Spiti & Kinnaur: A Motorcycle Diary

Prologue to the Prologue
For the first time in my life, I made an attempt to keep a daily diary of what I was doing in my life. I would refer to this as a journal, but I feel that when taking a motorcycle trip, it's acceptable to call it a diary (a la Che Guevara). Due to some days being incredibly exhausting, I did not actually write everyday. And since I am not a professional writer, transcribing this now from my diary means some parts are written in the present tense, some in the past, and some in a tense I'm not sure of. So please, bear with me.

Prologue
There are 6 of us that embarked on this journey; 4 guys (Benami, Lior, Amir, and myself), each with his own bike, and 2 girls (Keren and Hadasa) who occasionally rotate which motorcycles they're on, often because the more exhausted bikes need less weight on them. We're riding Royal Enfield 500cc Custom motorcycles. The bikes, along with the gear and passengers, weight about 400 kg each. Of the 4 drivers, 3 of us, including myself, learned to ride a motorcycle only a few days before we left on our trip. And despite getting the hang of it very quickly, I was only comfortable with taking this trip because our 4th rider, Benami, was knowledgeable about bikes, and I knew that to handle the terrain we would be riding on an experienced biker was needed. It only took one day of riding around Manali for the group to delegate me as the last rider in our convoy, as I clearly have a tendency to ride faster than the group would like. This reminded me of winter ski trips with my family as a child, when I would race down the mountain as fast as I could, because that’s what was fun to me. And after yelling at me a few times, I was always forced to be the last skier in order to slow down my pace. I guess I’ve just always had a thing for the adrenaline rush that goes along with high speed sports and activities. Additionally, after we all received our bikes, we decided that all expenses of the trip related to our motorcycles would be split amongst the entire group, in order to be fair. It was a Communist system of sorts, which ensured that any problems with a specific bike would be shared, monetarily, between all of us.

The typical route for this trip, stopping at all the most beautiful sites/villages, takes 9 days if done in a jeep. Because my time in India is running out soon, and I still want to reach Ladakh, I will be very happy if we finish it in 9 days. But I am not so hopeful, and expect a lag of a few days, which is still ok. I've met countless people, both tourists and Indians, who have done this trip, in jeeps, local buses, and a few who did it on motorcycles. The latter, of course, claimed their method of transportation to be the best. And when I found this group who were planning to rent bikes for the trip, I knew there was no way I was going to miss out on this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. And even more encouraging than all of the personal recommendations I heard, I became truly inspired by a quote of Rudyard Kipling's (the author of The Jungle Book) I read in my Lonely Planet guide book. On his first visit to the Spiti Valley, the beautiful sights he saw led him to proclaim, "Surely the gods live here; this is no place for men." And so on the morning of July 5th, 2009, we began our journey, fingers crossed that we would arrive back in Manali safely, despite our, as one of the Indian motorcycle mechanics put it, "lack of experience."

The 2 Days That Aged Me 2 Years
Of the 4 hours I laid in bed, I probably got only 1 full hour of sleep the night before we embarked on our motorcycle journey. My sleep problems were not because I was anxious about the trip (which often happens the night before something exciting), but rather because I was suffering through some stomach cramps from a bad pizza I ate the night before. So at 5am, we woke up, packed our bikes, and by 7 we were on the road. We knew our first day was to be our longest - approx. 8-10 hours, or so we thought - so we wanted to waste no time. And other than 1 flat tire and a few extraneous stops, we had made good headway 5 hours into the ride. Bear in mind; I was riding on 1 hour of sleep, and every stop we made I took the opportunity to lay down, put my head on my bag, and close my eyes, even if only for 2 minutes. Fortunately, my exhaustion was not a problem while riding. The combination of the manual transmission on the bike and the more-often-than-not unpaved dirt road ensured that I remain alert, whether my brain wanted to or not. Plus, most of the ride I had music playing (don't worry, in one ear only), and that also helped me stay focused, as it did on the Annapurna trek in Nepal. And, inaudible to anybody else, I loudly sang along with the music playing, behind my bandana that prevented dust, dirt, and even small pebbles from entering my mouth while riding. About halfway through the day, we approached the opening to a very large tunnel, which at the time we didn’t realize was also very long. We all stopped our bikes before entering, stared into the darkness ahead, looked at each other, and proceeded. But not a single one of us thought to A) remove our sunglasses, or B) turn on our headlights (which we had not done once yet). As we entered the tunnel, it was almost pitch-black. Benami and Amir kept riding, but Lior was completely blinded. Instinctively, he rode up close to the curb, and in the process stalled out. I took my glasses off, holding them in my mouth, and rode my bike behind his to light up his way. We made our way out of the tunnel, and spent the next 5 minutes laughing at our stupidity. Another lesson learned, but at least now we knew how to turn on our headlights.

As the afternoon sun began to heat up, so did our bikes. Every time one of the bikes stalled from exhaustion, we had to take a break to let them rest and cool down. And these breaks became more and more frequent. But stubbornly, we were determined to reach our destination, oblivious to what lay ahead. And what lay ahead of us was an uphill climb to a mountain pass on a dirt/rock/boulder-road. After stalling out (1 of many times), I caught up with the rest of the group a couple of hundred meters uphill. As it turns out, in the middle of the ride, Amir's exhaust pipe simply blew out of place. And by that, I mean it completely disconnected from the engine, and was hanging off the side of the bike. (He actually kept riding like this for a minute before Benami was able to stop him and point it out). We began to jimmy-rig it back into place, and planned to use a thin metal cable (the only thing we had that might've stood a chance against the bike's heat) to hold it in place. Just as we reached the final stage, a truck drove up, and we took the opportunity to load the bike up and send two people to the next village with a mechanic. So now we were 3 bikes and 4 passengers, and we still had quite a way to climb, with bikes that were begging us to call it a night. That was not an option though, since we were in the middle of nowhere, and so we marched on. Within 10 minutes, Lior and I both had our bikes fall over, simultaneously. Lifting them up, and getting them started on the steep incline we were on, was a task we were only able to accomplish because of how desperate we were to find a place to sleep. Not a minute passed before I once again knocked my bike over, this time out of pure exhaustion. 10 minutes later, Lior did the same, only in doing so his front brake pedal broke, along with his mirror. As they replaced the brake pedal, I found myself a nice area to lie down and doze off. I was awoken probably 20 minutes later, by a cow only meters away, slowly walking up the hill in my direction. The bike was fixed, and we continued.

At this point, my bike said "No More!" I wasn't able to ride more than 3 minutes continuously, and I probably stalled out another 7 or 8 times before we reached the top of the pass. It was 7:30 now, and the sun had already set behind the mountains, but there was still some light in the sky. Of the 10 locals who were up at the pass, not 1 of them spoke English. The map we had was with Amir, on the truck, but we were fairly sure that there was a village only a few kilometers downhill. Not wanting to stay the 4 of us in the 1 available double-bed room, and also because of the frigid temperature at that altitude, we decided to ride down, and left quickly while there was still some light out. Sure enough, the village was there, 6km downhill, and we found a nice man who had a room available in his family's house. And by family, I mean him, his wife and their 3 kids, his brother with his 3 kids, and his parents. It was around 8pm when we arrived, 13 hours after we left Manali. I lay in the bed, and within minutes I was asleep. And that was the first day of our Kinnaur/Spiti trip. And even at the typical 10 hours it usually takes, it was supposed to be our longest day of riding. Now that I'm writing this at the end of Day 2, it's funny to look back at how naive and optimistic we were...

Day 2, like Day 1, began without a hitch. We woke up at 6:30am and were on the road by 8, as we still had roughly 40km to ride to meet up with Amir and Hadasa who rode on the truck the night before. Needless to say, but I'll say it anyway for extra emphasis, we were very tired, and I mean both mind and body. But the first leg was almost all downhill, and was quite enjoyable. After 3 hours of riding, we reunited with Amir and Hadasa, ate lunch, and estimated we could ride the remaining 100km to our next destination in 4 hours, including all stops. After 20 minutes, we stopped at a roadside welder, to permanently fix Amir's exhaust. 20 minutes after they finished, we stopped at a mechanic to have him check out some leaking fuel on Amir's bike. And since we were already getting one bike serviced, we also had him check out Lior's faulty clutch. We didn't hit the road again until 5pm, but we were hopeful that we could cover the 70km to our next destination (or so we thought it was 70km) by 7:30, before sunset. The map indicated the road was a National Highway, and for the first hour or so, we were cruising in style. I mean perfectly smooth, paved roads, with 1 lane in each direction. We entered the Kinnaur Valley, riding on the road carved into the sides of the mountains, and all was glorious. But then, all of a sudden, the National Highway we loved so much, turned into a construction zone dirt road, for as far as the eye could see. Our pace slowed down, as the sun continued to inch closer and closer to the mountain peaks above. We reached a small village, where there were once again no guesthouses. So we continued on, to a village that was supposedly 9km away. After 30 minutes of riding, we asked how to get to our destination, which nobody was able to help with. The closest village with guesthouses was 5km back in the direction we came from, and then 18km uphill. The sun, and all traces of its light and warmth, were now gone. We had no choice but to make the climb, although our bikes were once again begging us to call it a night. We let the bikes rest and cool down for 20 minutes, while we mentally prepared ourselves for what we expected to be a 1-hour ride. It was 9:20pm when we started riding. 7km in, Amir's bike stalled out. We waited a few minutes and started again. 4km later, Amir's engine started smoking. This was a sign we needed to wait much longer than a few minutes. We were 6km away from our destination, it was almost 11pm, we didn't have any water, and the fate of Amir's motorcycle was uncertain. We all started thinking about the worst case scenario of sleeping outside for the night. There were 2 things though that were going our way; it wasn't bitterly cold out, and the full moon provided us plenty of light so the occasional passing car could see us and our bikes. We killed time while waiting by taking pictures, telling jokes, and smoking cigarettes. After 45 minutes, we decided to continue. It was a grueling 30-minute 6km climb, and at the first guesthouse we spotted, we parked our bikes, and thanked the heavens that we arrived. The day that began at 8am, ended at 11:30pm. 15.5 hours. And only 24 hours earlier, we were so relieved that we wouldn't have to go through anything close to another 13 hour day. After these 2 brutal days, we are no longer naive, or optimistic. We're now beginning to underestimate ourselves. That way, we can't end up disappointed when we don't reach our planned destination, or worse yet, stranded on the side of the road overnight.

To be continued...

Time is Flying

It's been over a month since I last wrote on this blog, and I've now learned the hard way that I need to try to update this thing more often. I could write an entire book just describing what I've done the past 5 weeks, but I'll try to condense it by listing the places I visited, and some of the highlights. And while I do feel that I was able to fully explore and appreciate all the places I visited in the time I spent there, if I had more time available in India, I would've likely stayed in each place at least twice as long.

Dharamsala - The Home of the Dalai Lama.
I spent roughly 3 weeks amongst the three towns outlying Dharamsala; McLeod Ganj, Dharamkot, and Bagsu.
We took a few day hikes during our time there, some to waterfalls, some to nice viewpoints. And on every single hike, at least one random dog joined along to guide us safely there and back.
Dharamsala also has a great music scene, and every night there were jam sessions going on at different cafes. I heard a plethora of foreign instruments, including my favorite, the pantam.
In Upper Bagsu, we often sat at the Zion Cafe, where you could often find Baba Jee sitting with the tourists, imparting his wisdom upon them while he was on vacation. I even saw him sitting at the internet cafe once, which was quite a funny sight to see, when you consider the fact that he looks something like this.
On the night we left Dharamsala, as we were waiting for our bus, a jeep full of drunk Indians parked their jeep by us, jumped out with the music blasting, and danced in front of the shining headlights. They invited us to join, to which we happily obliged them, knowing they would be very pleased to see our "Westernized" dancing styles, and try to imitate us.

Manali
Realizing that I only had about 1.5 months left in Northern India, and lots more I wanted to see and do, I decided it was time to start making moves, and used my 4 days in Manali to thoroughly explore the 3 connecting cities (New Manali, Old Manali, and Vashist). Coincidentally, the day we arrived in Manali there was a party going on, and for a change I was able to find some friends to have a few drinks with, instead of drinking alone (which I sadly have had to succumb to a few times so far).
We also spent a day at a carnival/4th-rate amusement park of sorts in the woods around Old Manali, which was quite interesting.

Kasol
Like Manali, Kasol is more of a hub city than a place to stay for a very long time. I left Manali on my own, to meet some friends I had traveled with briefly a few weeks previously. After 2 days in Kasol, we were ready to head to the mountains, hopping (or rather, trudging along with our bags) from village to village. Our first stop was Pulga, where I unfortunately had to battle an unpleasant stomach bug on the first day. But besides that, the village was a quiet, relaxing place, with a "fairy forest" and waterfall to keep us busy during the days there. And like most villages in India which do not have much electricity, showers are taken with a hot bucket of water. It may not sound ideal, but it's surprisingly fun (once in a while). On our last night in Pulga, we slaughtered some chickens and had ourselves a nice bbq in the forest.
After three days, we decided to hike up to Khirganga, a 5-hour uphill climb that broke my back from all the weight I was carrying. But for the first time on my trip, I arrived at a place that truly didn't have any electricity. Generators and solar power were saved for the evenings, so the stereo would have enough juice to play. During the day, you could find total silence by just wandering away from the 4 guest houses the village contains. And once again, unfortunately, I got sick up in the mountains. Luckily for me, the draw of Khirganga is not just the amazing view, but also the hot springs located on the mountain. A 20-minute dip every evening, with a hot spring shower afterwards was the best medicine for my cold (especially considering I didn't bring my first-aid kit with me, so the hot spring was all I had).
From Khirganga, we headed down to Tosh to meet up with some other friends. And once again, we spent our days exploring new waterfalls and sights around the village.

Now I'm back in Kasol, ready to depart for Manali tomorrow, and then continue North. I have about a month left in India before I head to Thailand, and now it seems like time is tight. I will likely have to sacrifice visiting a place or two, but I'm not thinking about it too much, and will just let the chips fall as they may. After 2+ months of traveling, I have started to understand how to get the most out of my trip, and not get caught up in the triviality of deciding what to do and where to go. I also have stopped getting shocked on a daily basis by situations and people I encounter. After all, it's India. And in India, sab kuch milega (everything is possible).

It's funny how in India, you continue to see the same people you saw or met somewhere previously on the trip, months later and hundreds of miles away. You never really say goodbye to other travelers in India, only "see you later." The exception to that is those travelers who are at the end of their trips, and are heading home soon. That is something to which I can not relate, as I can't even picture getting on my plane back to Israel, and subsequently, New Jersey. And while I am leaving India soon, I do plan on returning to explore the South of India after my stint in Southeast Asia. So to India, I will also not be saying goodbye, but instead, "see you later."

Taking My Time

The following was written on May 20th, in transit between Rishikesh and Dharamsala:

5 days ago, Daniel and I arrived in Rishikesh, for what we expected to be a relaxing time after our trekking in Nepal. And while we did relax plenty, this past week was not without its excitement as well. Our first day consisted of exploring the city, enjoying internet speed that would make a Nepali's head explode, and eating Shabbat dinner at the Chabad House. The excitement began on Day 2, when we were enjoying our morning chai on our balcony, overlooking the Ganges River. Daniel spotted a monkey on the roof of the building next to ours, and enticed him to come over with the chocolate chip 'Hide & Seek' cookies we were eating. The monkey climbed up to the balcony next to ours, and waited for his treat. Daniel, the hero, decided that he wanted a picture, and approached the monkey with his camera. Monkey didn't like this, and quickly showed us his snarling teeth. At this point, I got into defensive mode, as Daniel quickly ran into the room, leaving only me and Mojo (we'll call the monkey Mojo) out there to work things out. I was anticipating an imminent attack, and just wanted to get Mojo away. So I grabbed another cookie, waved it in front of his face so he saw what it was, and then threw it down onto the roof of the building next to ours, where Mojo came from. Mojo didn't like this. I could tell because now his mouth was open completely, showing off all of his teeth, and not in a "look Mom, no cavities!" kind of way. I quickly grabbed the plastic chair out on the balcony, and held it up in the air between me and Mojo, ready to defend against any swipe of his claw, or even a full leap (and subsequent eating of my face). At this point, Daniel came back outside, with his flute in hand, as if it would help him for even an instant against a monkey attack. Perhaps subdueing Mojo with a sweet melody would've calmed him, but unfortunately neither of us can make any such sweet melodies with the flute. Fortunately, Mojo was more bark than bite, and after throwing a little water at him (a helpful tip from our British neighbors), he climbed back down to the other building. Regardless, we still entered the room in a hurry and locked the door. My hands were shaking for the next 15 minutes, and it took 2 cigarettes to calm my nerves. During this time, while I reflected upon what just happened, I told myself that this was surely to be one of many monkey incidents I will experience on my trip, and began to mentally prepare myself for how I would handle the next one.

As an aside, this was not my first traumatizing experience with a monkey. As a child, in Israel, we used to go to the zoo quite often, and the monkeys were always my favorite. On one trip, with my brother, my 2 cousins, and my grandmother, I came to the monkey cage with some sliced up carrots in hand. A small monkey climbed down to me, and I extended my hand with a carrot in it. I was 7 years old or so at the time, and the American wiseasseyness influence was already strong with me. As the monkey grabbed the carrot with his little paw, I said "Here you go. Just kidding!" and pulled it away. I repeated this 2 more times, each time the monkey trying to grab the carrot with all his might. But his paw was just too small, and even against my 7-year-old hand, he wasn't able to win this tug-of-war battle. Despite his size and age though, he was still smarter than me, and I learned this very quickly. While I was focused on his feeble attempts to grab the carrot, he sneakily reached his other hand through the fence, grabbed a handful of my hair, and gave a powerful pull. I screamed in pain, dropped the carrot (which he quickly scooped up), and backed away from the fence, crying. And at that moment, when I was feeling both shame and physical pain, and needed some comfort and support from my family, I was greeted instead by uncontrollable laughter from my cousins, my brother, and even my grandmother. It made the hurt that much worse. But, looking back, it also made the whole event that much more memorable, and I'm sure if I was in their place, I would've peed my pants laughing. But enough about monkeys. For now...

Daniel and I spent two more days walking around Rishikesh, swimming in the Ganges River (upstream from where they burn the bodies) and exploring some waterfalls on the outskirts o the city. We also spent many hours in the various waterfront cafes, eating delicious food and meeting many more travelers. At first I was quite surprised to meet as many Americans as I did, but being that Rishikesh is considered the Yoga Capital of the World, it made a little more sense.

So day 4 arrived - our last full day in Rishikesh - and I already slept through my alarm 2 days in a row and missed the 7:30AM Yoga classes. But the night before we were finally able to rent 2 mopeds, so there was plenty to see and do that day. We started off by driving around the city, exploring areas we hadn't been to before. We also took the opportunity to visit the renowned Maharishi Mahesh Yogi ashram, where The Beatles stayed for a few months and wrote much of the White Album. There was quite a scuffle with the guard watching the gate there, but I'll keep that story out of this blog to avoid incriminating myself and Daniel. We then rode a few kilometers past the opposite side of Rishikesh, where we hiked up to another waterfall. There, we found a group of Indians relaxing in the river. They were on vacation from Delhi, and enjoying a bottle of whiskey they brought from home (no alcohol is sold in Rishikesh), and were very eager to have us imbibe with them. After finishing off the bottle, we rode (cautiously) to the waterfall we visited the day before, and took a walk down the river. This walk turned into a metaphor for my trip. Because I was walking down the river barefoot, I had to be very careful where I stepped in the water, as there were many odd-shaped rocks underneath. But as we walked down, we kept a steady pace, and I was only able to choose what my next step would be within a second, without looking further ahead to determine if I was taking the best path down the river. As I have attempted on this trip to live in the moment, only making decisions that affect my immediate plans, with no regard for the near future, I was walking down that river and only worrying about that next step. So that was a moment of (whiskey-induced) enlightenment for me, and I'm hoping there will be many more, with or without the whiskey influence, along the way.

After this hike, we rode on our mopeds to another, bigger waterfall, where we hung out with some locals. The next day, I woke up early and actually went to a Yoga class. My first attempt at Yoga. It was nice and relaxing, though challenging at times. I will surely try it again at some point, when I regain the feeling in my lower back. Just kidding. I'm already prepared to try another attempt at the One-Legged King Pigeon pose, but this time I'll stretch a little more beforehand.

And so now we are on our way to Dharamsala. I'm sitting on the floor of the train, between the cars, with my legs hanging outside the open door, writing in my notebook. It is quite exhilirating, though frightening when another train comes whizzing by in the other direction, with no warning. While I'm writing about my time in Rishikesh, I'm also reflecting upon my entire trip, and what I've seen and done so far. And for the first time in the 1.5 months that I've been traveling, I have departed for my next destination without any urgency to leave my current location. That's made for a nice change of pace, since I had felt a bit pressed for time up until now, and can really feel the difference now that I'm in no rush to get anywhere else. Rishikesh was a great experience, and I'm expecting that as I continue North, it will only get better, and I will learn to appreciate India, and traveling in general, more and more.

1 Month Down, ? Months to Go

Never in my life have I been in the uncomfortable situations I have found myself in on this trip (mostly cold showers, the sweltering afternoon heat, and 15+ hour bus/train rides), yet I've had nothing less than a full smile on my face every second of the past few weeks. The other day, as I showered under the cold water in the dark bathroom (yes, the bathroom - the shower and toilet are side-by-side), my headlamp resting on the sink, lighting up one corner of the ceiling, trying to keep my balance as I washed my foot to avoid stepping on the floor without my shower sandal, I thought about my trip so far, and what is still yet to come, and said to myself, "I'm the luckiest person in the world right now." Today marks one month exactly since I started my trip (not including my time in Israel). The bulk of my trip so far has been the 2-week Annapurna Circuit trek in Nepal (the decision to go there was made spontaneously at around 11am on 4/21 - that night we were on a sleeper bus to Delhi, and the next afternoon we were on a flight to Nepal), as well as the few days before and after it in Kathmandu and Pokhara. The trek was phenomenal. Every day brought us new views of the breathtaking Annapurna Mt. range. But the trek was very challenging as well, with the climax of the trek occurring on the 11th day, which started at 5am at 4,400 meters, climbing snow-covered mountains all day up to the Thorung La Pass at 5,400 meters, and then climbing down to 3,700 meters (common misconception: walking downhill is easier than walking uphill), finishing the day around 5pm. And as I saw on earlier days of the trek (with the day of crossing the Thorung La Pass being no exception), the more difficult the climbing was, the more beautiful the views were, and the experience felt that much more rewarding. And I can say without any hesitation that that day, May 3rd, was my favorite day of the trip so far, and will be hard to beat.

The amazing thing is, this past month of my trip is only a fraction of what my total trip will be, although I knew the Annapurna trek would be one of the biggest highlights. Now I'm on a detoured route to Northern India, with 2 guys I met on the trek. We stopped in Lumbini, the birthplace of Buddha, before crossing (freely walking across) the border to India. I also just split off from the last of the original crew I was traveling with, which I felt was the step I needed to take to truly feel like I'm traveling alone. And while I am ultimately alone on this trip, I have spent the lion's share of my time with other people. I've met dozens of Europeans, Australians, Americans, and of course, Israelis. I've been traveling with Israelis so much, in fact, that I have found myself on a few occassions speaking English with a Hebrew accent, subconsciously. This is different from when I intentionally use the Hebrew accent, to assist in bargaining power and getting what is known as the "Israeli deal." The "deal" is different in every country and situation (food, lodging, shopping, etc.), but anywhere you go that Israelis have been to before (basically anywhere in the world except a few Middle Eastern countries), negotiation is always an option.

Tomorrow I head to Rishikesh, which is known as the "Yoga Capital of the World." I think I will get some much-needed R&R for a week or two while I'm there, as this past month has been a bit tiring with all the traveling around, as well as from the trek itself, which was far from what would be considered 'rest & relaxation.' I have roughly 2.5 months now before I head to Thailand at the end of July, which I think should be a sufficient amount of time to explore Northern India and do a few more treks. And I also learned something else while on my trek. A few weeks ago, my thought on this kind of traveling was that this is the best time/age of my life to be doing this kind of trip. And after meeting so many 50+ year-olds on the trek, I realized that it's never too late to see any part of the world, or climb any mountain. And I plan on doing just that, until the day my body simply can't take it anymore.

So here goes. India, Take 2.

P.S. I lost my notebook the day before the Annapurna trek, and decided mid-way through it to keep a video journal to somehow document the trip. The first video is on YouTube. I will link the subsequent ones on my Facebook profile. Nepal Annapurna Circuit Trek Video (Intro)

Sunrise, Sunset

I woke up this morning to see the sunrise. Actually, I woke up at 5am this morning to do a 1-hour climb up a mountain to Savitri Temple, where we watched the sun rise over the city of Pushkar. Needless to say, it was incredible. In an hour or so, we will hike up to Brahma Temple on the other side of the city, to watch the sun set over Pushkar and Savitri Temple. We arrived in Pushkar yesterday morning, taking a 10-hour sleeper bus from Delhi. Basically they stick you in a coffin-sized compartment in the bus, and as the name implies, you sleep through the night. It was actually pretty awesome.

The city of Pushkar itself is beautiful - only hours away from Delhi but a whole new world. The people are incredibly friendly, bright, beautiful colors everywhere, and relatively calmer than the Main Bazaar in Delhi. And there is actually more Hebrew signage here than in Delhi, but because we arrived at the end of the season, there are very few Israelis still here.

We also visited the Taj Mahal a few days ago. About 5 hours each way in a jeep makes it a tough day, but I was not going to let myself regret not seeing the Taj. 1 of 7 Wonders of the World down, 6 to go...

While I came to India with no set plans, I did have a rough trip outline, and intended on heading to Nepal within 2 weeks of arriving in India, to do the famous Annapurna Trek at the base of Everest before the season closes, reopening only around September. I have been wrestling with the thought of changing my course and continuing in Northern India for the next few months, and then reaching Nepal when the next season begins. I have a few days left to decide, but I'm not rushing to make any decisions until I have to. 11 of us arrived at the Yes Please Guesthouse from our original flight. 7 of us took the sleeper bus to Pushkar. From here, only 2 people know with certainty where they are heading after this week(or so)-long visit in the region of Rajasthan, and the rest of us will play it by ear.

So that's it for now. I'm heading out to see the sunset now.

Namaste, and Shabbat Shalom.
-Erez

Touching Down in Delhi

As the plane descended beneath the clouds, the land below, quite different from any other I'd seen from that height, came into sight. The most dimly-lit cities I had ever seen. An occassional random assortment of specks of lights bunched together, surrounded by darkness, and I was left only with my imagination to wonder what it all was. Yet I knew that in the morning, I would start to instantly better understand the land I was in.

When they opened the airplane door, the smell was not as bad as I had heard from some people, though it was certainly noticeable. A crazy non-stop-honking cab ride later, we arrived at the Yes Please Guesthouse with roughly 20 other Israelis. While we were hanging out and drinking chai, an older Israeli man walked in with bite marks on his leg, saying he just got bit by a dog. At night, there are literally 2 stray dogs for every 10 paces that you take. And they are all the same inbred overbred dogs so they all look alike, just different sizes and colors. They typically lay quietly, but a honking tuk-tuk passing by could aggravate them, so remaining alert is critical.

We spent the day today walking around the Main Bazaar area. It's amazing how many Indians here speak Hebrew and how many of their signs are in Hebrew. If you're ever here, I recommend getting the Chicken Masala at the Hare Rama Guesthouse. Get it only medium hot though, trust me. And everything is SO cheap! I feel like a millionaire! Rupee rupee bills ya'll!

Tomorrow we're heading to the Taj Mahal for a day trip, so look out for the next update, and hopefully pictures up on my facebook shortly afterwards.

That's it for now. I hope you can all put up with my switching from serious writing about the amazing things I see/experience, the fun/funny stories that happen, and just my regular wise-assing and sarcasm. Hey, it's like 3 blogs in one! Lucky you!

The 11th Hour

As I sit here on the computer, a mere hours before my flight to India, I keep having to remind myself to not write anything about the upcoming days, weeks, or months, but rather focus on the recent past, and more importantly, the present.

It's been quite a hectic 2.5 weeks in Israel, reuniting with family, friends, and the land that I have always and will always think of as my home. No different than when I was in the US a few weeks ago, my thoughts have continued to be on my upcoming trip, with frequent reminders from everyone I've been around as they ask questions and give me travel tips for the places they've visited.

And now it's here. The 11th hour. 3am. 1 more hour until I have to catch my train to the airport. And it still hasn't hit me. Ya know, the big "Holy shit I'm about to go backpacking on my own for the next 6 months!" I think it will come when I'm standing on the platform in an hour, waiting for my train. The first time I'll be all alone to start my journey. Oops. There I go talking in the future tense.

No predictions. No anticipations. Just the present. And right now, the present is a bit uneventful, so I guess we'll just have to wait for when the present becomes more interesting, and then (when I find an Internet cafe) I'll tell you all about it as my recent past.