Feel Free to Comment

I currently have the hiccups. You don't have to comment on that specifically. In general though, comments make me want to blog more.

I thought I knew how to get rid of the hiccups...turns out I don't.

EDIT: YES I DO!!!

Excuse Me

I find this picture highly amusing.

This one time, in Nova Scotia, I saw a really big shark. And I decided to film it. And now it's kind of embarrassing to watch, because while the video is super awesome and you can see the big guy's teeth at one point, all I can concentrate on is me in the background repeating "Oh my God...oh my God..."

I will work on being cooler in unexpected situations (we were looking for dolphins, not sharks).

Other stuff: Abdoulaye Wade, Senegal's current President is 84. He looks really, really good for 84. His age shocked me.

Kanye West is coming out with a new album in September. I rarely get excited about new albums, but I'm excited about this one. He really is an excellent artist. You can already hear the first single "Power" on the internets.

Just Feel

We arrived in Paradise on Earth at 5pm, bidding adieu to Tariq (motor mouth), his cousin, and 2400 Rupees. Hil and I had requested to be dropped off at Dal Lake in the middle of Srinagar so that we could find a houseboat on which to stay, as this is THE thing to do. As soon as our little jeep rolled away, we were semi-attacked by men wanting us to take their shikara to check out our potential homes for the next couple of days. (The houseboats are in the middle of the lake, so some sort of water transportation is needed to check them out). We picked a shikara dude, who took us to 3 houseboats, where he was clearly getting commission. We settled on the "Jannat", a shitty, but roomy boat behind the much more luxurious "Dream Palace". The two were run by the same bent old man who we originally thought was a doll.

I'll admit that it felt like Heaven. After the hell ride getting there, sitting on the veranda on peaceful Dal Lake, watching the sunset and listening to the birds twitter was idyllic. Our little bent man brought us Kashmiri tea while we relaxed. We asked to have dinner there - no problem, he said. Veg or non-veg? Since we hadn't had meat in a while we opted for non-veg, especially as Kashmir is supposedly famous for its mutton. Mmmmm! He told us it would be ready in a bit, which turned into 4 hours. We were also banished to our rooms to eat, with this totally crazy Israeli chick who liked to smoke the dope and spoke incomprehensible English (at least I couldn't grasp it - Hil was pretty much a pro star). Israel was quite angry with Mr Nadroo (little bent man) for casting us like outlaws to the Jannat, since she had eaten up in the dining area of the Dream Palace every other night she had been there. We were all confused by his behaviour. Did we smell that bad? Was our appearance so disturbing? It turned out that he thought our non-veg order would greatly disturb the Indian guests who were staying in the Dream Palace. Oh well, we didn't eat there again, and crazy Israel left after the next evening.

Full Day The First: Besides Dal Lake and houseboats (and violence), Srinagar is known for its gardens. So, after sleeping in (huzzah!) Hil and I decided to start walking to Shalimar Bagh and may have gotten waylaid by a carpet store. Kashmir is chock-full of carpets and shawls. CHOCK-FULL I tell you. After thinking about colours and sizes for 1.5 hours we both bought carpets. So far so good.

We then flagged down an auto rickshaw to take us the rest of the way to the gardens (it got frickin' hot for walking). After walking lazily around the gardens, posing for pictures for those ever curious Indian tourists, and eating cookies and mango shakes, we started to head back to the city on foot, cursing rickshaw drivers who were clearly asking too much. Well, as good fortune would have it, a car pulled over in front of us and a friendly looking couple asked if we wanted a ride. While I would not have accepted this offer in Ottawa, it seemed perfectly reasonable in Kashmir, and so in we got. They asked us the usual questions - where we were from, what we did, what were our names - and then asked us where we were going. We had decided to check out yet MORE gardens, which our new found companions took an interest in. They drove us right to the entrance and then paid for our tickets! Then they wandered with us and talked with us. When Hil said something about them being married they giggled and exclaimed "we're not married!" From what I can gather, the woman, Mahek, was the mistress of the older, not-so-attractive man. This is because when his actual wife phoned and demanded to talk to me after he claimed he was with two Canadian girls, Mahek looked at me and made a Oh-God-don't-tell-her-I'm-here! gesture. Anyway, they were both very interesting and very funny and I'm glad we met them.

Once they had dropped us off back near Dal Lake, we almost immediately met two more people who were to become the bane of our existence, along with a source of constant amusement, for the rest of our time in Srinagar. Martin, a French dude who was finding himself in India was staying with his "brother" Riyaz, a Kashmiri whose family owned a houseboat named Movie Land. Riyaz and his family had sort of adopted Martin who had landed in Delhi with no plan and nowhere to stay. Being in Delhi only for a short trip on business, Riyaz brought Martin home about a month before we met them on the side of Dal Lake. Martin continued to have no plan, quite content with living and eating for free and smoking the grass thrice daily.

So this white dude and this Kashmiri dude called out to us, and being friendly as a tourist is kind of the thing to do, so we started talking. We were hungry, so they told us a place to go and asked if we would like to meet up after for a drink after dinner at a "special place". Special, because Srinagar is quite strict and drinking and smoking is clearly discouraged. I think there are two bars but these are pretty much meant for tourists only. Ok, we thought, what the hell. This is what adventure is MADE OF! So after dinner we met at a predetermined place and flipped a coin for who would get to ride on the back of Riyaz's motorbike. Hil won, fair and square, so they took off and Martin and I started walking. What I learned about Martin quite quickly was that he was kind of a hippy flake. I mean, good for him and all, but I just can't take people like him seriously. I won't go into details, but I'll say it's probably good that it was dark because I was having trouble containing my eye rolling. So we're walking and walking...and walking, and I'm wondering where the hell we're going when Riyaz pulls up with his bike sans Hil. He says he's come back to get me and he's left Hil at the "special place". I realize this sounds totally sketchy, and it kind of was, but if I thought I was in any real danger I wouldn't have gotten on the bike.

So I get on the bike and he stops in the middle of nowhere. I look over and see Hil sitting on the side of the road and it dawns on me. This is the "special place". The great outdoors. There is nothing special about this special place, and this makes Hil and I laugh, a lot. We laugh so much I think we hurt Riyaz's feelings because he thought this was pretty darn cool. I tried to reassure him that we weren't laughing at him, but at the misunderstanding. If there's one thing Kashmiris are missing, it's a healthy sense of humour (except Mahek and her, ahem, friend). Riyaz went back to get Martin and the four of us drank beer on the side of the road, looking at the constellations and exchanging stories about whatever. It was getting pretty late, so Hil and I said we'd better start back (little did we know that there was already a search party out looking for us...) Riyaz opted for me to get on the back of the bike. So I get on the back and Riyaz takes off...in the wrong direction. I say, as casually as possible, "hey, you're going the wrong way!". To which he replies "I know! I'm kidnapping you!". Ok, not that funny. I laugh, but start planning my escape just in case. Adventure, right?

It's clear at this point that Riyaz had taken a liking to me, consistently singing a song he's made up called "Hold Me Tight" and asking why I won't get closer to him. Dude, I say, I just met you and I'm not that kind of girl. Well, he takes me through all these different streets in Srinagar, which would have been really nice had I not been slightly freaking out. This goes on for way too long, and after demanding, in a nice way in case I'm reading him wrong, to get back to my friend he drops me off where Hil and Martin are - still walking along the lake. I jump off and announce that I am done riding on the back of that bike. Martin looked so disappointed; thinking that he had discovered a serious connection with Hil, he was eager to continue walking with her and her alone, though Hil appeared as happy as I was to say our farewells. He opted instead for a hug, whispering in her ear to "just feel". This became our motto for the rest of the trip.

Reaching the shoreline close to our houseboat, we were yelled at by a man we had never encountered before in a shikara: "Hey! Canadian girls! You're staying at Dream Palace, right? I'll take you." Good Lord does word ever get around in Srinagar. It's like Big Kashmiri Brother is always watching. Well, we took that slightly creepy chance to escape from the boys and headed home after what felt like a very long, very interesting, very weird day.

The Road to Kashmir is Paved With...Well, Nothing

The first stories I remember about India are from Kashmir - I'm not sure my travel partner would agree with this, I think she's trying to put Kashmir out of her mind. We arrived in Srinagar after a very long, very tiring, very dirtying journey from Leh via Kargil. I am no longer sure of just how many hours Hil and I, our two constant Kashmiri companions - the driver and his extremely Muslim-valued cousin, and our rotating companions - various vagabonds along the way, spent in that Jeep. I think it was supposed to be a 14-18 hour drive. It probably ended up in the 26 hour range. Luckily, our very friendly and opinionated Kashmiri lawyer friend had the amazing ability to talk constantly. And when I say constantly, I don't mean 40 minutes out of an hour; or even 50 minutes out of an hour - I mean 59.5 minutes out of an hour. Now multiple that by 26 hours. Yeah. Seriously luckily for us though, he spoke to his cousin and our randoms for some of the time; probably because Hil and I became a bit less receptive around hour number 8.

Now, it took so long for a couple of reasons:

First, we took a bit of a longish route so we could drop this English dude off in Lamayuru. This wouldn't normally have been a problem, except the road to get there was closed so we had to take the "alternate" route, which was up, up, up a mountain pass and down, down, down the other side, passing large trucks all the while. Really incredible scenery though, and it really didn't ever get old. I have numerous pictures of mountains to prove that I thought it was continuously breathtaking (see left!)

Second, the Indian army is, well, they're a bit incompetent. Let's just put it right out there. Their job is to maintain the roads, and protect India should Pakistan decide they want another crack at Kashmir. Heaven help them if Pakistan decides to invade. The roads do need maintaining - it's not a sit back, sip your tea and eat your rice while watching the cars go by kind of job, though this is how they seem to view it. It's snowy up there, and cold, and the roads are in really poor condition and there are landslides (Drass, a town we had to travel through is the coldest inhabited place in India!). We happened to get stuck behind a landslide, which I'll admit is better than getting stuck in a landslide. But this meant a solid 5 hours sitting and waiting. And waiting. And then...waiting some more! And then some more after that (see left - from left to right: some Indian dude, Sir Talks-A-Lot, Cousin of Sir Talks-A-Lot, some Indian dude, some creepy Indian dude). You probably get the idea. At first it was exciting. Hil and I jumped out of the Jeep and made snowballs and a little snowman friend and soaked up the snow-covered mountains. And then I realized I had to pee. And then I looked at my surroundings. Usually, I'm not really a prude when it comes to squatting wherever, but we happened to be on a fairly straight road, and there were trucks as far as the eye could see in both directions. This also wouldn't have really been a problem, except that we were two white girls, and we were kind of a big deal (my apartment does smell of rich mahogany and I do have many leather-bound books). Every move we made was watched - by Indian MEN. (One thing quite noticeable about India, and quite quickly, is the lack of women "in the wild"). Well, we both held it in for another, I don't know, 4 hours. Holy uncomfortable, Batman!

After we cleared the landslide, it was pretty much smooth sailing to Srinagar (if another extremely bumpy and uncomfortable 5 hours could be called smooth). Kashmiris are very fond of telling you that Kashmir is paradise on Earth; they really think it's the best thing since sliced bread. Probably since bread. They probably think Kashmir is better than bread. And when I first entered Kashmir I could see where they were coming from. The landscapes are absolutely beautiful. Truly (see right!). It made me decide that my next vacation would be to Canada's own Rockie mountains, just so I could compare (and so I can go back to Kashmir and tell them that actually, no, Canada is paradise on Earth!). Landscapes can make a destination, but so can people; and people can also unmake a destination. By the time Hil and I left Kashmir, we were not inclined to call it paradise on Earth. But what did happen to us there was strange, and amusing, especially in retrospect. We definitely had fun...but that will be for another chapter.

Oh, and to make it that much better, the picture below is the toilet that we finally got to use after holding it in for so long. We both peed on the floor (into a drain) instead, because, well, ew.