We had never been to India before, but somehow the picture that we saw at the border crossing did not surprise us at all. There were colourful crowds, noisy trucks, and it smelled of shit.
Actually, what got us by surprise was that after we left the border, the road took us through some vast agricultural lands. There was no sign neither of traffic chaos (in fact, there was very little traffic) or overpopulatedness that seem to characterize every ride tale about India. Actually it is no wonder, because no matter how big the population, the people want to eat, and mostly the food is being grown in the fields.
Working in the fields in India.
Brick factory.
Camel transport goes strong in India.
Sitting on a broken down truck.
We arrived in Varanasi, one of the oldest continually inhabited cities in the World. For Indians it is one of the holiest cities of all because Hindus believe that if you die here, you exit the cycle of birth and death, and your soul goes directly to nirvana. Probably that is why the banks of the holy Ganges see every day hundreds of cremations.
However, death is not the only reason the locals flock to the holy river. It is also a place to wash away your sins, pay homage to the rising sun, do yor laundry, and hundreds of other things. The crowd is colourful (literally!) and a great thing to watch.
Boats on the holy Ganges river.
First light over Ganges.
Holy men already in action early morning.
Taking the holy bath in Ganges that has 500 (!) times the allowed bacteria limit for swimmable water. It does make you strong immune-system wise (well, if you survive first without Indian-genome :lol3 )
Men in action. They even drink the water.
Prayers and respects go to the Hindu Gods, the mighty Vishnu, Shiva and Brahma.
One of the prayers in sound:
.::LISTEN::.
Suns rises and lits up the holy Varanasi, one of the oldest continously inhabited cities of the world.
Women giving their prayers.
Varanasi from the Ganges river.
Burning bodies in Hindu way and sending them into the Universe - the best place to die on Planet Earth for a die-hard Hindu is right there!
Panorama of Varanasi seen from the Ganges river (click to enlarge the panorama).
A recording from the same place - some amateurishly lazy sounding Indian band playing on the shore:
.::LISTEN::.
Water towers for the holy Ganges water.
Action packed shores of Ganges as sun gets higher.
Ladies heading for the holy waters of Ganges.
Men already returning with blessings from the Gods.
Rituals.
Salesmen play their part.
A holy man inspecting the Ganges shores...
Candle seller - we bought one from her to bring us luck.
Fruits 'n' stuff on Varanasi streets...
We could not resist asking for the gods' blessing to our journey in India - we bought a small floating candle with flowers and sent it down the holy Ganges.
Do not know if the gods did not hear our prayer well, or if it was just the opposite, because that is what happened soon after that:
Badly collapsed and leaking tank.
Holed pannier...
Gathering crowd around crashed bike...
One indian twat in a 4x4 tried to make a U-turn on a 4-laned highway separated by high brick between. Yeah, you can only do it with a 4x4 and who ever the rider was, attempted it obviously without any turn signal (no one gives a toss about turn signals in India anyway) and from the left lane (in left handed Indian traffic) right at the moment when I was trying to pass him thinking he just wanted to slow down on the left side of the road - an obvious and intelligent conclusion on a 4-laned highway. How terribly wrong I was! He sharply cut off my lane by a quick U-turn attempt without looking if the road was clear. I hit him with full force of our fully loaded 2-up GS on highway speeds. With quick reaction I managed to avoid head-on collision with quick countersteering, but right-hand side of the bike took a collision course with the back end of the U-turning massive 4x4, which I couldn't avoid.
You see the result from the pictures - collapsed and leaking fuel tank, engine guards ripped off from crankcase and thick aluminium pannier badly dented and holed (look at the pic and think if it had been a plastic or soft pannier, what would have happened to Kariina's leg if the same object hit her leg?!).
Anyways this crash yet again made me give BIG PROPS to the BMW designers from 1923 for creating the boxer engine for motorcycle. Without the combination of boxer cylinders+engine guards, I would have had damaged beyond repair or even lost my right leg. Basically the boxer cylinders and Vern aluminium panniers created protection barrier for both of our right legs when our GS hit the massive 4x4 with it's right side, making it jump into the air and shift directional position some half a meter - I don't know how I managed to keep the bike up, but I got it stopped with rear break and engine-breaking (front break lever was bent vertical with the crash). Recovering from initial mental shock, when I looked back, the twat with a 4x4 already accelerated into safe heavens, probably he had already noticed he'd done a stupid illegal (well OK, nothing is illegal in Indian traffic) manoeuvre and hit a "rich white tourist with a probably-ultra-expensive big motorcycle I've never seen before in the vast India". I think he knew immediately it's financially wise to quickly feck off instead of bring any help or assistance to us (and risking with paying for the damage).
Anyways, as said, we got lucky that we were riding a boxer-engined bike having proper wide guards and thick aluminium panniers. Only my right hand was bruised that also apparently slightly hit the 4x4 backside, thankfully our 100% ATGATT philosophy had payed off, elbow protection did it's job.
With fuel pissing out from the tank it was just moments when over a dozen indians were all around us from nowhere, with no village in sight. Some guy knew 2 words of English and wanted to know if my right hand was OK, I assured him, not to worry, it's a minor thing. And while we chatted two men already had seeked out soap and were patching the leaking hole in our tank - I knew the old soap trick from my childhood, mostly used it on rusted USSR equipment fuel tanks as a temporary solution. It worked!
Patching with a soap.
Patched fueltank.
Thanked them profoundly and our journey could continue, but this time, despite of being on a very lonely 4-lane highway, not so speedily anymore as you'd expect from such a road.
A day later, having limped to Agra with a broken bike, a bad case of food poisoning or dysentery hit me, fever reaching +40C (104F). 5 hours in state hospital's emergency room that looked like a shithole surrounded by dying indians in my neighbouring beds brought me back to life with different antibiotics and liters of liquids they injected directly into my blood (without cleaning the spot before they injected it!) and a rubbish bin aside the bed as the only place to vomit into, but we have a long way to go... To cure myself and to cure our poor GS that took all the beating to save us from the worst.
Welcome to India!!!
We spent a whole week in Agra, just a couple hundred meters from the famous Taj Mahal. Of course, it was not such fabulous time as one would expect. It took days for my pitiful condition to improve, but after having downed quite a bit of local antibiotics (bought from the nearby hole-in-the-wall pharmacy) I finally started to feel better. Impatient to get out of the hotel room, we set off to explore the streets of the ancient city.
India has plenty of color indeed, from the glittering sarees of the local women to the buildings painted in every imaginable shade. Not all are beautiful, but many of them immensely attractive.
Someone's dwelling in Agra.
Indian supermarket - yep, you got it right, it's THE supermarket. It's rather hard to find shops with bigger selection than this in India.
Agra men.
Agressive macaques.
Dogs dig their own ditch to get some cooling from the ground in the +45C (113F) heat wave weather, and it's not even summer yet!
A mini mosque in Agra street.
Holy cows eat what ever they can get on the city streets.
Then we went to see the super star itself. From far away it looked majestic - really, the symmetry of the complex is striking, but the truth is, that from up close it failed to impress. Maybe it was because once again our expectations were too high, or maybe it was the crowds.
Taj Mahal was completed in 1653 by the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan to serve as a mausoleum of his beloved wife who had died when giving birth for their 14th child. Later, he himself was buried there, too.
So, one would think that as it is a final resting place, some peace and quiet, and respect would be granted to the dead, but the reality is truly shocking. It the crowds around the monument are acceptable, then herding the crowds through the mausoleum itself, while shouting and blowing whistles (that is what the guards do) is a definite no-no.
Queue of local tourists waiting to get into Taj Mahal.
Taj Mahal, one of the great Wonders of the World.
Taj Mahal in detail.
Behind Taj Mahal is the calm Yamuna river where boatsmen were at work.
Taj Mahal detail.
One of the minarets - they are built with a slight tilt angle pointing away from Taj Mahal main mosque-like building. So when the earthquake strikes, minarets will fall away from it, not on the priceless mausoleum.
Taj Mahal in sunset.
Anyways, there are buildings that have left us a greater impression than Taj Mahal.
Actually, there is another great monument in Agra that is not quite as famous as Taj Mahal, but we found it to have much more atmosphere. The Fort of Agra once served as the headquarters of the mighty Mughal empire the power of which even stretched beyond the borders of today's India. The fort actually existed already in the 11th century, but was substantially reconstructed during the reign of Akbar the Great in the 16th century (some one and a half million craftsmen worked on the fort), and later modified by his grandson Shah Jahan, who added some palaces and towers made of his favourite building material - white marble.
The Mughals hailed from the Central Asia, thus the Persian influence is remarkable. In peak times of the empire, the walled fort contained some 500 elaborate buildings, but as the empire fell, some of the were destroyed. In the 19th century, the British took control if India, and a garrison was established in the fort - majority of the historic buildings were demolished by brits and ugly brick houses were built instead.
What is left, is some thirty buildings, but they are truly magnificent - the vaulted, carved halls and the red sandstone and white marble courtyards really catch the imagination, making you wonder what the emperor's life with his 500+ harem was like.
Entrance to the Fort of Agra.
Loads of squirrels in the fort's parks.
Panorama from one of the fort's parks (click to enlarge).
Fort from inside - stunning detail, you could see Persian, Arabic and Indian influences.
Corridors.
Doors...
Labyrinth.
Details on the walls.
Taj Mahal in morning haze seen from the Fort of Agra.
After having gotten acquainted with the wonderous heritage of the Mughal empire in Agra, it was time to hit the road again. The next stop, inevitably (as we needed to do something about the leaking tank, and arrange visas for the next country on our route - Pakistan), was New Delhi. We decided not to look for too much adventure and took the bike to a HUBB-recommended workshop. There are not many that actually know something about big bikes, so we though that having the job done in one that does would give us more reliable results. After all, we still have quite some miles to go.
As I was still not feeling quite too well, at first I thought that I would leave the bike to the workshop and just come back when it is finished, but in the end I still got over there many times - to remove the tank, then to check on the progress, and then again to put it all together. Just to be sure! It was not easy though, as the daily temperatures were hovering around +45 C (+113 F), and it felt really, really sticky - even without making the effort of reaching for a wrench! The guy who does aluminium welding even refused to show up at work, saying that it is too hot. It is not supposed to be that hot in April, not even in India!
Well, anyway, some week later the Indian guys were done with all the work. The fuel tank looked like new, albeit slightly bent, and it was only later that I realised that the paint was not exactly the highest quality, but who cares. The GS is not some beauty queen wrapped in fancy plastic or a chromed motorcycle, designed to accompany you when you visit the café on a nice Sunday afternoon and impress your friends. Instead, I see our trusty GS as an intercontinental ballistic missile, carrying us through challenging landscapes. This is the kind of beauty I value.
The fuel pump and the overflow buoy that had been ripped off with the crash impact, were glued back, and the pannier was (finally) welded. After having read about our crash from the forum, he guy who had manufactured our panniers (Vern Worldbeater) sent us a message proposing to send us a new one to replace the damaged one. It was a great offer, but in India the import tax is some 250%, so we had to decline. Instead, we decided to try repair and to reinforce the broken panniers by welding a 3 mm aluminium plate to the side attached to the frame, and to put some rubber in between as a buffer for vibrations - old cracks are keen to continue even if you weld them. These panniers do get a lot of abuse and I can't even think what would have happened if they were soft or plastic panniers! Two thumbs up for Vern, both for quality of the product that has helped us so many times now with dozens of crashes and the help he offered when we didn't even ask!
Repaired fuel tank.
Installing the fuel pump assembly.
Refilling with fuel to check for leaks.
"Sandwiched" pannier. Weld quality is nowhere near Verns!
In fact I had to grind down some welds down a bit from inside the pannier, where they weren't supposed to be.
Repaired bike after the crash.
As to the bash plate, it was not possible to reattach it properly, because the rubber bits that hold it in place cannot be found in India.
The side bag that got ripped off was repaired in a random tailor shop - there is one on each street, so no problem.
By the way, there were loads of locally produced motorcycles in the workshop, but two were special. One of them was a real rarity - a diesel powered Royal Enfield, and the other one - a Jawa 353, my first ever big bike! It was a moment of nostalgia indeed, because after I parted with mine, I had never seen one like this again. But now I remembered how I had bought it for the pocket money that I had been putting aside during school, how I had hid it from my parents in my friend's garage, how most of the time I was rather pushing than riding it. All the repairs, greasy hands, specific smell of the two-stroke burnt oil, top speed tests, its liquid suspension, weak brakes.. And of course, back then all the riding was without a helmet… But then again, someone has said that one has to pass the phase of idiocy to become smart.
Diesel Enfield. Probably the most exclusive Enfield around.
Good old Jawa 250cc two smoker - brought back some good and bad memories.
Here's a pic with the worksop owners, the Kaul brothers, after all the work was done:
Now we were ready to hit the road again.
Of course we did not spend all our time in New Delhi just repairing the bike, but tried some mandatory, tourist things, too. Not too many, though, because we found Delhi to be a too chaotic, overwhelming of a city - with too many people (18 million in whole Delhi area), smells and colours. Normally we try to absorb as much as we can of a place we are visiting, but this time we were cautious and rather tried to isolate ourselves from all the goings-on. After all, India had already given us two warnings.
Delhi.
Streets of Delhi.
Typical houses.
Streets of Delhi.
Bone powered stuff is all around in a capital of 1 billion people country that has nuke capability and a space program. Now tell me about contrasts!
Rickshaw guy crossing the street in the middle of moving traffic jam - you see it almost every moment, no matter what vehicle. Nobody looks before they make manoeuvre, they just make it without looking, even if they go 60 mph on a highway - it's the only country where drivers do so. Nowhere else in the World we've seen this phenomenon is such a vast amounts. They all assume you look and see him/her, communication is truly one-way-only in Inda.
Light coloured eyes on Indian man - a rare sight, but India has its tribes too.
Single cylinder engined 3-wheelers everywhere in action.
Bone power in New Delhi.
Transporting gas-bottles.
Tuk-tuk's race.
Tuk-tuk driver.
Delhi streets.
But to the touristy things. We went to see yet another creation from the times of the Mughal empire - the Jama Masjid or the Friday Mosque said to be the largest mosque in India. It was completed in 1656 (by the same old Shah Jahan who had ordered the building of Taj Mahal) and can hold 25 000 people. One would expect it to be a huge building, but in fact it is more a square than a building.
Jama Masjid.
That is actually it. We did not manage to force ourselves to go and check out some more. In fact we felt somewhat depressed with the heat and the things that had happened, but most of all because of a great deal of uncertainty as to where we'll be going after Pakistan. The so-called Stans are high on our list, yet getting there is somewhat tricky. There are actually three options, but none of them are perfect.
The first option would be to take the Karakoram Highway in Pakistan to the border with China, then do the couple of days in China, and finally end up in Kyrgyzstan. There are two problems with that option. In the beginning of this year there was a huge landslide on the Karakoram Highway, causing a part of the road to be under a lake that has formed. Clearly there is no way around that lake at the moment, and nobody knows when they will be able to clean up the mess and clear the road. The second problem is that passing through China will cost us USD 1600 (because with no Chinese drivers license we'll have to hire an escort and it costs silly money, plus the paperwork).
The second option would be to cross from Pakistan to Afghanistan and then to Tajikistan, but according to all the data we have collected and all the people we've consulted who know something about that area, spring and summer is the time when the things get the most heated up (and I am not talking about the temperatures here) in Afghanistan. And, it seems that the seemingly safest bordercrossing, the Khyber Pass, has been closed to foreigners.
The third option is to go from Pakistan to Iran and try to approach the Stans from there. It would require us to make a rather big detour, and possibly arrange for some visas twice, as our plan is to continue to Arabian peninsula from Iran. From what we've heard, visas to the Stans are quite a headache, too.
As you can see, there are no really good options here to choose from, so I think we just have to wait and see what happens (with the lake oh the Karakoram Highway, with the situation in Afghanistan, and of course our resources).
Meanwhile we got ourselves to the embassy of Pakistan, because that is where we'll go for sure, to get the visas. While in Nepal, we wanted to apply there, but we were told that for Estonians, visa processing will take AT LEAST 60 days, which is, of course, ridiculous. At the embassy in New Delhi they require a letter of introduction (LOI) from a local representation of your country. There is no embassy of Estonia in India, but there is a honorary consul, and we got our letters with no hassle at all. In fact, while many nationalities pay crazy money to get the LOI from their embassy (for example, a British guy paid some 4000 rupees for his), we paid only some 100 rupees for ours.
We delivered it to the Pakistani embassy and handed it over together with receipts of payment of the visa fee (once again, our visas cost just a half of the Brit's) and our applications that had been typed by a typist on the sidewalk (they do not accept applications filled in by hand). The next step was an interview with the consul.
A typist.
I went in first. He asked me the regular questions, like what places we are going to visit, etc. Then he asked me the exact date we had entered India. I am not good at dates, so all I could say was that it was some two weeks ago. I said my wife would know for sure, as she normally deals with the formalities.
Then Kariina went in.
- Are you dominating your husband?
- ???
- Your husband did not know the date you entered India, but he said you would.
- Well, maybe it is because I am more into details…?
- Oh, well, how long have you been married?
- Around one and a half years.
- Oh, if this is the situation in one and a half years, then what will happen in ten???
The last question she was asked was whether she was getting along with her parents-in-law. No questions about Pakistan whatsoever. Very relevant indeed!
We got the visas the next day.
But the experience once again proved how marriage is perceived differently here than in the Western world. It wasn't new to us that man is supposed to be the all-knowing head of the family, but it is interesting that parents get to play such an inportant role when it comes to marriage. For example, there are thousands of ads in the newspaper where parents of some beautiful and educated girl are looking for an appropriate match. Of course, an appropriate match is in almost all cases tall, handsome boy with a respected family background and well-paid job. They actually say that in the ad!!!
Here's an example of one of many ads:
We left Delhi, north into the mountains!!!
It was not long before we reached the mountains. Actually they are just one day's ride away from Delhi, so before we knew we arrived in Shimla, the famed mountain resort. Situated at some 2200 metres (7200 ft), it provided us some cool temperatures that we have been longing for quite some time now.
Actually it was not before the 19th century that Shimla was "discovered" by the British, and since then it has become only more popular. Of course, its population has grown accodingly, so if you were imagining it to be a peaceful retreat, you were terribly wrong. Here's the view of the town (which has grown to be home for some 150 000 inhabitants):
Shimla.
Shimla panorama (click to enlarge).
The next day it was time to move on. Our goal is to get as far in India as the highest motorable pass in the world, Khardung La. There are two options to get there from Shimla by road. Either to make a huge loop westwards through Srinagar and then back east to Leh, or go straight north to Manali and from there to Leh,which is the gateway to Khardung La. In fact, the latter is closed most of the year, and only opens in summer as the snow melts away from the dizzyingly high passes. Of course, the latter also has more appeal.
We had heard rumours that the road from Manali to Leh had been opened already, so we headed to Manali. The road winded alongside some hilly landscapes, but there was not much to photograph. Some factories, some dams, and a lone monastery on the slopes of a mountain:
Gigantic factory amidst the fields.
The starting line of Himalayas.
Bridge crossing with the GS.
Lake panorama in the beginning of Himalayas (click to enlarge).
Monastery on a steep mountanside - takes a lot of physical effort just to get there.
But getting closer to Manali, the mountains begun to grow, until we could see their tops covered in snow, and even more snow. It was so syrreal, to see snowcapped mountains after so many months in Australian dryness, Indonesian jungle and Thai beaches. It was truly magical, just what we had been dreaming of for so long! Farewell, the heat of the plains!!!
Sure enough, when we reached Manali, we were convinced by some competent people that the road to Leh was still closed and not scheduled to be open before the end of May. Now that is great! So much about all the mountains!!! Luckily, as said before, there is a second option - to backtrack a bit and make the loop through Srinagar. As little as we like the idea of backtracking in India, it still sounds better than waiting a whole month in Manali for the road to be opened.
And then there was a power surge in Manali which fried our laptop's power adapter. We weren't going anywhere, at least for some time, since it was going to take quite some time to get a new one shipped here, the the end of the road (obviously we were not going to return into the sweltering heat of the plains to get one from Delhi, no way!).
We settled in Vashisht, a small village just outside Manali, which turned out to be just perfect for some relaxation in the fresh air amidst the impressive mountain views. People still live in traditional way here.
Life in old ways...
Typical dwelling - cows beneath it.
Brick transportation in the mountain trails is only possible like this.
Men taking a warm bath in a chilly morning.
Only in this part of India you see a lot of Royal Enfields, in the south - the Japanese and Bajaj dominate.
Women eating green peas and ejoying mountain views on their roof.
North-Indian man.
Woman.
Firewood transportation.
Mountain river.
We went trekking.
Terraced farming in the green valleys surrounded by high mountains.
Raven on a totem pole, against the Himalayas.
Views from our trekking trail.
Himalayas in a storm.
Himalayas in good weather.
Typical dwelling with roof made of rock (so the ultra-strong mountain storms don't rip it off) and million dollar views.
Temple's door in Vashisht.
Tibetan man with a prayer wheel.
Indian man.
Just another view from our hotel room.
Moon and a mountaintop.
Himalayas in good clear weather.
Panoramic view from our hotel room (click to enlarge).
From the mountain top to the bottom of the valley.
Roadside panorama (click to enlarge the panoramas)
Himalayas' panorama.
Same mountains panorama, with different light - weather changes rapidly here.
We went to see Rohtang La, a pass that is 3978 meters (13 000 ft+) high. It also proved to be a major tourist attraction, since there were hundreds of Indian tourists frolicking in the snow on the mountain slopes in their rented coats and ski outfits. For most of them it must be the first time to see snow in their lifetime, so they obviously were having loads of fun. As the road to the highest point was virtually blocked by traffic, and since we started to experience mild symptoms of altitude sickness, we decided to leave the circus and get back to Vashisht. Even without having been on the pass, it was a great ride.
Road to Rohtang La.
On the way to Rohtang La - view got soo good you just have to stop to respect the mountains and enjoy the views in a proper way by not just looking on the curvy road all the time.
Melted cliff.
And roads cut through thick snow and ice.
Yes, that thick snow.
When you get up, it's a hellhole - zillion indian tourists come here to see and touch the snow for the first time in their life.
But the view from Rohtang La to Himalayas is stunning indeed...
All the road is jammed with traffic, so the only way to move is by horses and ponies.
Locals making their "I was here" pics.
Modern vs traditional clothing, everybody has to stay warm in those freezing temperatures...
Horses toss themselves around on the steep rocky & technical mountain sides rather well.
Road to Rohtang La panoramas (click to enlarge the panoramas to see them in full).
And finally, panorama of the Himalayan peaks from Rohtang La.
Some days it rained heavily, and all we did was sleeping, eating and watching TV (Bollywood movies!!! Not really, we had BBC, Discovery Channel and Travel&Living - what else could one wish for!), but some days were quite clear so we went on an improvised hike (without a map, but full of determination). It proved to be a tough one, at some points climbing up the steep slopes on all four, but it was a great exercise, and nice scenery, too.
At the beginning, the trekking trail was pretty good, but soon there was no marked trail and we had to start using our hands to climb.
Loads of gigantic rocks are on the edge of falling down on the steep mountain sides - can you find a person on this pic to put things into the scale?
But those rocks also make a good place to have a rest and to enjoy the views between climbing.
Kariina's checking a dry path for us across the river.
Waterfall.
Beneath the waterfall.
Can you see gold shining through the rocks?
Next installation will be about proper India for us - the cooler Himalayan India where people are not so hot headed as on the southern plains.
Margus
Actually, what got us by surprise was that after we left the border, the road took us through some vast agricultural lands. There was no sign neither of traffic chaos (in fact, there was very little traffic) or overpopulatedness that seem to characterize every ride tale about India. Actually it is no wonder, because no matter how big the population, the people want to eat, and mostly the food is being grown in the fields.
Working in the fields in India.
Brick factory.
Camel transport goes strong in India.
Sitting on a broken down truck.
We arrived in Varanasi, one of the oldest continually inhabited cities in the World. For Indians it is one of the holiest cities of all because Hindus believe that if you die here, you exit the cycle of birth and death, and your soul goes directly to nirvana. Probably that is why the banks of the holy Ganges see every day hundreds of cremations.
However, death is not the only reason the locals flock to the holy river. It is also a place to wash away your sins, pay homage to the rising sun, do yor laundry, and hundreds of other things. The crowd is colourful (literally!) and a great thing to watch.
Boats on the holy Ganges river.
First light over Ganges.
Holy men already in action early morning.
Taking the holy bath in Ganges that has 500 (!) times the allowed bacteria limit for swimmable water. It does make you strong immune-system wise (well, if you survive first without Indian-genome :lol3 )
Men in action. They even drink the water.
Prayers and respects go to the Hindu Gods, the mighty Vishnu, Shiva and Brahma.
One of the prayers in sound:
.::LISTEN::.
Suns rises and lits up the holy Varanasi, one of the oldest continously inhabited cities of the world.
Women giving their prayers.
Varanasi from the Ganges river.
Burning bodies in Hindu way and sending them into the Universe - the best place to die on Planet Earth for a die-hard Hindu is right there!
Panorama of Varanasi seen from the Ganges river (click to enlarge the panorama).
A recording from the same place - some amateurishly lazy sounding Indian band playing on the shore:
.::LISTEN::.
Water towers for the holy Ganges water.
Action packed shores of Ganges as sun gets higher.
Ladies heading for the holy waters of Ganges.
Men already returning with blessings from the Gods.
Rituals.
Salesmen play their part.
A holy man inspecting the Ganges shores...
Candle seller - we bought one from her to bring us luck.
Fruits 'n' stuff on Varanasi streets...
We could not resist asking for the gods' blessing to our journey in India - we bought a small floating candle with flowers and sent it down the holy Ganges.
Do not know if the gods did not hear our prayer well, or if it was just the opposite, because that is what happened soon after that:
Badly collapsed and leaking tank.
Holed pannier...
Gathering crowd around crashed bike...
One indian twat in a 4x4 tried to make a U-turn on a 4-laned highway separated by high brick between. Yeah, you can only do it with a 4x4 and who ever the rider was, attempted it obviously without any turn signal (no one gives a toss about turn signals in India anyway) and from the left lane (in left handed Indian traffic) right at the moment when I was trying to pass him thinking he just wanted to slow down on the left side of the road - an obvious and intelligent conclusion on a 4-laned highway. How terribly wrong I was! He sharply cut off my lane by a quick U-turn attempt without looking if the road was clear. I hit him with full force of our fully loaded 2-up GS on highway speeds. With quick reaction I managed to avoid head-on collision with quick countersteering, but right-hand side of the bike took a collision course with the back end of the U-turning massive 4x4, which I couldn't avoid.
You see the result from the pictures - collapsed and leaking fuel tank, engine guards ripped off from crankcase and thick aluminium pannier badly dented and holed (look at the pic and think if it had been a plastic or soft pannier, what would have happened to Kariina's leg if the same object hit her leg?!).
Anyways this crash yet again made me give BIG PROPS to the BMW designers from 1923 for creating the boxer engine for motorcycle. Without the combination of boxer cylinders+engine guards, I would have had damaged beyond repair or even lost my right leg. Basically the boxer cylinders and Vern aluminium panniers created protection barrier for both of our right legs when our GS hit the massive 4x4 with it's right side, making it jump into the air and shift directional position some half a meter - I don't know how I managed to keep the bike up, but I got it stopped with rear break and engine-breaking (front break lever was bent vertical with the crash). Recovering from initial mental shock, when I looked back, the twat with a 4x4 already accelerated into safe heavens, probably he had already noticed he'd done a stupid illegal (well OK, nothing is illegal in Indian traffic) manoeuvre and hit a "rich white tourist with a probably-ultra-expensive big motorcycle I've never seen before in the vast India". I think he knew immediately it's financially wise to quickly feck off instead of bring any help or assistance to us (and risking with paying for the damage).
Anyways, as said, we got lucky that we were riding a boxer-engined bike having proper wide guards and thick aluminium panniers. Only my right hand was bruised that also apparently slightly hit the 4x4 backside, thankfully our 100% ATGATT philosophy had payed off, elbow protection did it's job.
With fuel pissing out from the tank it was just moments when over a dozen indians were all around us from nowhere, with no village in sight. Some guy knew 2 words of English and wanted to know if my right hand was OK, I assured him, not to worry, it's a minor thing. And while we chatted two men already had seeked out soap and were patching the leaking hole in our tank - I knew the old soap trick from my childhood, mostly used it on rusted USSR equipment fuel tanks as a temporary solution. It worked!
Patching with a soap.
Patched fueltank.
Thanked them profoundly and our journey could continue, but this time, despite of being on a very lonely 4-lane highway, not so speedily anymore as you'd expect from such a road.
A day later, having limped to Agra with a broken bike, a bad case of food poisoning or dysentery hit me, fever reaching +40C (104F). 5 hours in state hospital's emergency room that looked like a shithole surrounded by dying indians in my neighbouring beds brought me back to life with different antibiotics and liters of liquids they injected directly into my blood (without cleaning the spot before they injected it!) and a rubbish bin aside the bed as the only place to vomit into, but we have a long way to go... To cure myself and to cure our poor GS that took all the beating to save us from the worst.
Welcome to India!!!
We spent a whole week in Agra, just a couple hundred meters from the famous Taj Mahal. Of course, it was not such fabulous time as one would expect. It took days for my pitiful condition to improve, but after having downed quite a bit of local antibiotics (bought from the nearby hole-in-the-wall pharmacy) I finally started to feel better. Impatient to get out of the hotel room, we set off to explore the streets of the ancient city.
India has plenty of color indeed, from the glittering sarees of the local women to the buildings painted in every imaginable shade. Not all are beautiful, but many of them immensely attractive.
Someone's dwelling in Agra.
Indian supermarket - yep, you got it right, it's THE supermarket. It's rather hard to find shops with bigger selection than this in India.
Agra men.
Agressive macaques.
Dogs dig their own ditch to get some cooling from the ground in the +45C (113F) heat wave weather, and it's not even summer yet!
A mini mosque in Agra street.
Holy cows eat what ever they can get on the city streets.
Then we went to see the super star itself. From far away it looked majestic - really, the symmetry of the complex is striking, but the truth is, that from up close it failed to impress. Maybe it was because once again our expectations were too high, or maybe it was the crowds.
Taj Mahal was completed in 1653 by the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan to serve as a mausoleum of his beloved wife who had died when giving birth for their 14th child. Later, he himself was buried there, too.
So, one would think that as it is a final resting place, some peace and quiet, and respect would be granted to the dead, but the reality is truly shocking. It the crowds around the monument are acceptable, then herding the crowds through the mausoleum itself, while shouting and blowing whistles (that is what the guards do) is a definite no-no.
Queue of local tourists waiting to get into Taj Mahal.
Taj Mahal, one of the great Wonders of the World.
Taj Mahal in detail.
Behind Taj Mahal is the calm Yamuna river where boatsmen were at work.
Taj Mahal detail.
One of the minarets - they are built with a slight tilt angle pointing away from Taj Mahal main mosque-like building. So when the earthquake strikes, minarets will fall away from it, not on the priceless mausoleum.
Taj Mahal in sunset.
Anyways, there are buildings that have left us a greater impression than Taj Mahal.
Actually, there is another great monument in Agra that is not quite as famous as Taj Mahal, but we found it to have much more atmosphere. The Fort of Agra once served as the headquarters of the mighty Mughal empire the power of which even stretched beyond the borders of today's India. The fort actually existed already in the 11th century, but was substantially reconstructed during the reign of Akbar the Great in the 16th century (some one and a half million craftsmen worked on the fort), and later modified by his grandson Shah Jahan, who added some palaces and towers made of his favourite building material - white marble.
The Mughals hailed from the Central Asia, thus the Persian influence is remarkable. In peak times of the empire, the walled fort contained some 500 elaborate buildings, but as the empire fell, some of the were destroyed. In the 19th century, the British took control if India, and a garrison was established in the fort - majority of the historic buildings were demolished by brits and ugly brick houses were built instead.
What is left, is some thirty buildings, but they are truly magnificent - the vaulted, carved halls and the red sandstone and white marble courtyards really catch the imagination, making you wonder what the emperor's life with his 500+ harem was like.
Entrance to the Fort of Agra.
Loads of squirrels in the fort's parks.
Panorama from one of the fort's parks (click to enlarge).
Fort from inside - stunning detail, you could see Persian, Arabic and Indian influences.
Corridors.
Doors...
Labyrinth.
Details on the walls.
Taj Mahal in morning haze seen from the Fort of Agra.
After having gotten acquainted with the wonderous heritage of the Mughal empire in Agra, it was time to hit the road again. The next stop, inevitably (as we needed to do something about the leaking tank, and arrange visas for the next country on our route - Pakistan), was New Delhi. We decided not to look for too much adventure and took the bike to a HUBB-recommended workshop. There are not many that actually know something about big bikes, so we though that having the job done in one that does would give us more reliable results. After all, we still have quite some miles to go.
As I was still not feeling quite too well, at first I thought that I would leave the bike to the workshop and just come back when it is finished, but in the end I still got over there many times - to remove the tank, then to check on the progress, and then again to put it all together. Just to be sure! It was not easy though, as the daily temperatures were hovering around +45 C (+113 F), and it felt really, really sticky - even without making the effort of reaching for a wrench! The guy who does aluminium welding even refused to show up at work, saying that it is too hot. It is not supposed to be that hot in April, not even in India!
Well, anyway, some week later the Indian guys were done with all the work. The fuel tank looked like new, albeit slightly bent, and it was only later that I realised that the paint was not exactly the highest quality, but who cares. The GS is not some beauty queen wrapped in fancy plastic or a chromed motorcycle, designed to accompany you when you visit the café on a nice Sunday afternoon and impress your friends. Instead, I see our trusty GS as an intercontinental ballistic missile, carrying us through challenging landscapes. This is the kind of beauty I value.
The fuel pump and the overflow buoy that had been ripped off with the crash impact, were glued back, and the pannier was (finally) welded. After having read about our crash from the forum, he guy who had manufactured our panniers (Vern Worldbeater) sent us a message proposing to send us a new one to replace the damaged one. It was a great offer, but in India the import tax is some 250%, so we had to decline. Instead, we decided to try repair and to reinforce the broken panniers by welding a 3 mm aluminium plate to the side attached to the frame, and to put some rubber in between as a buffer for vibrations - old cracks are keen to continue even if you weld them. These panniers do get a lot of abuse and I can't even think what would have happened if they were soft or plastic panniers! Two thumbs up for Vern, both for quality of the product that has helped us so many times now with dozens of crashes and the help he offered when we didn't even ask!
Repaired fuel tank.
Installing the fuel pump assembly.
Refilling with fuel to check for leaks.
"Sandwiched" pannier. Weld quality is nowhere near Verns!
In fact I had to grind down some welds down a bit from inside the pannier, where they weren't supposed to be.
Repaired bike after the crash.
As to the bash plate, it was not possible to reattach it properly, because the rubber bits that hold it in place cannot be found in India.
The side bag that got ripped off was repaired in a random tailor shop - there is one on each street, so no problem.
By the way, there were loads of locally produced motorcycles in the workshop, but two were special. One of them was a real rarity - a diesel powered Royal Enfield, and the other one - a Jawa 353, my first ever big bike! It was a moment of nostalgia indeed, because after I parted with mine, I had never seen one like this again. But now I remembered how I had bought it for the pocket money that I had been putting aside during school, how I had hid it from my parents in my friend's garage, how most of the time I was rather pushing than riding it. All the repairs, greasy hands, specific smell of the two-stroke burnt oil, top speed tests, its liquid suspension, weak brakes.. And of course, back then all the riding was without a helmet… But then again, someone has said that one has to pass the phase of idiocy to become smart.
Diesel Enfield. Probably the most exclusive Enfield around.
Good old Jawa 250cc two smoker - brought back some good and bad memories.
Here's a pic with the worksop owners, the Kaul brothers, after all the work was done:
Now we were ready to hit the road again.
Of course we did not spend all our time in New Delhi just repairing the bike, but tried some mandatory, tourist things, too. Not too many, though, because we found Delhi to be a too chaotic, overwhelming of a city - with too many people (18 million in whole Delhi area), smells and colours. Normally we try to absorb as much as we can of a place we are visiting, but this time we were cautious and rather tried to isolate ourselves from all the goings-on. After all, India had already given us two warnings.
Delhi.
Streets of Delhi.
Typical houses.
Streets of Delhi.
Bone powered stuff is all around in a capital of 1 billion people country that has nuke capability and a space program. Now tell me about contrasts!
Rickshaw guy crossing the street in the middle of moving traffic jam - you see it almost every moment, no matter what vehicle. Nobody looks before they make manoeuvre, they just make it without looking, even if they go 60 mph on a highway - it's the only country where drivers do so. Nowhere else in the World we've seen this phenomenon is such a vast amounts. They all assume you look and see him/her, communication is truly one-way-only in Inda.
Light coloured eyes on Indian man - a rare sight, but India has its tribes too.
Single cylinder engined 3-wheelers everywhere in action.
Bone power in New Delhi.
Transporting gas-bottles.
Tuk-tuk's race.
Tuk-tuk driver.
Delhi streets.
But to the touristy things. We went to see yet another creation from the times of the Mughal empire - the Jama Masjid or the Friday Mosque said to be the largest mosque in India. It was completed in 1656 (by the same old Shah Jahan who had ordered the building of Taj Mahal) and can hold 25 000 people. One would expect it to be a huge building, but in fact it is more a square than a building.
Jama Masjid.
That is actually it. We did not manage to force ourselves to go and check out some more. In fact we felt somewhat depressed with the heat and the things that had happened, but most of all because of a great deal of uncertainty as to where we'll be going after Pakistan. The so-called Stans are high on our list, yet getting there is somewhat tricky. There are actually three options, but none of them are perfect.
The first option would be to take the Karakoram Highway in Pakistan to the border with China, then do the couple of days in China, and finally end up in Kyrgyzstan. There are two problems with that option. In the beginning of this year there was a huge landslide on the Karakoram Highway, causing a part of the road to be under a lake that has formed. Clearly there is no way around that lake at the moment, and nobody knows when they will be able to clean up the mess and clear the road. The second problem is that passing through China will cost us USD 1600 (because with no Chinese drivers license we'll have to hire an escort and it costs silly money, plus the paperwork).
The second option would be to cross from Pakistan to Afghanistan and then to Tajikistan, but according to all the data we have collected and all the people we've consulted who know something about that area, spring and summer is the time when the things get the most heated up (and I am not talking about the temperatures here) in Afghanistan. And, it seems that the seemingly safest bordercrossing, the Khyber Pass, has been closed to foreigners.
The third option is to go from Pakistan to Iran and try to approach the Stans from there. It would require us to make a rather big detour, and possibly arrange for some visas twice, as our plan is to continue to Arabian peninsula from Iran. From what we've heard, visas to the Stans are quite a headache, too.
As you can see, there are no really good options here to choose from, so I think we just have to wait and see what happens (with the lake oh the Karakoram Highway, with the situation in Afghanistan, and of course our resources).
Meanwhile we got ourselves to the embassy of Pakistan, because that is where we'll go for sure, to get the visas. While in Nepal, we wanted to apply there, but we were told that for Estonians, visa processing will take AT LEAST 60 days, which is, of course, ridiculous. At the embassy in New Delhi they require a letter of introduction (LOI) from a local representation of your country. There is no embassy of Estonia in India, but there is a honorary consul, and we got our letters with no hassle at all. In fact, while many nationalities pay crazy money to get the LOI from their embassy (for example, a British guy paid some 4000 rupees for his), we paid only some 100 rupees for ours.
We delivered it to the Pakistani embassy and handed it over together with receipts of payment of the visa fee (once again, our visas cost just a half of the Brit's) and our applications that had been typed by a typist on the sidewalk (they do not accept applications filled in by hand). The next step was an interview with the consul.
A typist.
I went in first. He asked me the regular questions, like what places we are going to visit, etc. Then he asked me the exact date we had entered India. I am not good at dates, so all I could say was that it was some two weeks ago. I said my wife would know for sure, as she normally deals with the formalities.
Then Kariina went in.
- Are you dominating your husband?
- ???
- Your husband did not know the date you entered India, but he said you would.
- Well, maybe it is because I am more into details…?
- Oh, well, how long have you been married?
- Around one and a half years.
- Oh, if this is the situation in one and a half years, then what will happen in ten???
The last question she was asked was whether she was getting along with her parents-in-law. No questions about Pakistan whatsoever. Very relevant indeed!
We got the visas the next day.
But the experience once again proved how marriage is perceived differently here than in the Western world. It wasn't new to us that man is supposed to be the all-knowing head of the family, but it is interesting that parents get to play such an inportant role when it comes to marriage. For example, there are thousands of ads in the newspaper where parents of some beautiful and educated girl are looking for an appropriate match. Of course, an appropriate match is in almost all cases tall, handsome boy with a respected family background and well-paid job. They actually say that in the ad!!!
Here's an example of one of many ads:
We left Delhi, north into the mountains!!!
It was not long before we reached the mountains. Actually they are just one day's ride away from Delhi, so before we knew we arrived in Shimla, the famed mountain resort. Situated at some 2200 metres (7200 ft), it provided us some cool temperatures that we have been longing for quite some time now.
Actually it was not before the 19th century that Shimla was "discovered" by the British, and since then it has become only more popular. Of course, its population has grown accodingly, so if you were imagining it to be a peaceful retreat, you were terribly wrong. Here's the view of the town (which has grown to be home for some 150 000 inhabitants):
Shimla.
Shimla panorama (click to enlarge).
The next day it was time to move on. Our goal is to get as far in India as the highest motorable pass in the world, Khardung La. There are two options to get there from Shimla by road. Either to make a huge loop westwards through Srinagar and then back east to Leh, or go straight north to Manali and from there to Leh,which is the gateway to Khardung La. In fact, the latter is closed most of the year, and only opens in summer as the snow melts away from the dizzyingly high passes. Of course, the latter also has more appeal.
We had heard rumours that the road from Manali to Leh had been opened already, so we headed to Manali. The road winded alongside some hilly landscapes, but there was not much to photograph. Some factories, some dams, and a lone monastery on the slopes of a mountain:
Gigantic factory amidst the fields.
The starting line of Himalayas.
Bridge crossing with the GS.
Lake panorama in the beginning of Himalayas (click to enlarge).
Monastery on a steep mountanside - takes a lot of physical effort just to get there.
But getting closer to Manali, the mountains begun to grow, until we could see their tops covered in snow, and even more snow. It was so syrreal, to see snowcapped mountains after so many months in Australian dryness, Indonesian jungle and Thai beaches. It was truly magical, just what we had been dreaming of for so long! Farewell, the heat of the plains!!!
Sure enough, when we reached Manali, we were convinced by some competent people that the road to Leh was still closed and not scheduled to be open before the end of May. Now that is great! So much about all the mountains!!! Luckily, as said before, there is a second option - to backtrack a bit and make the loop through Srinagar. As little as we like the idea of backtracking in India, it still sounds better than waiting a whole month in Manali for the road to be opened.
And then there was a power surge in Manali which fried our laptop's power adapter. We weren't going anywhere, at least for some time, since it was going to take quite some time to get a new one shipped here, the the end of the road (obviously we were not going to return into the sweltering heat of the plains to get one from Delhi, no way!).
We settled in Vashisht, a small village just outside Manali, which turned out to be just perfect for some relaxation in the fresh air amidst the impressive mountain views. People still live in traditional way here.
Life in old ways...
Typical dwelling - cows beneath it.
Brick transportation in the mountain trails is only possible like this.
Men taking a warm bath in a chilly morning.
Only in this part of India you see a lot of Royal Enfields, in the south - the Japanese and Bajaj dominate.
Women eating green peas and ejoying mountain views on their roof.
North-Indian man.
Woman.
Firewood transportation.
Mountain river.
We went trekking.
Terraced farming in the green valleys surrounded by high mountains.
Raven on a totem pole, against the Himalayas.
Views from our trekking trail.
Himalayas in a storm.
Himalayas in good weather.
Typical dwelling with roof made of rock (so the ultra-strong mountain storms don't rip it off) and million dollar views.
Temple's door in Vashisht.
Tibetan man with a prayer wheel.
Indian man.
Just another view from our hotel room.
Moon and a mountaintop.
Himalayas in good clear weather.
Panoramic view from our hotel room (click to enlarge).
From the mountain top to the bottom of the valley.
Roadside panorama (click to enlarge the panoramas)
Himalayas' panorama.
Same mountains panorama, with different light - weather changes rapidly here.
We went to see Rohtang La, a pass that is 3978 meters (13 000 ft+) high. It also proved to be a major tourist attraction, since there were hundreds of Indian tourists frolicking in the snow on the mountain slopes in their rented coats and ski outfits. For most of them it must be the first time to see snow in their lifetime, so they obviously were having loads of fun. As the road to the highest point was virtually blocked by traffic, and since we started to experience mild symptoms of altitude sickness, we decided to leave the circus and get back to Vashisht. Even without having been on the pass, it was a great ride.
Road to Rohtang La.
On the way to Rohtang La - view got soo good you just have to stop to respect the mountains and enjoy the views in a proper way by not just looking on the curvy road all the time.
Melted cliff.
And roads cut through thick snow and ice.
Yes, that thick snow.
When you get up, it's a hellhole - zillion indian tourists come here to see and touch the snow for the first time in their life.
But the view from Rohtang La to Himalayas is stunning indeed...
All the road is jammed with traffic, so the only way to move is by horses and ponies.
Locals making their "I was here" pics.
Modern vs traditional clothing, everybody has to stay warm in those freezing temperatures...
Horses toss themselves around on the steep rocky & technical mountain sides rather well.
Road to Rohtang La panoramas (click to enlarge the panoramas to see them in full).
And finally, panorama of the Himalayan peaks from Rohtang La.
Some days it rained heavily, and all we did was sleeping, eating and watching TV (Bollywood movies!!! Not really, we had BBC, Discovery Channel and Travel&Living - what else could one wish for!), but some days were quite clear so we went on an improvised hike (without a map, but full of determination). It proved to be a tough one, at some points climbing up the steep slopes on all four, but it was a great exercise, and nice scenery, too.
At the beginning, the trekking trail was pretty good, but soon there was no marked trail and we had to start using our hands to climb.
Loads of gigantic rocks are on the edge of falling down on the steep mountain sides - can you find a person on this pic to put things into the scale?
But those rocks also make a good place to have a rest and to enjoy the views between climbing.
Kariina's checking a dry path for us across the river.
Waterfall.
Beneath the waterfall.
Can you see gold shining through the rocks?
Next installation will be about proper India for us - the cooler Himalayan India where people are not so hot headed as on the southern plains.
Margus
