A stopover too short on the Subcontinent

Leaving Tibet - the dramatic gorge leading off the Tibetan plateau towards Nepal
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After long last, I finally left China on June 10. As described in the Tibet entry to the blog, the drive off the Tibetan plateau through the Himalayas was a precipitous drop of stunning proportions through the clouds and dramatic changes in vegetation.

The border town on the Chinese side was a ramshackle and dirty town populated by Chinese, Tibetans, Nepali and Indias with anything and everthing for sale.  It was a fitting good bye to China. I entered into Nepal and caught a 5 hour bus to the capital Kathmandu.  The ride continued down the river valley from 2600m at the border to 1300m in Kathmandu.  Soon the terraced fields and villages for which Nepal is so famous became common place as the mountains softened and lowered to green hills.

Should have stayed longer...watch out for that cow!

Further down the valley, the clouds of Nepal coming closer into view
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The first town the bus stopped in for a break was stiffling hot. Without the protection of Tibet's elevation, the subtropical June sun baked the lowlands.  The return to heat was offset by the colour and alluring smells of the Nepali and Indian food along the town's main street and the bright colours the sari stores and women of the town.  The people were curious and friendly.  What a wonderful change from China.  I liked it immediately.  I wanted to explore.  Already I was regretting not having more time on the Subcontinent.

Finally leaving China!!
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After a day in Kathmandu, which is a forgettable traffic-choked city, I landed in Delhi.  I had never been interested in visiting India, knowing its reputation for dirt, pollution, poor sanitation, poverty, noise, crowding and Delhi-belly ailments - despite Indian being among my favourite foods. My week in India was meant to allow me to dip my toe in the pool to see if it would convince me to visit for a longer period in the future. I liked it immediately. The people were friendly, colourful, engaging, curious and smiling.  Everything the Han Chinese were not.  Perhaps after visits to so many developing countries, I did not find the pollution, dirt and poverty of India to be dramatically worse.  True there are glaring examples in all directions of the abject poverty suffered by too many Indians, but there was a crowded vitality and dynacism to Delhi which was exciting.  The only downside was the pollution (lots of dust on the eve of the arrival of the monsoon and terrible emissions) and the searing heat (40 degrees plus).  Drink lots of water, but not from the tap!!  It was even fun to convince the cricket-obsessed Indians to put the World Cup football games on the TV at the restos and bars.

Pitstop town in Nepal. I like it better already!
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Delhi is not chock-a-block with sights, but one can fill days wandering around old Delhi.  I had my culturally ignorant moment newly arrived in India, at the Jama mosque in old Delhi.  The main outdoor square of the mosque is made of marble.  To enter the mosque you have to take your shoes off.  In the searing heat, the marble was extremely hot, so to get around one had to follow the narrow carpets laid out by the mosque staff.  Even they were little relief for my bare feet.  In the middle of the square is a shallow pool around which locals were dipping their hands to pour water over their baking feet, and to otherwise cool down.  I failed to notice the exclusive use of hands and promptly stepped up and immersed my feet in the pool.  The look of horror from the assembled made me realize that it was a huge mistake to put my feet (considered the dirtiest part of the body) into this pool.  Determined to make it right, I came back later to sit at the side of the pool and dip water with my hands over my feet, like the locals.  Unfortunately, I did this with my left hand, not my right.  As anyone familiar with India knows, the left hand is not used for cleaning or eating, as it is used exclusively for the role that we give to toilet paper.  Not my best culturallly sensitive travel moment, but it was bound to happen eventually.

The terraced fields of Nepal in the lower Himalayas
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After Delhi I hired a driver for pittance to take me first to Jaipur in the dry Rajasthan province.  The pink city, so named for the colour of its buildings, is full of Indian crafts and bustling intensity.  Well worth visiting for a quick insight into the most interesting aspects of India.  From Jaipur I headed to Agra for the must-do Taj Mahal.  It was as stunning as advertised, particularly in the early morning light.  Thankfully, June is the low season on account of the searing heat, so the crowds were light.  On the other hand, in one of the few examples of tourist-gouging in India (again, unlike China), tourists are charged 750 rupees (about $20Cdn) to visit the Taj, while Indians are charged 20 rupees (50 cents).  It is worth noting that aside from rickshaw/taxi drivers, Indians are far more honest and fair in the prices they charge to foreigners.  Unlike China, where everytime I went to buy a bottle of water I was quoted a different price based on what the purveyor thought they could extract from me as a foreigner (this really wears you down and reduces your enthusiasm for the people), in India all but one time I was quoted the exact same price for a bottle of water.  There is great significance to that.

Old Delhi's narrow and chaotic streets from above...
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Varanasi was my last stop in India, after an overnight train ride from Agra.  Varanasi is famous for the activities that occur at the Ganges riverfront, the mother river of India.  Here cremations, Hindu prayer cermonies and body/clothes washing happens everyday in an orgy of tourist photo ops.  I spent one evening learning about and observing the riverside cremation ceremonies (careful not to take pictures, unlike some Japanese tourists who did so a few days before and where literally chased out of town) and the prayer ceremonies.  The next morning I rose at 5am for a dawn boat ride on the Ganges to watch the locals bathe and wash in the river before the heat of the day.  It was 44 degrees that day in Varanasi.  The washing (and drinking) of the river water is amazing to see and hard to contemplate.  I say the latter because the Ganges is one of the dirtiest rivers in the world, with extremely high fecal coliform levels, not to mention floating bodies and cows.  "When in Rome" did not apply to this experience.

and from one of the 1000s of auto rickshaws that dart through the streets
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Wish I had spent more time here in India....ah, hindsight.

Off to Africa.