Just like when on a long flight at high altitude your feet start to swell…well mine have yet to return to a normal state after the long drive at high altitude to Shimla this weekend.
Highlights of Shimla:
- Checked off my first India page in the “1000 Things to See Before you Die” book.
- Seeing a man with an entire refrigerator strapped to his back, brand new in the box with the new customers following behind.
- Horseback riding up a mountain
- Spending 1.5 hours in the local Police Station
Shilma is a hill station north of Delhi by a 10 hour car ride, longer if you hit traffic. It took 12 hours up and 9 on the way down. Gravity and flying down the hills helped the return situation. It was settled by the British in the 1840s. It looked like a little colonial village transplanted to the hills of rural China. Figures that it would look that way since I wasn’t too far from the boarder. It was much cooler than Delhi and I def didn’t pack properly or warm enough.
If it seems like I have been traveling a lot recently, you are correct. It is the holiday season here in India and Friday was Gandhi’s birthday so it was a national holiday. I found myself waking up at 5:30 after I was up until 2:00am while Todd hacked into my computer and tried to remotely fix my still sadly broken iPhone. Wha! I jumped into the car with the brother of the driver that we had last weekend and we took off of a long journey north of the city and into the hills.
When we hit the hills we started winding and skidding up the switchbacks flying by huge trucks and squeezing into places that I never though possible. We had only 5 near-death experiences and I was really wishing that I had a seatbelt. I know – not what you want to hear mom but at least he wasn’t wearing one either. Funny how I am glad that he was not wearing one. If he was and I was not I would feel much more vulnerable. I find a disturbing comfort in the fact that if we crash he would be launched further than me, so in my mind he is going to make sure to drive safely.
To make the driving situation even better, half-way up the mountains it starts torrentially down pouring. I was distracted by the side window and trying to see the sights through it when Alex started to ask me, “what you call those things that fall from the sky, the little balls of snow.” I reluctantly said, “hail?” “Yeah,” he said, “that’s what it is doing right now.” I looked at the huge droplets and sure enough it was hailing.
As soon as we pulled into the city our Driver Amrik asked us where we were staying…like I said we didn’t really plan this out too well or have a guide so we said we didn’t know and to have someone recommend one. Either a good move or dangerous one depending on the locals deals with the hotels. You can get scammed pretty easily this way, but we took a chance. Two guys, one in his 40 and maybe his father took our stuff and started leading us up these tiny stairways and through the streets of the markets. We had to walk quickly to keep up and make sure that they didn’t take off with our stuff. Luckily they stopped and waited when the flow of people would allow and made sure that the huffing and puffing tourists were still behind them. This is a good time to remind you that we were at a significantly high altitude and my asthma and Alex’s smoker lungs were both struggling.
We tried about 4 hotels and most of them either didn’t have space or they only had the super expensive presidential suites. It was a holiday long weekend and the pickings were slim. We finally decided on a place that had a great view but only a bucket shower (you pour the water out of the spicket and use a pouring cup to shower). Checking in is always something I dread. You have to have your passport and go through an interrogation…where are you from, when did you get here what is your passport number, visa number, husband’s or father’s name, relation to the person you are with…married…to avoid awkward stares and judgments. It was per Saabira’s advice. Then the next step, your address. “Delhi? You live here?” Citizenship – American. The hotel guy said, “no, you can’t have a Dehli address…are you Indian?” “no, American, but I live here.” “No you can’t, you are Indian then?” “No I am American, but I live here.” This went on for far too long and is always more difficult than needs to be.
We were the most excited for Jakhu hill the highest point in Shimla where there is a temple to the monkey god Hanuman. We struggled up the climb while men in their 50’s where shuffling by with grace and their tongues still in their mouths. The top was well worth it with the morning light hitting the orange and red flags. It was also perfectly accentuated with tons of menacing monkeys. Locals actually carried sticks to bang on the ground and scare them away. I was convinced that they were going to jump and attack me and for the first time I was regretting not getting my third rabies shot.
There was one local kid about 17 years old who was obsessed with Alex and me. He introduced himself and then his father, and then asked if we would take his picture. After we did he shook each of our hands followed by a bear-hug. I wasn’t expecting that at all and he kind of knocked the wind out of me. Later in the day he found us again heading down the hill. He grabbed my hand again and started jogging down the mountain. I started running with him at first, but fearing crashing on my face I was able to wriggle my hand out of his. I needed a distraction to stop running before I tripped so I asked him if I could take his picture. He immediately bear-hugged me again and then asked for a kiss on the cheek. I thought it was strange, but humored him and then he turned his other cheek and pointed to it for Alex to kiss! He did. The boy was so happy, that he laughed and went off running down the mountain smiling. I don’t know what happened there, but I think that we made his year
At this point it was only 9:30 so we called our driver and he took us to Kurfi where we could see a higher vantage point. I turned out to be a huge tourist trap and before long Alex and I were seated on horses and headed up a hill. Don’t ask. It was a fun experience trudging up the side of a muddy cliff. Alex’s horse was old and had to basically be dragged while mine led the way and ran into other horses almost knocking me off a few times. All in a day’s fun.
When we got the to top as always there were tons and tons of people asking to take photos of us. At this point we both decided that it was just that people were curious and there was no real harm. Right as we were leaving tired and ready to go home one guy asked for a photo. I said yes, and the next thing I know there were 15 people around Alex and I posing. I had my camera bag on my back…can you guess where this is going…when the picture was done I went to call the driver and my camera bag was unzipped and my phone (my flatmates borrowed phone) was gone.
That was the first time that I felt violated here. I had let down my guard since I had been in so many pictures and there were no repercussions. I was just frustrated and more than anything just felt really guilty for losing my flatmates phone. It was our only contact with our driver and every single car here is white or silver. Luckily I have pretty good attention to detail and was able to hike through three parking lots and identify our car.
We tried to go to the Kurfi police to fill out a report, but they were very unhelpful and didn’t believe me. They kept saying, “you lost it? Are you sure it didn’t fall out on the ride? What about your driver, could he have snatched it?” No, no, no, it was stolen! I tried to call it with Alex’s phone and whoever had it turned it off so I couldn’t get through. I then had to drive down the mountain and go to the Dhalli police station. I walked into a room of 7 people sitting around, only 2 in uniform and told them the story. Together they came up with the right questions and had my write out on a piece of paper so they could type it up. They kept saying that they were going to start the investigation tomorrow and that I had to come back up and it was going to be difficult because there were no suspects to identify. There was an obvious communication block. I didn’t expect to see the phone again, I just wanted an official and stamped piece of paper saying that it was stolen to take to the phone company and to insurance if anything could be covered. 1.5 hours later I left with a stamped paper, and 7 new friends who were apologizing for the experience.
On the way home we decided to drive up to Summer Hill where Gandhi used to live when he was in Shimla. On the hill is the gorgeous old Viceregal Lodge that is part of the Indian Institute of Advanced Studies. It is where the old British Government would spend the summer months. 6 months in Shimla and 6 months in Bombay/Mumbai. It was just too hot in Mumbai in the summers so they headed to the hills. I really wanted to see this place, but we left Shimla at 6 am and the place didn’t open until 9:30. Luckily our driver picked up a local guide on the way and he talked his way into showing us around. He came in and gave us a tour since he convinced the guards that we were his visitors. He showed us around and didn’t even ask for any money in return. What a nice way to end a great trip.
We left the weekend on such a high note feeling rejuvenated by the mountains and fresh air, aka the light headedness of altitude sickness…no it was so beautiful and an amazing experience and I would love to go back there in the future. But for now, back to the hustle, bustle and pollution of the busy city.
