Shimla.Looks like they've pinched Chisholm Library's motto.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Saturday, November 8, 2008
SHIMLA-KASAULI. November 4th-7th.
Have a stroll along The Mall in Shimla in the evening, and have another forgettable meal in a 'Chinese Fast Food' cafe. Back to the Hotel Classic fairly early, and finally finish my current book - 'Charley Wilson's War', 500 and something pages of smallish print, which has kept me absorbed in my leisure moments since not long after I arrived in McLeod. An account of the escalating support to the Mujjaidein (spelling ?) by the C.I.A. in the war against the Russians in 1980's Afghanistan. The thrust of the book is that this was payback to the Russians for their material support of the enemy in the Vietnam War, and that eventually it was the primary cause of the breakup of the Russian empire. This is part of very recent history that I know nothing about, and another eye-opener was the amount of leverage that a single congressman can exert on the Pentagon and in the White House, if he knows how to go about it. My current book, which I interrupted for 'Charley Wilson's War', is 'Narrow Dog to Carcassonne' by Terry Darlington, a fairly loose account of how he and his wife, both old-age pensioners, plus 'Jim', their whippet, sailed a flat-bottomed and narrow metal boat through a lot of the English canals, and then across the English Channel, and through the canals of Belgium and France. I know some of the places they visited in the south of England, and by dint of my recent travels, a bit of where they went on the continent, which makes it topical. He has a engagingly humourous style, even if he does go a bit overboard sometimes, but don't we all?
I'm not that wrapped in Shimla. It's twice as expensive as anywhere else I've visited so far in India, and that means everything, accommodation, meals, even laundry, but is however still as cheap as chips relative to western Europe. And the denizens are rather surly, with certain exceptions, who seem merely rather restrained. It wasn't actually on my list, as Simla was more a hill-station for the Nabobs, and not my parent's cup of tea. But the only way I can get to Kasauli is through Shimla. Kasauli is an old hill-station that my Mum used to talk about a bit.
Stroll down to the interstate bus station mid-morning, and a large Arab-looking man insists on finding the bus to Dharampur for me, and finding me room on the bus, and stowing my gear, and that cost me 20 rupees. You don't mind bowing to the inevitable if they actually do something useful. A fast and furious couple of hours drive to Dharampur, where I have to change to the local bus for Kasauli. I find the 'Kasauli Queen' a bit further through the town, and sit in for a few minutes before it takes off. A smaller (and really beaten-up) old bus, which is a far more sedate 13 kilometres ride, and the driver actually slows down a couple of times to throw biscuits to the local pi dogs.
I had 'phoned Kasauli early this morning. LP lists only two hotels, the Anchal, a 'rare Kasauli cheapie' and the Ros Common, somewhat more luxurious. Can't get through to the Anchal, and the cultivated female voice at the Ros Common informs me that it's 1800 rupees a night, and that I'll have to go to the Tourist Office in Shimla first, and pay them a deposit. (Lose her, I think). Get directions from the bus stand in Kasauli to the Hotel Anchal. Cable TV, hot (bucket) water, and a modest view for 400 rupees, and they will bring reasonably-priced meals to your room. Have a lengthy lunch, and then go for a walk along a couple of trails till dusk. Not a very big place, Kasauli, and not as good as Dalhousie, which remains my favourite, but very quiet, and the people are pleasant enough, if a tad restrained. I can fully understand that in pre air-con
days it must have seemed like Shangri La after the heat and dust of Delhi or Amritsar.
The mists come in early here, and so I track down the one internet place in town and while away a couple of hours before dinner back at the hotel. The pleasant young guy looking after the internet shop gets talking to me after the usual chattering rabble has left, and it turns out that he has just qualified as a dentist at a university somewhere near Dehradun, and will be starting an internship at a hospital soon.
Friday I lie abed late (I've been having these incredible deep sleeps the last 3 nights), and afterwards I do some more walking at the other end of town, eventually calling in at the Ros Common Hotel, which LP says is a great place for afternoon tea. This proves to be correct, and I have an enjoyable repast, sitting out on a terrace with a great valley view. Back by dark, do some internet, and have a light dinner before bed. Although there isn't an awful lot to it, Kasauli has been a pleasant break, away from the busier side of India.
I'm not that wrapped in Shimla. It's twice as expensive as anywhere else I've visited so far in India, and that means everything, accommodation, meals, even laundry, but is however still as cheap as chips relative to western Europe. And the denizens are rather surly, with certain exceptions, who seem merely rather restrained. It wasn't actually on my list, as Simla was more a hill-station for the Nabobs, and not my parent's cup of tea. But the only way I can get to Kasauli is through Shimla. Kasauli is an old hill-station that my Mum used to talk about a bit.
Stroll down to the interstate bus station mid-morning, and a large Arab-looking man insists on finding the bus to Dharampur for me, and finding me room on the bus, and stowing my gear, and that cost me 20 rupees. You don't mind bowing to the inevitable if they actually do something useful. A fast and furious couple of hours drive to Dharampur, where I have to change to the local bus for Kasauli. I find the 'Kasauli Queen' a bit further through the town, and sit in for a few minutes before it takes off. A smaller (and really beaten-up) old bus, which is a far more sedate 13 kilometres ride, and the driver actually slows down a couple of times to throw biscuits to the local pi dogs.
I had 'phoned Kasauli early this morning. LP lists only two hotels, the Anchal, a 'rare Kasauli cheapie' and the Ros Common, somewhat more luxurious. Can't get through to the Anchal, and the cultivated female voice at the Ros Common informs me that it's 1800 rupees a night, and that I'll have to go to the Tourist Office in Shimla first, and pay them a deposit. (Lose her, I think). Get directions from the bus stand in Kasauli to the Hotel Anchal. Cable TV, hot (bucket) water, and a modest view for 400 rupees, and they will bring reasonably-priced meals to your room. Have a lengthy lunch, and then go for a walk along a couple of trails till dusk. Not a very big place, Kasauli, and not as good as Dalhousie, which remains my favourite, but very quiet, and the people are pleasant enough, if a tad restrained. I can fully understand that in pre air-con
days it must have seemed like Shangri La after the heat and dust of Delhi or Amritsar.
The mists come in early here, and so I track down the one internet place in town and while away a couple of hours before dinner back at the hotel. The pleasant young guy looking after the internet shop gets talking to me after the usual chattering rabble has left, and it turns out that he has just qualified as a dentist at a university somewhere near Dehradun, and will be starting an internship at a hospital soon.
Friday I lie abed late (I've been having these incredible deep sleeps the last 3 nights), and afterwards I do some more walking at the other end of town, eventually calling in at the Ros Common Hotel, which LP says is a great place for afternoon tea. This proves to be correct, and I have an enjoyable repast, sitting out on a terrace with a great valley view. Back by dark, do some internet, and have a light dinner before bed. Although there isn't an awful lot to it, Kasauli has been a pleasant break, away from the busier side of India.
Friday, November 7, 2008
McLEOD GANJ-SHIMLA. November 3rd-4th.
Monday I take it easy, have a long brekkie and lunch, feel as if every bone in my body is aching, and get ready to take off for Shimla. Bump into Evonne and Xxxx again at the internet shop. A travel agent had told me that the bus for Shimla leaves at 8.30 from Dharamsala, so am at the McLeod bus stand by 7 am Tuesday, and get talking to two elderly Swiss lady backpackers, and enviously notice that their backpacks are even smaller and lighter-looking than mine. One of them seemed to be quite badly affected with arthritis, so ten out of ten for effort. She told me that she had once hitch-hiked all round Oz, including across the Nullabor. No bus arrived by 7.45, and her friend discovered a share Jeep that would take us to Dharamsala for 9 rupees each, (the same price as the bus). This was a real exercise in togetherness, as four people had to jam onto bench seats originally intended for three. At Dharamsala my bus was leaving in about 5 minutes, and their bus to Manali not much later, so the share Jeep was a good move. In McLeod one day I had noticed a backpacker shin up the back of a bus and place his backpack on the roof rack, and couldn't wait to emulate this feat. Not as easy as it sounds as the bottom of the ladder is almost waist-high, but I managed it and clipped the shoulder straps through the bars at the side of the rack. A fairly uneventful trip, and we did stop a couple of times for a few minutes to stretch legs etc, which was good. The fare was 257 rupees (7 bucks or so), and I noticed that they weren't keen on picking up local fares very much (except for the guy who ran alongside when we were going uphill, yanked the door open and jumped in unnoticed. When he slammed the door behind him the driver and conductor both nearly had a heart attack).
Anyway, we arrived at Shimla about 4.45pm, and the bus was immediately surrounded by 'porters' who want 20 rupees just to carry your bags a short distance. I repeated my gymnastic feat of the morning, and got to my pack neck and neck with one of them who had shinned up behind me, so I just slipped it on, ending that discussion. Then I managed to spoil it all by standing on the edge of a depression at the side of the road, and falling over. Bouncing back up I take off in the direction of the Gulmarg Hotel, where I've rung and made a booking the night before. I have a pretty good idea of where it is from the LP sketch map, but this real annoying hotel tout attaches himself to me, and won't let go. After telling him a couple of times to go away, I tend to ignore him and ask directions from passers-by, and soon find myself on The Mall, which is near to the hotel. A convenient policeman is chatting at the side of the road, so I make a complaint to him about this annoying-type person, and finally lose him. I see what I think is the track to the hotel, and ask a guy, who turns out to be another hotel tout, albeit a very polite one, and we walk into the foyer together. The hotel is a riot - they have put me in a honeymoon-type room, with over 50 mirrors in it, and I have lots of noisy Indian neighbours, who have their TV's on and doors open, everybody talking at once, and much going and coming, as it seems to be a large hotel. I check out a few cafes along The Mall, which is a non-traffic thoroughfare, thronged with promenading Indian tourists. All the cafes are expensive, so I choose the cleanest-looking one, where I pay through the nose for a quite mediocre meal. Back at the hotel things quieten down by the time I've finished my bedtime read, and I have a really deep sleep, not stirring all night. But it's not my sort of place at all, people buzzing at my door asking (last night) if I want dinner, or now if I want breakfast, and the neighbours starting up again, so I take off down the Mall, and ask at the Hotel Classic, where at 550 rupees, it's 200 cheaper than the Gulmarg, all the quiet you can handle, a beaut view, and I seem to be the only guest.
In the afternoon I walk out west along The Mall a couple of kilometres to the Himachal Museum, a quite extensive collection, with everything from coins and stamps through to archeology, guns, paintings and anthropology. From there it is not too far to the Vice-Regal Lodge, which was built in the 1880's to house the Viceroy and the goverment, who ruled India from here during the hot months, from March until October. Inside the building (no cameras allowed), you can look up about 4 floors from the central foyer, all the staircases and every square inch of wall covered in ornately-carved Burmese teak. Since Independence, the building has housed the Indian Department of Advanced Studies, but you can look around provided you are quiet and don't disturb the workers. I went on a guided tour, and we were allowed to peer into the library from outside. It had several incredible crystal chandeliers in it, and when I asked, the guide said that it used to be the Vice-Regal ballroom. It was funny, because I was the only western tourist amongst about 30 local tourists, so we got each part of the tour first in Hindi, and then everybody had to wait while the lady explained it all to me in English. I had been intrigued by this place since watching a Malcolm Muggeridge documentary series on the Raj in India, which was on TV decades ago, and I must say it wasn't disappointing. One thing that had stuck in my mind from the series, was him saying that in the nineteenth century the Russians could never understand how 10,000 Englishmen could rule hundreds of millions of Indians, much of the time from a mountain eyrie.
Anyway, we arrived at Shimla about 4.45pm, and the bus was immediately surrounded by 'porters' who want 20 rupees just to carry your bags a short distance. I repeated my gymnastic feat of the morning, and got to my pack neck and neck with one of them who had shinned up behind me, so I just slipped it on, ending that discussion. Then I managed to spoil it all by standing on the edge of a depression at the side of the road, and falling over. Bouncing back up I take off in the direction of the Gulmarg Hotel, where I've rung and made a booking the night before. I have a pretty good idea of where it is from the LP sketch map, but this real annoying hotel tout attaches himself to me, and won't let go. After telling him a couple of times to go away, I tend to ignore him and ask directions from passers-by, and soon find myself on The Mall, which is near to the hotel. A convenient policeman is chatting at the side of the road, so I make a complaint to him about this annoying-type person, and finally lose him. I see what I think is the track to the hotel, and ask a guy, who turns out to be another hotel tout, albeit a very polite one, and we walk into the foyer together. The hotel is a riot - they have put me in a honeymoon-type room, with over 50 mirrors in it, and I have lots of noisy Indian neighbours, who have their TV's on and doors open, everybody talking at once, and much going and coming, as it seems to be a large hotel. I check out a few cafes along The Mall, which is a non-traffic thoroughfare, thronged with promenading Indian tourists. All the cafes are expensive, so I choose the cleanest-looking one, where I pay through the nose for a quite mediocre meal. Back at the hotel things quieten down by the time I've finished my bedtime read, and I have a really deep sleep, not stirring all night. But it's not my sort of place at all, people buzzing at my door asking (last night) if I want dinner, or now if I want breakfast, and the neighbours starting up again, so I take off down the Mall, and ask at the Hotel Classic, where at 550 rupees, it's 200 cheaper than the Gulmarg, all the quiet you can handle, a beaut view, and I seem to be the only guest.
In the afternoon I walk out west along The Mall a couple of kilometres to the Himachal Museum, a quite extensive collection, with everything from coins and stamps through to archeology, guns, paintings and anthropology. From there it is not too far to the Vice-Regal Lodge, which was built in the 1880's to house the Viceroy and the goverment, who ruled India from here during the hot months, from March until October. Inside the building (no cameras allowed), you can look up about 4 floors from the central foyer, all the staircases and every square inch of wall covered in ornately-carved Burmese teak. Since Independence, the building has housed the Indian Department of Advanced Studies, but you can look around provided you are quiet and don't disturb the workers. I went on a guided tour, and we were allowed to peer into the library from outside. It had several incredible crystal chandeliers in it, and when I asked, the guide said that it used to be the Vice-Regal ballroom. It was funny, because I was the only western tourist amongst about 30 local tourists, so we got each part of the tour first in Hindi, and then everybody had to wait while the lady explained it all to me in English. I had been intrigued by this place since watching a Malcolm Muggeridge documentary series on the Raj in India, which was on TV decades ago, and I must say it wasn't disappointing. One thing that had stuck in my mind from the series, was him saying that in the nineteenth century the Russians could never understand how 10,000 Englishmen could rule hundreds of millions of Indians, much of the time from a mountain eyrie.
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