I'm sure you've all been missing me, wondering desperately when the next update would come. Well, here it is, and it will, as always, start where I left off last time.
So, here we were, in Shimla. After typing up all that stuff in the last blog, which was Saturday, if I'm right in my calculation of days, we eventually made contact with John (at Sanjauli monastery, very close to Shimla). I should first say that I'm writing up this day entirely from memory as I didn't type it up earlier on like the rest of this post (I thought I'd already posted about Saturday) and forgot my journal (I'm onto a different book already), so I'll probably miss out something or other. Anyway, John we arranged to meet John at Christ Church on The Ridge in Shimla. I don't expect you to know where that is, but I'm saying it anyway. For lunch we went to an expensive seeming restaurant run by the HPTDC (Himachal Pradesh Tourism Development Corporation) which was sparsely populated by one family (as in about eight or ten people out for a family meal of sorts) and a few business-type people. I had a fairly OK sweet 'n' sour chicken, which alright for the price.
We probably did something during the afternoon, though for the life of me I can't remember. I think we probably played a little bit of snooker (in which I got thrashed again) before going to The Ridge to meet John. Unfortunately, I'd given him the wrong phone number and we hadn't really set a definite time (relying instead, as you do, on mobile phones), so we didn't see him that day at all. Still, we had a decent time in Shimla, I had some candy floss and Mike went back to the YMCA. When I returned he was asleep, so I read for a bit and then went out for dinner. I went to Devico's - a restaurant with three floors offering Indian, Chinese and other foods in a slightly fast-foody feeling setting. I got a nice masala dosa, surrounded, I should mention, by English (some of them at least were English) backpackers who, I suspect, had all followed their Lonely Planets there as well.
The day was generally fairly uneventful (as I recall), though we got more stuck into the sights the next day.
We rose at some point during the morning, though I don't remember when (at the moment, I'm still working from memory) and I believe I had breakfast at the Indian Coffee House (which doesn't serve tea) and had an average omlette and a very nice pineapple juice. I returned to the hotel, after meeting Mike in the streets and then setting off for a cyber café which was, of course, closed. There I was mistaken for Mike by the receptionist, and asked if I'd finished using the internet yet. After correcting her mistake, we eventually went off to the Jakhu Temple. Here ends the failed recollections of my memory, and begins what I'd previously written down from my journal.
Jakhu Temple is a Hindu temple to the monkey god Hanuman. It was a steep walk up a nice long hill, which took about 20/25 minutes, which, according to the Jakhu Temple Walk Fitness Challenge thingy makes us (and I quote) “absolutely fit”. We had heard much to be wary of up there; it is renowned for its (appropriately enough, and unsurprisingly given their prevalence throughout Shimla) monkeys. We were warned that (I kid you not) they will steal the glasses right off your face, which appears to be fairly true, as we saw a monkey chewing on a pair of sunglasses whilst we were there. On the road up I picked up a stick, and Mike bought a special monkey stick (that is, he hired one, which was then borrowed permanently by someone). He was understandably a bit worried about these monkeys, given that they had, at this point, attempted to steal his bag not once, but twice. An old lady tried to sell us something (I think nuts) in newspaper, to help ward off the monkeys, but we declined (the sticks seemed good enough).
And so we made it to the top and to the temple. And the monkeys really were all over the place, though we soon discovered – to our great delight – that they are very responsive to threats. If you raise your arm with a stick in hand, they run pretty smartish; the same thing happens if you brandish a stone or rock at them
The temple itself (for that was, apparently, the reason we were there) was actually fairly small, compared to what I was expecting, but, that said, it was still worth the visit. The inside was full of pictures of Hanuman flying through the air like some sort of Superman/Planet of the Apes cross. There were almost no Western tourists up there, though I think there were a handful of Indian tourists, and a couple of locals too. They – being real Hindus and all – were there to pray and ring the bells that hang from the ceiling. Inside there was also a priest-like fellow, who sat there giving out whatever it is to the worshippers to give as offerings to the gods. Whilst doing this most holy of jobs, he was also very much engaged on the phone (which was a pay phone of sorts, except portable).
The views, as would be expected at that height, were pretty damn good, but I doubt that my pictures have done justice to them. And on the subject of photos, we got snapped with two groups of Indians, including one lot from Manipur (near Myanmar (Burma)). They looked more Nepalese than Indian, but that just shows what we know. It seems that all these tourists wanted photos with the white man to show their friends back home. It is rather interesting being as much of a tourist attraction as the temple itself!
We then went to a small café and got a veg pakora (basically battered veg) and chai, before heading back down to Shimla. We stopped off at a book store, where I picked up another new book. I am now banning myself from buying books until I've finished off a couple more. We went back to the YMCA again, and played a couple of games of snooker. Big news: I won one!! Finally! I then lost the next one, but that is beside the point. It was 76-49, though down more to Mike's mistakes than my skill.
After a little more reading (still on 'Don Quixote'), we went out to Baljee's (see last post) for dinner. When we saw the menu, there was really no choice in the matter, and we immediately ordered the mutton brain curry. The curry itself (as in the sauce) was fairly good, but the brain was disappointingly bland in taste. What we thought would be a taste adventure, turned out to be fairly boring. Oh well, we live and learn. The butter scotch ice cream that followed was very good. I should mention that ice cream cones and wafers over here are, instead of that light brown/almost peachy type colour we get, are a deep orange. It's ever so slightly disconcerting. This, I should say, was the first (and so far) only ice cream of my trip, because you usually have to be careful (with water being a source of death, disease and diarrhea).
When we got back to the hotel, I was roped into being a computer guru for an elderly lady from New Zealand. Mike escaped quickly (possibly due to antipodean friction), so I was left to deal with both her and the computer. I showed her how to send an email and taught her to rip CDs (being the genius what I is). After some time an Indian friend of hers came out to talk with us, and insisted that I visit Palampur University sometime, promising to give me the name of his friend who is a lecturer there. He also, having elicited what I was doing in India, commanded me to investigate the Tibetan psychology and discover why they spurn the Indian education system he so loves, preferring instead the monasteries. I was as neutral as possible in answering him, whilst trying to subtly hint that maybe Indian schools didn't provide all that Buddhist monks require to train as monks. I also said “I don't know” a lot, hoping to deflect his inquiry. Our party of fun was made into four by the arrival of a Danish cop with a cold and a 7.30am bus to Manali the next day. The Indian gentleman went into great detail for us all on the muscle structure and general physical appearance of US cops compared to those of other nations (in short, he assured us that in America all cops are 6ft 7 and built like brick shit houses – as they say). The lady from down under went off and fetched some walking sticks and a jumper, whilst the Indian continued with his discourses on America. I learnt, during the course of the evening that 1) all, (I questioned that, and was assured all) Americans eat five meals a day (five big meals) and that's why they're so fat ( that was the Indian gentleman), 2) the single and sole reason for traveller's diarrhea is not washing your hands (the lady from NZ insisted that nothing else was to blame at all), and 3) (from her again) Kingfisher beer over here is made with some sort of nasty acids that make Western drinkers sick pretty quickly, but, if you turn it upside down in water, you'll see a yellowy fluid come out and then you can drink it. I am yet to get an opportunity to test or confirm these nuggets of fun. I politely declined the offer of joining the Indian fellow and the New Zealander for a drink, opting instead to go to bed.
At this point, I had been in India for a fortnight (already) and was (still am) loving it!
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