty with visible clouds floating across the river - very atmospheric. I saw a crocodile, monkey, peacocks and many water birds before disembarking for the jungle walk. As soon as we got out of the boat, my guide (who seemed a bit bored) decided to regale me with the many ways that I could be killed by wild animals (rhinos and tigers and bears, oh my). He told me that it was safest in large groups, armed himself with his walking stick and then asked if I wanted to do the half hour or 2.5 hour walk... hmmmm. After half an hour of very uneventful walking (besides the three deer about 200m away that I was urged to take pictures of), we returned to the lodge for some elephant bathing.
After the breeding center, I was not feeling so keen about supporting any elephant related tourist activities but the afternoon elephant ride had been a motivating factor for visiting the park. I decided to try it out and climbed on top of an elephant. I was asked by my guide if I could swim, presumably because the elephant would walk into the river and spray me with water. I said yes and shortly after found myself dumped in the water with the elephant laying on its side. I'm not sure this was what the guide intended as he was yelling at the elephant. I climbed back on only to be thrown into the river from an even greater height. The guide did not seem happy with the elephant (it seemed perfectly nice to me - very playful) and I was afraid that its disobedience during my ride would lead to some of the various punishments I had read about. I made my way out of the river, cancelled my afternoon ride and spent a wonderful afternoon reading in a lounge chair with a river view. I met up with the Brits after dinner for some local rice wine (too intense for me) and popcorn - a fun night before parting ways.
I spent an entire day travelling to Kathmandu on a hot crowded bus and managed to sleep through most of the ride (thank you Dramamine). Kathmandu was not quite as hectic or dirty as I expected. The smog is intense but the streets seem cleaner and much less crowded than Delhi's. The city is a massive sprawl of 4-6 story buildings and narrow, winding streets. Today I strolled the local streets with butcher meat spread out on folding tables, spices and rices filling large stacks and a variety of things being cooked, assembled, sewn in dark doorways of homes. I passed by marching bands, rallies and army trucks (I was wondering about the scurry of folding up blankets of goods and running at the market until I looked behind me and saw an army vehicle) on my way to Durbar Square. The center of the city houses dozens of old building, temples, pagodas of varying size and upkeep. I had a delicious lassi in a rooftop restaurant before wandering back to read a book in the garden of my hotel (in the lovely, sunny, seventy degree afternoon).

India to Nepal: Overland Adventure

I had a wonderful few days in Agra. I visited the Taj Mahal for sunrise which was spectacular and definitely one of the highlights in India. I actually returned in the afternoon to sit and read a book in a garden facing the tomb until sunset - quite a spectacular way to spend a day. I had been told by quite a few Indians and guidebooks that Agra was dirty and there were people hassling tourists on every street corner but in my experience it was calmer than Delhi and the open sewers didn't bother me like some of the filth in Delhi did. My second day in Agra, I ventured across the river to the Baby Taj. I departed with all my luggage and hired an auto rickshaw. The driver decided that he would rather not take me all the way to the monument and dropped me off a mile away on the other side of the river. I made the trek over the precarious pedestrian way which consisted of thin pieces of metal welded together with the occasional gap and somehow attached to the bridge. On the other side I found a slum of homes surrounding the road to the monument. I felt horrible and uncomfortable walking through the neighborhood with my pack- my travel gear encompassing more worth and goods than entire families owned. I made my way through the midday sun and brazen stares to the Baby Taj. I was not overly impressed with the monument, possibly because I had just seen the amazing Taj Mahal or due to the fact that I was carrying my bag around. I didn't stay long and found an auto rickshaw driver who would actually take me over the bridge and headed to Agra Fort. The fort was a huge sprawling expanse of walls and buildings - most not open to visitors. There was a view of the Taj from many of the buildings and the most fascinating where the emperor's harem of 500 resided.
After a delicious dinner (I splurged on ice cream to chase the spicy Indian fare), I headed to the train station by bicycle rickshaw. On my way to find my platform, I ran across a Russian couple and Argentinian siblings who were headed to the same train. The train was over an hour late (per usual) and it was nice to have people to chat with - the Argentinian had even worked in New Zealand for a year. My car was all tourists and I had a relatively comfortable night sleeping on my third berth (a little high up and shaky but a bed is a bed).
I arrived in Varanasi and went to the bus station where Mr. Kahn approached me to sell me a tour. I only had one day in Varanasi and was told that I'd be ripped off whatever I did as a boat tour and rickshaw are necessary to see the city, so I decided to be ripped off early so I'd have the entire day to explore. Varanasi is the Hindu version of Mecca (pilgrims come from all over the world) and the city centers around the Ganges river. Each street to the river ends in a Ghat which is a long staircase leading into the Ganges, typically with a temple at the top. Most Ghats are used for bathing or washing clothes but there is one that is the funeral Ghat where they burn bodies, or if it is a child or holy person, throw them into the river.
I took an amazing 2 hour boat ride down the river in my own private boat. I was able to have a little peak into the lives of residents of Varanasi in addition to their traditions around death. The city reminded me a little of an Indian version of Cinque Terre because of the color of the homes set up high along the river. The ability to walk from ghat to ghat is kind of like walking from town to town (there are many more differences than similarities but it was an interesting first impression).
From the river we journeyed to the Muslim center of town (it is half Hindu and half Muslim and self-segregated) where the silk Varanassi is famous for is dyed and woven. I was taken down a side street to a little home where I first thought they were cooking spaghetti. They had silk of an off-white shade wrapped around a long pole and they were dipping it in boiling water to extract any color from it. The silk was then measured by walking it all the way down the alley and finally taken into the house. Inside a small room lit by one light bulb were vats of dyes and a fire made hot by a manual fan turned every so often by the younger brother of the operation. The visit was even more fun because on the staircase around the corner and the doorway to the next house were women and little girls all peeking around the corners to watch me. I waved to them and they'd duck inside and then reappear a few moments later. Finally they became less timid and would giggle and wave back.
Mr. Kahn took me around the neighborhood and in every doorway families were participating in some part of the silk processing. We visited a doorway where men punched cards that dictated the patterns and a room where teenage boys used the cards to create intricate pieces - I watched a kimono in progress.
I was wondering how I had gotten so lucky to pick such a great and honest tour guide when he took me to a home of a neighbor of the silk dyers who he said wanted to meet me (I knew something was up but what could I do). We went up a narrow staircase and reached a small living room where one woman was sewing and a few others were sitting around, one with a small child. Mr. Kahn told me that the old woman was a widow and the four girls were her daughters who had no money to enable them to get married. I was served chai and chatted with the girls (14, 17 and 19) through Mr. Kahn for a while. I have to say, I really enjoyed the experience until the ask and subsequent handing over of money at the end.
The final destination on the trip was the silk cooperative market - someplace I imagined that I could walk around and admire the final products of the labors. We entered a small shop with no windows and I was asked to leave my pack and shoes in the entry-way and was then ushered into a back room where there was a long bench, of silk, and a tourist couple. I was asked to sit on the bench and my 'personal shopper' began to unravel bedspreads by the dozen, saris and bags galore despite my protests that I just wanted to browse the scarves. Soon I was sitting in a pile of silken goods with no escape in sight but to make a purchase (or be regaled with another layer of goods). I chose an item and made it out of there with my shoes, pack and self intact.
Mr. Kahn and I parted ways and I headed to the bus station for my overnight bus to Sunali (the border of India/Nepal). I found my bus - a rickety POS that makes Fung Wah look like first class- and got the last window seat. Instead of the typical four seats across, there were five and very little room for luggage - most of which ended up in the aisle and my bag was on my lap - making cramped into immovable. The window next to me wouldn't close all the way and it was in the high 30s/low 40s outside with so many fires burning in the small towns that smoke and chill filled the bus for the entire ride. Luckily, on the first part of the journey, I sat next to Amit, a man with a jewelry shop who spoke passable English and was very keen on practicing. He was very nice and came from a "very small" family with just him and one sister. After Amit departed, a larger man who most definitely didn't fit in the seat, and most definitely didn't care if he slept with his head on my shoulder and feet in my small amount of foot room, replaced him. The bus which had been huffing a puffing down the highway finally puffed to a stop on the side of the road. 45 minutes later we were fixed and on our way only to breakdown again. We exited the bus and stood on the freezing side of the road until another bus came to pick us up. The seats were already filled and the standing room was sparse but the man taking tickets (they call him el conductor) witnessed my attempts to navigate a space amongst the elbowing and pushy men and gave me a seat. It was 2:30AM and we were on our way again!
We reached Gohrapur, a town just 3 hours from the border and were directed to disembark and board another bus that didn't even have standing room left. One man spoke a bit of English and let me know what was going on. He said that another bus would arrive shortly and about 20 of us were stranded on a road in the middle of the night. A bus finally appeared 45 min later and we were transported through the crazy can't-see-the-nose-on-your-face fog to the border. There was some navigating of cycle rickshaws, a visa fee that had increased, 4km to an ATM and I finally made it! I decided to skip the local bus and take the tourist bus to Pokhara. I splurged on a ticket and boarded a fairly nice minibus with a tv playing Bollywood music videos at volumes that should not be allowed. I was the only tourist and soon discovered that the bus stopped at any person along the road to see if they needed a ride (and charged them a fraction of what I paid). I had a seat for my bag and the bus remained in tact for the entire journey so I counted it as a luxury ride.
I arrived in Pokhara in the dark only to discover that the town had no electricity (turns out this is a very common occurrence). I found a hotel with a generator that promised hot water - took a quick, icy (hot water, hah) shower and returned after dinner to a hotel with no lights. In the meantime, I found a nearby restaurant and joined three other backpackers for a drink and some momos - so nice after not running into many travellers in India. The next day I strolled the streets, ate by the lakeside with views of snow covered peaks and relaxed. The town is backpacker's paradise and is littered with hostels, internet cafes, restaurants, tour agencies and shops selling either trekking equipment or handmade clothing/jewelry. It is the slow season so there aren't as many travellers as expected and I often have restaurants to myself.
I have been trying to coordinate a trek and was lucky to run into Jo, a British girl, at a bookshop. Anapurna sanctuary has avalanche warnings and she was heading out on my second choice trek - as was a girl we met on the bus who is from Brookline, MA! The three of us (who all happen to be redheads - what are the chances) hired a guide and are off to the mountains tomorrow!

Delhi and Darden

I got into Darden! Now back to the travels...
Delhi is quite an adventure and a crazy but wonderful place to start my Asia exploration. As expected, I stick out like a sore thumb and, in most places, I am the only tourist on the street (redheaded tourist at that) not to mention one of the only women in some neighborhoods. I tend to attract attention from people trying to sell me things (most often) or even half a dozen kids/teenagers at different sites who have asked to take a picture of me (at first I thought they wanted me to take a picture of them in front of the monument/tomb/mosque but after a moment of confusion, I realized that they want me in their picture like I am the tourist attraction).
My first morning I set off on an adventure on the Delhi metro which is very clean and has security guards checking bags and patting people down at the entrance. Connaught Circle is at the center of New Delhi and a bustling place to walk around with items for sale on the street and in a mix of shops from a sparkling Nike storefront to a crumbling doorway leading to a dim and narrow store. I found a little cafe for lunch and with no idea about what each dish contained, I pointed and hoped for the best. I was served my masala tea (delicious) and brought an assortment of small bowls; one had a green sauce, another what looked like a pepper chutney and then a bowl of small, whole, onions. I sat there hoping that this was some sort of accompaniment and sure enough, a few minutes later, my meal arrived. It came in what looked like a miniature silver bucket and was a spicy lentil dish that was delicious! I had also ordered garlic naan and I consumed it all in Indian food heaven. It was my second meal since arriving and I have been able to handle the heat with nary a tear or sweat drop (I don't know if that's because they look at me and make it tame or if it is my awesome spice tolerance - probably the former).
At the restaurant, I met Alex, an Aussie who joined me in travelling by auto rickshaw to Lodi Gardens (definitely the way to travel with the wind (exhaust) in your face and the ability to weave through traffic). The gardens provide a small refuge of green and house half a dozen tombs to explore. It also seems to be the playground of Delhi's elite as we saw many couples enjoying the sun and groups of young adults playing games and picnicing - this was the middle of a Friday.
Our next stop was Biria Mandir, a temple rising bright red and yellow above the gray rooftops. There were many people praying and behind the temple was a strange park of little fountains, animal statues and mazes that appeared to be the destination for schoolkids.
The next day, I left early to go to Old Delhi. I must have come out the wrong Metro exit and found myself in the middle of a courtyard with houses and a few local food vendors surrounding me but no street in sight. I made my way out early morning neighborhood bustle, down an alley onto the main road leading to the Red Fort. The sidewalks were lined with poor women and children in doorways and huddled around trash fires and the street was lined with men sitting side by side in a straight line. They were waiting for tea being distributed by two people walking down the line (and possibly food but I didn't see any). The line went on for over a km and ended at the gates of the fort.
The sun had recently risen and I was the only tourist (and woman) visiting the fort. While very large with many old buildings on the grounds - I wasn't overly impressed by the fort (and all the museums were closed so I had very little information).
Next stop was Jama Masjid, a spectacular mosque in the heart of the old city. It consists mostly of an outdoor courtyard with a long open hallway. There are two very large towers on the back corners of the courtyard that can be climbed (although women and children are not allowed to go 'unsupervised'). A guide led me up the dark and narrow tower stairs to the amazing view at the top. Before me was a panorama of the new, old, temples, mosques and crowds of the city - spectacular.
I departed the mosque and ventured down a winding street and narrow alley to Karim, a restaurant famous for its chefs who are decedents of Mughal dynasty cooks. They were only serving breakfast with two dishes to choose from (had no idea about either of them) so the waiter brought me out his favorite. Out from the famous kitchen came a bowl of gray/brown mush and meat chunks all soaking in a red oil (just what I was in the mood for at 1030 AM). Being a fan of food adventure, I dug in and discovered that the mush/sauce as a dip for bread wasn't half bad. I wasn't a huge fan of the oil and the meat was a fatty, briny chunk that I swallowed with difficulty. I'm glad that I tried it but I am thinking it won't be a repeat.
Next stop was the Lotus Temple which is very reminiscent of the Sydney Opera House. Later, short auto-rickshaw ride brought me to Humayan's tomb which was a huge structure surrounded by other tombs and a few acre's of greenery - great place to walk around.
I'm now in Agra (home of Taj Majal) after a very long day waiting for and riding on the Indian railways.