Changu Narayan-Nagarkot-Sankhu hike

With just three days in Kathmandu between returning from India and the upcoming back-to-back motorbike ride-trekking-jungle adventures, it seemed sensible to use two of them to rest and one for a day hike, in the spirit of preparing for the Annapurna circuit.

So it was that yesterday, Maria, Henry (my two trekking companions), their friend Judith and myself set out with Dil (our guide for the day and one of our porters-to-be on the Annapurna trek) for a day hike in the Kathmandu Valley.

My time in Kathmandu city is so nearly at an end.  Today is my penultimate full day here.  I have one more on May 6th between returning from the jungle and heading to Australia.  I had only one more sight that I was determined to see in the Valley and that was the Changu Narayan temple.  That's also the start point for several hiking routes, so it was decided we'd visit the temple and walk from there.

I've lost track of the number of temples I've seen in the last two months but I can say without a moment of hesitation that this was my favourite.  Dating from 1702, it is exceptionally beautiful, with its bright colours, intricate carving and particularly fine roof struts.  There was far more detail than one can reasonably absorb in any one visit.  

For all the fineness of the temple, the real gems of this Unesco World Heritage site are the 5th-7th centruy stone statues representing various Hindu deities that are dotted around the courtyard.  These are supposedly the finest sculptures in the whole of Kathmandu Valley and it's easy to see why.  The quality of the carving is extremely high but there's more to it than that and I'm struggling to find the word for it.  Perhaps 'elegance' comes closest.  Whatever it is, they're absolutely captivating.  Here's a photo of some detail from a 7th century stele of Vishnu:

Although we'd set out at 7am, it had taken nearly 3 hours just to get to the temple (such is Nepali public transport, for Changu Narayan is only 22km from Kathmandu) and, after half an hour at the temple, the group was keen to get on with the hiking.  With an estimated six hours of walking ahead of us, we still had a long way to go.

The morning section of the walk was from Changu Narayan to Nagarkot, a village noted for its spectacular Himalayan views.  The first half of the walk there was nice enough, but I guess I must have been pretty spoilt for views recently when this, to me, was only so-so:

The second half of the walk to Nagarkot was even less interesting and solidly uphill.  By the time we finally collapsed for lunch at our destination, at 2:30, four hours after setting off from Changu Narayan, we were all so tired and hungry that we could barely string a sentence together.  The next half hour, during which tantalising smells drifted from the kitchen and our food resolutely did not appear, was agonising.  But the wait was eventually worth it, because the freshly prepared thali (the traditional Nepali meal consisting of rice, lentils, vegetable curry, pickles and papad) was absolutely delicious.  Thankfully, ordering thali at a restaurant is an all-you-can-eat affair and half an hour later we were all so full that we thought we might have to roll down the hill to our next destination, Sankhu.

By the time we finished lunch it was already 3:30 so we opted not to spend time observing the Himalayan views for which Nagarkot is so famous, safe in the knowledge that we'll have plenty of equally if not more spectacular views to behold on our trek.

The guide book promised an easy 2 and a half hour walk along a dirt road from Nagarkot to Sankhu.  Dil, however, opted to take us along a shortcut which was anything but easy.  The steep single-file path lead almost sheer down the hillside.  It was brilliant - the kind of steep where you pretty much have to run down it - and it was fantastic to be so far off the beaten path.  The only slight downside is that because we had to pay so much attention to where we were putting our feet, and hurtling down at such a pace, we couldn't really appreciate the view.  We passed no other foreigners, only Nepali porters carrying heavy loads up that steep path, wearing only flip-flops.  Quite how they manage that is beyond me.

After about half an hour we heard the sounds of a waterfall and soon after it came into view.  It was beautiful, cascading down through the rocks and trees into a sparklingly clear river.  There was a gentle breeze in the air and a general sense of lushness that radiated through the core of my being.  We continued down until we were walking alongside the river, with terraced wheat  fields on either side.  Everything about the scene was perfect.  It was unutterably lovely, the kind of beauty that gets you thinking about what actually constitutes beauty (hiking definitely puts you in a contemplative mood).

In very high spirits, we continued on to Sankhu, where we caught the bus back to Kathmandu, about one hour and forty five minutes after setting off from Nagarkot.  I was too happy to even care about how squished I was, the bumpy roads and the traffic, instead focussing my attention on the sunset.  I felt exactly the right kind of tired.  It had been hard work but in a satisfying way.  I could feel it but wasn't exhausted.  Most importantly, I felt I could do the whole thing again tomorrow, which was lucky because on the trek I'll be doing that much walking for 16 consecutive days.  

It was definitely one of the best days of my gap year so far.

Agra: Part 4 - Back to the Taj

I regret to admit that I was in a massive grump in the car on the way back to Agra, much more so than the glory of what I'd been seeing all day justified.  I was still unhappy about having agreed to leave Fatehpur Sikri so soon.  I was wet and cold and tired (it had been raining again) and every minute stuck in Agra's traffic only increased my irritation (and at an hour and a half in the car, that was a lot of minutes).  It also didn't help that the driver seemed to have had some superglue stuck between his finger and the horn, which didn't exactly help my headache.

To make matters worse, the cloud was full of dark clouds that seemed to be warning me that the sunset I had so hoped to see over the Taj was going to be at the very least disappointing and quite probably totally non-existent, and getting to see the monument under the light of that night's full moon seemed equally unlikely.

But such is the magnificence of the Taj Mahal that the moment we stepped onto the river bank and saw the monument in all its glory, the preceding frustrations almost entirely evaporated in its splendour.  Once again, the Taj looked spectacularly moody and brooding under the dark clouds.

I just had time to take a couple of photos before the skies opened once again.  The sun was just starting to set and I was glad that at least for a period of 2 seconds I got the chance to appreciate what I'd come to see, though the light of the red sun unfortunately still wasn't shining on the Taj itself.  The downpour was torrential and we ran from the beach as quickly as we could and Jya arranged for us to take shelter in the first place we could find, namely a tent in which a few men dwelt.  

This turned out to be one of those unexpected and surprising moments that make traveling such an adventure.  I wiped the rain from my eyes and took stock of my surroundings.  In the tent there were ten rickety camp beds, two rows of five, packed very tightly together.  There were roughly half a dozen Indian men in there, one of them dressed in a uniform.  Across the top of the tent there was a rail from which some clothes hung, including a few sets of that same uniform.  That was all there was to the place.

The men were all very fascinated by me and were keen that I should make myself comfortable.  Through the translation efforts of Jya, we got a conversation going.  They were all security guards for the Taj Mahal and they all lived in this tent.  From the mouth of the tent we could see the Taj and there was something totally incongruous about the magnificence of this monument compared to the poverty in which these men who guarded it lived.

Once the rain stopped, I wanted to go back to the river bank.  The sunset was looking more promising at this point but Jya was once again worried about the time and anyway we were probably both too cold and wet to make any more Taj-viewing a pleasurable experience.

Jya's worries about time were completely unfounded and I ended up spending my last hour and a half in Agra killing time, first in a coffee shop and then on the station platform, waiting for my train back to Delhi.  It was an unfortunate end to the day and I couldn't help in retrospect wishing that we'd done things differently.  We could easily have stayed longer in Fatehpur Sikri, got to the bank of the Taj in time to see the better bit of the sunset and not have had to waste so much time at the end of the day.  

I managed to put such thoughts out of my head.  Overall it had been a superb day.  I'd got to see the Taj Mahal, Agra Fort and Fatehpur Sikri, all places of almost incomprehensible magnificence.  It's not every day that you can say that.

Agra: Part 3 - Fatehpur Sikri

One of the main reasons I had wanted a private guide was so that I could make a side trip out of Agra to the deserted city of Fatehpur Sikri, 36km away but it was here that I also started to regret that decision.  There was some confusion about the cost of the trip (I was sure the price I'd previously agreed to, through my friend and agent in Delhi, included the excursion but the Agra representative was adamant it was an extra 500rps), the traffic was terrible, the weather awful and I was tired and rapidly becoming increasingly grumpy.

Fatehpur Sikri, thankfully, was worth the trip.  Now a ghost city, it used to be the capital of the Mughal Empire between 1571 and 1585 at which point it was abandoned due to insufficient water supplies.  It remains an example of a perfectly preserved Mughal city from the height of the empire's splendour, full of exquisite red sandstone castles and lovely gardens.  It was almost devoid of tourists and the city had an openness and emptiness that I had before come across and added splendidly to the feeling of being in a ghost town.

Part of the reason I so enjoyed my time in Agra and, on this point even more so in Fatehpur Sikri, is that the buildings were unlike anything I had ever seen before.  I'm relatively well travelled and have lost count of the number of castles and stately homes I've visited in England and on the Continent and nothing I've seen there, of course, looked remotely like anything I was seeing here.  It was a feast for the eyes.

Once again, Jya finished the tour much earlier than I would have wished and after a mere 40 minutes wanted to head back to Agra.  I could easily have spent at least another hour wondering around the site but she was adamant we were running out of time.  I didn't understand this because it was still 4 hours until my train but I had requested to go round to see the Taj Mahal from the back, across the river, to watch the sun set over it and see it illuminated by moonlight, so I obliged, once again reluctantly, to leave.

Agra: Part 2 - The Fort

After the disappointment of the Red Fort in Delhi, though no doubt even without that, the Agra Fort is an eye-popping delight. Construction was begun in 1565 and continued for three generations. It's a massive complex, a city within a city, built primarily out of red sandstone but also with a few white marble palaces. It's truly magnificent. Like the Taj Mahal, it's extraordinary at every level, from the daunting impressiveness of the surrounding walls, main gate and sheer scale of the place, to the minute details of the inlaid stone work and carving that greets you at every turn.




I spent an hour going around with Jya, my guide, who did a good job of describing the function of each building, pointing out notable details and revealing interesting tidbits. After an hour she'd concluded her tour and was ready to leave, but that didn't seem to me like close to enough time to appreciate the myriad of wonders on display. Here the advantages of a private guide came to the fore as she was happy to wait whilst I spent another forty minutes going round again, trying to absorb as many details as my tired eyes would allow. Even that was not close to enough time but my aching legs and rumbling belly were starting to get the better of me and, for the second time that day, it was with reluctance that I tore myself away from an Agra monument.

Agra: Part 1 - The Taj Mahal

After the exhaustion of touring Delhi the previous day, it was with some difficultly that I forced myself out of bed at 5:10am on April 8th to catch a train to Agra, where I was scheduled for 12 full hours of sightseeing, before catching the train back.  It was going to be a LONG day and I must admit to being somewhat apprehensive.  Did I have the energy?  Would I find the Taj Mahal disappointing after all the hype and expectation?  I had hired a private car and guide for the day.  Was it going to be worth the vast expense?

In brief, the answers are just about, not at all and possibly not but I'll keep telling myself it was.

Now for the detail, which will be split into a four posts because there's so much to tell and too many photos for just one.

I was met at the train door by the travel agent and soon introduced to my driver for the day and my delightful guide.  So far so good on the private travel arrangements, I thought.

First on the agenda was the Taj Mahal.  Although there were a lot of people, we got there early enough that it didn't feel crowded, which was a great relief.  From the moment we entered the Taj Ganj area, before even seeing the Taj Mahal itself, I was already impressed.  The gate house alone would have been worth a visit.

The Taj Mahal is hypnotically beautiful from a distance.  After seeing so many pictures, I couldn't quite believe I was face to facade with it.  Unfortunately, the weather was rather ominous, with black clouds and peals of thunder threatening the storm that would break a few minutes later.  But although I didn't see the building in the light which so famously makes it glimmer, the darkness gave the building a moodiness and intensity that was appealing in a quite different way.  I know you all know what it looks like, but here's a picture anyway:  

As impressive as the building is from afar, it was the close up detail that really took my breath away.  I knew that the Taj was covered in semi-precious stones, but that I'd never seen a picture of.  I'd had in my mind something extremely gaudy.  I suppose I was expecting something roughly comparable with San Marco's in Venice in that respect.  I was wrong.  The stones are all inlaid into the white marble in beautiful floral patterns.  This is some detail on the outside of the building:

The work inside the mausoleum is even more exquisite, but unfortunately photos of that area are not allowed.  And then there's the quantity as well as the quality; absolutely everywhere you look there's something beautiful to behold, be it the inlaid stone work or the filigree and carving in the marble:

The inside of the mausoleum is so incredible that it left me literally speechless.  Although magnificent in every way, with the fabulous wealth of Shahjahar (who commissioned it as a testament of his love for his deceased wife) manifestly evident, it didn't strike me as at all pretentious.  I could not have been more enthralled.  So much for the fear of not meeting expectations.  It actually exceeded them.

The Taj Mahal is framed by two red sandstone buildings.  One is a mosque, the identical one on the other side purely for symmetry.  Anywhere else, these places would have seemed fabulous but I guess they draw the short straw being so close to one of the wonders of the world.

After two hours I finally tore myself away from this most lovely of places.  Not only is the Taj truly deserving of its status, the whole place is fabulous, from buildings themselves to the beautiful gardens and the flawless symmetry everywhere.  Here's one final look away from the Taj back down across the gardens to the gatehouse:

It would not, however, be my final experience of the Taj Mahal that day.  But for details of that you'll have to wait for Agra: Part 4.

Delhi

Since I only had one day in Delhi, I went into full-on hectic tourist sightseeing mode. Normally, when I visit a city, I'll have picked out in advance a few places and museums that I want to see and then spend the rest of the time exploring various neighbourhoods. It seemed clear to me that that approach would not work here, especially in so short a time frame. I had done almost no research on the city and was somewhat daunted by it. So I put myself in the hands of Delhi Tourism's full day sightseeing tour - 6 monuments in 9 hours, making our way between them by coach.

In many ways it was awful. I got no sense of the city. The guide was terrible and I know almost no more now about Delhi and its monuments than when the tour started. Being propelled from place to place is exhausting and we only had about 45 minutes in each place, which was not really enough time to appreciate much of anything properly. We saw far more than one can reasonably take in in a day. When I looked over my photos a couple of days later, I came across images of places I absolutely do not remember seeing! Keeping up with a large group is troublesome and at one point, in the busiest place, I got separated from them just as we were due back on the bus and was terrified that I would be left behind.

OK. That's the negative side out the way. There was plenty about the trip that made it worth doing. Although having to keep up with the group was a drag, I did meet one charming and bright guy, Nimish, with whom I chatted most of the day and, on account of him, had a much better time then I would have otherwise.

And then, of course, were the monuments themselves. That we saw so much can also be appreciated in a glass-half-full way. The first place we visited, the fairly modern (1939) Lakshmi Narayan Temple left me completely cold. Next up was the Lotus Temple, which is a Bahai House of Worship. That was splendid. To get to the temple itself you have to walk through the gardens which, though not nearly as impressive as the Bahai Gardens in Haifa, were lovely nonetheless with the neat, manicured and green lawns and trees in stark contrast with anything I'd seen in Kathmandu in the previous two months. The temple itself reminded me more of a space ship than a lotus flower though:

I can appreciate that the inside of the Temple would be a lovely place to worship (except for the constant stream of tourists). Although extremely plain, the cavernous space reminded me of a cathedral and filled me with a similar sense of contemplative awe.

Next up was the Qutub Minar, a 72.5m high victory tower in the Afghani style that was begun in the twelfth century. It's an imposing monument, set among the ruins of buildings that were evidently once equally impressive but about which I can tell you nothing. Although I have photos of the whole Minar, I've chosen instead to show you a picture of the detail of some of the carving around the pillar:

After a much needed lunch break, the tour continued to the Red Fort. It's a vast place, with several beautiful and imposing buildings, built by Shahjahan, who also commissioned the Taj Mahal. Unfortunately the crowds, heat and frustrations of the tour as described above, plus the sightseeing-fatigue that was beginning to kick in, all got the better of me and I really didn't enjoy my time there nor appreciate what is supposedly the most impressive place in Delhi.

Moving on the Rajghat, a monument that marks the site where Gandhi was cremated. It was a calm and peaceful place, much appreciated after the Red Fort. I enjoyed myself there more than I had expected and it went some way to restoring my spirits.

The last stop was Humayun's Tomb and by that time I was so exhausted that I almost didn't even get off the bus. But knowing that the end was in sight, as well as my deep-rooted fear of missing out on something worthwhile, gave me a final boost of energy. And thank goodness for that, because Humayun's Tomb is absolutely wonderful, by far the best place we saw all day. Built in the 16th century by the widow of the third Mughal king for her husband, it is supposedly a prototype of the Taj Mahal. Set in beautiful and peaceful gardens, the Tomb as a whole is simply magnificent:

The detail close up is just a inspiring, especially for someone with such a fondness for Islamic geometric designs:

Exhausted, I collapsed back at the hotel in the early evening and remained there the rest of the night. As busy as my Delhi excursion had been, I had an even more intense sightseeing experience lined up in Agra for the next day. That was so excellent that it'll take me four posts to cover it all, but for those you'll have to wait.

Mussoorie

After a whirlwind week in India, I'm now back in Kathmandu, with plenty to tell about the trip, which I will be doing in six separate posts.

First up, Mussoorie.  After flying into Delhi and spending the night there, we (Sapna, Sandhya, Supreet, Sangita and myself) left very early in the morning for New Delhi train station.  Six hours on the train and an hour in a taxi later, we were in the 'Queen of the hill stations'.  I'm not quite sure how I got it into my head that Mussoorie is off the beaten tourist track, because I couldn't have been more wrong about that.  It's been a popular retreat ever since the British colonialists designated it as a cool (literally) place to hang out in the summer.  Now it receives throngs of tourists, mainly Indians from Delhi, who are likewise keen to escape the heat.  The town itself, centred along an approximately 2km strip called The Mall, is tacky and charmless and our hotel an unfortunate combination of drab and expensive.  The thought of spending three days there made my heart sink.

My low first impressions meant that things could only get better, and thankfully they did.  The evening of our arrival we went to pick up Uzir (Sapna and Rabi's son) at his school, a little further up in the hills from The Mall, from which there were lovely views over the town and valley.  I was delighted to meet Uzir after hearing so much about him.  He's a lovely guy.

The next day Sapna and the rest of the gang had to visit family in Dehra Dun, about an hour down the hill from Mussoorie, where they were to spend the day.  I opted to stay in Mussoorie, went to the tourist office and the rest of the day followed the itinerary that the official there set for me.

That started by taking a cycle rickshaw a short ride away from The Mall to the rather charmingly named 'Happy Valley'.  The main attraction there is the Buddha temple.  The temple itself is nothing special but the location is marvelous, a half hour climb from where the rickshaw dropped me off, with really spectacular views over fir tree covered hills and, beyond that, the Himalayas.  Then it was back to the rickshaw and on to the Municipal Gardens, which, my tourist brochure informed me, used to be a botanical garden.  Before deciding to go there, I should have paid more attention to the words 'used to be' and thought to inquire what it is now.  It's now an extraordinarily tacky amusement park, full of photo touts, the most dismal looking fairground rides I've ever seen and tinned music piping that ruined any chance of at least quietly contemplating the view.  I left promptly.

The rickshaw dropped me back into town from where I caught a tourist bus to Kempty Falls, an apparently lovely and popular waterfall 13km from Mussoorie.  At first sight it turned out to be both far less lovely and far more popular than I would have hoped.  Once again, my heart sunk as the bus pulled up along dozens of other tourist buses and heaving crowds made their way down a road lined with any kind of store you can imagine that has been designed with the sole purpose of parting tourists from their money.  To make matters worse, I couldn't even find the falls or the cable bar that ran to the bottom of them, though the view of them from the bus suggested that it wouldn't even be worth it.  And I still had almost two hours until the bus back.

Eventually I found a stair way that lead up the falls and found there a number of pools in which one could swim.  Hundreds of other people had found them too and were happily splashing away.  So I climbed higher, finding more pools and fewer people.  Though I never found the total solitude that the crowds at the bottom had left me craving, I did eventually come to a lovely, relatively quiet spot, away from all the vendors, with a good view of the falls coming down over the rocks, between the trees.  There was also a very tempting little pool.  I settled down on a rock, cursing the fact that I didn't have my swimsuit whilst coming to the conclusion that the only way that I wouldn't think the trip I was a total waste of time was if I got into the water.  Paddling only got me so far.  I NEEDED to swim.  Remembering that I had a spare T-shirt in my bag, I finally worked up the courage to throw caution to the wind, stripped down to my pants and T-shirt and took the plunge.  It was refreshing, invigorating and totally worth having to go without underwear for the rest of the day.  Finally glad that I had come, I happily made my way back to the bus and into town.  And then I walked.  And walked and walked.  From the bus stop, I took Camel Back Road to the other end of town, the only alternative to walking down the Mall again.  A stroll down the Mall gives some lovely views over the vast Dehra Dun valley, whilst the road I now took is a designated scenic route with views across the mountains.  You can see the the Himalayas on a clear day.  From there I went up into the suburb of Landour.  Although only 300m from the Mall, it feels like a totally different place, having an actual bazaar of shops for local people.  Then past the bazaar and up further into the hills which, needless to say, offered more fine views.  This is a photo of Woodstock School, which Uzir attends.  As you can see, the buildings are rather spread out but it's undoubtedly a lovely setting:

And here's a view back down over Mussoorie:

The next day, the family wanted to shop and relax in the hotel, which was pretty much the complete opposite of what I wanted to do.  I wanted to walk more and that's exactly what I did.  I walked almost solidly for six and a half hours, probably covering somewhere between 20 and 25 km, taking largely the same route as the day before, first to the lookout from Gun Hill, then back to the Buddha Temple (all the time I was in the cycle rickshaw I thought about how lovely the route would have been to walk), then around the town on Camel Back Road and up through Landour into the hills, going higher this time.  Mussoorie itself is just over 2000m above sea level and I reckon I climbed another 500 or so above that.  I couldn't have enjoyed the day more.  I was glad for the exercise, appreciative of the scenery and overjoyed by the deliciously fresh, crisp and cool air.  It all bodes very well for trekking.

During the walk I had met a retired British couple and they invited me to go with them the next day to a place called Sister's Bazaar.  I had no other plans so accepted, despite not knowing what Sister's Bazaar was.  We took a taxi which climbed even higher into the hills than I had walked the day before and arrived at the place.  It was essentially a convenience store, in many ways not dissimilar to any corner store you'd find in England, with shelves stocked with Walkers biscuits and Marmite, and a proprietor who made his own cheddar cheese.  Yet there was something infinitely charming about finding such a place in the unlikeliest of locations.

And so it was that by the time we left Mussoorie later that afternoon, I had developed a much more favourable attitude towards the place and overall will have fond memories of my time there.  We made our way back to Delhi, about which I shall have plenty to say in my next post.

The original plan

My last post has, unsurprisingly, given rise to lots of e-mails, particularly from my family who, once they got over the shock, were really excited and delighted for me. They are glad that I'm so happy here and open to new opportunities. Mum was almost immediately making travel plans to come and visit me in November.

It is therefore with some regret that I drew their attention, as I now draw yours, to the date of that post, April 1st. Happy April Fools!

I think the reason that it was so convincing is because it is almost entirely true, expect of course the crucial part about being offered a job and deciding to accept. I am really having a wonderful time here and am very happy. I am sure that I will maintain close ties with Nepal, especially because of Nishant. Mum is also going to sponsor a little girl, Jenisha, so hopefully we'll come and visit together in the next two or three years. Moreover, I have a number of friends here now. But I could never actually live here and am still very excited about the PGCE, not to mention the rest of my travels. It's been an amazing few months but I'll be ready to leave when my previously designated time is up.