High Five #9

Photos I  Juuuust Missed:

(As such... these are the ones I have in lieu to remind me of those lost photo-treasures)

1. A mother teacher her two young daughters (about 6 and 8 years old) to carry 20L water vessels on their heads

2. An elephant in front of a fruit stand... here's a fruit stand at least? And some rather cool sleeping goats...

3. A surreal looking cow on a cliff-side garbage heap that is smoking and smouldering or just this cute non-garbage cow.

 4. The Doon school dining hall just before food is devoured! Or... some of the boys at an assembly?

 5. Two Buddhist nuns laughing on a stone bridge with burgundy robes flowing in the breeze... or one monk at the temple prayer wheels...

 6. THIS monestary like, 2 seconds in the future when the lightening bolted in the sky!
 










photos property of LyndiaP April 2011

High Five #8

For the pictures I thought I'd post separately... and more than five:

Photos I Took:  

(in no particular order... or slightly chronological)

Bath of the Nataraj

Street Smart and Sunglasses

Principal Sari

Chai for Four

Goat Friends

Cycle Rickshaw Silhouette

Gold fish. Golden Temple

Rose Coloured Sunset

Attending the Lama Dance

Taj Frame

Goddess 2

photos property of LyndiaP April 2011

What the (Taj Ma)hal?!

Today I took on Agra. And 'sensation over-load' might be an accurate description. Instead of regaling you with a long prose piece I made my single goal (besides seeing the Taj itself) as making three observations per hour of this adventure and using them as "poetry notes." As such, here are the (first draft) hourly-poems I crafted about my excursion:

4:00-5:00am

today felt ripe for a double dose

of anti malarial pills

as if they'd bring me stamina.

Along with addition to the morning routine

of sunscreen,

purple t-shirt the only thing clean.

My room with a view

of the early morning market

shops closed

guarded by owners sleeping on their rooftops.

5:00-6:00am

frightened at the first corner

by the motorcycle ghost

but found comfort in barren morning bazaar.

Walk to the once-daunting train station

Mystery cyclist dismounts to escort me

then vanishes into the dark crowds.

6:00-7:00am

Too early young foreign lad?

His platform vomit.

My platform mantras.

Captured

by the dedicated-to-authenticity

Japanese couple

each with a video cam.

7:00-8:00am

Bhopal Stbdi departed on time

Coach 8 seats me backward

Chair 74 treats me kind.

As neighbour no. 75 inspects newspaper adverts

with such intensity they must predict his life.

Ripened wheat fields blow past us

Tea is served.

Tea is removed.

Making room for two rifle-toting guards

to sweep through.

8:00-9:00am

Free in First Class?

Breakfast toast, red jam

that is not Red Jam.

A bite of contentment at Kosi Kala

to the no-charge song of Hindi PSAs

with all the money I just saved

I'll buy myself three extra photo-opts.

9:00-10:00am

Your wrinkled arm

her block-print sari

trying to tell me a story between the train seats.

A tale cut-off by the HindustanTimes

and chair 84-occupant snores and sleeps

as we race past people-blurs whom I'll never meet -

Express train

where passenger 12 insists on standing.

10:00-11:00am

Disembark from my chauffeured A/C chariot

for which I bartered well.

Agra-guide with grandkids

cuts long-lines and 

takes copious well-poised portraits of me

in front of towering domes

empty minarets

"The Taj has lots of angles"

and stories of marble inlaid with precious stone.

Most unforgettably told 

by the baby in the security line

who punched me in the left eye.

11:00a-12:00p

Shopping sprees well-planned

not by me.

Mosaic demos, local jewels

Cottage industries explained.

All my guides get kick-backs

every time I contribute

to the web of Agra-tourism

12:00-1:00pm

Solo dining at a table-for-four

 beside one likewise table

accentuates the Lonely Luncheon

delivered with delicious food.

Where napkin wrapped fresh-lime-soda

sliver serving dishes

don't come cheap.

Next time omit the private butler and

stock the soap in the bathroom!

The punjabi hip-hop was nice though,

it took up at least one empty-plate-space.

1:00-2:00pm

with the Yamuna river trickle

inexalted Taj-face

hanging as my backdrop

I'm the tourist making faces

for (the kinds behind) the camera

who already thought me strange-

might as well make their tale worth telling.

2:00-3:00pm (at Agra Fort)

  Rosewater fountain in the Jasmine Palace

Kashmir-imported garden soil for vineyard grapes.

You'll know you're Daddy's Favourite

when he renovates your room in marble.

3:00-4:00pm

After ticket-counter chaos

in the safer (?) Ladies' Line

preserving queue integrity

with English arguments and backpack barriers

To secure my second ticket

for a train I'll never board

and earn my questionable seat

on the Train Station floor.

"A/C Here" sign is fallacious

when the power is on Strike.

Dazed by smells and flies and unnamed spills beside me

as my skin is liquified.

4:00-5:00pm

A free pass to be invisible 

 at the product-less cafe.

Its empty tables. Empty chairs.

Brief respite for this tired traveler.

Until there's eight freeloaders at my table

the unsavoury seven watch me 

as they buzz and fly.

Waiting in the dark

for a milkshake

or a cold drink

or just the power supply.

5:00-6:00pm

At the same sweltering snack-bar

my tour guide finds me:

a final lesson, last farewell.

Agra pyramid-scheme education

that now I'm mixed up in.

For my information,

if his compensation

could be quoted as "200"

he explained with gratitude,

he'd avoid a reprimand &

could take home the cash in-hand

I had paid to him  

and not his over-seeing boss-dude.

6:00-7:00pm

Eating figs in relative-silence to pass the time but

Platform 2 has conversation:

family values and bank exams.

Until I board in the Second-Class cram

I never anticipated.

"Seats 6" holds 10.

but a reservation saves me

(plus my sex and novelty).

So I'm pried in W-55

as centre-attraction- soon too see

just how boring I can be:

sipping water, gazing outside

wedged in hip-to-hip, knee-to-knee.

7:00-8:00pm

Cool outside circulation now humid

turns to rain, 

soaks my window-side

provokes a train-wide chanting cry

when we try

to close the window.

The ventilated Train-Wash.

8:00-9:00pm

Just as I found comfort and the perfect scheme

to be friendly, to be me

all co-seat-dwellers exit our fair train.

Mathura Junction is their stop.

Spaces quickly turn-over

company changes face and name

forcing me to re-plot and wait

to share my cookies.

9:00-10:00pm

First attempt failed

all the coconut treats still mine.

But I have time.

When the hoarse voiced chai-walla comes 'round

he brings me success:

I produce the cookies

and the Indian chaps've got the rest.

10:00-11:00pm

 A photo-shoot requested

by new, live, Facebook friends

professing the Internet is perfect

for linking people 'round the world, both ends.

With the train's REAL late arrival

my eyes are tired...

but my smile still sends.

11:59pm (seriously, to the minute)

this Princess of Endless Journeys

is back at the Prince Palace Hotel,

the nick of time

to avoid turning into a squash of some kind... 

as I'm sure you can assume these were actually finished/posted the next day but let's just pretend I had the capacity to do it all in 24 hours.

And, of course, photo-proof of the Taj-visit (with many MANY others poses too):

Lyndia & SpongeBob storm the Taj

The Silly-Face from "Hours 1-2pm"

photos and poetry property of LyndiaP April 2011

Letting Go Again

After moderately successful meditation this morning to silence my mind I am sending one last blog post from Mcleod Ganj. I had really hoped to post another short story but that doesn't seem likely. Today I've got a full day of packing up my room at Snow Heights and lugging my backpack around until 6pm when my bus leaves for Delhi. The plan is to be minimalistic with movement so it's possible I will cocoon in to a computer terminal but I think I'd rather do some cafe hopping. I've got some great books to read (a library of choices!) and I'm sure I could even finish off another story in handwritten form. The cafe hopping will be slightly essential since last night I paid a visit to the Moonlight Thali for tea and take-out and only this morning realized I didn't pay for my tea(s). I can't leave with that kind of bad karma! Plus the place was really cute & friendly! Oh and had THE BEST take out bags in the world (you'll have to wait for the photo because I am not ruining the surprise with a description).

Tonight I sleep on the bus and tomorrow I sleep my first of three nights in Delhi. For those of you worried I was going to skip out on the Wonder of the World I have also secured a train ticket to Agra to see the Taj Mahal on the 17th. That leaves me 48 hours to explore Delhi (excluding sleep-time) and about 8.5 hours to wander Agra. I was also convinced to take the "Tourist Train" for one direction of the journey - which is, apparently, even better than "First Class" - fancy seats, a good view and even food and tea service. Fine. One way - in the morning, when I can actually see stuff. For the way back I insisted on the cheaper seats. Classic frugal Lyndia style.

I hope I can post once more in Delhi after I check out the Taj Mahal but who knows what the Flow will deliver. I have had such a wonderful trip and can't believe the India portion is so close to over. I'm certainly sad but I feel so lucky to have experienced all I have. Would I do it all over again? Yes! (Well everything I blogged about and stories I've written but not shared - there were some instances of um... uncertainty, I should say, that might make my loved ones a bit nervous and some of those I would not chose to re-do, except I know they all turned out alright!)

Without a doubt this has been a Journey of A Lifetime! My heart-felt thanks and E-love to all of you who have been reading along, commenting or emailing me about the adventures. It makes it all way more worth while to know people are out there reading what I've written and caring what I do :)

Sunrise From Snow Heights

p.s. even though it doesn't fit with the blog-name I will also add any Deutchland-adventures I have time to post as well. I'll be back in Canada by, about, May 1st (if I don't change my ticket or something... and I'm thinking about it).

Seasick (2/4)

My enquiry at the (potentially) juuust right third option Snow Height Apartment for Long and Short Term Stays Attached Kitchen was for kicks. Experience tells me words like 'Apartment' and 'Kitchen' are expensive. BUT cooking-for-oneself usually saves money. And it would make my upcoming days of silence more do-able. I popped in.

The office was also mostly a convenience store stocked with chips, pop, instant noodles and powdered milk. Stock actually worthy of note were cold juice and bottled water - could be handy to have nearby! I was shown room #7, up only 12 low-grade* stairs: do-able(*low-grade as in low-incline not of low-quality). It was nearly twice the size of #104 at Happy Home and also had a private bathroom and a sunny window... attached to a PRIVATE porch... looking out onto the hills and MOUNTAINS! Damn it! It was perfect! Clean too - and probably totally unaffordable! With its cute purple bedsheets, nice black counter-top in the kitchen area, bigger TV, two lovely wooden lounge chairs, most spacious bathroom I've had in India! Boo. Now I'll have to face the budget-breaking cost, say no and go back to ironically sulk at the Happy Home. Surely I'll also be cursed with jealous dreams of these richer folks with balconies overlooking idealized scenic wonderlands (always slightly exaggerated in dreams, of course).

I asked if there was "anything smaller? Opposite brick-wall facing? Less Awesome!?" with a tear in my eye. My chaperon doesn't negotiate room rates but he does know another room on the 'first' floor (relatively speaking, it's still one storey above ground) which is currently occupied but available soon. Considering this, I ask to stand on the not-so-private balcony to assess the view. It's even sunnier than the last room but the mountains aren't as instantly visible. That makes me feel better. Not ALL the rooms at Snow Height are Awesome with a capital A.

Back at the 7-11 of Hotel Lobbies I get down to business. Since I didn't see a cooking element/stove in the kitchen I note it for potential leverage in cost negotiations. The moment of reckoning: first round prices.

"Well," says the 7-11 clerk/hotel manager, "you get it today or tomorrow?"
"Is there a difference?"
"Room 7 is only open today and number 1 only tomorrow."
I consider this and reply disappointed already, "oh, not all week?"
He seems confused. "Yes, all week too. You need how long?"

Oookay bring on the miscommunication. "I guess it depends on the price. I have my bags somewhere e..."

"400 Rupees."

"What?" I shake my head slightly to help me hear correctly.

"400 Rupees," he repeats.

"Per night?" I clarify as if he was giving me an hourly rate for REEEEALLY short-term stays. Surely my eyes have already told him there will be no haggling from this customer.

"Yes, but after 400 and 400 and 400 then 800."

"ah, okay," I say knowingly but utterly confused. The price is awesome but only for two days? Ugh. Time to employ Tactic #1. "But the kitchen didn't have the stove..." I get a blank look. "Uh, stove? The cooking element." More blank-ness. "For cooking..."

"Gas?"

oh right. Gas. "Yes! Gas. Gas wasn't there," my syntax mutating like a chameleon.

"We put that in."

There goes that barter... "Oh, oh. Good. Yes. So the room is 400 rupees for the two nights but 800 after two?"

"No."

As usual I am stumped. No? 

I'm quite sure I didn't just fantasize paying double for no reason, unless this is all a dream... but it feels more like a rocking riot in a dinghy on a stormy Universal sea of Going-with-the-Flow... I feel a bit queasy. "So I pay 400 rupees for today and 400 for tomorrow. Then 800 rupees?" Learning from past experience rewording the question can be a bit like taking a Gravol and even out the waves of confusion. Here's hopin'.

"No. You pay only 400 rupees a night. 800 rupees later."

He almost had me there. I liked the first part and then got lost again, but getting closer. Wait! Maybe the first 'you' was singular and the second was plural. Maybe? One more Question-Gravol: "How much then is it for one week? From today 8 April until April," counting on my fingers, "14. Seven nights?"

"That is," tabulates on the calculator, "2800 rupees." YES! Internal fist-pump and attempting not to look desperately excited. I ask with all the calm I can muster, "and gas is 500?"

"No, gas is 300," the 7-11 manager sighs.

"right, 300 rupees for 5kg gas," I almost giggle with happiness. I would have actually giggled but as it stands this is the second room I am procuring for the same one night and the thought of Happy reminds me of the Happy Home where my bags are. Where the key in my pocket belongs. Some where in my mind I register the comment he makes, "and 5kg gas is enough for you."

"Okay. So. Now. ... My bags are somewhere else. So. What? Can? ... Is there something I can leave to hold the...?" In my head I'm also trying to work out the cost-recovery excuse/plan for the two-room situation.

His reply is resoundingly logical, "you pay in advance. Pay one night and after pay more." Clearly. The concept of a DEPOSIT had eluded me - the giving of money is certainly the customary manner of ensuring one's space be held in a transaction like this (something I clearly have had trouble grasping lately, as per the meditation course). I just hope I won't be paying for two nights accommodation tonight... I get my Official convenience store receipt and feel giddy that now my 400rupees/night is in writing (which, for those of you converting to Canadian dollars is roughly 10). I dig out a 500 rupee bill. He asks my name. I ask one more question:

"So is it pretty quite here?"

"Oh yes!" he assures me, "mostly all girls right now. And one monk. This is before all Indians come on holiday. Now is before April 16."

"That's good. Good." NOW I get it!! This is off-season = 400 and next week the price is jacked up = 800! Why didn't he just say that? Or, rather, why did he say anything about the week for which I WASN'T inquiring. No matter. He says I need a photocopy of my passport/visa and tells me where to get it. I'm also informed he can book taxis if I want. I confirm the location of the former ("straight" back up the three-turn hill) and reject the non-human-powered-conveyance.

BAM! Thank-you Flow! You've done it again! But... maybe over done it. I'm grateful for the 100 rupees change in my pocket but 2 rooms for one night? Wait. 100 rupees in my pocket. Like "to spare"... have half-conceived plan is brewing in my mind... and I'm not proud to say it but the first version of this plan was... Here I am in the town of Buddhism, religion of compassion and moral mindfulness, within 10 km of the residence of His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama and I concoct a plan... to lie. Yes, my first idea was to lie to the people at the Happy Home! AND it was a good one. You'd've believed it! I even practiced it once on the first turn of the hill (which took my breath away as it was significantly more taxing than on the way down!)

Luckily for my conscience (nay, my soul!) by the top of the hill a new, more honest plan hit me like a burst of lactic acid in my hamstrings. It took until the orange steps of Happy Home to finalize it but I figured that I'd say something simple (like the truth) "I'm sorry for the inconvenience but I have other accomodations" and offer 100 rupees for their initial kindness/luggage storage. After the first flight of stairs though I pre-bartered my peace offering and decided to start it at 50 rupees in case that was considered enough for 3 hours storage (and the bit of secret laundry I'd wrap up in my towel and hid in my luggage to be unseen on the way out).

Fifteen minutes and 50 rupees later it was done, I was Happy and Happy Home-less... but not room-less. I was already half way back to Snow Height and thinking "a cab mighta been nice right about now," but struggled through it with the compassionate smiles and few cheerful, encouraging comments of random strangers in heavily accented English. (Really, three people commented in a friendly, non-hassling way and at LEAST five gave me the "you go girl" look... or at least the "you Crazy girl" look but I'll remember them all as the first version thankyouverymuch).

Plus passing on the cab probably saved me almost 50 rupees anyway. I figure I broke even for the day.

Now I sit here today at Snow Height (whoa! just realized... it rhymes with White, Snow White... and I'm "door" number 7: Snow Height, 7th Door! Ha! oh man, I'm funny) with my spacious room with a dedicated yoga-mat corner. Some laundry is now washed. My shawls and various souviners are displayed decorating wherever they can: I LOVE IT!

Oh and best of all... yes, I CAN see the snowy Himalayas FROM. MY. BED! (with purple sheets that match my earplugs). BooYeah!

To The Rockin' Flow of the Universe - Thank you! But the giving of all kinds of opportunity (and confusion) doesn't stop there, oh no! I also got pretty pumped about making my own Solo "Life-Meditation Course" schedule and made a plan with lots of yoga, writing, contemplation/meditation, (some) silence, (some) exploration and lots of Flow-Going. Very exciting indeed!

to be continued...

by LyndiaP April 2011 (part 2 of 4)

ERRATA

It is with sincere apologies that the editor of this blog addresses an inaccuracy that appeared recently. The statement of measurement "5 cows" made in regards to the distance from the Golden Temple to the hotel the author resided in during her visit to Amritsar . This is a complete and utter (slight pun intended) fallacy. The author did not even observe 5 cows in all of the city of Amritsar in the period of March 22-24 (inclusive), let alone between monument and accommodations.

Please accept this apology. In light of such blatant, lying exaggeration one factual note - however, potentially more unbelievable than the false-cows: the existence of a mirage-like place called the Galaria. It confounded the India-adjusted senses and boggled the logical capacity of all linguistic likelihoods!

First off, that such a clean picturesque park existed, UNINHABITED only a few metres from the main road by a major tourist/pilgrimage site in a city of 1 million people is hard to conceptualize at all in India (for this author, at least). BUT that it also had well-manicured lawns, marble steps, fountains (albeit off), patios AND beautiful magenta-blooming shade-giving trees?! I almost teared up and was certainly speechless.

Tree in the Galaria outside the Golden Temple

It also had a lovely walking path (used by less than 10 people while I was there) and seeing that it was all shady and cool in the 30C degree + day... I was again surprised that there were so few people there!



So I sat myself down with my newly acquired book* on Sikh Philosophy and let my mind into this parkland oasis and allowed my senses a reprieve from the endless hectic show of which I tend to be a spectacle. (As all blonde (or red-) haired people in Asia can basically attest to.) Then I took a break from reading and just observed.



*Book note: I've gotta STOP buying books and start taking more pictures of flowers... the latter takes up WAY less suitcase space!



Rested.

And a little boy crossed the marble steps in front of me and a poem-like feeling crossed my mind.

barefoot and kicking

flower petals

Enter: A playful Breeze



to perpetuate the game -

tickling the blossoming branches

until one more floral ball

dives

in a delighted dance

into the arms of awaiting gravity

to twirl it gently

dip and spin

releasing softly to the



marble steps

to rest

poised

yet eagerly counting down

the next pair of bare

feet to come

and join the game.

After the Flower Kicker came the Flower Pickers

 THEN THIS HAPPENED! Little girls replaced the little boy and began to gather the flowers as I was taking some macro-floral shots. I gave them my photographic subject and then they...

Flower Girls (who ASKED me to take their photo - uh, YES!)

It was such a beautiful afternoon and I was even able to tell the portrait-girls that they were beautiful too! (my one minor accomplishment in Hindi... soon eradicated when they asked me a question about the picture that I was beyond useless to answer further than: A polite smile. I know I missed something...)

**oh and further note to the book-note: I am quite sure my 40Litre backpack must be, literally, 14Litres of books right now. Possibly 15L - too many Litres, L* too many Litres.

SUPER AmritS(T)AR

Yes, it is actually Amritsar but for some reason (and far too long) I referred to it (mentally, verbally and awkwardly) as Am-rit-star... nope. I might as well call Canada something like Ken-add-aye. Anyways my Amritsari experience has been so awesome I'll never pronounce it incorrectly again!

Seriously the only bad thing (which may have more to do with Mother Nature than the city) has been the excessive amount of mosquitoe bites I've gotten... in one night while I was sleeping* I got at least 12. And I know I was sleeping because the little devil bumps of swollen itchy-ness are in practical places like between my toes, on the sole of my foot, THREE on one elbow, on the back of EACH hand and on the knuckle of my right index finger. Yes, I have an itemized list!

What makes it a Super Star? Well for one I stumbled across one of the best hotels of all (which was even recommended in my Lonely Planet guide I left at home - see how good my instincts are?!) and have had a great time with Hotel Grace as my home base. It's only a few blocks* from the Golden Temple, they are well connected for info and tours and the like and I AM EATING LIKE A QUEEN AN ARMY OF QUEENS!

*the concept of blocks does not really exist here but it's the easiest way for me to describe. I doubt the more accurate descriptions of "five cows" or "18 souveiner shops" will paint a very exact picture.

Since I am feeling a bit tired after all my adventures today (and, honestly, I was just invited for an Indian whiskey so that trumps extended blogging, sorry folks).

Preparing for a Technocolour Surprise

I went out this morning: clean pale skin, long blonde hair, light denim pants, white t-shirt (and two white "under-layers" just-in-case-of-water-splashing).

I came back later this afternoon: green and yellow arms, pink & red face, orange-yellow-pink hair, rainbow spattered jeans and a neon camoflauge t-shirt that also tattooed my skin. I was plastered, layered in colour!

Post-Holi, Final Form

Happy Holi!

I spent an equal amount of time playing Holi and I did washing it off... scrubbing face, scrubbing clothes, scrubbing bathroom after the fact. Only slight fear? When my hair was rinsing reddish-pink after the second wash, but no harm done. Except for a patch of un-exposed skin (still) retaining a beautiful florescent-watermelon-with-vibrant-green-dots...

Let the HOLI-Playing Begin!

I arrived at the school outside the Rose Bowl at 10:12am and within 10 minutes the lawn, paths and students didn't look the same. I was given a packet of light-green dust (of an All-Natural vairety) and tried to figure out the game. An adult learning to play. A grown-up trying to celebrate a childhood she never knew. A Yes Ma'am being politely smeared with the powdered colours of Holi.

Girls of Many Colours: Where's Lyndia?

So you may be wondering - music? dancing? organized chaos? What's NOT to love? and more importantly... why? I asked around. I looked things up... and I learned the following:

- there are two kinds of Holi but it's kinda morphed into one celebration, always in the spring. Always on the Last Full Moon Day of the Feb/March lunar month.
  a) bonfires lit on Holi-eve for the Holika Dahan (or burning of Holika - a religious story in which God prevails.).
  b) colour! commonly played with both dry and wet colour, water guns, water balloons
- it's a festival that equalizes all people (and no one is safe!)
- always to the sounds of the Dholaks (traditional drums).

Dance! Dance! Dance!

- sometimes it gets out of hand and people in the streets start throwing less friendly colours... like paint.
- celebrations are bigger in North India but are epic in West Bengal where they start with music and singing at 6am! Also celebrated in Nepal & Sri Lanka.
- things usually calm down by lunch. Or at least by 2pm.
- it AWAYS rains just before or just after Holi. (This year it was the evening before so the colour-dusted streets are fun reminders of my first celebration!)
- at Doon they are still respectful and as I was encouraging one boy to throw the colour on me he advised otherwise "Actually Ma'ma it can get in people's eyes." - good point my multi-coloured-young-sir. Good ponit.
- There are sweets and snacks all OVER the place!



Colour Layer 1 of approximately 7

 Obviously... I LOVED IT!

F.R.I. on Fri

I went to my first museum in India today: the F.R.I. on Fri(day). I like it.

The F.R.I. has some beautiful natural sculptural works (that you aren't supposed to take pictures of) that they label as diseases with latin names - trees, fungi, bugs... but it does make sense since the Forestry Research Institute is just covering their mandate.

Natural Sculpture on display

 The shapes and textures and colours... were amazing!

This beautiful area and stupendous building (not only a museum but a large campus with a few different schools and a University that has M.Sc and Ph.D. programs in forestry and environmental sciences) were a great early afternoon adventure!

F.R.I. building (one of three wings)

Fuls (Hindi for flower) in the garden posing for a picture

Fools (English for those who wear goggles*) posing for a picture
(*note: googles are the Hin-glish name for Sunglasses)

 It was already well over 23C degrees at 10:30am when we started our adventure to the F.R.I. but that didn't stop me! Oh no! I was definitely going to see the uhh... at that time I did not actually know what the place was called... uh... the... um... National Forestry... something... say "Department" was the only way I could help poor Banita as she asked for directions. But in our defense it seemed that two of the five guys who could indicate our course of travel thought it was called the F.I.R. and one of them had no clue what we were talking about (and we were less than 1 km away from the place).


NWFP = Non-wood forestry Products

What did I learn today? Well... there is a lot of great information, beautiful design and important history associated with the forests in India and, by default all over the world. As one sign I saw yesterday said "a Tree is an International Smile." Awww. But really, after seeing the "Social Forestry Museum" and the vast array of non-wood products I hadn't even considered when I thought of forests... I was amazed!

I think this poster says it best...



word.



St. Patrick's Day at the Hill Station

Ambassador

Helpful signposts

Hill Station view

The Library (aka. bazaar)

The Mall (aka. Main Street)

This and next year's Saint Patrick Days will be unique. This year will be celebrated with the least amount of fanfare possible. Ever. No green beer. No "Kiss Me I'm Irish" t-shirts. No four leaf clovers. No jigs or drinking songs.

I am frightfully sure that next year will more than make up for it. I'm sure I will be shocked.

However, today I am just waiting for an Ambassador (hopefully white!) to take me up to the Hill Station. How much more British Raj can it get? I will stop for tea and hope to brush up on my accent at the very least. Maybe I should also find a white safari hat and suit and ivory walking cane to tour around with? I think St. George* might be the closest I come to celebrating any Saints today...

Mussoorie here I come!

Former misunderstandings, busted:

NOT Missouri, USA

NOT a restaurant in Dehradun.

Fast facts I just armed myself with:

Altitude 1880m,

aka Queen of the Hills,

snow-ranges to the North East and the Doon Valley in the South.

In 1832 was intended to be the termination point of the great Survey of India to set up a new office for the Surveyor General (not the Surgeon General...)

The name Mussoorie is attributed to a derivation of 'mansoor', an indigenous shrub. As of 2001, there are about 26,000 people living there.

*Home to Woodstock (school) and St. George's college.

Camel's Back road is a point of interest along with Bhatta Falls, Nag Devta temple to Snake-God Shiva, the Municipal Gardens, the Library Bazaar and Sir George Everest's house (yes, the mountain was named after THIS Everest).

And the town is also home to India's largest roller skating rink.