Jari (and the Parvati Valley)

I had to get out of Manali. I was starting to feel stifled. Even if it was probably the best place to conduct my research (being as there are probably more foreign tourists there than anywhere else concentrated in one place), I had to get out. I’ll be back later, as it’s on the way to other places I want to go. But for now I had to get out. Manali is a “scene” and although I thought it might be a scene that appealed to me, it doesn’t. Every business fits into neat categories: a) Hippie clothes and hippie paraphernalia b) Guesthouse and/or café c) Travel agent and/or internet cafe d) Convenience store e) “German” bakery f) Laundromat But that’s not what didn’t appeal to me. I’m fine with all that, although it does strike me as a bit amusing that the hippie shops look exactly the same and sell exactly the same stuff as the hippie shops you find on Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley, or Haight Street in San Francisco, or Venice Beach, or wherever else hippie culture presides in the US of A. It kind of makes me wonder: which came first? In both places, the shops are obviously selling an version of “Indianness” designed specially for Western tastes. But did it begin.

So now I’m in Jari, a little village perched high up the side of the Parbati Valley, about four hours and two bus rides southeast of Manali. It’s nice and quiet here. That’s at least what the book said, and it is more or less true. This is a real working village, can’t be more than a few hundred residents. Women work in the fields and tend livestock. Men work in construction, of which there is a lot. It’s all by relatively traditional means, though: cutting stone and slate tablets by hand, and cutting wood by a simple saw blade. Those are still the building materials here—stone and wood—and I think it’s better for it. Even though it’s a small village it has a school, and during my morning stroll I see all the schoolchildren preparing for school – the girls brushing their long hair, or tying each other’s hair in pigtails. Wheat fields and apple orchards surround the village. There is a hydroelectric plant a couple km up the river. You can often hear the buzz of the generators from a distance. This is supposedly a reason why tourism here is not bigger than it is. I don’t see the villagers complaining, though. You can bet they appreciate the reliable source of electricity.

On my first day in the village I thought I was the only tourist here. My guesthouse was very quiet and I was the only person out and about. There are two other guesthouses in the village and they seemed quiet too. As nice as it was, then, I realized I’d have to move on soon because I wouldn’t get any interviews here. The next morning, however, I met an Australian in my guesthouse, and an Israeli girl in one of the others. She was traveling alone, which is unusual for Israelis, but I’m glad for it because it proves that not all stereotypes are true, so I decided to stay because I thought I’d be able to get two interviews out of it. Two interviews in a day is really a good rate, because there will be many days in which I don’t get any interviews. This whole interview business is much more difficult than I had anticipated. For instance, chatting casually with the Australian was easy, but when I asked him if I could interview him, he declined. I tried to assure him that it would be informal and not at all intimidating or invasive, but he still said he’d rather not. I hadn’t really counted on that. But it’s certainly his right to decline. The onus is on me to find people and convince them that they should spend an hour of their life helping me with my thesis.

The challenge in finding interview subjects is that, although in places like Manali there are lots of foreign tourists, I can’t just approach people out of the blue and ask to interview them. I first have to get to know them, chat on a casual basis. Only then can I take the next step and ask to interview them. It takes time to reach that level, and given the time of day or the setting, it’s often not possible to conduct the interview right then and there, so I have to set up an “appointment” to do it later. And goodness knows, these travelers are not exactly the type to be keeping appointments while they’re on their vacation. So it often boils down to me trying to stake them out at their guesthouse, looking for an opportunity to conduct an interview, usually without success. I know that I’m here on a working vacation, and that my goal is to obtain interviews, but being here, I also want to be partaking in what there is to do…go hiking, etc. But it’s difficult to get interviews when you’re off hiking. Then again, if everyone else is off hiking, it’s difficult to get interviews by staying around the village. Oh, the woes of field research! ☺ At least I have my laptop, though, so I can theoretically be productive, reading and writing while I sit around all day. I brought several PDFs of journal articles I’d been meaning to read but hadn’t gotten around to. Other than that, though, a laptop is definitely not as fun when you can’t go online. I realize how many hours I spend online when I do have a connection.

I’ve been in Jari three days now. It is beautiful and peaceful up here. And I’ve managed to get my first interview with a girl, and with an Israeli. I’ve also met several long term travelers/hippies/freaks who live in India most of the year for many years. One was a British woman, 36, who has been coming here every year since she was 18. One is a German man who first came here 25 years ago, married an Indian woman 20 years ago, and has lived here ever since. And one is a German-French-Spanish man who was in prison for three years in Spain and now lives alternatively in the mountains and in Goa and had some very interesting conspiracy stories about how the US forced India to shut down the rave parties in Goa because, according to him, the US thought it had killed the hippie movement already, and when it saw that the hippies were carrying on in India, the US got mad and made sure the Indians stopped the hippies from having any more fun. Apparently, according to him, every Indian policeman who arrests a foreigner for drug possession gets $200 straight from the US government.

Everywhere I go people are surprised that I, being an American, am here in India. It seems to be a very uncommon thing. (I encountered far more Americans in China than I have in India).

I made daytrips to two towns further up the Parvati Valley, but I liked neither one as much as Jari. Kasol is a crowded, dirty travelers town full of hippies. Manikaran has some nice hot springs, in which I bathed. But they are too hot! I could only stay in the water for a few seconds. I don't know how the locals do it! It's way hotter than the hottest hot tub I've ever been in.