Check out a short video of the road to Chitkul

The Road to Chitkul

We depart Kalpa early in the morning. This can be a real feat for us, but since the sun is fully up at 5:30am that helps us out of our warm comfy beds. Our intention is to enjoy the ride today in the best weather-window possible.  The region’s monsoon season isn’t until July, but grey skies and rain showers can roll in strongly during mid afternoons these days. It’s sunny and bright as we retrace a few kilometers backward to take an out-and-back split off toward the little hamlet of Chitkul. This road ends at an impassable mountain range that forms a portion of the India/Tibet boarder. We top off the gas tank as full as possible just before the split as it will be the only station we will come across until we return back here in a few days time. The Sangla-Chitkul Rd climbs higher out of the foothills and follows the Baspa River as it flows down from year-long snow topped mountains on each side.

The road is a mix of very old asphalt pavement remnants filled in with gravel and dirt to make about a 50/50 average mix of each over the total length of the road. The further you get up from the valley, the more it turns totally into a rock and dirt road. On several parts of the road that hug tightly to the side of the mountain, the road is literally carved into the side of the mountain to make a 3 sided, C-shaped tunnel in the rock. As the area has gained traffic over the years and larger and larger trucks and busses are needed, the side and roof of the road are simply tunneled out wider and higher. The Royal Beast is handling the very bumpy road pretty well but after 4 hours of road time today, we are sure to be a little saddle sore. There aren’t many vehicles out today but the road is so narrow that we get stuck at several impasses where a local bus has met face-to-face with a car and therefore the Indian mountain-pass standoff begins. Even a row of three 4×4 trucks loses to the bus. Lots of horns, arm waving, persuasive yelling and posturing results in the smaller vehicles giving way and reversing to an area where the bus can pass. I guess the bigger you are, the more right of way you have. Yielding sometimes comes within just inches of rock road away from deep sheer drop offs. If there isn’t a 2-3 foot wide motorcycle lane to wiggle through, we have to wait with everyone else.

Just outside of Chitkul we stop at an Army checkpoint to show our Inner-Line Permit and have all our passport info recorded. Just 5 more Km to our destination and the first real place for us to take a break today. We sit on the outside deck of the last Cafe in the “Last Village in India” or so a tourist sign says. Indeed we are a few hundred meters from where the road dead-ends into nature’s vertical rock and snow barrier with Tibet. Some local coffee with frothed fresh milk and sugar is just the right welcome we were looking for. We were at about 11,320 ft and enjoyed our view from just above the tree line up into the cold high desert mountains.

A short walk uphill into the living portion of the town reveals timber framed homes cobbled side by side up the main stone path of the village and an amazing carved wooden Temple complex. In this area of the Himalayas the lines between Hinduism and Buddhism are blurred. Hindi deities are represented along side traditional Buddhist prayer and meditation spaces. Buddhist prayer wheels are placed along public paths and prayer flags fly over Hindi offerings. Here we have also become enamored with an architectural feature that we have only seen once previously. Intricately carved and turned wooden dowels are fashioned into a fringe that hangs down from all of the rooftop edges of the Temple, several of the buildings and a ceremonial platform. They are attached in a way that they move with the breeze exactly as if they were made of string or tassels. They don’t make a sound but move in harmony to one another as the cool winds move through the Temple grounds. One of the sights that always makes me smile in Buddhist regions is when I notice a small stream diversion over to a little wooden structure. The water enters one side of the short little wooden structure situated beside the cascading water so it flows under and out the other side. The water will turn a horizontal paddle wheel that will then perpetually turn a prayer wheel of blessings for the village before the water is channeled back to it’s source.

After a quiet and peaceful visit to this beautiful and remote village of Chitkul in its high arid desert valley, we hopped back on our faithful single cylinder thumper for the ride back to Sangla which will be our home base for a few more days. We settle ourselves in a cute little hotel which was a former farmhouse in an apple orchard. The young men who work at the Hotel Prakash are helpful, attentive and accommodating to we Americans who may only make up 2-3% of the guests here with the majority being family groups from the larger cities in India coming up to the mountains to escape a little of the summer heat further south. The spicy Dal dishes, murgh (chicken) tika and rice preparations are warm in our bellies and washed down with a little whiskey and Pepsi that Lacy procured in town. Lacy has made a new friend in the owner of a small restaurant in the market serving Tibetan and local Indian cuisine. She has treated us to some amazing Thukpa and Thentuk soups, 3 inch thick Tibetan pancakes and freshly made gnocchi slathered in a simple tomato curry and spices that heats your soul. Tonight she brought home a Gobi (cauliflower) curry and Dal Bhat that is so much a comfort food for us. All of her food is pretty amazing: fresh, deep with spice and very rich at the same time.

As in much of rural India that we have experienced so far, smiles and waves abound from children, young families, older couples, village dogs and sacred cows. The offers to help us, whatever the situation, are truly genuine. The people of Sangla have touched our hearts.

Rob: Our last 2 days of riding have consisted of about 4 to 4 1/2 hours of hard-seat, bumpy road time each day. Leaving Shimla’s elevation of 7,400 we climbed to Narkanda at 8,900 ft and then spent over 2 hours coming down through the pine trees and cherry orchards to reach Rampur’s river valley at just 3,300 ft. Next it was a 3,600 ft,, 17 km climb up to the Bhimakali Temple and straight back down to the main road that parallels the Sutlej River and then back up through pine and apple orchards to Kalpa at 9,700 ft. It has been a beautiful and stunning ride with glimpses of snow covered peaks in between spells of mist and rain.

The muddy roads here are pretty slick because the mud is silt and clay. I’m sure it would make great pottery, but to any vehicle it is a little like a carpet of banana peels. We can also add massive Military trucks and an entire herd of cute furry mountain goats to the on-the-road list of obstacles previously mentioned plus a major landslide being cleared by dump trucks, big backhoes and bulldozers. Fortunately, our delay for that was pretty minimal since motorcycles can ride all the way to the front of the backup.

We also checked the box for our first of many stream crossings today. In my book, up to 2 or so inches of water is just a very wet road but when I have to lift my feet up high and putt-putt through running water, it counts as a stream ford.

I have become used to aggressively driven busses and trucks using most of the road, but several times today the biggest trucks were not even giving me an inch of road forcing us into the very rough shoulder. Often, motorcycles do use quite a bit of shoulder, but up here in the mountains it’s really not drivable in most places.

Brakes are at a premium above even power on some of these roads. Early in the day today, we lost our rear brakes for some reason. I think the simple hydraulic connector seems to have failed. Hopefully we can find a motorcycle shop in the coming days for a quick fix.

As we traveled along the river valley to our first night’s stop on this segment of our route, the view reminded us of our way back down from the highest points during our Annapurna Circuit trek in Nepal. Our simple, but nice government sponsored hotel is along the river where we could have a nice traditional vegetarian dinner, watch the monkeys play like children in the trees outside our bay windows and listen to the rapids at night with our windows wide open. For some couples a romantic evening is dinner by candlelight. It is for us too, but it is also quite romantic for us to lounge in bed with maps and make plans for our next few days of adventures.

We have some miniature prayer flags flying from the mirrors of the Royal Beast that contain the powerful Buddhist mantra for compassion and love, Om Mani Padme Hum, translating to, “The jewel is in the lotus.” It can be interpreted as a beautiful lotus flower emerging from the mud. This has literally been the case as we are greeted with amazing sights around every winding road. We visited a beautiful carved Hindi temple built for Bhima in a Tibetian style of craftsmanship and architecture that has intricate wood carvings that cover all of the outside walls and bas relief doors made of pewter, copper and brass that are even more intricate. Inside we climbed the 3 levels of narrow staircases and low doorways to receive a blessing and remind ourselves that we are so very fortunate to be here in this experience.

In the mist and cold rain at the end of the day we ascended and ascended the high road to Kalpa. On the way we only had sneak peeks of the snow covered Kinnar Kailash mountain, the tallest mountain in this region at 21,320 ft, sacred to both Hindus and Buddhists. Then, after checking into Hotel Apple Pie (yes, that’s it’s real name) the rain clouds cleared and Kinnar Kailash, the home of Shiva came out in full glory.

Lacy is so excited she is like a little kid. Big camera. Little camera. Up stairs. Down stairs. It’s awesome to watch her.

She is to the moon over the surprise full moonrise we witnessed while we were just staring at the sunset going down on the tops of the mountains. The big round white moon came up right in front of us over the crest of the 20,000 ft tall ridge line across the valley. What a great reward for a long day on the bike.

We have traded the sweat and heat of Delhi for down jackets in Kalpa. Our bed has massively thick padded blankets to keep us warm tonight. Well, that and a little 007 style “shared bodily warmth”.

When we hiked in big elevation changes in the Himalayas last year we would spend a half day going up and then same down. On the bike for the last 2 days we have followed the same formula, but covered 10 x the km / miles for the day. I’m not sure what I prefer, but enjoy both methods so very much and just feels so at peace being back in the land of giants. We sit at 9,300 ft. with the 20,000 ft. peaks looming outside our front door made all the more dramatic by the steep valley in between.

For dinner we sat down for tea and a Thali plate. The Hotel’s new house dog, a tiny white blond puppy, is curled up in and on my feet for warmth and comfort. She is from further up in the highest elevations of the Spiti Valley and is probably going to grow up to be a huge fuzzy lover. I wonder who is most comforted, her or my feet right now? I hope I see her all grown up someday to see if I was right.

What we frustratingly refer to as the great Shimla Inner-line Permit runaround – vs – the simplicity of getting our ILP in the small city of Reckong Peo. In Shimla we attempted to gain our Inner-line Permit so we can travel near the China and Tibetan boarders in the coming weeks. We were thwarted at every turn and told several times that “you just won’t be able to get one” by some of the rudest people using any and every excuse to not help us. A shame because we have found most Indians so welcoming and helpful. I felt confused and gut punched, but we chanced traveling further north anyway hoping for better luck in the last town possible to apply for the permit. A little cottage industry has popped up fueled by the difficulty of registering for a free permit to enter the Spiti Valley. Travel agents in Reckong Pep charge 200-400 Rupees per permit to walk everything through the system while you just hand over your passport and pose for a picture at the District Commissioners office. Our permit was $5.72 well invested dollars for an hour’s rest in a warm office. Thankfully, or luckily, we made it into town before the end of the business day and before a two day holiday combination of a Buddhist holy day and the National Election Day for this area of the country. (India’s population is so large that the voting process is spread across 7 days dedicating a specific day to different regions of the country). After dinner tonight we learned from the owner that in Shimla the official office for the ILP can’t  make a little money off the tourists like the agencies here Reckong Peo. The response has been that that office refuses to even bother with the process anymore thereby sending foreigners away with nothing. The travel agents in PEO have upped their prices slightly but we and they become the benefactors of a still broken but swift system here of greasing the wheels.

My 3 month old previously broken leg still remains a hinderance causing me to slow us down when we explore on foot. About two awkward, painful and hobbling miles a day wipes me out. It actually feels much much better to be riding on the motorcycle than walking. Inclines are the worst to walk up or down. The fibula bone above my ankle seems to have healed very well but the severe swelling and pain below the break feels like I’m walking on a terribly sprained ankle and fractured upper foot. The X-rays prior to leaving on our trip showed the break healed properly so I just call all the stairs and climbs therapy and try to push through it hoping it really is healing under there.

I’ve been daydreaming of this day for several months since Lacy and I made the decision to travel to India this summer. This is the day that we set out on one of the worlds most challenging and epic motorcycle rides and are doing it the way it was done in the 1950s, 60s and still today onboard a Royal Enfield single cylinder motorcycle. The basic Royal Enfield Bullet model design hasn’t really changed all that much in the last 70 years. Their slogan is “Built like a gun” but is a more like “Built like a tank”. Ours is a 500cc version in Desert Sand with a huge headlight, oversized gas tank and big canvas soft saddle bags that looks like it drove right out of a General Patton or Desert Fox newsreel. It is loud, vibrates the mirrors off the handlebars and shakes your bones to the core. The steering is slow and heavy like driving a bus with no hint of modern geometry or balance. The riders seat is hard as a rock and still uses springs underneath to “cushion” your backside. The engine cranks out just 27 horsepower but with 41 pound feet of torque you feel like it could pull a boxcar if that was something you ever needed to do. This big thumper will be our ride for the next 30-45 or maybe 60 days to come. Our minimalist belongings just fit into the saddlebags and a small daypack that Lacy wears while navigating from the square postage stamp sized pillion seat. Today was Day 1 as we set out from Chandigarh into the foothills and toward the Himalayas of Northern India.

Our ride and route could take us up to 2 months, will cover 2 major loops through the Himalayan mountains, several one-way side trips to barely reachable alpine lakes, mountaintop temples, over several of the highest motor-able mountain passes in the world over 18,000 ft, into war-torn Kashmir and back.

Royal India Bikes has rented us our bike on a somewhat open ended calendar and Rajiv and his team have helped us plan our base route. The rest will be up to us, the wind and the weather. As of now, May 14th, most of the roads we will travel are open but several are still snowbound. Hopefully the snow and ice can be cleared and will be ready for us to cross when we reach that area of the mountains. Many of the roads we will ride are only open for a short period of time each year due to the heavy and unpredictable snow at these elevations.

It took us less than an hour to begin to gain altitude out of Chandigarh. Slowly but surely we began the climb out of the haze and into clearer cooler air. I’ve tried to get to know the balance of the bike as quick as possible to make us nimble as we can get to dodge some seriously crazy traffic and road conditions we will encounter. We sure got a preview of things to come right from the start. Riding a motorcycle in India is similar to other parts of Asia. It’s challenging, dangerous and you have to be on high alert at all times. It’s also very rewarding with sights, thrills and views unlike anything else in the world. In certain areas massive trucks rule the road, literally moving any vehicle weighing less than 47 tons out of their way. Busses packed with people, goods and animals can be exceptionally aggressive by passing on blind corners or even each other on roads not quite wide enough for 2 cars much less a bus and a truck at the same time. We weave in and around cars to either side trying to be safe but not too conservative or we risk being trampled from behind. As we reach the mountain roads, livestock of all types, monkeys, slower bikes, people and major potholes begin to be an issue in addition to everything else.

We were just settling into a rhythm of twists and turns, Lacy helping me with call outs for directions, turns, hairpins and the occasional warning for a cow when it began to rain and rain hard. We took a short break to see if it would pass but it didn’t so we geared up with rain jackets and set back out. The sudden downpour turned the road into a muddy river in places and an oily obstacle course in others. We plowed forward as fast as we dared, barely able to see through my rain covered 1/2 visor as the pelting rain stung the lower part of my face. The road was undergoing major construction so we went from well paved surface to mud, dirt and rocks every 1 or 2 klicks. Back and forth and back again and again.

Fortunately after about an hour of solid rain we passed over a ridge to much drier roads. We stopped to top off the petrol tank and inspect a horrible noise coming from below. The wet roads, big puddles and rain had stripped the chain of any and all lube so it was grinding against itself and the sprockets terribly. The gas station was no help so we drove on to find a motorcycle shop where we could buy a spray can of chain oil. We soon came across a big sign for “Rider’s Cafe”. It was just the thing we and the bike needed. Rishi (REE-She) Dhiman has set up a great little motorcycle themed cafe on the twisty roads heading into Shimla. While he lubed up the dry chain and brought it back to life, his Chef Mom, made us some rich Masala Chai (Tea). He is a former Royal Enfield employee and was eager to help us with the bike, a chat, further advice, encouragement and guidance for our trip. Every biker en route to or from the Chandigarh side of Shimla should stop in for a break and to check in with Rishi. You will be glad you did.

After experiencing the cafe, getting a bolster of excitement and leaving the hardest rain behind us, we were feeling pretty good about our last hour or so that it would take us to get to Shimla. 5 minutes later we hit what every rider fears on these roads. It wasn’t just a truck passing another on a curve right into you but worse. A big Mahindra 4×4 Jeep suddenly swerved from the other side of the road straight across into our path. As a pretty experienced rider your reaction time to avoid an incident is usually a faster and more instinctive feeling than slamming on the brakes like you would in a car. Our chance to react was less than a blink. I was somehow able to get some brakes on and manage a little jog toward the center of the road. The Jeep jogged a little further to our outside and passed us on the left as the oncoming row of traffic streamed along our right side allowing us to thread the needle in between. (You drive on the left side of the road in India) It was actually over before either one of us could breathe or say anything. A lightning chill came and went from my stomach in a flash. A few WTFs and a few more WTFs from each of us later, I shifted back into a lower gear and simply kept going.

 

We approached Shimla from the opposite side of the valley and could see a much bigger city than either of us had imagined clambering all across the steep mountain ridge across from us. The road became very narrow and traffic was at a crawl as we inched our way around the ridge road and pulled up a crazy steep and narrow 4 foot wide rocky path “road” to our hotel wedged on the side of the mountain with 400 others all competing for ground space and our Rupees. I guess I’ll have to explain tomorrow how I (if I) was able to get the lumbering Royal Enfield back down that embankment.

We checked in our room just in time to get a small pot of Masala Milk Tea and watch the sun set into the hills. I was still pretty wet on the inside so a long hot shower later I put on my favorite warm flannel shirt Lacy encouraged to bring along with us and sat down with my brave, beautiful and adventurous wife to some spicy Veggie Mo-Mos (dumplings) and hot Mushroom Masala with Naan.

What a day! Day 1 successfully conquered and what a hell of an introductory day it was. I can’t wait until tomorrow!

Lacy: Finishing up this post to publish I am keenly aware of how long it is even though it only covers our first two days in India.  We went in head first and with all five senses as we began to acclimate ourselves to this country.  Currently we are out of Delhi, in Shimla, and I am recovering from a bout of food sickness that was the worst I have ever experienced.  I have no idea which delicious bite was the one of poison or in what city I had it, but I know I’m digging back into this country’s food scene as soon as my stomach is on the mend.  I hope you enjoy reading about our initial impressions of India.  We had a lot to say and still didn’t quite get everything written down.  Namaste.  

Lacy: Breakfast on the beach in Indonesia, lunch in the air over Malaysia & dinner in the wild and crazy streets of Delhi, India. That was Friday, May 10th as we made the day’s journey and 2 flights to reach our next destination. We were both more anxious to arrive in India than we had been any other country we have previously traveled together. Was it all the hype in everything we read about how overwhelming Delhi can be with the millions of people, traffic jetting around in all directions, pollution, scams and fear of Delhi Belly? Somewhat, yeah, it was. As we hit our bumpy landing we could already tell that the sky looked hazy and polluted. We we were both nervous, excited and braced for impact. I was fully prepared to have to deal with a million cab drivers approaching us trying to shuttle us off into their unregulated rides, deter scams and make our way to a prepaid taxi which I had read was the best option to pay a fair price to get to our hotel, but was surprised when only a handful asked us. Having researched what the rate should be we walked straight past them to a taxi stand and agreed on the $10 fare for the 45 minute ride. It was 8pm and already dark as we drove off to Pharganj, a known backpacker area. Staring out the window the entire ride we began to make some assumptions. It wasn’t difficult to tell that the traffic is bonkers here. More than anywhere else we have seen. Motorized tuk tuks, cars, motorcycles, scooters carrying families of four, pedestrians on highways, bicycles, makeshift vehicles selling food and more all pushing through each other to get to their destination. Horns blaring and dust flying in the wind. It took under three minutes for me to decide their was no way I would be getting on a motorcycle here in Delhi. Not that we planned to get a bike here as our explicit intention is to take a train Monday morning to Chandigarh and pick one up, but nonetheless, the decision was cemented in my brain. This was similar to how I felt in Kathmandu. No bikes for me. Pulling up into the bustling street scene of Pharganj just before 9pm we checked into our second floor room that somewhat isolated us from the sounds of honking below us before entering the evening street scene to have our first Indian meal.

Exiting our hotel to Main Bazaar street we were in the thick of it. Immediately to our right were two lassi stands and that was our first stop. I love lassis and mangos are in season so two mango lassis were ordered on the street to begin our Indian culinary adventure. How do I even explain how unique these are? Sitting on top of the lassis cart, out in the wide open, is a stainless steel bowl two feet across filled with yogurt. No cover. No ice. An old school metal scale is used to measure out the right amount of yogurt to add to the oldest blender I have ever laid eyes on. Sugar and freshly cut mango are then ground by hand and along with ice from a nearby cooler are added. Rob and I looked on in amazement. The lassis were poured into tin cups, topped with the skin of the yogurt from the open dish, and handed our way. We enjoyed them near the stand while watching the person at the teeny tiny restaurant next to us make fresh naan bread in a blazing hot tandoori oven. After returning our tin cups we took a step inside the restaurant and enjoyed our first meal of stuffed naans & dal curry. That was all we needed before returning to our room and sleeping hard after a day of travel.

I’ll preface this next part about our first day in Delhi by saying it was one crazy insane day where we saw just how wild Delhi is and we LOVED it. It’s as if all of our travels together had prepared us to appreciate this city without being overwhelmed, intimidated or turned off by many aspects that many may view as unseemly. We met many locals who told us they thought their own city is crazy and naturally we agreed. There is no denying it. With over 20 million people in Delhi and traffic, livestock, noise, trash, and vendors to match there is never a dull moment. This could easily be a lot to handle for many first time travelers, but we are not. Nepal seems to be the place that Delhi reminds us of most, except that this is Kathmandu on steroids. I wondered if I would suffer hearing loss from the sheer decibel of ceaseless traffic noise. My throat was already hurting me a bit as we sat in the Airtel office first thing to get new Indian SIM cards for our phones. I was prepared for this as I know the pollution affects me this way in Kathmandu. I grabbed a cough drop I had prepared in our backpack, soothed my throat, and knew I would be fine. The air is hazy here and clearly not the cleanest, but how could it be with so many diesel vehicles zipping around endlessly nearly missing one accident after another. We arrived in Delhi with an overall outline for our time for India, but virtually no detailed plan for our stay in this country. We have a hotel booked for our first three nights before taking a train to Chandigarh and a general timeframe in which to pick up our Royal Enfield motorcycle rental. Other than that we are making all arrangements as needed, letting the wind (or dust as it may be) blow us where it may as we interact with people we meet and get boots on the ground ideas of what to do next. Living in the moment has served us well on all of our travels. Our first day was no different and a testament to how well having no plan can be.

Pappu. Oh, Pappu. This is the name of our beloved motorized rickshaw driver who we became friends with and who opened our eyes and hearts to Delhi, made us laugh and kept us safe on the roads (I can’t emphasize enough what a task that seems to be). After finishing a couple coffees at the hotel Rob and I were wandering down our street looking at the shops before enlisting the help of a rickshaw to take us from Pharganj to the Red Fort. Pappu pulled up at that time and told us our idea was flawed when we mentioned where we wanted to go. “Too hot in the middle of the day for the fort, but how about the Laksmi Temple?” Sure. It had not been since Cambodia last year that we had been shuttled around in a rickshaw and we had ear to ear grins on our faces. We absolutely adore these little vehicles. It is just enough shade to keep us cool on what was becoming a warm day. As he began to drive we passed a temple with locals pouring out. He quickly pulled over, grabbed some free food that was festively being dispensed and told us that today was celebrating Lord Hanuman.  The food exchange took maybe ten seconds. Rob and I looked at each other and smiled. We were in for a good time today. A real local day.

The first stop on the Pappuji (there are several similarities between Indian and Nepalese language, of which I know a bit. Adding “ji” to the end of a name is a more respectful way to address someone) tour was the Laksmi temple. We removed our shoes, locked away our phones and entered the large Hindu temple where devotees come to receive blessings of good fortune, luck and karma. There are seven Hindi gods which are each related to the seven days of the week. It’s true that we have visited many different temples from many different faiths over last few years’ travels in Asia, but we both commented that we could instantly feel the energy in this temple. It was strong as we watched the faithful receive their blessings and tikkas at various areas of the temple. To enter the temple, and our stay in India, we also received a blessing. Pappuji explained to us that the red tikkas, placed on your forehead between your eyes, are only given at the Laksmi temple and represent good luck, fortune and karma. Laksmi means money in Hindi. As we continued our tour throughout the day I definitely noticed locals checking out the tikkas on our white faces. Pappuji laid out a suggested plan on where he wanted to take us for the day and after agreeing on a price we were thrilled to be in his company whipping through the wild streets of Delhi on a three wheeled rickshaw. He had a plan, we did not, the universe put us together and we had the best day we could have imagined while experiencing the explosive city of Delhi in a way we had not even conceived of.

From the temple we went to the Presidential Palace and India Gate which is a memorial for all the soldiers that served and died in the armys of the Commonwealth prior to the country’s independence in 1947. They are commemorated by an eternal flame and their names etched into the gate that resides down the street from the palace. We were a bit surprised when we had to show our passports to enter the palace area due to the ever present security from the ongoing conflict with Pakistan, but thankful we had them with us. It was getting late in the day & we asked Pappuji if could he stop somewhere for lunch where we could grab some more street food. He took us to what he called “Indian McDonalds.” It was a metal kiosk that fit four vendors side by side in the same building on the side of the highway. All four probably reside in the size of a small shipping container with a slot the size of drive thru window where the owner/operator was on the other side. In half of them this guy was sitting in the window, bare feet hanging out and waiting for the next customer. This is India, my friends. We ordered quick and easy bites of samosas and other stuffed Indian pastries along with a thimble sized cup of chai (tea) each for a grand total of $1.20.

After enjoying our lunch on a bench by the road we set off for the Birla House and Museum where Gandhi spent his last 144 days. We easily spent the most time here of anywhere we visited all day. Reading about the life of Gandhi, the Father of the Nation, his message, impact and lasting legacy is something that was very hard to step away from. We were deep into his his story and hadn’t even made it half way through the museum before we realized we had been in there an hour and a half and should probably meet Pappuji outside. This is one place in Delhi we vowed to return to. I want to read and learn so much more.

It was a big day and it wasn’t over yet. Next stop – the Red Fort. A huge red sandstone fort that has passed many hands. Rob and I couldn’t help but laugh as some of the younger Indian guys asked to take a photo with me at the fort. By this time in the day I was hot, sweaty and smelly. While I declined the photo ops I told Rob I was the “Madonna of Delhi.” We got a good laugh out of that. Honestly, it could have simply been that I was a white girl with a red tikka.

Our final sightseeing destination of the day was the Jama Masjid Mosque. We arrived just as the call to prayer was being broadcast for the Ramadan evening. We have heard this call many times before in Indonesia, but until today had never visited a mosque. We paid a fee to enter as tourists, removed our shoes and put on the appropriate clothing they had available for tourists at then entrance. Once inside we watched the crowds of mostly men and boys washing their feet and preparing to pray. As it was prayer time we couldn’t enter the mosque itself and instead enjoyed the architecture of the building. Well, it was a massively full day. We loved it all and upon returning back to the rickshaw asked Pappuji to stop somewhere we could grab a beer and drop us off at our place. A little surprised, we learned that due to the beginning of election week the following day today and tomorrow were deemed dry days.  Officially NO liquor for sale. No worries, though. We were in good hands. Our good friend knew how to purchase some underground beers and tucked them in his pants before discreetly handing them off to us down the road. Did we say how great this guy has been?! We enjoyed our beers in our room as Rob rested “clubby” and recounted what an utterly superb first day in India we had. We can definitely handle Delhi.

Day two was spent in the capable hands of Pappuji again. We just had such a good time with him and knew another day together would be just as good so why fight it. We began with the Lotus Temple built by the Bahá’í faith which focuses on the oneness of mankind irrespective of religion or mankind. The gorgeous lotus shaped structure was built by the donations of followers from all over the world and welcomed us both into a deep meditative state to begin our day.

Since many places were closed for Election Day and the Celebration of Hanuman we went to visit the tomb complex surrounding Humayun’s tomb in South Delhi. Neither of us had seen this kind of architecture in person before and even though it was really hot in the middle of the day (hence the photos of me covering my face and head with the new beautiful silk scarf I bought during my first 2 days in India) we thoroughly enjoyed seeing the craftsmanship and grandeur that was displayed.

There was only one natural choice after sweating through the afternoon and that was high tea at the Taj Hotel. Having never experienced high tea before we decided to start big at one of the finest hotels in town. Leaving the Taj we made a quick stop by the train station for tickets the following morning to Chandigarh and by that time the clock had struck 6. The dry day was officially over and you could buy booze again! Pappuji took us by a local liquor store and we witnessed a site we will never forget. We arrived at only 10 minutes after 6 there was already a MAD dash of men and boys running into the store, buying booze and pounding beers on the sidewalk in front. It was a frenzy. You would have thought that the country had been dry for 2 weeks rather than 2 days. Another local we spoke with that evening while out shopping on Main Bazaar told us that he only goes into liquor stores with the money he needs and nothing else. No wallet. No phone. Saying it used to be safe, he warned that now it’s a hotspot for pickpocketing. The guy certainly sounded like he longed for safer days. And honestly, so do we. We are constantly being warned to be on guard for theft here. It’s very different than Indonesia where we felt pretty safe and comfortable with just a normal level of  awareness of our surroundings. Nonetheless, we are having a great time here in India and eager to travel to the Himalayas!