Rishikesh
My annoyance at Snig boiled over today, in my generally quiet and understated way. We arrived Rishikesh 3 pm after a very tiring bus journey. Snig gets in heated words with the bus ticket/baggage handler, then runs off to hire a tri-wheeling taxi ("auto-rickshaw"). All I can get out of him is that we need to get to the other side of the river. We take the taxi for maybe five minutes, and he darts off through the rain, me struggling to follow. When I finally catch up to him -- or, rather, when he finally allows me to catch up -- I ask him what the plan is, and he snaps, "to find a hotel -- that should just be obvious! I shouldn't have to explain that to you" and dashes off again. Next time I catch up I try pointing out that that which is obvious to him may not be to me, and he comes back with, "if you wanted someone to explain everything to you, you should have hired a guide for 20000 rupees" -- which, to me, was intentionally missing the point.
We walked for a full hour through driving rain, passing various hotels and guest houses, Snig stopping to inquire at only a couple before passing on. We finally found a room for a good price at the Hilltop Hotel, but just as I'm settling in, Snig announces that he doesn't like it and leaves. "We can do much better for the same price. There's not even a view of the Ganges from the room." So I feel little option but to follow him out. When the poor receptionist asks why we're leaving, Snig just says "I remembered something that..." and I can only say, "I have no idea". So it's back out into the rain.
Thankfully Snig does find the next place acceptable after, so he says, bargaining the price down to the same level as the Hilltop; we'll find out when I go to pay in the morning. The room is if anything rather run down compared to the Hilltop, and dirtier, with the redeeming feature of a view from the hallway balcony of the Ganges, plus an air conditioner we did not use. (I am not much a fan of air conditioners in general.)
Through all of this, my passport and vaccination certificate are getting soaked, because I had them in the top compartment of my pack, having not realized we'd be walking for an hour in the rain. It's been like this the whole week. I don't mind so much that Snig makes nearly all the decisions -- he's the local, after all -- but I have to drag out of him any indication of what he's decided. I've just had to trust his judgment time and again, and I'm not sure his judgment is always sound. ;-')
After checking in at the hotel, Snig wants a bath, then we go to check on train tickets. But it's quickly clear that Snig doesn't want to do the train, and although I could do as he suggests and take the train alone, it doesn't feel like the way I want my week with him to end, so I reluctantly agree to take the bus -- which, he says, will get to Delhi in five hours; but then, he said the bus to Rishikesh would take six and, landslides aside, it took eight (roughly the same time as our private driver took to cover the distance), and only because the driver drove like a man possessed. Oh, and Snig tells me I'd need to leave at least two hours for getting to the train station, because there is no train station in Rishikesh -- which is not what he'd told me before. Now, it's "in the next city".
I had dinner and Snig coffee in his "favourite restaurant" -- and that proved a fairly pricey proposition! Then he went to use the ATM and come straight back, only he didn't, so I went back to the hotel, and he's come just now an hour and a half later.
Thing is, Snig knew I wanted to spend as much of this weekend as possible with Abishek Kapoor, who is only free on the weekends. I'd have preferred getting back tonight, whereas he'd have preferred getting back Sunday, or even Monday I think. And maybe he's right that the bus, leaving much later than the train, will get to Delhi a great deal more quickly. But I also think that he really doesn't want to take the train. :-) And when I mentioned wanting to spend the weekend with Kapoor, his response was to say I shouldn't bother, that Kapoor screwed up the dates for my visit (which, okay, he did), that if Kapoor really was serious about seeing me he'd have taken days off work. But the whole reason I'm in India is because of Kapoor's repeated requests, over the years, for a visit; and, of all my friends in India, Kapoor has been, by far, the one who's stayed in touch. So, yes, Kapoor can be flaky. :-) But that doesn't change the fact that he's been the one to maintain the friendship, whereas Snig only reappeared really when I said I was coming.
At the same time, I never would have seen the Himalayas without Snig's prompting. That part of India is beautiful in no small part largely because it has been neglected by government and international aid alike. There are advantages to being relatively forgotten. And Snig's judgment and instincts have often enough been good.
Anyway, the day did not start out so great, either. Snig said we needed to be up by 4:30 to catch the 5:30 bus to Rishikesh. The hotel guard/handyman came banging on our door at 4:22. :-) I was ready to go by a quarter till, whereas Snig dawdled about various things till ten past. And, yes, he was right, it still did give us plenty of time to get to the bus; but then, why did we get up so early?!
I'm not sure what, if anything, was open at that hour, but I didn't try buying any food, in part because I was fixated on catching the bus, in part because Snig assured me that the driver would stop at least a couple of times, including once for breakfast. Heh. We didn't stop till after twelve, by which point I was famished. So I'm stuffing my face, but I could have eaten more; Snig didn't tell me till after we left that it was all-you-can-eat. Another thing that was, apparently, just supposed to be obvious. :-)
The first part of the journey, down to the Ganges, I was pretty much gripping onto the seat for dear life as the driver literally careened around the hairpin curves. (Snig told me later that "all these Himalayan drivers" don't drive unless they're seriously drunk. Actually the way Snig expressed it was to say "like this" and hold his hand palm down in front of his neck.) I was fighting to stay in my seat. Once we reached the Ganges, the road surface improved significantly, but not the ride, as the driver took the excuse to speed up. And remember that stretch with the something-like-1000-meter drop straight down, that I said would be absolutely terrifying in the rain? Well, the rain started with a 5-10-minute torrential downpour at the afternoon "breakfast" stop and continued intermittently thereafter -- until we reached Rishikesh, at which point it became a continuous, moderately heavy rain right up till now. This time around we were on the side of the road with the immediate jaw-dropping drop off, and now and again I made the mistake of looking down into the chasm with a kind of morbid curiosity. But, really, the straight drop of 200-300 meters we'd had most of the way previously would have been plenty enough to kill us, if the driver had misjudged just one of those curves, or met an unexpected car. So I did my best to relax and enjoy the ride -- and, to an odd degree, I think I succeeded. I even did better at staying in my seat.
We met two rock slides along the way. Snig says he's had them "9 out of 10" times he's taken this road. The first took less than five minutes to clear; an earth mover was already at work on it when we arrived. The second, which washed out a major pit in the road, sloping down into the chasm, took well over an hour.
Friday 3 July - Dehradun
Left Snig's place just after 9. He wanted to take a taxi but I preferred metro so -- this time at least -- we went with my plan. The metro was really, really nice, if kinda slow -- plus it was weird going through airport-type security to get into the station. Snig says that's new since the bomb blasts in Mumbai and Delhi. I wondered what Dad would have made of the metro: a far cry from his time in Delhi, from what I remember of his pictures of it.
Bus left Delhi 11:15 and arrived Dehradun 5:30 pm, with one mid-afternoon break for "lunch". We checked in at the hotel (which, it turned out, Swagata had paid for) and waited for a taxi to come take us to her house.
Arrived 8 pm, didn't eat till well after ten. Tried taking a photo from the roof, looking out over the city; but my camera battery was too low. Swagata's father told me all about the benefits of being retired from the military and offered me a shot of Indian whiskey that came as part of his benefits. I politely accepted, but the whiskey was surprisingly sweet; I really struggled to politely decline when he tried, repeatedly, to pour me another shot, until finally Swagata came to my defense. Oddly, both he and Snig diluted their shots of whiskey with copious mineral water, apparently the standard practice here. To me, the point of drinking whiskey, if one is going to drink it at all, is for the taste..
Swagata's husband was away but I met their two sons. The older, 13, was big for his age and could have passed for 14-15. He was into stereotypical boy-type things; I think he and Snig were running around with a toy gun for a while. The younger, 7, I would not have realized for a boy if I'd not been told so. He had a long ponytail -- only one I've seen here so far, on anyone -- and was of quite different temperament to his older brother. Swagata told me proudly that he writes with his left hand: still, I guess, largely frowned on here (although people will, unlike in Ghana, handle food with their left as well as right hand; but the left hand is still, so far as I can see, the toileting hand).
All I remember of dinner was quantities of food, consumed rather quickly. Swagata told us of a female friend who had recently told her she'd found and was happy with a female partner. Otherwise she worried about the weather for the drive to Joshimath. Afterward, she and the older son walked us part way back to the hotel.
We walked for a full hour through driving rain, passing various hotels and guest houses, Snig stopping to inquire at only a couple before passing on. We finally found a room for a good price at the Hilltop Hotel, but just as I'm settling in, Snig announces that he doesn't like it and leaves. "We can do much better for the same price. There's not even a view of the Ganges from the room." So I feel little option but to follow him out. When the poor receptionist asks why we're leaving, Snig just says "I remembered something that..." and I can only say, "I have no idea". So it's back out into the rain.
Thankfully Snig does find the next place acceptable after, so he says, bargaining the price down to the same level as the Hilltop; we'll find out when I go to pay in the morning. The room is if anything rather run down compared to the Hilltop, and dirtier, with the redeeming feature of a view from the hallway balcony of the Ganges, plus an air conditioner we did not use. (I am not much a fan of air conditioners in general.)
Through all of this, my passport and vaccination certificate are getting soaked, because I had them in the top compartment of my pack, having not realized we'd be walking for an hour in the rain. It's been like this the whole week. I don't mind so much that Snig makes nearly all the decisions -- he's the local, after all -- but I have to drag out of him any indication of what he's decided. I've just had to trust his judgment time and again, and I'm not sure his judgment is always sound. ;-')
After checking in at the hotel, Snig wants a bath, then we go to check on train tickets. But it's quickly clear that Snig doesn't want to do the train, and although I could do as he suggests and take the train alone, it doesn't feel like the way I want my week with him to end, so I reluctantly agree to take the bus -- which, he says, will get to Delhi in five hours; but then, he said the bus to Rishikesh would take six and, landslides aside, it took eight (roughly the same time as our private driver took to cover the distance), and only because the driver drove like a man possessed. Oh, and Snig tells me I'd need to leave at least two hours for getting to the train station, because there is no train station in Rishikesh -- which is not what he'd told me before. Now, it's "in the next city".
I had dinner and Snig coffee in his "favourite restaurant" -- and that proved a fairly pricey proposition! Then he went to use the ATM and come straight back, only he didn't, so I went back to the hotel, and he's come just now an hour and a half later.
Thing is, Snig knew I wanted to spend as much of this weekend as possible with Abishek Kapoor, who is only free on the weekends. I'd have preferred getting back tonight, whereas he'd have preferred getting back Sunday, or even Monday I think. And maybe he's right that the bus, leaving much later than the train, will get to Delhi a great deal more quickly. But I also think that he really doesn't want to take the train. :-) And when I mentioned wanting to spend the weekend with Kapoor, his response was to say I shouldn't bother, that Kapoor screwed up the dates for my visit (which, okay, he did), that if Kapoor really was serious about seeing me he'd have taken days off work. But the whole reason I'm in India is because of Kapoor's repeated requests, over the years, for a visit; and, of all my friends in India, Kapoor has been, by far, the one who's stayed in touch. So, yes, Kapoor can be flaky. :-) But that doesn't change the fact that he's been the one to maintain the friendship, whereas Snig only reappeared really when I said I was coming.
At the same time, I never would have seen the Himalayas without Snig's prompting. That part of India is beautiful in no small part largely because it has been neglected by government and international aid alike. There are advantages to being relatively forgotten. And Snig's judgment and instincts have often enough been good.
Anyway, the day did not start out so great, either. Snig said we needed to be up by 4:30 to catch the 5:30 bus to Rishikesh. The hotel guard/handyman came banging on our door at 4:22. :-) I was ready to go by a quarter till, whereas Snig dawdled about various things till ten past. And, yes, he was right, it still did give us plenty of time to get to the bus; but then, why did we get up so early?!
I'm not sure what, if anything, was open at that hour, but I didn't try buying any food, in part because I was fixated on catching the bus, in part because Snig assured me that the driver would stop at least a couple of times, including once for breakfast. Heh. We didn't stop till after twelve, by which point I was famished. So I'm stuffing my face, but I could have eaten more; Snig didn't tell me till after we left that it was all-you-can-eat. Another thing that was, apparently, just supposed to be obvious. :-)
The first part of the journey, down to the Ganges, I was pretty much gripping onto the seat for dear life as the driver literally careened around the hairpin curves. (Snig told me later that "all these Himalayan drivers" don't drive unless they're seriously drunk. Actually the way Snig expressed it was to say "like this" and hold his hand palm down in front of his neck.) I was fighting to stay in my seat. Once we reached the Ganges, the road surface improved significantly, but not the ride, as the driver took the excuse to speed up. And remember that stretch with the something-like-1000-meter drop straight down, that I said would be absolutely terrifying in the rain? Well, the rain started with a 5-10-minute torrential downpour at the afternoon "breakfast" stop and continued intermittently thereafter -- until we reached Rishikesh, at which point it became a continuous, moderately heavy rain right up till now. This time around we were on the side of the road with the immediate jaw-dropping drop off, and now and again I made the mistake of looking down into the chasm with a kind of morbid curiosity. But, really, the straight drop of 200-300 meters we'd had most of the way previously would have been plenty enough to kill us, if the driver had misjudged just one of those curves, or met an unexpected car. So I did my best to relax and enjoy the ride -- and, to an odd degree, I think I succeeded. I even did better at staying in my seat.
We met two rock slides along the way. Snig says he's had them "9 out of 10" times he's taken this road. The first took less than five minutes to clear; an earth mover was already at work on it when we arrived. The second, which washed out a major pit in the road, sloping down into the chasm, took well over an hour.
Friday 3 July - Dehradun
Left Snig's place just after 9. He wanted to take a taxi but I preferred metro so -- this time at least -- we went with my plan. The metro was really, really nice, if kinda slow -- plus it was weird going through airport-type security to get into the station. Snig says that's new since the bomb blasts in Mumbai and Delhi. I wondered what Dad would have made of the metro: a far cry from his time in Delhi, from what I remember of his pictures of it.
Bus left Delhi 11:15 and arrived Dehradun 5:30 pm, with one mid-afternoon break for "lunch". We checked in at the hotel (which, it turned out, Swagata had paid for) and waited for a taxi to come take us to her house.
Arrived 8 pm, didn't eat till well after ten. Tried taking a photo from the roof, looking out over the city; but my camera battery was too low. Swagata's father told me all about the benefits of being retired from the military and offered me a shot of Indian whiskey that came as part of his benefits. I politely accepted, but the whiskey was surprisingly sweet; I really struggled to politely decline when he tried, repeatedly, to pour me another shot, until finally Swagata came to my defense. Oddly, both he and Snig diluted their shots of whiskey with copious mineral water, apparently the standard practice here. To me, the point of drinking whiskey, if one is going to drink it at all, is for the taste..
Swagata's husband was away but I met their two sons. The older, 13, was big for his age and could have passed for 14-15. He was into stereotypical boy-type things; I think he and Snig were running around with a toy gun for a while. The younger, 7, I would not have realized for a boy if I'd not been told so. He had a long ponytail -- only one I've seen here so far, on anyone -- and was of quite different temperament to his older brother. Swagata told me proudly that he writes with his left hand: still, I guess, largely frowned on here (although people will, unlike in Ghana, handle food with their left as well as right hand; but the left hand is still, so far as I can see, the toileting hand).
All I remember of dinner was quantities of food, consumed rather quickly. Swagata told us of a female friend who had recently told her she'd found and was happy with a female partner. Otherwise she worried about the weather for the drive to Joshimath. Afterward, she and the older son walked us part way back to the hotel.