Incredible India

The post you've all been waiting for? Where is this girl? Is she still alive? Has India consumed her whole? Has she melted into the populous landscape crammed with humans, rabid dogs, wily rickshaws, cows, herds of goats/sheep, gypsies, rubbish and ponies? And that was only the traffic during Kashmiri peak hour!

No, I'm still here, still alive, exploring the ins and outs of Kashmiri culture until yesterday, where I boarded a jeep for a fourteen hour drive down to Amristar, the Sikh capital that lies in the heart of the province Punjab. But before I let you know about the beauties of the Golden Temple that makes Amristar so special, let me fill you in on what has been going down in Sarah's world for the past ten days. Phew. We have a long way to go.

My first day in Delhi was interesting, to say the least. I met Nechama in the dark of our hotel room and promised we'd have to talk right after I slept for a couple hours. I hadn't slept for over two days (awake all day thursday/thursday night/friday (in transit)/friday night) and was completely and utterly exhausted. Mind you I only did get three hours of shuteye, and then we were off to explore India's capital city.

My first reaction was of a mixture of things - the streets weren't as dirty as I had been warned, there weren't as many people as I had expected, and the heat wasn't so strong. What happened?? But soon, as we neared the centre of Connaught circle, the men began to hassle us, the beggars were doing their job, and all we wanted was to find a place selling prepaid Indian sim cards for our mobile phones. We were led from a crowded Telephone store to another quiter backdoor gig, and then when the storeowner (it was more like a corner crammed with telephone cards nestled between two bigger shops selling spices) asked us for our passports and id photos we became quite hesitant. (Little did we know that this is mandatory for prepaid sim cards here in India. Or perhaps maybe for Foreign Nationals.) SO the helpful guy from the first Phone store took us to a nearby travel agency, and he said they might have some sim cards left over from other tourists. This is where we met Naz.

Naz welcomed us in, and we were quite weary about this whole get up, but to be honest I was anxious to leave Delhi as soon as possible and begin exploring the rest of this country, so I was willing to listen to what Naz had to say. "Where you guys from?" "Australia." "Aww, alright vegemite! Hola Hola Coca cola!" He said with an oily smile... gross. He was young, spent some time in Oz a couple years ago ("Aw, I lived in Fizroy and Box Hill.. you live near there?" "No, St Kilda." "Aww yeah! The Stokehouse, roight! Yeah, I loved St kilda. BUt I lived in Box Hill. Yeah, alroight vegemite.") So we listened to what he had to say (and got an Indian sim card for our cell at the same time) and soon we had a trip planned to Srinigar, Kashmir for the next three days. Kashmir, for those who might not remember, was an extremely disputed territory between India and Pakistan - militants were smuggling in weapons and grenades - it wasn't the safest place in the world... But that ended with Pakistan's President Musharraf (thank god) and now 'the problem' (as Kashmiris call it) has gone and its safe and quite. What does Kashmir have that both India and Pakistan want? The breathtaking Himilayan Mountains... that's right, Nechama and I were about to spend ten days in the Himlayas... wow.

That afternoon we took a tour of Delhi with someone from Naz's company - photos will be on the way. And that night we enjoyed one of the most delicious meals in India so far at Naz's house. His servant cooked it for us (the caste system is still difficult getting used to) and we ate on the floor with our hands. OUr first real meal in India, and here we were eating at someone's house, eating homecooked meals and learning another way of eating entirely. There's a certain method of scooping the rice and pushing it into your mouth with your thumb. Since I am left-handed, this is sometimes an embarrassing question I have to ask my host if they mind (since my right hand is retarded) and it's always been ok. My way of eating with my hand actually proved quite successful when last Sunday we were invited to the house of the Kashmiri Manager of the travel agency for an annual feast he provides for his family and friends. The food was full of saffron that happened to smear everyone elses faces except for mine. Maybe I'm just too polite? Mum, you would have been proud. One older man next to us, a tourist from Denmark, managed to get the stuff all over his mouth and cheeks and even his nose! Then he proceeded to make Nech and I laugh till we cried for he kept calling himself a chinaman for all the yellow all over his face. He looked a hoot.

(By the way, Kashmiris slurp their drinks and soup, to the point that my mother would walk ouit in absolute disgust. But since I have learnt so much from our slurping escapades around the Ramler family table, I have managed to be the quietest tea-drinker in Kashmir. Another gold star for me! Yay!)

The next day we boarded a flight to Srinigar, where once we landed we were taken to these houseboats on Nageen Lake. Only once I spoke to my mother I realised that this was also the setting for the beginning of Salman Rushdie's novel Midnight's Children, and the way he describes it (and the way it is ) is absolutely magical. The houseboats were first used by the British when they had their influence over the area, but it was acutally the Mughal empire that ruled over this part of India, and the Brits weren't allowed to own any land. So they built houseboats that sat by the banks of the Nageen and Dal Lakes. Our bedroom overlooked the lake and we could watch the small boats (Shikaras) ferry people across the lake. Every morning the flower man would come past our boat as we ate breakfast on the roof, and try and sell us flowers and seeds to take back home. Once he got the hint that we weren't going to buy a thing, he woulod bring us gorgeous purple flowers every morning as a present. "Still no want to buy seeds?" I couldn't tell him often enough that I couldn't bring anything like that into Australia. We also encountered Mr Delicious, a man selling fudge brownies and cookies and walnuts covered in chocolate and lemon icing. We bought some to try and they were actually disgusting. No offence, Mr. Delicious. A man processing film and all things KODAK would also pass us by each morning. His Shikara was bright yellow with the red KODAK splashed across the side. So this is where were stayed for the most of the past ten days. Picture it. I'll come back later to let you know on the characters of this place. Right now - is just the backdrop.