Amritsar!
What could it be that has gotten us so thrilled?
It could only be... habitable trains!After the debacle of the train ride from Padna to Varanasi, we got 3rd class air-conditioned sleeper class tickets for the 21 hour ride from Varanasi to Delhi. We expected a better deal, with air conditioning and all. But we were still very pleased to be greeted with an (comparatively) speckless, uncrowded train interior. I leave your eyes to feast, as our eyes did, on what it is like to travel in (still inexpensive) comfort on an indian train.
The coach had Western-style lavatories too!
It got very cold at night. Which is still far more welcome than being in a non-airconditioned coach. India is really quite a land of extremes.
From Delhi to Amritsar, we got service chair class seats. It looks really modern.
and meals are provided!
The highlight of Amritsar is the Golden Temple, holiest site of Sikhism. Lonely Planet compares its beauty to that of the Taj Mahal (which we skipped because it would cost us at least a day, much money and rubbing shoulders with many tourists and enduring yet more touts).All visitors need to cover their heads. For those without headscarves of their own, a wide selection of headscarves is generously provided by the temple free of charge, hygeine not guaranteed.
There were hardly any foreign tourists. Most visitors were pilgrims/devotees/domestic tourists.
The fabled golden temple lies in the middle of a lake which lies in the middle of a fortress-like structure. Very majestic.
Devotees can take baths in the holy water of the lake. The water looks decidedly more inviting than that in the River Ganges so I gingerly poke my feet into the water, to the excitement of the fish-that-look-like-koi that inhabit the lake.
Apparently this is taboo. A guard comes round to stop our folly. As punishment, we get to take a photo with him. He has a spear!
A small crowd rests under shelter listening to a group of troubadeers performing what we believe are religious hymns.
We queue up with throngs of devotees/tourists to enter the Golden Temple at the centre of the lake.
There were hardly any foreign tourists. Most visitors were pilgrims/devotees/domestic tourists.
The fabled golden temple lies in the middle of a lake which lies in the middle of a fortress-like structure. Very majestic. Devotees can take baths in the holy water of the lake. The water looks decidedly more inviting than that in the River Ganges so I gingerly poke my feet into the water, to the excitement of the fish-that-look-like-koi that inhabit the lake.
Apparently this is taboo. A guard comes round to stop our folly. As punishment, we get to take a photo with him. He has a spear!
A small crowd rests under shelter listening to a group of troubadeers performing what we believe are religious hymns.
We queue up with throngs of devotees/tourists to enter the Golden Temple at the centre of the lake.
The view at the top of the Golden Temple. Golden balls of fengshui!
More shots.
Tim's pathological dislike for posing for photographs automatically consigns him to being the de-facto photographer whenever Elgin and I want to pose for posterity.
Inlaid in the walls of the complex are plaques dedicated to the memory and sacrifice of Sikh people.
Finally, for the geometrically inclinesd, here's a sampling of the pretty patterns that tile the floor of the Golden Temple complex.
Tim's pathological dislike for posing for photographs automatically consigns him to being the de-facto photographer whenever Elgin and I want to pose for posterity.
Inlaid in the walls of the complex are plaques dedicated to the memory and sacrifice of Sikh people.
Finally, for the geometrically inclinesd, here's a sampling of the pretty patterns that tile the floor of the Golden Temple complex.
baa baa black sheep
This is the name of the fabrics shop which we patronised in Varanasi. The exterior of the shop is unadorned, except for a few bales of cloth and a small sticker indicating the name of the shop. The interior is equally spartan, with a large white elevated matress covering a large part of the room, but the shelves are filled with a huge variety of cloths.
The shop sold various fabrics, specialising in genuine silk and pashmina wool. The owner is candid and frank and speaks good English. He took the trouble to explain the different kinds of cloth one can find in the market, and how to identify genuine silk and pashmina products. He took a few threads of the various types of cloth, burnt them and got us to sniff the fumes in a bid to teach us how to differentiate between the various cloths.
The owner is determined to cut out commission fees to drivers and tout in order to provide the best quality genuine products to customers. When we arrived at the shop, the owner spoke to the rickshaw man who bought us there in Hindi. Judging from the tone of voice, he was probably telling the man that he is not giving commission fees to him. The owner also warned us separately not to reveal his prices to touts because that would affect his business.
Our overall experience at the shop was a pleasant one. There was no hardselling and you know that you are in safe hands. Visiting his shop was a welcomed relief from the touting we encounter in the streets, and we buy with confidence and trust.
The shop sold various fabrics, specialising in genuine silk and pashmina wool. The owner is candid and frank and speaks good English. He took the trouble to explain the different kinds of cloth one can find in the market, and how to identify genuine silk and pashmina products. He took a few threads of the various types of cloth, burnt them and got us to sniff the fumes in a bid to teach us how to differentiate between the various cloths.
The owner is determined to cut out commission fees to drivers and tout in order to provide the best quality genuine products to customers. When we arrived at the shop, the owner spoke to the rickshaw man who bought us there in Hindi. Judging from the tone of voice, he was probably telling the man that he is not giving commission fees to him. The owner also warned us separately not to reveal his prices to touts because that would affect his business.
Our overall experience at the shop was a pleasant one. There was no hardselling and you know that you are in safe hands. Visiting his shop was a welcomed relief from the touting we encounter in the streets, and we buy with confidence and trust.
Awkward post-trek celebrations
After we returned to the inn, dekitted, washed off 9 days worth of dust and grime, grabbed a snack at the marketplace, had trek food for dinner (which we had hoped would be surprisingly good with meat and egg , foods that we had sorely missed after 9 days of an almost elclusively vegetarian diet, but turned out to be, for old times' sake, one last meal of trek food) , our trek staff joined us for a post-trek celebration sorts. Admittedly, it was quite a surprise to have cake, and chilled fruit cocktail (where all our fruit cocktails on the trek had been warm - worth a try for the adventurous, the syrupy taste is accentuated) , so in that sense the promised surprise was delivered (though I think we would greedily have preferred a surprise of the meat and eggs variety. But if we had actually gotten what we had hoped for, would it still be a surprise for in some way we would have known in some way what we would be getting?)
The cook actually baked a cake. In quaint Nepali engrish, the writing on it read "Happy Track 209". It was pretty tasty too(perhaps it contained egg essence?).
The friendly, playful innkeeper, who's related to 48.4237% of the Nepali we've met in Yuksum, joined in the celebration. She's especially playful in a child-like way with Bikash, our guide. They pinch each other and c hase each other around the inn compound. She also flirts with guests and offered on numerous occasions to matchmake herself and her 2 sisters with the three of us.
However much the cake and dessert and get-together were meant to invoke a celebratory atmosphere, the actual mood was anything but. It seemed more obligatory than heartfelt. Appreciative though we were of the staff's services and happy that our trials had concluded successfully, we could not express our thoughts and feelings. Maybe it's a guy thing. The staff didn't look very cheerful either. (except when posing for photos) Yet, at the back of our minds, we were all aware that it was supposed to be a happy time. Perhaps the language barrier prohibited effusiveness. The real solemnity of the event was punctuated with the brief laughs that private jokes produced.
We tipped the staff during the celebration. They looked disappointed with the tip, which helped the mood not at all. After the cake was finished, the staff (less Bikash) mumbled a few words and slipped quietly out, presumably to have their dinner. Not knowing what the going rate was, we tipped all the staff equally with an amount (100 rupees) equivalent to roughly 10% of the porter's total trek wages - 150 x 9 rupees. There were 6 staff so it worked out to 200 rupees from each of us. We were still smiling gamely, clueless about how the tipping went.
When Bikash returned later to check out the photos we had taken, we asked how our tips had been received. The reply was horrifying. Apparently we had grossly undertipped, for tips of 2000 rupees each were not unheard of (albeit for bigger trek groups but still.) . As trek staff aren't paid much by the agencies, much of a trek's worth of wages should have come from tips, especially for the lowest-paid porters. Guilt consumed us and it only made us feel worse to hear that the old friendly porter (who had a family to support) still spoke up to the others in defense of us. Bikash told us that he had explained to the others that we were just students and hence c ould not afford to tip much. Upon hindsight, our lousy tipping had consigned to the porters to a return on 9 days of hard work away from their families. that was just above minimum wage. We still feel bad, and cannot find a way to expunge our guilt or say that we are sorry.
The cook actually baked a cake. In quaint Nepali engrish, the writing on it read "Happy Track 209". It was pretty tasty too(perhaps it contained egg essence?).
The friendly, playful innkeeper, who's related to 48.4237% of the Nepali we've met in Yuksum, joined in the celebration. She's especially playful in a child-like way with Bikash, our guide. They pinch each other and c hase each other around the inn compound. She also flirts with guests and offered on numerous occasions to matchmake herself and her 2 sisters with the three of us.
However much the cake and dessert and get-together were meant to invoke a celebratory atmosphere, the actual mood was anything but. It seemed more obligatory than heartfelt. Appreciative though we were of the staff's services and happy that our trials had concluded successfully, we could not express our thoughts and feelings. Maybe it's a guy thing. The staff didn't look very cheerful either. (except when posing for photos) Yet, at the back of our minds, we were all aware that it was supposed to be a happy time. Perhaps the language barrier prohibited effusiveness. The real solemnity of the event was punctuated with the brief laughs that private jokes produced.We tipped the staff during the celebration. They looked disappointed with the tip, which helped the mood not at all. After the cake was finished, the staff (less Bikash) mumbled a few words and slipped quietly out, presumably to have their dinner. Not knowing what the going rate was, we tipped all the staff equally with an amount (100 rupees) equivalent to roughly 10% of the porter's total trek wages - 150 x 9 rupees. There were 6 staff so it worked out to 200 rupees from each of us. We were still smiling gamely, clueless about how the tipping went.
When Bikash returned later to check out the photos we had taken, we asked how our tips had been received. The reply was horrifying. Apparently we had grossly undertipped, for tips of 2000 rupees each were not unheard of (albeit for bigger trek groups but still.) . As trek staff aren't paid much by the agencies, much of a trek's worth of wages should have come from tips, especially for the lowest-paid porters. Guilt consumed us and it only made us feel worse to hear that the old friendly porter (who had a family to support) still spoke up to the others in defense of us. Bikash told us that he had explained to the others that we were just students and hence c ould not afford to tip much. Upon hindsight, our lousy tipping had consigned to the porters to a return on 9 days of hard work away from their families. that was just above minimum wage. We still feel bad, and cannot find a way to expunge our guilt or say that we are sorry.