The train ride from hell, with the natives, lepers, beggars and loads of curry
Pictures, from the most intense (and authentic) train ride I ever took.
The night before... at a hotel near Chennai Central Train Station... Clearly very chirpy. The room has no air con (despite the suspicious presence of said machine embedded in the window), so everyone had their shirts off. The cricket commentator on TV is a CHINESE who can speak Hindi.
The room was crappy and Tim got a few mosquito bites. The hotel-owner clearly empathised with us when he pasted glow-in-the-dark stars and planets on the ceiling. Note the tell-tale white patches. We were surprised beyond belief when we switched off the lights to sleep, only to behold a galaxy of stars on the ceiling. For a moment we thought the room was so bad there was no roof.
Pre-train ride breakfast was masala dhosai with chicken curry. We somehow managed to order them from this indian uncle with no teeth at this coffee house near our "hotel". We ate with fingers. The beginning of an education in Indian hygiene. With live chickens on the floor near us.
Chennai Central station, with its crowds
The train. Its packed to the brim. Like a train bound for Auschwitz.
Before trip photos, looking happy and eager. ok not so eager.
Meet the natives. And the cramped interior of the train. People sleep both on the racks to the left and right, and some sleep on the floor.
Tim wanted to pose with him for a photo. But he was eager for a nice curry right at the back of the train.
Fascinated with his butt.
The view was...
OMG its the three holy men. Actually they are just asleep from the heat.
This guy is a real gentleman. He gave us one unripened green guava each to chew on, as well as a bottle of water to Tim, foc. We subsequently debated on whether the "guava" is indeed a guava or not. You can decide yourself after viewing its picture below.
Tim calls him our "night-riding buddy". He lasted the whole journey with us, giving us each a handshake after we reached Howrah.
Meal on the train... with hands and spoons. How did we dispose of the used utensils and aluminium boxes? Out of the window, just like the way the natives do it.
Another person that brigthened up our trip was "Lion". Yes he calls himself that. He offered us his dinner and it turned out to be really nice. The only problem is we had an entire mountain of rice to finish on top of the dinner we ordered, and we couldn't say we don't want the food because he has been so gracious to us. We took turns to finish the mountain, mixing fingernail dirt, saliva and curry together before scoping rice down our throats.
The rest of the people in our cabin were as talkative as "Lion". Ramu, the guy with the handphone, is a train driver with the Indian Railways. He was very eager to learn more about Singapore, and we talked about marriages, currency, handphones... almost anything. Rao, the guy to Ramu's left is also a train operater. "Lion" himself operated vehicles that caught tiger "phrawwnnss". We don't know who is the random indian guy to the extreme right.
Sleeping quarters.... Roger and I slept at the top while Tim slept at the second tier just below me. It was crammed and extremely warm and sweaty.
CAN YOU HANDLE THE TOILET? YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TOILET. Actually the toilet wasn't too filthy. It was basically a hole in the train floor. Shit and piss went directly onto the tracks. Which might explain why it smells like that everywhere in India. Tim very graciously offered to enact a pose.
Crazy indian guy who woke us up, singing while playing a drum.
FINALLY, Howrah!
After trip photos. We were clearly very happy to be out of the pressure cooker.
The Indians are actually very nice people. The guy in the picture is really not thinking of robbing/raping/murdering us.
Finally, an interesting poster at the LAN shop we are at now:
Note point number 10.
More pictures tomorrow after our walk around Calcutta.
The night before... at a hotel near Chennai Central Train Station... Clearly very chirpy. The room has no air con (despite the suspicious presence of said machine embedded in the window), so everyone had their shirts off. The cricket commentator on TV is a CHINESE who can speak Hindi.
The room was crappy and Tim got a few mosquito bites. The hotel-owner clearly empathised with us when he pasted glow-in-the-dark stars and planets on the ceiling. Note the tell-tale white patches. We were surprised beyond belief when we switched off the lights to sleep, only to behold a galaxy of stars on the ceiling. For a moment we thought the room was so bad there was no roof.
Pre-train ride breakfast was masala dhosai with chicken curry. We somehow managed to order them from this indian uncle with no teeth at this coffee house near our "hotel". We ate with fingers. The beginning of an education in Indian hygiene. With live chickens on the floor near us.
Chennai Central station, with its crowds
The train. Its packed to the brim. Like a train bound for Auschwitz.
Before trip photos, looking happy and eager. ok not so eager.
Meet the natives. And the cramped interior of the train. People sleep both on the racks to the left and right, and some sleep on the floor.
Tim wanted to pose with him for a photo. But he was eager for a nice curry right at the back of the train.
Fascinated with his butt.
The view was...
OMG its the three holy men. Actually they are just asleep from the heat.
This guy is a real gentleman. He gave us one unripened green guava each to chew on, as well as a bottle of water to Tim, foc. We subsequently debated on whether the "guava" is indeed a guava or not. You can decide yourself after viewing its picture below.
Tim calls him our "night-riding buddy". He lasted the whole journey with us, giving us each a handshake after we reached Howrah.
Meal on the train... with hands and spoons. How did we dispose of the used utensils and aluminium boxes? Out of the window, just like the way the natives do it.
Another person that brigthened up our trip was "Lion". Yes he calls himself that. He offered us his dinner and it turned out to be really nice. The only problem is we had an entire mountain of rice to finish on top of the dinner we ordered, and we couldn't say we don't want the food because he has been so gracious to us. We took turns to finish the mountain, mixing fingernail dirt, saliva and curry together before scoping rice down our throats.
The rest of the people in our cabin were as talkative as "Lion". Ramu, the guy with the handphone, is a train driver with the Indian Railways. He was very eager to learn more about Singapore, and we talked about marriages, currency, handphones... almost anything. Rao, the guy to Ramu's left is also a train operater. "Lion" himself operated vehicles that caught tiger "phrawwnnss". We don't know who is the random indian guy to the extreme right.
Sleeping quarters.... Roger and I slept at the top while Tim slept at the second tier just below me. It was crammed and extremely warm and sweaty.
CAN YOU HANDLE THE TOILET? YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TOILET. Actually the toilet wasn't too filthy. It was basically a hole in the train floor. Shit and piss went directly onto the tracks. Which might explain why it smells like that everywhere in India. Tim very graciously offered to enact a pose.
Crazy indian guy who woke us up, singing while playing a drum.
FINALLY, Howrah!
After trip photos. We were clearly very happy to be out of the pressure cooker.
The Indians are actually very nice people. The guy in the picture is really not thinking of robbing/raping/murdering us.
Finally, an interesting poster at the LAN shop we are at now:
Note point number 10.
More pictures tomorrow after our walk around Calcutta.
1662 km later, I have buns of steel
1700, 6/5/07, somewhere between Chennai and Calcutta
Consciousness aboard an Indian Railways train ride is a remarkably curious state of existence. One can otherwise opt to pass time on this 27.5 (actually 29) hour long ride in a semi-conscious stupor. Eyes closed in attempts to nap, one feels more acutely the soreness of one's behind, the cramp in one's legs and the cloying way in which one's clothes stick to the skin. But as one's thoughts drift to home and one falls into unconsciousness, the heat and discomfort are momentarily forgotten. When one wakes, disembarkation is less a distant prospect.
But the respites of sleep are fleeting. One cannot sleep the whole journey away; one can but punctuate it with brief bouts of fitful sleep. Time does not pass quickly when one is awake. Far from it. The warmth is at best merely lethargy inducing and could have been more daunting if not for the celing fans and open windows which provide some modicum of ventilation. The seats are hard and stickier than those found on a non-airconditioned SBS bus. Thankfully, the ride, though uncomfortable, is passably bearable and endlessly eye opening.
Second-class sleeper compartments are configured in a peculiarly functional fashion. Bunks racked in sets of three are separated by a haircomb shaped aisle. It is crowded and unhygienic but much less so than the overflowing third class non-sleeper compartments. The view, a randomly arranged slideshow of pastoral scenes, parched landscapes, poverty emanating clusters of shacks and dingy train stations under a bleakly grey sky, is unexciting but revealing of the Indian countryside.
Our bunkmates are far more interesting. A motley assortment indeed. There is the reticent bespectacled guy in jeans wearing guy who spoke a few words of English. He ordered egg briyani for lunch but got chicken briyani instead and looked forlorn thereafter. I assume he was vegetarian. There is the turquoise shirted guy who sat with us for a while but cleverly retreated to the more spacious top bunk to read his Submariners' Training Manual. There is a nondescript brown shirted guy who has yet to talk to us but will come to offer us some advice at the end of our journey. There is a very nice yellow shirted guy who gave us a bottle of water when we ran out, bought us some untasty strain of Indian guava that will turn out to be a blessing in disguise and helpfully indicated that the window was also in fact a convenient receptacle for rubbish. He will come to be an appreciated presence in the bunk and we will shake hands with him at the end of our journey.
They were quiet but the rest of the ride was noisy. Against the constant rattle of the rails and the frequent blare of train horns, random Indians converse in what I assume is unintelligible Hindi. Official pantry car vendors patrol the aisles, hawking food and drink with practiced calls. Occasionally a beggar limps/crawls/walks by and prods one intrusively for alms. Some are disturbingly afflicted with leprosy.
Private space is quite a foreign concept. Any and all available space can and will be requisitioned by strangers/vendors for use as footrests/luggage space/temporary food deposits. Indeed, the Indians seem to be a very communal people. An unidentified person was blaring music (Bhangra!) on the flight to Chennai as young punks are annoyingly wont to do on buses.
8.30am, 7/5/09, somewhere nearer Calcutta
It is precisely 24 hours since we boarded the train and I am most pleased that none of us have had to suffer an upset stomach. This is despite consuming two meals of train food (much maligned elsewhere but surprisingly edible), the mysterious guava like organic matter thingy and sharing a meal with a friendly local. For all, we used our bare hands. The unexciting suspected-to-be-guava fruit turned out to be a most fortuitous offering as we were later able to use our prior consumption of it as an excuse to decline a similar fruit from another well-meaning local who had sliced it with a frighteningly rusty knife. Tetanus immunisations notwithstanding, local hygiene habits seem life threatening.
The train has a maximum speed of 110 km/h. Four sets of drivers share the driving duties between Chennai and Calcutta. These are facts shared bu a group of locals we befriended on the train. As the temperatures of the previous day's evening cooled, the locals warmed to us and chatted with us till we slept. The friendliest were Ramu and Lion. Ramu, 37, is a train driver and was on his way to take shift at another station. Lion, 35, from what I gathered, is involved in prawn distribution (but with thick indian accent, this is really anyone's guess). Through the evening, we enquired about each other's countries. It seems that the male proclivity to talk about sex is universal - the locals noticeably became more animated when they brought up the more bawdy subjects of prostitution, polygamy and gender ratios (2 males to 1 female in India; how fortunate that we have dragon girls). Gleefully, they bragged about how many girlfriends they had. (Dowries also came under discussion. The locals complained about the practice and praised Singapore's no-dowry convention. It's more expensive to have daughters than sons - hence the skewed sex ratio it seems). Come dinnertime, Lion generously shared with us a portion of his meal. It was bought at some famous restaurant for a grand 25 rupees (less than 1 SGD) and tasted infinitely more flavourful than our train food (which cost about 2 SGD). As the train traversed the Indian land, they pointed out landmarks such as bridges ("that one is 150 years old", "that one is 3km long, longer than your causeway") and temples ("1000 couples are getting married there tonight - for long life as as couple") It was an awesome evening for us and I hope it was for them too. After I passed them my school namecard at the end of a show and tell session involving currecy swaps and identity card exchanges, Ramu said "Thank you for giving me your visiting card...when foreigners come to our country, we show them respect but... they don't show us respect... Thank you."
It's pretty ironic how the less we pay the more we see. Perhaps they take pity on us. One of them told us that it's a lousy time to be visiting India (it's bloody warm) and a number have advised us to ride in the air-conditioned class instead of roughing it out with them. But I imagine that had we acquired air conditioned class sleeper berths as initially planned, we would not have such a warm (multiple meanings fully intended) experience. Even more so had paid even more and flown directly to Calcutta from Singapore. I write this with pen on paper while lounging around under the celiing fan in a 4m by 3m space with 10 locals, feet propped up and decorum abandoned. This is the way it's done on an Indian train.
Consciousness aboard an Indian Railways train ride is a remarkably curious state of existence. One can otherwise opt to pass time on this 27.5 (actually 29) hour long ride in a semi-conscious stupor. Eyes closed in attempts to nap, one feels more acutely the soreness of one's behind, the cramp in one's legs and the cloying way in which one's clothes stick to the skin. But as one's thoughts drift to home and one falls into unconsciousness, the heat and discomfort are momentarily forgotten. When one wakes, disembarkation is less a distant prospect.
But the respites of sleep are fleeting. One cannot sleep the whole journey away; one can but punctuate it with brief bouts of fitful sleep. Time does not pass quickly when one is awake. Far from it. The warmth is at best merely lethargy inducing and could have been more daunting if not for the celing fans and open windows which provide some modicum of ventilation. The seats are hard and stickier than those found on a non-airconditioned SBS bus. Thankfully, the ride, though uncomfortable, is passably bearable and endlessly eye opening.
Second-class sleeper compartments are configured in a peculiarly functional fashion. Bunks racked in sets of three are separated by a haircomb shaped aisle. It is crowded and unhygienic but much less so than the overflowing third class non-sleeper compartments. The view, a randomly arranged slideshow of pastoral scenes, parched landscapes, poverty emanating clusters of shacks and dingy train stations under a bleakly grey sky, is unexciting but revealing of the Indian countryside.
Our bunkmates are far more interesting. A motley assortment indeed. There is the reticent bespectacled guy in jeans wearing guy who spoke a few words of English. He ordered egg briyani for lunch but got chicken briyani instead and looked forlorn thereafter. I assume he was vegetarian. There is the turquoise shirted guy who sat with us for a while but cleverly retreated to the more spacious top bunk to read his Submariners' Training Manual. There is a nondescript brown shirted guy who has yet to talk to us but will come to offer us some advice at the end of our journey. There is a very nice yellow shirted guy who gave us a bottle of water when we ran out, bought us some untasty strain of Indian guava that will turn out to be a blessing in disguise and helpfully indicated that the window was also in fact a convenient receptacle for rubbish. He will come to be an appreciated presence in the bunk and we will shake hands with him at the end of our journey.
They were quiet but the rest of the ride was noisy. Against the constant rattle of the rails and the frequent blare of train horns, random Indians converse in what I assume is unintelligible Hindi. Official pantry car vendors patrol the aisles, hawking food and drink with practiced calls. Occasionally a beggar limps/crawls/walks by and prods one intrusively for alms. Some are disturbingly afflicted with leprosy.
Private space is quite a foreign concept. Any and all available space can and will be requisitioned by strangers/vendors for use as footrests/luggage space/temporary food deposits. Indeed, the Indians seem to be a very communal people. An unidentified person was blaring music (Bhangra!) on the flight to Chennai as young punks are annoyingly wont to do on buses.
8.30am, 7/5/09, somewhere nearer Calcutta
It is precisely 24 hours since we boarded the train and I am most pleased that none of us have had to suffer an upset stomach. This is despite consuming two meals of train food (much maligned elsewhere but surprisingly edible), the mysterious guava like organic matter thingy and sharing a meal with a friendly local. For all, we used our bare hands. The unexciting suspected-to-be-guava fruit turned out to be a most fortuitous offering as we were later able to use our prior consumption of it as an excuse to decline a similar fruit from another well-meaning local who had sliced it with a frighteningly rusty knife. Tetanus immunisations notwithstanding, local hygiene habits seem life threatening.
The train has a maximum speed of 110 km/h. Four sets of drivers share the driving duties between Chennai and Calcutta. These are facts shared bu a group of locals we befriended on the train. As the temperatures of the previous day's evening cooled, the locals warmed to us and chatted with us till we slept. The friendliest were Ramu and Lion. Ramu, 37, is a train driver and was on his way to take shift at another station. Lion, 35, from what I gathered, is involved in prawn distribution (but with thick indian accent, this is really anyone's guess). Through the evening, we enquired about each other's countries. It seems that the male proclivity to talk about sex is universal - the locals noticeably became more animated when they brought up the more bawdy subjects of prostitution, polygamy and gender ratios (2 males to 1 female in India; how fortunate that we have dragon girls). Gleefully, they bragged about how many girlfriends they had. (Dowries also came under discussion. The locals complained about the practice and praised Singapore's no-dowry convention. It's more expensive to have daughters than sons - hence the skewed sex ratio it seems). Come dinnertime, Lion generously shared with us a portion of his meal. It was bought at some famous restaurant for a grand 25 rupees (less than 1 SGD) and tasted infinitely more flavourful than our train food (which cost about 2 SGD). As the train traversed the Indian land, they pointed out landmarks such as bridges ("that one is 150 years old", "that one is 3km long, longer than your causeway") and temples ("1000 couples are getting married there tonight - for long life as as couple") It was an awesome evening for us and I hope it was for them too. After I passed them my school namecard at the end of a show and tell session involving currecy swaps and identity card exchanges, Ramu said "Thank you for giving me your visiting card...when foreigners come to our country, we show them respect but... they don't show us respect... Thank you."
It's pretty ironic how the less we pay the more we see. Perhaps they take pity on us. One of them told us that it's a lousy time to be visiting India (it's bloody warm) and a number have advised us to ride in the air-conditioned class instead of roughing it out with them. But I imagine that had we acquired air conditioned class sleeper berths as initially planned, we would not have such a warm (multiple meanings fully intended) experience. Even more so had paid even more and flown directly to Calcutta from Singapore. I write this with pen on paper while lounging around under the celiing fan in a 4m by 3m space with 10 locals, feet propped up and decorum abandoned. This is the way it's done on an Indian train.
Pre-departure mugshots
At the lost and found corner. Trying our best to look lost. Don't worry soon enough we will be really lost.
Roger is the guy to the left while tim is the guy pointing at his chin and holding the laptop. Elgin is clearly distracted.
A more proper photo:
Stay tuned for before and after 27.5 train ride photos.
Pick thy poison
We could not have picked a worse time to do this holiday getaway.
Death, disease and dissent wrack the Indian subcontinent. The Afghan-Pakistan border is where the US and the Taliban wage bloody war. With the resurgence of the Taliban within Pakistan, large swathes of the north-west are now under Taliban control. This means the fighting is dangerously close (100km) to Islamabad and Gilgit, places on our itinerary. Terrorist bombs still explode intermittently around Pakistan.
In Nepal, the Prime Minister has just resigned following the sacking of a general over the failed integration of 19,000 former Maoist rebels into the army. I imagine said 19,000 rebels are not happy and will invite comrades to participate in their unhappiness. Civil war perhaps?
Against the backdrop of nationwide elections in the largest democracy in the world , we will be jaunting around hoping to keep a low profile. The democratic process means that the interests of the minority will be subjugated under the demands of the majority. Hardly a recipe for peace. The incoming southwest monsoon brings rain and flood and with it, typhoid, cholera, dysentery and malaria. And there is the looming spectre of swine flu, which has yet to seriously afflict the Indian subcontinent but no doubt will cramp our travel plans. Through this all, India burns in one of the hottest summers (>40 degrees celsius) on record. The cessation of civil war in neighbouring Sri Lanka will have stirred Tamil interests. Their response is an unknown variable; this complicates an already messy situation.
Apart from these ad-hoc threats to one's mortality, there are still the usual villains. Just to name a few, traffic accidents, mountain landslides, food poisoning incidents, random unidentified diseases and malicious muggers are omnipresent dangers.
I'd feel rather cheated if all these didn't mean a cheaper holiday for us. Which sane tourist would put themselves through such trouble?
Death, disease and dissent wrack the Indian subcontinent. The Afghan-Pakistan border is where the US and the Taliban wage bloody war. With the resurgence of the Taliban within Pakistan, large swathes of the north-west are now under Taliban control. This means the fighting is dangerously close (100km) to Islamabad and Gilgit, places on our itinerary. Terrorist bombs still explode intermittently around Pakistan.
In Nepal, the Prime Minister has just resigned following the sacking of a general over the failed integration of 19,000 former Maoist rebels into the army. I imagine said 19,000 rebels are not happy and will invite comrades to participate in their unhappiness. Civil war perhaps?
Against the backdrop of nationwide elections in the largest democracy in the world , we will be jaunting around hoping to keep a low profile. The democratic process means that the interests of the minority will be subjugated under the demands of the majority. Hardly a recipe for peace. The incoming southwest monsoon brings rain and flood and with it, typhoid, cholera, dysentery and malaria. And there is the looming spectre of swine flu, which has yet to seriously afflict the Indian subcontinent but no doubt will cramp our travel plans. Through this all, India burns in one of the hottest summers (>40 degrees celsius) on record. The cessation of civil war in neighbouring Sri Lanka will have stirred Tamil interests. Their response is an unknown variable; this complicates an already messy situation.
Apart from these ad-hoc threats to one's mortality, there are still the usual villains. Just to name a few, traffic accidents, mountain landslides, food poisoning incidents, random unidentified diseases and malicious muggers are omnipresent dangers.
I'd feel rather cheated if all these didn't mean a cheaper holiday for us. Which sane tourist would put themselves through such trouble?
here we go again...
So here we are at the airport again, waiting at the departure "lounge" of the Budget Terminal waiting for our plane. Roger and I have been tour mates for a few trips already and the introduction of Tim will surely spice things up and add a new dimension to the travel experience.
Asia seems to be a permanent fixture in my travel destinations list, helped no less by the relative
cheapness of the price in comparison to Europe and America and the prospect of harrowing transport experiences and encountering some truly crazy and amazing people.
This trip to me is probably the biggest test of my backpacking abilities, at least in relation to Asia. India is known for its challenges and surprises presented to independent travellers.
Pakistan is the make or break portion of the trip. Apparently The Economist called Pakistan "the worlds most dangerous place." If we survive it, we can survive Chernobyl + WWII. Ok maybe not.
One step at a time though. We should be arriving in Chennai later at night, and hopefully we can find some accommodation. Otherwise we will sleep in the airport till the next day, before making our way to Chennai Central to take our train from Chennai to Calcutta.
I will miss my dog.
Asia seems to be a permanent fixture in my travel destinations list, helped no less by the relative
cheapness of the price in comparison to Europe and America and the prospect of harrowing transport experiences and encountering some truly crazy and amazing people.
This trip to me is probably the biggest test of my backpacking abilities, at least in relation to Asia. India is known for its challenges and surprises presented to independent travellers.
Pakistan is the make or break portion of the trip. Apparently The Economist called Pakistan "the worlds most dangerous place." If we survive it, we can survive Chernobyl + WWII. Ok maybe not.
One step at a time though. We should be arriving in Chennai later at night, and hopefully we can find some accommodation. Otherwise we will sleep in the airport till the next day, before making our way to Chennai Central to take our train from Chennai to Calcutta.
I will miss my dog.
Additional Testing for Mobile Blog Operation System
this is a test post to check if the old and cranky laptop that i am bringing along to chronicle our adventures(mis) actually works and syncs with my camera and the sd card-thumbdrive reader.
As you can see, this is the mobile system: an ever reliable IBM Thinkpad, the sd card thumbdrive reader, memory cards, lonely planet india guidebook for additional information, and a nice comfy windbreaker to keep the laptop warm.
These are pictures taken of none other than me with the SAF new standard army fullpack that is my steed ... or rather i am its steed.
As you can see, it is fatter/bigger than i am.
Me looking mildly amused at the thought of lugging 8 or 9 kilos up 3000 + metres of mountainous terrain in nepal and pakistan.
As you can see, this is the mobile system: an ever reliable IBM Thinkpad, the sd card thumbdrive reader, memory cards, lonely planet india guidebook for additional information, and a nice comfy windbreaker to keep the laptop warm.
These are pictures taken of none other than me with the SAF new standard army fullpack that is my steed ... or rather i am its steed.
As you can see, it is fatter/bigger than i am.
Me looking mildly amused at the thought of lugging 8 or 9 kilos up 3000 + metres of mountainous terrain in nepal and pakistan.
Great, everything works! however, each individual picture took 40 seconds to be uploaded due to the fact that this system runs on intel centrino and 512 MB of RAM, which = my grandmother.
so... don't be too disappointed if you see less pictures; i'm sure our eloquence will more than make up for it.
A visual representation of THE PLAN
A visual representation of the proposed route:
We touch down at Chennai, city of sweat, before taking a 27.5 hours train ride with the natives to Calcutta, cultural capital of India and the home of monsoon floods. We explore, rest and get drenched before heading northwards to Sikkim, where we finally meet good (i.e. cool) weather and get the chance to dry our ears. Darjeeling is the next stop where we should be happy sipping tea. We move westward to cross the border between India and Nepal, taking presumably a bus to Kathmandu. We than will engage in various adventure sports and try not to drown/fall/fry. We cross the border again by moving southwards and reaching Varanasi, holy city. Agra is next towards the west, where we make the the mandatory trip to the Taj Mahal and weep when we behold its glory. We cut northwards towards Delhi and to Kashmir, and make friends with the hill tribes. This is where the weather gets really cold.
Kashmir will mark the point of our trip where we try to find the safest way to Pakistan that will not get us killed/arrested/knifed. 2 options essentially: 1) take a bus from Indian-controlled Kashmir to Pakistani Kashmir, where we face the possibility of running into gunfights and terrorists, or 2) move down to Delhi where we take a bus/train from there to Lahore in Pakistan, where we face the treat of terrorists bombing the train and place. Hmmm.
Once we enter Pakistan, we would try to travel towards Gilgit, which is in the north of Pakistan. This is where the terrorists are currently asserting control over after the Pakistani government signed a pact to cede control to them. Fingers crossed. After Gilgit and the glorious mountains of northern Pakistan, we retrace our route back to India, arriving at Amritsar, land of the Sikhs.
From there, depending on how much time we have left, we move southwards towards warmer weather and safer lands. We shall visit Mumbai, Goa, Hampi and finally Bangalore in that order.
We fly back to $ingapore from Bangalore in one piece. Hopefully.
We touch down at Chennai, city of sweat, before taking a 27.5 hours train ride with the natives to Calcutta, cultural capital of India and the home of monsoon floods. We explore, rest and get drenched before heading northwards to Sikkim, where we finally meet good (i.e. cool) weather and get the chance to dry our ears. Darjeeling is the next stop where we should be happy sipping tea. We move westward to cross the border between India and Nepal, taking presumably a bus to Kathmandu. We than will engage in various adventure sports and try not to drown/fall/fry. We cross the border again by moving southwards and reaching Varanasi, holy city. Agra is next towards the west, where we make the the mandatory trip to the Taj Mahal and weep when we behold its glory. We cut northwards towards Delhi and to Kashmir, and make friends with the hill tribes. This is where the weather gets really cold.
Kashmir will mark the point of our trip where we try to find the safest way to Pakistan that will not get us killed/arrested/knifed. 2 options essentially: 1) take a bus from Indian-controlled Kashmir to Pakistani Kashmir, where we face the possibility of running into gunfights and terrorists, or 2) move down to Delhi where we take a bus/train from there to Lahore in Pakistan, where we face the treat of terrorists bombing the train and place. Hmmm.
Once we enter Pakistan, we would try to travel towards Gilgit, which is in the north of Pakistan. This is where the terrorists are currently asserting control over after the Pakistani government signed a pact to cede control to them. Fingers crossed. After Gilgit and the glorious mountains of northern Pakistan, we retrace our route back to India, arriving at Amritsar, land of the Sikhs.
From there, depending on how much time we have left, we move southwards towards warmer weather and safer lands. We shall visit Mumbai, Goa, Hampi and finally Bangalore in that order.
We fly back to $ingapore from Bangalore in one piece. Hopefully.
the problem with pakistan
we seem to have run into a problem when planning for pakistan. nope it has nothing to do with entry or exit, it has to do with us wanting to visit the awe inspiring mountains of the karakoram range.
as you all may know, the situation in pakistan as of today is as such. and as per the new regulation and peace agreement between the taliban and the pakistani government, the taliban has basically been given the mandate to extend sharia law over the whole north western frontier province (NWFP) region as well as the SWAT districts.
initially, our plan was to take a bus from islamabad up to gilgit, a region which is home to many beautiful mountain ranges and is supposedly the inspiration for shangri la. this plan would mean that we would be taking the karakoram highway up to gilgit, which in itself is part of the old silk route linking pakistan to china and mongolia.
observe, if you will, how and where the karakoram highway traces its path across pakistan:
if you are observant enough, you will realise that the highway passes through certain areas which are now strongholds of the taliban. now that's interesting.
the highway itself is also prone to landslides which can "disrupt traffic for a few days" assuming of course that you aren't already buried under a pile of rubble. this leaves us with the alternate option of taking a flight from islamabad to gilgit itself.
although various forums have confirmed the existence of said flight, it doesn't exist on PIA (pakistan international airlines) websites. that being said, it also has the tendency of being cancelled or overbooked at the last minute so we actually still do not know if its possible to reach gilgit by air. an alternate town of Skardu is reachable by air (they even say the air ride is thrilling. "the planes wings almost appear to scrape the walls of the canyons but of course they never do") and gilgit is then a mere 5 hour drive away.
the cost of this flight (round trip) is 7730 pakistani rupees, which works out to about 154.6SGD. not good for the wallet at all.
so now, the question is : how to get to gilgit at the least cost to our wallet and lives. (25 marks)
we welcome all creative (and sound) answers.
Testing (tim)
this is also a test post cos its been a while since i've blogged or used blogger.
in any case, most people (like my mom) believe that india looks like this:
or this:
but we know (somehow) that india, nepal and pakistan have the potential to stun (but not paralyse), captivate (but not capture) and give us many stories and adventures that we can inflate/exaggerate horribly and tell our children and grandchildren so they will idolize us more. so, that's why we are going there.
as you all already know by now, we are going to be somewhere in the map above during the period of 5th May to 21st June, which is about 50 odd days or so.
due to our diligent lack of planning, we only have the vaguest of ideas where we will be going and what we will be doing. let's hope we don't get too surprised along the way.
here is the rough plan:
-> arrive in chennai
-> avoid getting scammed
-> take a 27.5 hour train ride to calcutta (just to prove that we can suffer like dogs)
-> avoid getting scammed
-> move on to darjeeling on another train
-> move up to sikkim, visit a guru
-> move back down into darjeeling and cross over into nepal, Kathmandu
-> avoid getting shot by maoist rebels
-> move onto pokhara and go on a trekking trip around the annapurna range
-> move down across the border back into varanesi
-> move up to agra, where the taj mahal is, and then on to delhi
-> move up to kashmir/jammu
-> avoid getting bombed by artillery (apparently the indians and the pakistanis wake each other up everyday at the border by bombing each other with arty fire)
-> move down to amritsar
-> move across the border into lahore, pakistan
-> avoid getting bombed
-> avoid getting shot
-> avoid getting kidnapped by terrorists
-> move up to islamabad
-> repeat earlier 3 actions
-> move up to gilgit (?) this is uncertain because of cost and the volatile situation in pakistan. the northern regions are apparently "hotbeds of terrorism" if you believe the american media and more importantly, are getting bombed by predator drones. this is highly inconvenient, as is a missing limb from said bomb.
on the other hand, gilgit is home to a whole range of great mountain peaks like nanga parbat and of course, K2. it would be totally awesome to view them, even if we lack the capability to get up there (for now).
-> move back into amritsar, and down to rajasthran
-> move down to mumbai
-> move down to goa (we may skip goa if cost proves to be too high. who needs more tourists anyway?)
-> move to hampi (climbing heaven for me)
-> move to bangalore , where we will fly back from, hopefully in one piece
as you can see, its shaping up to be one big adventure; helped no doubt by our complete lack of planning. i estimate that we will get taken advantaged of no less than 10 times during the course of the trip.
hopefully, during the course of our travels, we would see more of these kinds of people:
and less of these kinds of people:
in any case, we will continue to keep you guys posted of our future plans and developments as we prepare for the trip