Kuala Lumpur – Melaka – Johor Bahru – Singapore – Mersing – Pulau Tioman – Kuala Terengganu

Kuala Lumpur was a city that truly lived up to all the ideas we had previously formulated of a large, futuristic Asian capital. The first few days there we walked along the streets with our mouths open in amazement and our heads titled back to see the jutting skyline. We settled in a nice hotel situated just on the outskirts of the Indian neighborhood of the metropolis as it has become inherently clear that Indian food makes our hearts, minds and bodies all very happy and healthy. Knowing that we would revisit the capital before departing from Malaysia we decided to take things easy and profit to the fullest of the fact we had a room with air conditioning and hot water for the first time in eight months. We did make the effort to lose ourselves in the city a few times, frequent the enormous and abundant shopping centers (a little to our disgust) and to see the famous Petronas Towers.  Each time we set foot in the streets we were greeted with smiles and the multiculturalism we both observed in the capital was impressive and refreshing. Expatriates of European persuasion, Chinese, Japanese, Middle Eastern and Indian citizens intermingled with the native Malaysians seemed to create a harmonious combination for a bustling city. It was fantastic. After about five days in the metropolis we packed our things and headed to the smaller tourist destination of Melaka.

Melaka is a city of about 650,000 inhabitants and is located on the Southwest coast of the Malaysian peninsula. It boasts a historical city center and a vibrant night market where you can eat anything from sushi to waffles and even enjoy some live music – if you don’t mind walking along the street with hundreds of other tourists and paying more for less. But to our delight an Indian restaurant was located just around the corner from the hostel so we were both good to go.  We spent a few days in the town walking the banks of the river and pondering the street art.

To our delight our visit to the city coincided with a festival of performing arts which took place in the historic ruins of a Portuguese church just on a hill overlooking the town. Two days and two nights of the arts was incredibly stimulating albeit sometimes a little over our heads. Some of the most memorable performers included a Sudanese woman who sang in multiple languages, various musicians and dancers from around the world and a man who did a 24 -hour exhibition depicting and discoursing racism and sexism in today’s society with the use of oranges.  Once again the multiculturalism of the entire ensemble offered created an atmosphere of a different level – Europeans, Asians, Australians, Africans, American- and the ethnic pluralism of the audience as well as the performers produced a type of art that neither one of us had ever previously witnessed nor experienced.

After Melaka we moved on to Johor Bahru, the capital of Johor, the most southern state of Malaysia. Again it was a very large city filled with high rises and shopping centers.  According to the map, the bus station of arrival was just next door to the City Square, however, we did not realize that City Square was the name of a massive shopping center around which the entire city seemed to revolve. As the city is conveniently located close to Singapore, many Singaporeans come to Malaysia for cheaper shopping, and as the holidays approach the mall was teeming with people carrying numerous overloaded shopping bags and eating in the chain restaurants.  After working out way out of the mall with our backpacks in tow we managed to find a very hospitable hostel and continued exploring the city and night market, and drinking our fill of teh ais.  We found the Indian neighborhood for eating and planned our three day descent into Singapore.

We knew we wanted to see Singapore and as we were so close in Malaysia we could not pass up the opportunity, however, as the cost of living is three or four times that of Malaysia it was necessary to have the three days well planned in advance.  We researched “free things to do in Singapore,” Dimitri pinned all the spots in his maps.me application and we prepared the upcoming days.

From the minute of arrival it was clear Singapore was a whole different world. Everything was clearly mapped out from the metro, to the bus lines.   No trash lined the streets, the architecture was of a nature neither of us had ever seen and women dressed in a western fashion without garnering extreme unwanted attention.  The modernity, organization and futurism of Kuala Lumpur paled in comparison to that of Singapore.

We settled ourselves into a hostel located in, you guessed it, Little India, readied for the excursion and set off for day one. Our movement around the sprawling city was all on foot. First we passed through the business sector of the city filled with skyscrapers of every color of glass imaginable on every corner. We visited a few older churches, stumbled upon preparations for a city marathon and made our way to the marina. From the waterfront, the panorama of the city skyline was really magnificent. We spent the entire day walking, walking, walking and just staring in disbelief. In the evening we crossed the waterfront to enter into the Singapore Gardens by the Bay. Everything had been lit up in celebration of Christmas and the amount of people was disarming but despite this the gardens were just unbelievable. We strolled through the artificial tree lines while listening to live Christmas carols and gazed at the twinkling Christmas lights of all colors.

The next day we rose early to continue the Singaporean Extravaganza. Taking the insanely clean and efficient metro we began with Haw Par Villa – a frankly bizarre “village” created by the founding brothers of Tiger Balm.  It was a unique theme park-like atmosphere filled with arts and life size statues of animals, Chinese gods and various other beings. One particular area of interest was the exhibition of the Ten Courts of Hell. Before the entrance stood a sign warning the visitors of the explicit content of art so naturally we were curious and took our chances to look at the display. Inside, various statues and exhibits depicted people who had been vanquished to different courts hell and their ensuing punishments for their various sins on earth. Plaques beside each area explained the particular sins and subsequent punishments. For example, gambling, stealing and corruption was punishable by being frozen into blocks of ice; ungratefulness, disrespect for elders or escaping prison was punishable by having your heart cut out; and prostitution mandated the punishment of being thrown into a pool of blood and drowned (no punishment was listed for the men who made use of said prostitutes). Other sins included disrespecting your parents, cheating on exams, loaning money with too high of an interest rate, laziness, adultery and lying. It was quite entertaining to see young parents in the exhibition explaining it all to their children.

From the villa we once again took the metro to The Southridges – a chain of parks all connected and all with different walkways and canopies for those who make use of the grounds. We walked through the well groomed vegetation on cement paths, across elevated walkways and suspended bridges all in the heart of the city. It was pretty incredible and offered some stunning views of the megalopolis.

After The Southridges we made our way to the Botanic Gardens where as per the norm in Singapore we were both astounded by the beauty and organization of the park. The grass, flowers and exotic plants were all so well-manicured it was hard to believe.  So many people filled the sprawling patches of freshly cut grass soaking up the beauty of the park on their day off.   We walked through the park and sat on the grasses observing the numerous cross national couples and their families enjoying time in the outdoors rather than inside of a mall.

After the Botanic Gardens we tried to visit a forgotten Chinese cemetery that according to Google remained unfrequented by many. We only got a few minutes into the walk before we were completely alone in the overpopulated city. It was very lush green and calm, however, our visit was cut abruptly short by a pack of 12- 15 well fed and large feral dogs, obviously unhappy about us breaching their territory. We did our best to remain calm, turn around and walk slowly away praying they would not bite.  Once out of the thick, and lucky to have not been disfigured, we laughed at the irony of never having had a negative encounter with dogs on our trip until our visit to Singapore of all places.

That evening we made our way through an extremely chic neighborhood with gigantic homes and numerous luxury cars and SUV’s. It was the highest concentration of wealth we had ever observed.  From there we landed on Orchard Road, a top of the line shopping area that lit up for Christmas and the people were in full shopping mode. The shops along the street were stores of the most expensive and luxurious brands and the shopping mall complexes not only jutted into the night sky but also descended several stories underground. Both exhausted we decided to call it a night and continue again the next day.

We started again early by visiting East Park and seeing the shoreline. In particular the industrial harbor was shockingly large. Once again the park and the bay were ridiculously clean and organized and proportioned into camping grounds open for reservation equipped with bathrooms and fire pits. We ended the afternoon by revisiting Orchard Road and ascending to the 55/56 floor of the Orchard Ion building to see a splendid and unobstructed view of the city.

Singapore was out of this world. The sight and plenitude of expatriates we saw and the multitude of languages we heard spoken made the nation very unique.  Happy to be back in the much calmer and much cheaper Malaysian city of Johor Bahru once again, we took a full day to rest and tend to our sore muscles and aching feet.

Although many people advised us that the eastern side of the Malaysian mainland peninsula is mostly closed during monsoon season (November-March) we decided to play the odds and visit anyway. Mersing was not a particularly beautiful city but it is the jumping off point to reach Pulau Tioman or Tioman Island.

We were lucky enough to catch a three hour ferry the second day after arriving in Mersing and made it to the island as hoped for. It was paradise on earth. The number of tourists on the small landmass could be counted on one hand and the locals were so laid back enjoying the off season that we were not bothered by anyone. Although it was cloudy some days we mostly enjoyed fabulous and warm weather and the pristine beaches were deserted all but for the tides of the navy blue and turquoise ocean waters.  We tried snorkeling and were able to see sting rays, angel fish, rainbow fish and barracudas but because of the rain, visibility in the water was not great. One day we walked across the island for about seven kilometers through thick rainforest in order to arrive at more beaches on the other side.  The roads were winding and steep – many hills were listed as a 45 percent incline and the walk was grueling.  On the way to the beaches a local man was kind enough to stop and give us a lift after we had been walking for one hour. The walk was worth all the effort as the beaches on the other side were beyond belief and possibly even less populated by others.  On the way back we braved the entire walk by foot and were alone in the seemingly untouched forest for two hours.  We were enveloped by the noises of the rainforest and the sounds of the many animals scurrying through the forest floor. The only cause for alarm came about half way into the walk when we had by accident stumbled into the territory of a group of monkeys and thereby scared the infants. From all points around us in the trees the larger adult monkeys started screeching and howling, some we could see but others remained hidden. Those who did show their faces barred their teeth in defense. We did our best to remain calm and walk swiftly out of the area each carrying one raised snorkeling flipper as a means of protection. It was an experience.

We enjoyed about a week on the small island relaxing along with a lovely South African woman and a plethora of loving stray cats to keep us company.  On the island we both consumed a combined total of eight beers for the first time in months.  Sufficient to say it was a fun time, but the next day we both felt the forgotten after effects of alcohol consumption.

As we saw the days of the calendar passing by we reluctantly decided to return to the main land and continue our travels. Back in Mersing we took yet again another luxurious bus to Kuala Terengganu, a city located further north on the eastern coast.  It was only a stopping point for us on the journey to Kota Bahru and we spent only one day wandering the conurbation and its china town.  The city was another small reminder of how for us traveling is not about visiting the tourist monuments but rather being in the town surrounded by locals, eating local foods and immersing ourselves in a new and unknown culture.

Thus far, Malaysia has been such a rich experience. It is true we are here during the monsoon season but either way we are not surrounded by western tourists. For us it seems as though the people have yet to become jaded by the industry of mass tourism and still greet us with a smile, treat us with respect, talk to us with enthusiasm and do not try to cheat us out of money. The scenery is stunning and the cities are modern but still have a foreign flare. The magnificent and musical call to prayer can be heard throughout the day. The women though it seems do not have an established level of “equality,” meet our gazes and are not hidden from society. No matter where we go, someone is always willing to help regardless of their level of competence in the English language. The buses are something of luxury – they have air conditioning, reclining chairs with cushions and are even equipped with enough leg room for Dimitri. The bus terminals are clearly mapped out and eerily easy to manage. Again we find ourselves in a bit of disbelief at the easiness in traveling through Malaysia and excited for the remaining weeks of our travel.

Java, Indonesia

The last week in Bali was spent relaxing (as much as is possible to relax in Kuta), at a gigantic local hotel that was empty aside from a handful of other guests and equipped with a swimming pool. It seems the hotel when built was a happening spot but was quickly run off the tracks by the chain hotels that pollute the Kuta shoreline. From Kuta we took a local bus across the island and through the Bali Barat National Park until Gilimanuk. There we caught a ferry across the Bali Sea until the city of Banyuwangi, Java!
From the minute stepping off the boat the atmosphere of the island felt different. We were not surrounded by occidental tourists and saw multitudes of public transportation. We found a small local losmen where we paid half of the price of the hotels in Bali, the staff spoke no English and we and were given coffee every morning. Indonesian coffee is out of this world!!

We explored the city by foot and decided to rent a scooter as our means of transportation. The next day we set off for Mount Ijen. Located just outside the city, it is a volcanic plateau consisting of three volcanic peaks. We passed through thick green forests and immense rice paddies to arrive at the base of the mountain. It was magnificent. The air was cooler as we climbed in elevation from sea level and throughout the entire ascent we were enveloped by the clouds. From the base of the mountain you hike up a steep and muddy incline for about an hour until you reach the peak were the spectacular crater of Kawah Ijen is located. At the top the smell of sulfur is strong and a handful of men work sorting the freshly mined sulfur into wheel barrels for the journey to the base of the peak. We decided to hike down into the crater (although we learned after the fact that technically you’re not supposed to enter) to see the sulfuric lake. Once at the bottom of the crater you can see first hand the acidic lake and the men working to fill their baskets with sulfur. The gas emitted from the volcano was overpowering and at times made it extremely difficult to breathe, especially when walking through the boulders. The men carry sulfur blocks on their backs out of the crater, load the blocks into a wheel barrel and race down the mountain. They do this for 6-7 hours a day in hope of garnering around 5 cents of a euro per kilo which equals around 3 to 5 euros a day and a displacement of 60 to 90 kg a day. The working conditions are quite shocking to our western eyes but the thing that stuck with us both was not the smell of sulfur or the burning sensation in our skin but the fact that every worker said hello with a smile, asked how we were and reminded us to be careful on the slippery slopes of the crater. It was very humbling and yet frustrating. After leaving the mountain we both felt nauseous, had headaches and our clothes reeked for the coming week – imagine those who work there every day. Yet it was another invaluable life experience just laid at our feet because of our travels.

From Banyuwangi we took our first Indonesian train until Malang. The trains here are all benches, no sleepers and are air conditioned – quite a stark contrast from those on India. Train travel in Java is more expensive than bus transportation but far more convenient as the train stations are located in the heart of every city meaning no hassles with taxis or becaks.  In our experience both have been challenging because the drivers don’t hesitate to rip you off by demanding three times the normal price and deny all attempts at negotiation with the use the common phrase,”no-English-sir-excuse.”

Malang is large city with 771,000 inhabitants, complete with large four lane roads, narrow winding alleys and gigantic Dutch colonial houses. We passed the rainy days walking through the welcoming city and losing ourselves in the local markets. We both saw for the first time the fascinating spectacle that is a local bird market. As the singing competitions of birds is quite common in Indonesia (as in many tropical countries) the bird market was equipped with every kind of bird you can imagine from parrot to pigeon and owl to raven. If you wanted to buy a bird the vendor would simply puff into a small brown paper bag with two breathing holes, drop the bird inside and twist the top for you to hold the sack. It was unlike anything we’d ever seen before. However not only birds are sold along the streets but also mice, crickets and worms for their food.  The market was made complete with cages of full grown cats, rabbits, hamsters, guinea pigs,  monkeys, lemurs and dogs.

From the market and in the next few days we continued just wandering around the city and sampling the street food along the way. We saw beautiful modern mosques next door to towering cathedrals and Chinese temples for the combined worship of the Buddhist, Taoist and Confucianism philosophies.  The old town had become quite rundown and resembled more of a dump than a downtown however, it was brightly colored not only by the trash but also with with plants, birds, laundry hung out to dry and most vibrantly with the smiles from all the locals. It was a city that we both thoroughly enjoyed and importantly where we found the best gado-gado thus far.

Next stop was Jogjakarta.  Located centrally on the Javanese island, it is the city most frequented by tourists in all of the island of Java. Even larger than Malang, the city is commonly referred to as the soul of Java. It is still ruled by its sultan from his sprawling palace but also home to the arts and modernity.  As per the norm, we wandered through the city to familiarize ourselves with the surroundings and atmosphere. We visited the Kraton, or the Sultan’s Palace, listened to traditional Javanese music, admired the traditional batik art, visited a local fair and ate the abundant street food!

We took a local Transjogja bus to explore the city. The bus system worked almost seamlessly which worked only to  further our impression that traveling in Southeast Asia on a whole is very simple. There are bus stations everywhere all always equipped by a Transjogja staff member to help all passengers find which bus is best for their destination, all buses are air conditioned as well as gender segregated.  There even exists a special pink bus for females only – because obviously all women love pink.

We took this transport to the historic Hindu temples of Prambanan but because of the exorbitant entrance fee and as we had previously seen many Hindu temples in India, we decided against entering. We therefore spent the afternoon walking the fenced perimeter of the UNESCO tourist trap, wandering through the rice paddies and along the small back roads. Along the way local school children passed by on their bicycles and at every house and storefront we were greeted with beaming smiles.

The next day we rented a scooter to visit Borobudur. Although entrance ticket, with complimentary coffee for foreigners, was almost nine times more than local tourists, we decided to visit the sanctuary as it is one of the most important Buddhist sites of the world and according to the entrance pamphlet, the largest Buddhist temple on earth. Surrounded by thousands of palm trees, lush green lawns and abundant rice paddies the temple was honestly breathtaking. The carving of the stones and the mandala structure of the grounds is something incredible.   Being able to see it first hand gave us both a better appreciation for ancient Asian craftsmanship however, the area surrounding the temple took away all the joy from the visit. The tourists (locals and international) entered all through one main entrance like cattle and climbed straight to the top, selfie stick in tow, took as many photos/selfies from the apex as possible and then descended back to the main exit and into the souvenir market that was more crowed and larger than the temple itself. It was, as almost all the tourist sites here in Asia have been, frustrating to see and distasteful to be a part of.

From Jogjakarta we took our last train until the Javanese capital of Jakarta.  Although we arrived in the dark it was clear that the bustling financial center of the nation, home to around 10 million people, was again a big change from the cities we had previously visited on the island. Ramshackle homes were smushed one on top of the other and children ran barefoot in the muddy streets where just across the pavement gigantic high rise buildings scrapped the sky ceiling. We arrived in the train station, grabbed our bags and left in search of a hostel.

The next morning we took a walk around the city and saw in daylight just what a beautiful and bustling city we were in. The streets were lined with more street food vendors than we had ever seen! We found a nice colonial plaza where we were inevitably hassled to take pictures with all passerby, wandered into the old harbor of the city which appeared more like a slum than a port, and continued on into the vast and never ending roads lines with building after building. The best part of the day was finding a local fruit stand where we bought two large styrofoam boxes, (apologies to the environment) brimming with various tropical fruits complete with plum salt and a sauce made from sugar cane, peanuts and chili pepper. It was to die for – my mouth is watering just thinking about it.

For us both Java was a richer and much more notable experience than Bali! We had planned to continue from Java into Sumatra where the travel would most likely have been similar in terms of authenticity, however, it was cheaper to take an international flight out of Java, to Kuala Lumpur, than it was to renew our Indonesian visas. We decided to forego the headache that would have been a visa renewal and continue on to Malaysia earlier than planned. After only one month in the island nation we cannot say we fully experienced the country.  Furthermore we both have the feeling  that spending time in Bali rather than the other less frequented islands was a huge mistake and something deeply regretted.  It seems that travel in the Asian side of the world needs to be well planned from the get go as visas are an issue in many of the countries and our laid back style of travel has thus far not always coincided with the formalities of local bureaucracy.

What will stick with us from our short stint in Indonesia will be the beautiful greenery and the dazzling, ever present smiles of the locals. We both thoroughly enjoyed returning to a Muslim country where the call to prayer could be heard from all nooks and crannies of the cities.  Furthermore, and such a large change from India, it was enriching to see the Indonesian women of Islamic faith readily open to speaking with us and witness them covered, yet unabashedly laughing and smiling.

Bali

From New Delhi we flew to the Malaysian capital, Kuala Lumpur, where we were so fortunate as to have a twelve hour layover. We spent the time sleeping on the floor, reading, and Dimitri was even able to eat some long missed Burger King.  The hours passed at a decent pace as we were both lost in contemplation of all we were leaving behind and all that still layed ahead.  From Kuala Lumpur, we took a short three hour flight to the Denpasar International Airport of Bali, Indonesia. Indonesia is comprised of 17,500 islands, (maybe less now due to rising ocean levels caused by global warming) the largest island nation in the world and is home to more than 260 million people. We landed at 11pm and were forced to find a hostel in the dark in the tourist mecca known as Kuta Beach. The streets were lined with enormous chain hotels, restaurants and all-inclusive five-star resorts. It was a nightmare amplified to extreme proportion and made worse by the fact that we were coming from India. We decided to make the best of it and were even able to cross paths with a friend of Dimitri’s from Belgium, but after two days it was more than crystal clear we could not handle the area. We rented a scooter, put all our combined belongings into one bag and rode away from the atrocity that was, for us, the epitome of all the negative effects of mass tourism.

Once out of Kuta we came to Ubud, a smaller town that located more centrally in the island amoungst the rice paddies and thick jungle.  Though not on the same level as Kuta, Ubud is still a very popular tourist destination, number two of the island, and we made sure to take our time to find a nice homestay outside of the central area.  Because of its centrality on the island, we made the small town our base for exploration of other parts rather than a city in which to rest and enjoy.

For one week we have taken the scooter everyday to see new parts of the island. The beauty of the island is really something amazing, from the misty mountains and volcanos, gigantic waterfalls, crystal clear water of the ocean and the people themselves are all very attractive.  Because we were so shell shocked by Kuta we were quick to overlook the beauty of the island and the local people. Everywhere is the deepest green you can imagine, rows and rows of towering palm treess, there are rice fields everywhere you look and the locals greet you always with beaming smiles. It is such a stark change from India that it was unsettling at first but will clearly be something to be enjoyed and cherished. Each city seems to have its own local market in both the day and night.  There you find fruits you have never seen before, barrels of freshly caught fish and other sea foods, newly butchered chickens and a multitude of flowers and clothing.  It is particularity interesting to try the food and experince the new flavors of Balinese cooking and sweets.

Thus far the local cuisine we have sampled it out of this world!  The fresh avocado juice and dragon fruit are a definite favorite along with fresh crispy vegetables and peanut sauces. It is so incredible to no longer be overly cautious about what we consume based on hygienic reasons and we are therefore free to experiment with all street foods as we both love. The only drawback is that, although the island is primarily Hindu the food is not all vegetarian.

It has been a nice visit, however, we have both come to the conclusion that this is a perfect destination for a family vacation, not for two backpakers/long-term travelers on a budget.  Coming from India, having both backgrounds of travel and then seeing this beautiful island overrun with foreigners continues to raise the question of whether or not the industry of mass tourism positively or negatively influences the world.

From here we will return the scooter from the rental office and hop a boat to the next Indonesian island, Java, where we hope to more authentically experience the culture of this island nation!

Udaipur – Bundi – Pushkar – Delhi

The city of Udaipur greeted us with thick sheets of rain, cool breezes, elephants moseying along the roadside while carting various farming items, innumerable cars, buses, tuk-tuks, donkey-drawn carriages, motos and honking horns. The city is home to 451, 735 people as well as the beautiful and historial city palace.  Known as the lake city of Rajasthan, Udaipur is located next to a series of man-made lakes which are not only a huge attraction for tourists where one can visit floating museums on the small islands in the waters, but also the main sources of water for all the needs of the city.

The first full day, rain free we visited the city palace.  As per the norm, it included a museum of art, weaponry and historical clothing worn by the royalty, various courtyards and life-size statues of elephants dotted the grounds.  The walls were covered with mirrored mosaics in the shapes of peacocks and the walls were made of marble. It was as very nice yet very expensive to enter as a foreigner.

That evening was the ninth day of the ten day Navrati festival to celebrate the female goddesses of Hinduism. The city was ornamented with tinsel and colorful bands of ribbons and fabric strung from rooftop to rooftop adorned every square. It was breathtaking. In the evening, throngs of people danced to the nicest Hindi music we had heard thus far. The participants formed two large circles, one inside of the other, and stood facing each other. Each person held two small batons in their hands and clacked their sticks with the person standing in front of them all the while spinning in circles and moving their feet and bodies. The onlookers stood on either side of the dancers, men on one side and women and children on the other. It was something neither of us had seen before.

The next day we found a local restaurant that served as our source of nourishment the entire stay in the city and met two men from the Canary Islands to accompany us to visit the fort Kumbhalgarh and the small village of Ranakpur where one can visit some incredible Jain temples. Both are located between Udaipur and Jodphur and are relatively close in distance.

The Jain temple of Ranakpur was astounding. The amount of detail that had been carved into each inch of the building was absolutely incredible. Statues of elephants and people ornamented the open areas.  However, once again foreign visitors paid an exuberant amount more than Indian tourists to enter the temple and were not allowed into certain areas of the temple regardless of their religion whereas all Indian tourists were able to walk freely throughout the grounds. The highly valuable life lesson on discrimination was disheartening yet something precious to experience first hand as it is the reverse of the norm in our home countries.

The next day, before taking what was to be our last train ride in India, we decided to check out a rooftop pool at one of the hotels. The level of cleanliness of the water was questionable but it was a treat to be in a pool once more.

The next stop was Bundi. A small town with about half of the population of Udaipur, Bundi remains relatively outside of the typical tourist tracks of India.  We travelled still in the company of the two Canarians and visited the Taragarh Fort. The fort was special as it was surprisingly empty of other tourists and all but completely abandonded. The vegetation had taken over the grounds in many areas and hundreds or even thousands of bats and various other small creatures had made it their home. A few guides working within the fortress showed us around, further explained paintings on the walls and even posed us for some lovely photos as Indians love to do.

In the evening Dimitri got his last beard trimming of India and it was by far the best and Hayley visited a local tailor to have a few shirts tailored to her body all for less than the price of one cheap shirt in the USA. A local procession in the street which inculded towering camels and floats with people depicting important figures of Hinduism, all beautifully painted and vibrantly colored, snaked through the town. Bundi was a nice breather from the busy cities and we both thoroughly enjoyed our stay. At the end of our time in the small town we said goodbye to the Spaniards until we would meet again in Delhi and made our way to Pushkar.

Pushkar was a town that people had told us about since we were in Nepal. The small city has various temples and shrines but is mainly visited for its nationwide famous shops and cheap prices and is therefore, understandably a huge tourist attratcion.  It was something unnerving after the small quiet town of Bundi to be surrounded by so much materialism so we searched for a guesthouse within our budget yet outside the main drags and even managed to find one with a pool! And so goes the story of our time there – by the pool which was very likely even dirtier than the pool in Udaipur and very likely the source of various infections in the both of our bodies.  We met a lovely couple from England with whom we spent most of our days and found a quiet local restaurant where we ate almost every meal. We spent a quick week in the city before heading to New Delhi.

Since the time of arrival in India we had avoided the capital by all means but in the end decided it was something we should see for a minimum of a few days while on the subcontinent. A population of an estimated 18.6 million people, Delhi is the largest city in India (area-wise) and and the fifth most populus city in the world.  For every 1,000 males, there are only 866 women, which also logically explains some of the problems that have errupted in the city caused by the skewed gender ratio.  Quite reasonably, even after having spent four months in the country, where we were very seldom not in the presence of others, the sheer amount of people was shocking.

While there, we got well acquainted with the metro which was extremely convenient and efficient, tried to visit various monuments however, after arrival at each individual ticket office decided against the visit based on moral standards as foregingers paid two to three times more than local visitors, and then settled on finding a cheap restaurant to enjoy the savory vegetarian cusinie we had both come to love. We were able to meet up once more with the men from the Canaries and spent our last day in India with them.  We wandered through the gigantic and busy city that displayed very clearly the stark differences of wealth and poverty living side by side, saw a park, a Sikh temple and drank some rose lassi. It was so nice to speak in Spanish again while with our new companions and cannot wait until we can visit them in their homeland one day soon.  They escorted us to the metro station which took us straight to the extremely modern airport and just like that our four months in India were finished.

It is hard to sum up the trip with words as it was something that will have forever and irrevocably changed us both. India was at times very challenging and tiresome yet at other moments something that was breathtaking beyond description.   It is a county that remains fairly untainted by the capitalistic/consumer society and is home to things one could never even imagine to be normal. For us personally, it was a place that forced us both to seriously question every aspect of our western perception of reality. Though it will take time to individually digest and absorb all we saw and all we learned, it is very clear already what a blessing it was to have been able to visit and see the tiny portion of the massive subcontinent that will forever touch our hearts, minds and lives.

Dharamsala – Amritsar – Bikaner- Jaisalmer – Jodhpur

Dharamsala is the present-day home of the Dalai Lama and has been so since shortly after the Chinese invasion, and following occupation of Tibet in 1949. The small town was filled with Buddhism and Tibetan culture and is even referred to by Tibetans themselves as “little Lhassa.”   We visited a museum which further explained the struggle to regain Tibetan independence which continues to this day.  Graphic photos and a short documentary explained more about the protests of self-immolation and the hardships endured by those who do manage to escape the persecution present in their homeland.  It was an eye-opening experience and again made you wonder how something like this can be happening in the world yet receive so little global attention. We visited a few more Buddhist monasteries, probably the last we will see in India as we work our way further south, wandered through a local market and visited the dentist…

Next up was the border town of Amritsar.  Situated on the Indian/Pakistani border in the Indian state of Punjab, Amritsar is the heart of Sikhism and home to the magnificent Golden Temple. As has proven true throughout the whole trip, the Punjabi state was unique and different just as each before it. The architecture was like something out of Disney’s Aladdin, the food was of a different variety and oh so delicious, and the temperament and style of dress of the people distinct. Traditionally as part of the Sikh religion, men and women cover their hair, including the head, which can never be cut anywhere on the body, carry a comb of ivory or wood in their chignon, wear a bracelet of silver on the right wrist, wear a kacca, a type of undergarment, and carry a kirpan, a kind of dagger. Generosity is highly valued and practiced to an extent neither of us had previously experienced. Every evening the temple shelters hundreds of people and provides clean bathrooms and showers for all. The kitchen makes an average of ten thousand meals per day free for anyone who is hungry and the facilities are maintained by all volunteers. Chai was available twenty four hours a day and milk was even warmed for babies. Everything was paid for out of donations made by guests of the temple. Even throughout the city, stands provided clean drinking water to anyone who passed. Wow.

The second day there we took a collective taxi for 30km to the Pakistani border to see the incredible closing of the border ceremony. The spectacle takes place every evening and the ample sized bleachers of both countries were filled. The guards from both countries are dressed in full uniform and stamp their way down the road to the border gates doing their best to instill fear in, and respect from their adversary. The flags are lowered and folded by the guards as the crowds cheer and music plays patriotic songs in a spectacle of exacerbated nationalism at its best. It was very interesting to see the Pakistani stands gender segregated, however, in the crowd of women not all covered their heads completely or even at all, the style of dress was much of the same as the habitants of India. Only two women were present in the entire show, both Indian.

The next evening we visited the mystical Golden Temple. The most sacred site for the Sikh community, the temple is a small entirely golden building located within the courtyard of the large grounds. It sits in the middle of a holy pool and at night the lights reflect on the water creating a splendid sight and an atmosphere of tranquility. The men and women make the pilgrimage of the temple for worship and to bathe in the healing waters. The pool is filled with gigantic goldfish and other aquatic animals. Inside the temples are a multitude of holy books that are ceremoniously moved within the premises two times a day, some, measuring up to one square meter in size. In this oasis of calm and quiet we were able to sit beside the water comparatively undisturbed by the normal questions and stares of all those who pass.

The next day we visited the historical Jailanwala Bagh Gardens. In 1919, around 20,000 Indian men, women and children peacefully manifested in the grounds in protest against a new British law which allowed the government to imprison and condemn Indian citizens without due process. A group of British military entered the walled gardens, killed 379 and wounded 1,200 within minutes. The gardens were nice but filled with people. One family invited us to take a selfie, as so commonly happens here, and we ended up eating dinner and spending the evening together. Managing to communicate with lots of hand gestures and smiles it all turned out quite nicely and gave as both a closer glimpse into the everyday lives of average Indians.

While in Amritsar we also took the time to see another film in the theaters and this particular cinema even had air conditioning. The movie was titled, “Pink,” and follows three young, single women living in New Delhi who are victim to sexual harassment and the ensuing intimidation and threats of their attackers. One of the three ladies is arrested and tried in a court of law for defending herself against the attackers. It was a movie with a lot of dialogue, so, difficult. The story highlights the struggles women face in Indian society and clearly highlights the issue present in Delhi and all of India of sexual assault and gender discrimination.

From Amritsar we took a sleeper train to Bikaner, located in the state of Rajhastan. When we woke in the morning the passing landscape had changed once again and this time we were much further into the depths of the desert; wild peacocks and gigantic camels dotted the countryside. We only spent a few days in the city but took our time to visit the Jungarth Fort, home to the maharajas of Bikaner for centuries. It is one of the rare forts in Rajasthan that was built on flat land. Inside the intricately carved exterior sandstone walls, everything was vibrantly painted with immaculate detail, inlaid with rubies and emeralds and covered with beautiful paintings, mirrors and precious metals. A museum inside the fort boasts guns measuring up to three meters, gigantic swords originally used in tiger fights and even a refurbished fighter plane from the First World War. The Maharaja Ganga Singh, who called the fort home, was the only Rajahstani nobles who personally participated in the war alongside England and was the only non-British member of the British War Cabinet. He represented India at the signing of the Treaty of Versailles. The plane was gifted to him after the war as a thank you for his service. It was very beautiful but unfortunately the camera battery died upon entry of the fort and the visit was cut short in the end due to gastrointestinal complications.

The next day we took a short local bus ride to The Shri Karni Mata Temple, a beautiful marble structure that feeds and houses thousands of rats. Built in the 14th century, the temple was created for worship of Karni Mata, a mystical Hindu figure who is considered to have been an incarnation of the Hindu goddess of power, Durga. The rats in the temple are considered the sacred, reincarnated sounds of all story-tellers and poets. People give food offerings to the rodents as a form of worship to Durga and there as so many it was difficult to walk without stepping on one. As it is a sacred temple, all who enter must do so barefoot. If a rat scurries over your foot it is a sign of prosperity and if you are lucky enough to see a white rat it is said you will have good luck in life. Overall it was an unnerving but unique experience. Only in India.

After Bikaner we took a nine-hour bus ride to the golden city of Jaisalmer. Still in the vast Rajasthani Thar Desert, and only 100 miles from Pakistani border, Jaisalmer is famous for its camel safaris and sand dunes. We found a lovely guesthouse where we slept on cots on the roof under the clear desert sky. The city is known for its numerous havelis (verifiable sandstone palaces built by the rich merchants) and its famous citadel or fortress, the oldest is Rajasthan, founded in 1156.

We spent nearly a week in the city, walking the small winding alleys inside the ancient fort, admiring the beautiful and historic havelis of the wealthy and seeing the Jain temples. The Jain religion refuses all arms and consumes no animals. They are known for their respect and honesty. Inside the temples all bugs were free to roam and all bees to makes their hives.

We both felt strongly convicted against a camel safari and chose to instead rent a very reasonably priced scooter to see the city’s surrounding areas. We visited a small lake inside the city filled with thousands of enormous catfish – it was somewhat unsettling. From there we continued to Kuldhara, a ghost village established in the 13^th century and abandoned entirely in one night in the 19^th century. Then to Fort Khaba, a small fort that sits on a small mountain overlooking the desert village of Khaba. We made some local friends and played with their baby goats, drank chai with the guides of the fort and a government employee who maintained the historic site and enjoyed the afternoon. It was an authentic encounter with people who offered us conversation and tea with no ulterior motives – really nice. After the fort we headed towards the Khuri sand dunes. At the relatively large white sand dunes some local children offered camel rides and home stays and also played some music for us. After realizing we would not give them money they even still continued speaking and enjoying the others’ company. As more and more tourists began approaching towards the dunes in swarms of vans or on the backs of camels, we decided it was time to leave.

We searched for a nice spot to watch the sunset in the desert and found a small path up a hill. As the scooter stopped a local boy and his sister out herding the family goats came screaming and running towards us in curiosity. They spoke no English but the young girl offered us a desert dance and the boy incessantly asked for ruppies. They were beyond excited to have encountered us. The girl bolted up the hill screaming to whoever was in the other side, “Gorah, gorah!!” Or “White people, white people.” What followed was an ambush of ten more village children ranging from toddler to adolescent shouting and hollering and stampeding towards us from all over the hillside. They wanted Dimitri’s sunglasses or Hayley’s bracelet, to hold one of our hands, or to stand all in the closest proximity to one of us, all the while shouting and jumping in excitement. We offered to take a photo of the crowd and the children noisily formed and group for the shot. However, none could stay still and immediately all began pushing, punching and kicking the other to be present in the frame. It was like something out of a comedy movie. The youngest got pushed to the back and only the biggest were left standing. Two of their mothers came to see the commotion and also offered us a desert dance for ruppies. We politely declined and got back on the scooter. The boys held on to the back of the bike and ran as fast as possible to maintain a grip, squealing with glee the whole time. The girls stayed back, jumping up and down waving their arms, and saying goodbye. It was exhilarating and really a beautiful occurrence to once again make you appreciate where you come from yet so grateful to see new places.

From Jaisalmer we took a bus to Jodhpur. Jodhpur is famous for its fortress that sits 125m or 410ft above the blue city. The fort is really beautiful and enormous. The museum of the fort houses the saddle thrones used by royalty to ride on the backs of elephants, baby cradles embossed with gold paint and an armory of historic weapons. The gateway of the fortress is reinforced with spiked doors to prohibit elephants from ramming the gates without being injured or killed. At the end of the tour, the office of a palmist who offered readings of the ancient Indian practice of palmistry provided us both with impossible details of our histories and interesting insights into our health and future. It was crazy!

From here we will continue to Udaipur. Only two weeks remain in our travels of India! We are both excited for the cities we have yet to see and anticipate what still lies in store.

Ladakhi Adventures

One afternoon while perusing the main square supermarket we met a nice couple from France/Lebanon who were planning a trek for 8-10 days. They had recently finished a trek of 20 days, spoke thoroughly of the specifics of the hike and appeared more than competent to provide all information necessary for their new adventure. We spent the rest of the evening with them discussing the necessities for the hike and they provided us with a well-scaled and detailed map of the valley.  We decided to join them on their excursion. We would start in Zincchen and follow the popular Markha Valley Trek for four days, veer off the tea house trail over another pass and into an untouched valley and finally end the hike in the village of Dad. The last four days of hiking would be through a valley where no settlements existed so we had to carry tent and all supplies in our backpacks from the start. A Polish/Italian couple decided to join us as well and the next day, the six of us, as well as one young man from Israel, set off on the journey.
The first day we met a girl from Holland, Eva, who was also hiking through the valley, she joined the entourage.  Though it seemed to be a great start the terrain was challenging and the morning of the second day the Israeli boy and Polish/Italian couple decided to return to Leh after only the first 24 hours.

That second day we crossed over the first pass of 4,900 m (16,076 ft.). It was a steady climb and the view from the top was splendid. The next four days we walked along the path as guided by the map and consistent trail of tea houses; we saw many people. We met another girl from Germany and numerous other Israelis. After four days, it was exciting to exit the trail in direction of Dad as we would then be alone with the Himalayan wildlife.

As promised once we were off the main trail the only signs of life were the birds, marmots and blue sheep. We passed only two local nomads with their horses the entire time and the few villages we saw were completely abandoned. The second pass of 5,200 m (17,060 ft) was difficult but that much more rewarding to reach the top.  Again the view was too beautiful for words and we admired the vista over a Snickers. From there we descended into untouched wilderness and found a mountain spring for drinking water. The next valley was even more incredible than the first. The rock formations and colors were like something straight out of National Geographic. On average we walked 4-6 hours a day marveling at our surroundings every second of the way. The daily temperature was 28-30 degrees Celsius (82-86 degrees Fahrenheit) and the night fell to 0 or less. In the evenings we made campfires to keep warm, ate our dinners and gazed at the innumerable stars for as long as the cold would permit.  The Milky Way was a clear and gigantic white streak painted across the sky and the amount of shooting stars was ceaseless. It was a stunning to walk through the nature – something extremely special to always remember.

The last two days of the trek we walked at a quicker pace and for more hours per day in order to finish the trek on schedule. Finally, on the morning of the tenth day of the trek we reached the endpoint of the walk, the village of Dad. However, we quickly realized the village, as all those before it, was deserted and not one single car was passing along the adjacent highway. This was problematic for various reasons: we had a diminishing supply of food, we were no longer walking alongside the stream and had only half a liter of water left for each person and, Eva, the Dutch girl, had a return flight back to Holland out of New Delhi in only a few days.
We decided to continue on as we had no other options and kicked ourselves for not personally checking all details before going into the mountains! Lesson learned. We walked along the endless road from one end of the valley to the other. We passed a single standing home and discovered a water pump. Re-energized by the fact we weren’t going to die of dehydration, we marched on…and on. We came to the bottom of yet another pass of 4,900 m (16,076 ft).  The French/Lebanese couple abruptly decided to camp at the bottom of the pass but because of Eva’s impending flight we continued on with her over the third pass and onward. On the down side we once again found a stream for water and after another hour decided to camp in an abandoned village. It was very creepy. We had walked a total of ten hours that day and were exhausted. Once again we found a water pump in the village, made a fire and called it a night.

We woke at 6AM and continued down the road. After three hours Eva squealed as she saw a camp of the Indian army. We picked up our pace, reached the soldiers and were invited to sit down.  Without saying a word they gave us tea, water, a full meal and fruit. After inhaling the much welcomed meal we asked for a ride to the main highway. The soldiers hesitated and then, once away from their reporting officers happily agreed. We hopped into the back of a green van and were escorted in a caravan of army vehicles and weapons for about 20 km (12 miles) until the National Highway. In the front seat of the jeep sat the commanding officer and it was most interesting as she was a woman – something extremely commendable. She was the first female soldier we had seen in India and she was nonetheless, a captain. When we reached the blessed sight of the highway we heartily thanked the people for their hospitality and help and exited the jeep.

We had been deposited at a “rest stop” along the road and saw one Indian version of a semi-truck parked beside us. Eva ran into the restaurant where the driver would logically be eating and asked for a lift.  With the collective assistance of all occupants in the restaurant, she was able to convey her question to the driver, he consented and we climbed into the decorative cab of the truck. It was as if a bomb of orange paint had exploded in the cab, there pictures of Shiva and other Hindu deities adorned the walls, tassels and small curtains hung around the border of the windshield and in true Indian fashion, Hindi music blared on the radio. We cruised along at a steady pace of 10km/h (6mph) and we realized we were triumphantly on our way back to civilization. The truck overheated at one point for a half hour which allowed us some time to try and communicate with the amiable driver. It was a really nice experience.  He enthusiastically allowed us to play Bob Marley music through his radio and he loved it!  It was fantastic. Then once again on the road a tire burst. The driver and Dimitri amusingly changed it out for the spare and after a total trip of six hours we reached the transport vehicle control point 50km (31 miles) outside of Leh. We thanked the driver graciously and said our goodbyes as he had to wait five hours before he could pass through the checkpoint.

We walked down the road sticking our hands out once again for a ride. After only a few minutes a brand new Toyota Fortrunner (Indian style) stopped to pass the control point and signaled us over. A woman from Malaysia got out of the car to help us fit our bags in the back and her English husband came to the back of the car to help. We were all ashamed to sit on the clean leather seats as we were so dirty and smelly. We learned the couple was traveling through India with an organized group rally for three weeks.  They had a book with directions to follow as well as previously planned accommodation set up by the organizer and were traveling along with various other couples from various countries. After only a few minutes Mark, the husband, asked if we had lodging in Leh. When we explained we had not, he offered to pay for us to stay in their hotel for a night. The generosity was overwhelming.

We arrived to their hotel which turned out to be one of the most beautiful resorts any of us had ever seen in India. Noreen and Mark gave one room to Eva and one room to us. All rooms were small cabanas consisting of a great, comfortable bed with clean sheets, a large bathroom, sitting room and TV. Our mouths were gaping at the cleanliness, luxury and beauty. Noreen insisted on getting our laundry washed while we showered and then on having a meal.

Dinner was a western meal fit for a king accompanied by beer and bottles of red wine. The first alcohol we have drunk in India. The owner of the hotel came to our table to invite us to a party that was being thrown on the rooftop after dinner. After satiating our appetites, we gathered our refreshments and decided to check it out. On the roof was a table covered with expensive bottles of liquor all glimmering in the dancing light of the fire roaring in a chic, elevated fire pit. Noreen and Mark decided to turn in for the evening and we took a seat on the roof with all the fancy Indian attendees. We were brought various other drinks, freshly barbequed meat (for Dimitri and Eva), and sat baffled by the amazing events that had unfurled throughout the day.  When we inquired as to the reason for the party we were informed it was the wrap up party for a music video of MIA. We turned our heads and there she was! But sorry, no picture – she was not very friendly.

The next morning we were treated to a delicious breakfast and were given a ride into town. We walked through the main square, sat and conversed more over tea and pastries and parted ways with the couple that had done so much for us. Their generosity was mind boggling and the kindness of their actions will forever be imprinted in our memories. We can only hope to one day be able to do the same for the people we may meet in our futures as there is no way to sufficiently convey our gratitude, only pay forward the gesture.

We went back to our budget home-stay (also very nice) in a daze. Eva caught her flight the next day and things were normal again. We rested a few days after the exhausting but incredible adventure, ate real food instead of the instant noodles we had become far too familiar with during the trek and even observed a colorful festival for the Sikhs in Leh.  After, we decided to rent a motorcycle for two days to visit the surrounding Buddhist monasteries. The couple from Poland/Italy joined us. We were able to visit eight monasteries in total and see more of the breathtaking landscape of Ladakh. Each monastery was beautiful and special in its own way. The outsides of the clusters of buildings were white with and all structures had red roofs.  The inside walls all had vibrantly colored murals painted from top to bottom.  It was a dazzling form of art that none of us had previously observed. Some monasteries had gigantic statues of Buddha and some even had museums.  There were monks of all aged running around the premises and tourists from all nations snapping photos left and right.  We met a few monks from various other parts of India traveling to visit the Ladakhi monasteries and they provided us with more insight as to the meanings of the murals. It was exceptionally fascinating because of its stark difference from the “familiar” western religions and sparked a real curiosity in us both.

After two days of motorcycling and sight-seeing we decided to move on to see new places. We returned to Manali in order to catch a local bus to Dharamsala. The return bus was only a total of 17 hours beginning at 8PM and arriving at 1PM the next day. Fun fact: it was the same driver the entire way.  We arrived tired by intact and will take a few days to rest and enjoy the natural hot springs here before getting in another bus.

Chandigarh – Shimla – Manali – Route to Leh

After fruitlessly waiting at the Rishikesh bus stand for around ten minutes, and as we now know how tricky it can be to obtain the correct bus ticket, we decided to take a bus first to Chandigarh and the following day continue onto Shimla. Though this was not originally planned it was eerily simple and hassle free to get on the bus! The ride took us through lush forests and the sides of the road were filled with fruit stands boasting mangos as big as basketballs!!  However the bus halted rapidly and traffic came to a stand still for around two hours in the sweltering heat. When we finally reached the “cause” of the traffic jam we were delighted to realize that it was merely a poorly planned intersection situated next to the rail road tracks. Simply, the cars, busses, tractors, motorcycles, bicycles, livestock transportation cars etc. could not maneuver their way around one another freely.  Because here in India, there seems to be minimal logic in traffic control and flow – it’s every man for himself.   Night had already fallen when we arrived in Chandigarh but even in the moonlight it was obviously a big city!  Designed by a French architect (Le Corbusier) who was determined to plan the city in a modern and well thought- out fashion, the city did not resemble any of those we had previously seen. There were parks on almost every corner, gigantic and chic chain hotels, a Decathlon and even Burger King. Because it was such a late hour when we stepped off the bus it was not easy to find lodgings for the night. We took a room in a hotel on the second story of the bus stand that had cardboard like walls and was only big enough for the bed. Luxurious at its best.

The next day we were off once again in direction of Shimla. Shimla was built on the ridge of a mountain in much the same fashion as that of a gigantic vineyard. It was like something out of a fairytale walking along the roads as everything was cloaked in cloud cover.  The contrast between here and the other cities we had previously visited was stark.  The roads were paved, the people dressed in much more western fashion, the women wore their hair loose rather than in a braid, some even had short hair and there were no cows…meaning no manure! The dissimilarity was frankly a little uncomfortable – as if we had walked into a different country.

We spent the first day visiting the Hanuman Temple – a deity of the Hindu religion. A gigantic orange statue of the god adorns one of the surrounding peaks of the city and all who are willing to brave the steep climb are welcome to visit. We were confused and even intimidated during the ascent as we continued passing Indian tourists carrying large sticks. But as we neared the temple it became clear the sticks were to ward of the overwhelming plethora of aggressive monkeys with massive fangs. Hayley hid behind Dimitri the majority of the visit much the same as the small children visiting the shrine cried and clung to their parents out of fear. The Indian tourists found it quite funny and advised us to never look the monkeys in the eyes, always keep your hands out of your pockets to demonstrate you have no food and in worst case scenario when they do approach you bearing their incisors, ignore, ignore, ignore.  Overall it was terrifying but in a way magical.

The next day we wandered around the city, tasted more local cuisine including an old-fashioned men’s lounge turned coffee house that served delicious dosas (a kind of Indian crepe made from lentil flour) and real coffee with thick, freshly made cream. Much to Dimitri’s pleasure we encountered a local troop of Boy Scouts, took some pictures and then went to the cinema! The theatre was old fashioned with two levels of seating, balcony seats, and an intermission. We saw a mainstream Bollywood film titled, Dishoom, and in this particular theater there were no subtitles. Although we understood none of the dialect of the three-hour film (the average length of many Bollywood productions) it was splendidly entertaining.  The actors were perplexingly beautiful, like stare at the screen with your mouth open beautiful, the dancing scenes were all perfectly synchronized and much to our delight the audience frequently roared, whistled, clapped and booed for different characters during different scenes. It was marvelous and we cannot wait to see another movie!

The last day in Shimla we visited the Buddhist monastery located at the peak of one of the other surrounding mountain tops. For all you Belgian readers, it was a particularly interesting monastery as it is now home to Monnik Giel. For all the rest, Giel is a very kind and dedicated teenager from Belgium who decided to leave his life in Belgium when he was 15 and move to Shimla to study Buddhist philosophy.  We spent the afternoon with the now Buddhist monk, ate at the monastery and gained a little more insight into Buddhism, as well as, the life of a charming young man who caused such a media frenzy in Belgium.

From Shimla we headed to the backpacker’s heaven of Manali. Located even further into the North, and therefore further into the Himalayas, Manali is a quaint town known worldwide for its hash. As in the Nepalese Himalaya, the marijuana plants grow in prolific quantity and become gigantic along the roads and in the hills. We stayed in a nearby village called Vashisht, home to natural hot springs that reach temperatures of 40 degrees Celsius (104 degrees Fahrenheit) and are frequented daily by the locals. It was very wet and just as in Shimla, everything was covered by fog. We took things easy there going for lots of walks in the surrounding hills and reading. It was incredible to hike through the thick green mountainsides because for the first time in six weeks we were alone – it was strange.  Hayley visited an Indian dentist and was prescribed some Ayurvedic medicine – keep your fingers crossed that it works. We made our first local Indian friend and bombarded him with all the questions that continue to baffle us about this new land and he graciously answered all our inquiries.  It was really something special to get to know a local our age who was also traveling and who spoke perfect English!

We decided against renting a motorcycle to go from Manali to Leh as it was very costly, but, were still wary about the bus ride as it was two days long. We were left with little other options and set off in the morning towards Leh. It stayed very wet and cloudy the whole day as we drove further and higher into the Northern Indian terrain. After a day of nine hours of driving, we stopped for the night in a small village called Keylong. We played cards in a local restaurant and called it a night. The next day at 3:30AM we awoke for breakfast and hit the road again. This day we climbed higher and higher in altitude. We crossed the second highest pass in the world peaking at 17,582 ft, (5,328m). It was bizarre the feeling from the altitude; something like a dull/constant headache mixed with dizziness and vertigo. The highway was in surprisingly good condition and paved about 85% of the way and nothing can compare to the majesty of the nature we saw on the road that second day. It was like being on a different planet!  We passed between looming mountains of red stone and sand, massive peaks of royal blue still capped in snow all the while driving alongside running streams of emerald green water. The pictures do not do justice to seeing it first-hand.

We have finally arrived in Leh. It is a nice feeling as the Ladakhi state has been the objective destination of our travels in India.  The difference between all of the different Indian states and cities that we have observed continues to amaze us.  It is another world filled with people of a different temperament and appearance and there is a strong Tibetan influence on the culture. The climate is arid and as we are so high in elevation we are above the monsoons.  The daily temperature is just about perfect and at night a light jacket is sufficient.  Located in a valley between the Himalayan Range and the Karakoram Range, the city’s desert hills are dotted with Buddhist monasteries and the architecture of the main appears more like the western idea of Middle Eastern than Indian.  We spent the last few days acclimating to the altitude and will soon set off for some more trekking.

Agra – Fatehpur Sikri – Haridwar – Rishikesh

After a long and eventful week and a half in Agra we finally saw the Taj Mahal and the Agra Red Fort! They were both astoundingly beautiful. We arrived early the morning to avoid hour long lines but were still surrounded by others. The mere sight of the mausoleum was devastatingly imposing. It is so beautiful that you feel vulnerable and minuscule in its presence. There is not much more to be said.  Glad we saw them but stand by the opinion that the entry fee for foreigners is grossly overpriced.

After visiting the monuments we packed our bags and headed for Fatehpur Sikri. The bus ride was quite an interesting experience. It seems to be a common thing to be refused service when trying to purchase bus tickets. “Go to the other side,” or, “The bus is canceled because the roads are blocked,” also, “Come back in half an hour,” and “No bus you have to take taxi,” are all common responses to our inquiries.  This time, our first go-round only took us about thirty minutes to obtain the tickets and board the overcrowded bus. Much to the delight of the Indian passengers seated around the aisle, Dimitri provided a light, refreshing drip bath of perspiration almost the entire way. The city is located about one hour southwest of Agra and is home to the ancient fortress, palace and harem of the famous Emperor Akbar. Made entirely of sandstone and marble, the grounds were remarkable and were truly a walk through history – shout out Joachim we think you would have really enjoyed it. The sandstone was carved to give the appearance of wood- the intricacy of the details was beyond belief.

Next to the monument was a large, foreboding mosque which is also home to the tomb of Sheikh Selim Chisti, Saint and counselor to the Emperor Akbar. The entire mausoleum is made of one gigantic block of marble. It is said that the emperor beseeched the sheikh for an heir and was subsequently blessed with three sons.  The emperor was so pleased he moved the capital city to Fatehpur Sikri to be near the sheikh and accordingly built the monuments.  People still visit the tomb today in hopes of being blessed with children. It was all very beautiful but the experience was tainted by the hassling of many locals inside the monuments and on the streets.

It was also the first time that the sheer amount of trash and level of dirtiness was so shockingly blatant. It is something that cannot be explained nor comprehended until seen in person. The profuse amount of flies that inevitably accompany such large quantities of trash were relentless and literally everywhere. You walked around swatting flies all day and at night had to sleep with the sheet over your face and body in order to be somewhat protected from the tiny, (but seriously the largest I’ve ever seen), flying pests. However, it is still unclear as to whether or not the amount of rubbish in the streets concerns the local people.  There was one large pool of water located at the side of the mosque that was filled with trash and the water completely black, yet still groups of local boys were cannon-balling into the water and swimming gaily amongst the refuse.  Aside from the monuments there was not much more happening in the small town and after three nights we decided to move on towards Haridwar, a spiritual city located at the base of the Indian Himalayan foothills.

Upon arrival in Haridwar we were overwhelmed by hundreds of Indian tourists carrying kanvars and shouting chants as if going to a soccer game. We unknowingly arrived in the middle of the Indian festival, Kanvar Yatra, an annual ritual done in praise of the deity Shiva and dedicated to the celebration of the holy Ganges. Thousands upon thousands  (if not more) of pilgrims come from all over India to fetch water from the river to later offer as a bath for the Shiva lingam sited in each pilgrims’ local Shiva temple. It is very interesting, but on the whole very overwhelming. A good 90% of the pilgrims are male and they all dress in matching orange t-shirts, shout chants at the tops of their lungs, blow whistles, play drums as loud as possible and run through the roads in teams.  They partake in the festival and pilgrimage all the while smoking local herb. It is all done in praise, as Shiva is commonly depicted smoking from his chillum. Imagine the biggest music festival you know without any music, any specific main event, nor any alcohol and multiply this by ten. It is hard for those of us on the outside to understand.

We spent a few days in Haridwar and then moved on to Rishikesh. Rishikesh is a little tourist haven which was made famous by the Beatles in the 1960’s when the band came to visit and study with a local guru. It has since been a Mecca for yoga and meditation and we have seen more westerner tourists and occidental women in tank tops here than anywhere else. But after a tiring month in India it is something special to sit in peace and quiet away from the chaos of the streets, albeit in touristic bars. While our experience here has been calmer than that in Haridwar, it is still brimming with pilgrims and after a week of repose we are ready to continue traveling.

We depart tomorrow in direction of Mussoori and will carry on north from there. As we get further into the mountains the weather should cool down and the rain dissipate, but transportation by train will no longer be an option. Traveling by bus will without doubt be slower and though we have allotted a month to the northern part of our journey, it will indefinitely not be sufficient to see all that Northern India has to offer.

Incredible India

Varanasi

The road from Kathmandu to the Nepalese border with India was eventful.  We were stopped along the way because of a landslide that had blocked all traffic.  We waited on the highway along with hundreds of other Nepalese nationals for at least two hours in the sweltering sunlight.  We were forced to take refuge underneath the stopped semi-trucks as there were no other shelters offering some shade.  On the bumper of said semi it was written, “Highway life, good life.  Next turn, next wife.”  The bus ride was a total of twelve hours – think about it as a woman with a full bladder…problematic. It was another three hours from the border to the Indian city of Gorakhpur where we took a repose for one night and watched the Belgian Red Devils!  The next day we took an air-conditioned seating only train to Varanasi.

The ancient and sacred city of Varanasi has been compared to the Vatican for Catholics or Mecca for Muslims. From the minute we arrived it was clear that India would be distinct from anything we had ever seen or experienced before, we were truly in a whole new world.

A city with a checkered history of Islam and later Hinduism, millions of people make their pilgrimage to Varanasi every year (60,000+ per day) to bathe in the sacred and purifying water of the Ganges River. It is the burning place of the Hindu religion and the holy destination for passing between two worlds. All Hindus who die in this city are guaranteed to have their souls pass onto the spiritual world and not continue the otherwise constant cycle of reincarnation. Around 300 people each day are cremated on the Ganges river bank – a ritual you can watch from sunrise and on into the night. Once burned, and therefore purified, the ashes and remains are poured into the Ganges. Only pregnant women, children, those with leprosy, those killed by the bite of a cobra or the “babas” are not burned. Instead they are tied to stones and thrown directly into the holy river. Thus, it is not unusual to see floating cadavers or bodies washed ashore where scavenging animals such as birds or street dogs feed on the remains. The burning ritual is fascinating – seeing the bodies washed in the river, set on the riverside steps to dry, placed on the logs to be burned, covered with more wood, gee (butter) to burn more readily and sandalwood dust to cover the smell – it is very captivating. A body needs more than 3 hours to burn and uses more than 300 kg (660 lbs) of wood – a hefty cost for many families. The burning area is segregated between castes even though the caste system has been abolished.   We were told by a Varanasi native, crying is not permitted and therefore women stay at home. The eldest son of the recently passed person traditionally shaves his head, ritually bathes in the Ganges and leads the cremation ceremony.  Pictures are of the burning area are a form of sacrilege and vehemently prohibited.

At first light each day hundreds of people flock to the banks of the Ganges to perform a daily practice of purification.  The ritually bathe themselves in the edifying water of the river even drinking the water.  It should be noted, the Ganges River has been named one of the most polluted rivers in the world.  We were requested several times to join the ritual and bathe in the water.  We politely declined the invitation stating that Dimitri did not know how to swim…

Every evening a holy ceremony of light called The Puja, is performed on the riverbank. Young Brahmans sing holy chants and perform rituals in oblation of light to The Ganges. In Hindu this offering is called the Ganga aarti. Flocks people gather in the riverside plaza and hundreds crowd into boats on the river to watch the spectacular show and pay their respects.

Varanasi is also the Indian city of cows. They are everywhere – in the train station, sleeping in the large roads, roaming the small side streets and eating the prolific trash. The presence of these holy animals is the cause of the intense odors that fill you nostrils each time you turn a corner as well as the abundant forms of bacteria present in the city.  As they are respected so the animals grow to be absolutely enormous. Fun fact: when a cow dies it is buried not burned.

When one says Varanasi, silk is something that immediately comes to mind. The city is filled with women cloaked in vibrant colors ranging everywhere from fluorescent yellow, hot fuchsia, royal blue, hunter green to deep purple. When they all walk together it is hard to not stop and stare with an open mouth. Shops selling saris and Indian kurtis line almost every street and the prices are unbeatable, something we have come to realize after leaving.

As Varanasi is such an important city within the Hindu religion it is a very popular destination for tourists. The local people have responded to this by becoming very sly and have learned how to take advantage of western travelers. Some would even say some of the inhabitants border on being scam artists. We managed to avoid major swindles but it was all around us commencing the minute we arrived. From the train station to the hotel we were dropped off in the middle of the uber-crowded Muslim market and told, “Just walk straight.” This happened because we asked to be taken to a hotel other than that where the tuk-tuk driver worked and earned his commission (rickshaws and auto rickshaws, or tuk-tuks, are the means of transportation here. They are small buggies attached to a bicycle or motorcycle). We walked through the stifling market for around two hours, backpacks and all before we found our lodging! It was an experience!

We spent our time in this inspiring city visiting the burning place, strolling along the riverside boardwalk, running away from stampeding bulls and losing ourselves in the busy marketplaces. It was a welcomed shock to all five senses and a fabulous introduction to India. We met a Belgian couple the first day there and spent the subsequent days with them. It was a nice encounter as they were ending their Indian travels just as we were beginning, and, they were impressed with Hayley’s French!! Although Dimitri originally mistook them both for native restaurant staff, they ended up being two very nice people whom we hope to see again in Belgium!

At the end of our visit Dimitri fell ill again. Maintaining health has really been a struggle as our western digestion systems have not been previously exposed to the bacteria common in the food, air, and water here. The bacteria proliferate especially during monsoon season – which is right now. We went to two hospitals in Varanasi in search of a doctor who spoke English. After two days of outpatient testing he was diagnosed with a urinary tract infection caused by urinating in a contaminated toilet! I didn’t even know that was possible! Because we had previously booked the train tickets to the small historical town of Khajuraho, he was unable to do all the tests necessary but he was given antibiotics (again) and we set off hoping for the best.

Khajuraho 

Getting from Varanasi to Khajuraho we took a train that departed at 6 PM and arrived at 7 AM – overall thirteen hours. Being the economical travelers we are, our tickets were for the sleeper class – the most luxurious of the lower classes.  There is no AC but a window for each compartment.  There are three beds on each side of the compartment and three ceiling fans that function generally well.  It is very common to see large families crowded onto one bed.  Overall, pretty nice I’d say.  On debut we were accompanied only by two Italian brothers traveling through India, but as the night wore on, more and more passengers climbed aboard. It was particularly interesting at night time to pass through the more remote villages and see absolutely no lighting neither on the streets, nor in the houses as there was no electricity.  Once we arrived at the station we decided to wait for one more hour before departing in order to book tickets for our next train to Agra in 4 days.

Khajuraho is a small village located to the south west of Varanasi. It is celebrated for its 22 tantric temples – originally 85 – covered in erotic sculptures. The site has been so well preserved that it is one of the most visited sites in northern India but remains unfrequented by tourists moving along the Delhi, Agra, Varanasi trail.

The first day in the village we chose to visit the smaller temples where no admission fee was charged. Though they are less popular than the main group of temples located in the heart of the town they were still beautiful. As one Indian put it, “You cannot say one tree is not as beautiful as the next. They are just different.”

Walking through the village to arrive at the archaeological sites, we were approached many times by the locals and invited to have tea in their homes. One man showed us the outside of a building he said was his school. Later, over a cup of chai in his home he showed us some interesting photographs of the students and asked for donations for the children. To his disappointment we did not donate and it is still uncertain if his “school” exists.

Continuing on the trail to the temples more local children slowly worked up the courage to join us.  After asking for money and/or chocolate to no avail, a group of them settled on just accompanying the western folk to the site and practicing some English, French and Spanish with us along the way.

The second day we decided to visit the cluster temples where an entrance fee was mandatory. All of India recently doubled the admission fee to historical monuments for foreign visitors. We paid twelve times more than the local visitors to enter. It is a disparity that only serves to further the idea in Indian culture that all foreigners have superfluous amounts of money. As it was raining that day, there were not so many people and we were able to spend the better half of the morning and afternoon wandering through the ancient ruins which are said to have been built between the ninth and twelfth century. The shapes of the structures, the history which accompanied them and the exquisite sculptures on the facades of the temples were riveting. It was a small oasis of tranquility. While there we were approached several times and asked permission to pose for a photo. One couple decided to even take a “photo shot” with us and have us pose in typical Indian style for numerous photos.  This has also become apparent to be something very common – they all want pictures. So far we have agreed every time and see it a little humorous, but it’s clear that in days to come this may become more tiresome.

After seeing the temples and resting a bit at the hotel we decided to go for an evening walk. We walked until the Shiva temple in the town center and encountered a live worship session of Shiva. We were welcomed into the temple that was filled with incense, the collective sounds of mantras and worshipers all centered around a gigantic lingam – the phallic symbol of Shiva. The ceremony lasted around a half an hour and as we exited we were given a tikka by the baba – the red dot between the eyes given as a blessing of good luck. It was unlike anything we had seen before.

While there, after two weeks of being ill, Dimitri finally started feeling better and we were able to begin experimenting with Indian cuisine!  It is unbelievably delicious. It’s like an explosion of so many new and foreign tastes in your mouth and everything is vegetarian!! IMPORTANT: Hayley adds that her nails have never been stronger as a result of all the vitamins from all the veggies!

The third day was a day of national celebration in honor of Shiva, one of the three main deities in the Hindu religion. The streets were filled with market stalls and people who had come from all over the country to celebrate. The amount of colorful, intricate, magnificent saris was stirring! Hayley browsed the jewelry stands and was approached by a young local woman and her mother. Though the two spoke little English, the young woman offered to do henna art on Hayley’s arm. We are not sure the woman had ever done henna before judging by the outcome of endeavor but no matter what it was a priceless experience to be so close to, and communicate with, two Indian women in lieu of the presence of a local man. In true Indian fashion she covered the tips of Hayley’s fingers – including the fingernails in henna- her nails will now be henna stained for months to come but it was really all worth it. We were later invited to her home but Dimitri began to feel sick again. We decided to go ahead and leave Khajuraho with train tickets we had previously reserved upon arrival rather than extend our stay in hopes of finding a doctor in the larger city of Agra.

The small town was a haven of calm. The next destination, Agra, is a much larger city, home to the famous Taj Mahal and the Red Fort. Agra will be the last stop of the “super touristic” destinations!!

Agra 

The train from Khajuraho to Agra was a nine-hour, day train. Dimitri, still not feeling well and running a fever, slept almost the entire time. Hayley amused herself by drinking a lot of chai and eating spicy chickpea salad sold by the passing vendors. There was a young mother with her son in the compartment with us who shared their fried dal and otherwise spent the entire trip incessantly staring at Hayley. It’s something to which we are slowly getting more accustomed – constantly feeling others eyes fixed on you. Though we westerners find it uncomfortable and even rude, for the average Indian it seems to be completely normal – even while you are sleeping.  It said here, when one is sleeping the face befriends the entire world, so they stare.

The Indian landscape was stunning in the daylight! All of the rice paddies, peacocks, farmers and naked children frolicking through the fields were just again another reminder of the difference of reality. We arrived in Agra at 6 PM.

Agra is a considerably larger city than the village from which we arrived. At the train station we were haggled to take this tuk-tuk or stay at such and such hotel. We eventually found an auto-rickshaw driver willing to take us to the hotel of our choice, but he did so begrudgingly. As had happened in Varanasi he attempted to drop us off in the middle of no-where, but this time we at least we’re able to be dropped off only a ten minute walking distance from the hotel. We took the evening off in hopes that Dimitri would feel better the next day.

The coming days we took things easy and did a few small tours of the city by foot. Agra is not a particularly beautiful city and most tourists come only to see the famous monuments and get out. It is exceptionally dirty and the smells are generally overpowering and cause you to grimace. We attempted to see the Taj Mahal without entering, as the entrance fee for one foreigner is more than our combined daily budget, but were so overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people just on the outside that we retreated. It began to monsoon as we were searching for a restaurant in the touristic area but we were forced to continue sloshing through the rain until we found our destination. The food however was delicious and we eventually, mostly dried off – as did the floor and chairs of the restaurant.
We wandered some more through the shin-high waters in the streets, much to the amusement of locals, and decided to call it a day.

The following morning, after much haggling and bargaining, we took a collective tuk-tuk (8 people in total) to Sikandra, the mausoleum of the emperor Akbar. It was really beautiful although once again we paid seven times more than the local visitors. The grounds surrounding the building were filled with deer, peacocks and antelope and the lush gardens provided clean air in the middle if the polluted city. However, the visit was tainted by Hayley’s gastrointestinal problems.  We were forced to leave the historical site sooner than anticipated and stay in the hotel the following day to be close to the bathroom.

The next day Dimitri woke with a high fever, severe diarrhea and then began vomiting. We decided to find a hospital as it had been cumulatively around four weeks he had been sick. He was admitted to the hospital and spent the next 24 hours on numerous drips and IVs. Luckily nothing serious was wrong – the usual case of an intestinal infection exacerbated by dehydration- nothing to worry about I promise.  The nurses and doctors really enjoyed checking on us, I think our visit may have even been the highlight of their weeks. Every thrity minutes or so, after changing his drip, all they wanted to do was take photos of us or with us. So spending the night in an Indian hospital can now be checked off the list of life experiences. Again it was really a contrast to healthcare in our countries.

We have been laying low in the hotel since trying to regain strength. I think between the two of us we have lost a total of 15 kilos (33lbs) but that has not been checked on a scale. On Monday we hope to finally see the Taj and Red Fort and Tuesday get out of here in direction of Fatepur Sikri!!

Nepal Part II

The first week back in kathmandu was a period of rest. We spent our time leisurely wandering the tiny alleys and bustling streets. But inevitably after about a week we grew restless and hopped a local bus for eight hours until the small village of Gorkha.

Gorkha was a refreshing change of pace as it still remains relatively not visited by tourists. Along with a nice Finnish couple we had met previously, we took a long walk up the hilly terrain through the village and further up to the historic palace and Cave of Gorkhnath within the Gorkha Durbar. Though many of the sites had been destroyed by the earthquake, the way was filled with beauty and steeped in majesty.   Unfortunately, the next day Hayley got sick. We spent three more days trying to let the malady pass but with no end in sight we decided to head to the larger lakeside city of Pokhara in search of a doctor. In Gorkha there was an Ayruvedic doctor – an ancient school of medicine – and I’m still a little disappointed we didn’t see what they had to say.

Pokhara was another seven hour local bus ride. The city was larger than anticipated but just as touristic as we had imagined. The famous Phewa lake was gorgeous and the atmosphere of the town very different from the authentic Gorkha. We waited another two days in hopes of avoiding the hospital – no doctors’ offices – but finally broke down and visited the Indian sponsored Manipal Teaching Hospital. It was an eye opening experience but overall it ran very efficiently and we were quite impressed. The most blaring difference was either the lack of doctor patient privacy or the photo montage taken during surgeries presumably preformed at the hospital framed in the lobby of the facility. After, with antibiotics and anti-protozoa pills in tow, we set back for the hostel and healthier days to come. Interesting to note, the taxi to the hospital was more expensive than the consultation, lab testing and price of medicine combined.  At the hospital we befriended a group of girls from the UK who were interning in the physical therapy unit – the only other western people in the hospital. They were kind enough to show us the physical therapy room.  The equipment they had to work with was pretty outdated.  Physical therapy, though we were told has existed for some time here, is still not recognized as necessary.  Seeing what they have to work with here and what exists in our home countries is a stark difference. 

Because Hayley was sick we were unable to take full advantage of the small day trips that are abundant in Pokhara which was really a shame. However, what we did see was pretty spectacular and we were able to at least soak up the good energy created by the massive body of water before returning to Kathmandu to apply for our Indian visa!

For the first time we chose to take a tourist bus back to the dusty country’s capital. It was the same price, still filled with locals, a Bollywood film, and free bottles of water! But alas, a better bus on the same roads makes not such a significant difference and the ride was a total of ten hours due to the monsoon weather and road construction/traffic.

The next day Back in Kathmandu we turned in our forms to apply for the Indian visa.  We spent a few more days watching the Eurocup (Go Red Devils!!), doing a little shopping and trying out some eggs Florentine Nepalese style which was surprisingly delicious. It was NICE to change things up from the daily dal bhat but not something to be included on a daily basis budget wise.

After turning in the application for the visa we decided to rent a small motorcycle for two days and head towards Markhu – a lakeside village still not listed in guide books but recommended by some Nepali friends. Dimitri was ecstatic, he had been talking of renting a motorcycle since day one, Hayley was apprehensive.  In no way is this to reflect a negative light on Nepal, but transportation by bus in this country has proven to be pretty horrendous, so why not. The ride to Markhu was stunning and although Hayley was scared to go faster than about 30km/h (18mph) we arrived in only four hours. Let us remember it is monsoon season here and we were soaking when we arrived.

The little guest house (one of three in the town) was run by a Nepalese family that spoke minimal English – it was fantastic!! Lamentably, that evening Dimitri ran a fever and fell ill but we decided to wait and see in the morning if he felt better.  The next day the lake looked like something out of a fairy tale and the town was covered in a layer of fog and mist, but we were forced to return to Kathmandu to get Dimitri antibiotics – we learned not to wait one week before doing so.

On return, the road was SO muddy and bumpy!   But we went slowly and only fell one time! A feat applauded by all the locals who found it hilariously amusing to see a western couple traveling by moto on a road in that condition. At one point the front brake stopped working and we were presented with the opportunity to visit a local mechanic.  All in all, it took us four and a half hours to get back, and we made it with only a little mud covering our pants and shoes.  Dimitri is my hero for navigating through the traffic in the city here and even finding me in the hectic, crowded streets of Kathmandu after I jumped off the bike because the pain of sitting was too much.

We’ve now been back in Kathmandu for four days, Dimitri has been semi-violently sick the whole time but continuing to recuperate with the help of antibiotics. We are told our immune systems should be good to go in India since we both got sick here, so here’s to hoping.  The good news is we got the Indian visa! Although we asked for six months with multiple entries we were only awarded four months single entry.  Though it was not what we had hoped for it is but better to be seen as the Indian embassy has increased the opportunities for travel after India even more.  Fun fact however, a Belgian citizen pays two and a half times less than an American for Indian visas.  Dimitri thinks he can part from the toilet and so tomorrow we head to India!!

Nepal was a slow and steady introduction to the Asian continent.   It was a country that for us was filled with kind people, good food and will be remembered fondly.  But now the journey continues and India, though intimidating as it is, waits with new adventures and new experiences!