Just arrived at the railway station in a little junction town to take a night train. Swaying under our really large packs, we negotiated through the mass of humanity spread out on the grimy cement floor, gave emaciated sleeping dogs a wide berth, laughed at the cow who was wandering about the waiting room and found our way to the Cloak room to leave our bags. While every pair of eyes in the station was trained unrelentingly at us, the efficient cloak room attendant informed: "Open 24 hours- but closed now." OK, this is India: you love it while the same time you hate it.

VISITING PARADISES - LADAKH, KASHMIR, DHARAMSALA

We were in a queue, it was hot, it was humid, and we were in India. Waiting for over an hour (at Midnight) for immigration was an indication of things to come.

New Delhi was exactly how you imagine it - hot, smelly, filthy, crowded and really full on! And yet for the extreme poverty, with many people living on the streets, we weren't as shocked as we had imagined. Four days in Delhi was enough and we did what any sane person would do - especially those that had been living in the higher climes of Cusco, and headed for the mountains.

Leh, the capital of Ladakh, with clear blue skies and majestic red-brown mountains sprinkled with snow was a welcome relief after Delhi. The wind danced through wind chimes, spreading tinkling music around the town while Tibetan style prayer flags fluttered, and the gardens overflowed with bright coloured flowers and vegetables.
Ladakhis, and a large Tibetan community, meant that the people were friendly and totally different than those Indians we had encountered in Delhi. Read: this was heaven in India.

The Indians seem to have a thing about "the highest and best", making it easy to tick off those traveling goals:
1. Khardung La - Highest Motorable road in the world - 5602 metres
2. Taglang La - second highest motorable road in the world - 5328 metres
3. Highest northerly point in India (that a foreign visitor can go) near Panamik
4. Drass - second coldest human habitable place on EARTH.

In all seriousness, the Ladakh region is a spectacular little pocket of the world also known as "Little Tibet" and its easy to understand why with an abundance of monasteries, and many Mahayana (maroan robed) monks wandering the streets and adding a sense of serenity to the scene.

Our visit to the Summer Palace of His Holiness the Dalai Lama was a special and surreal experience - we waited outside as our guide popped off to get the key! Along with a compatriot, we wondered at the differences between John Howard and the Dalai Lama, a man of spiritual and political importance. (I imagine) we couldn't get within 50 metres of Johnny's place without rigorous checks, but there was the Dalai Lama letting all types of foreigners wander through his very simple, pleasant abode.

From Ladakh, we wanted to go to Srinagar in Kashmir, by travelling along the ceasefire line between Pakistan and India. It would have been nice to get some informed advice from our government rather than, "its dangerous - don't go - there are terrorists." With the such informed advice, combined with the Lonely Planet comfortingly saying, "they will stop the buses travelling along the line of control if the Pakistanis are shelling," we felt less than secure!

However, other travellers had said it was relatively safe while also espousing the beauty of Kashmir. And when a place is so famed for its beauty as Kashmir, why not?

So off we trundled - about 350km in 20hours - passing through remote and spectacular scenery. As the centre of the 1999 Kargil War, the guidebook had warned that Kargil was full of blackened ruined buildings and bomb craters. Instead, we were pleasantly surprised by lush green fields, and a vibrant market town with a very Central Asian feel. In retrospect it would have been a great place to spend a few days, apart from the misinformation around. though there were a few gun emplacements on the hills!

As we continued on our bumpy way, past Kargil, a sign announced "the enemy is watching you"; it was easy to imagine, huge peaks soared above us and in the valleys large cannons pointed skywards to a silent, unseen enemy. It was so very comforting to pass another sign announcing, "you are out of danger now."

All the time, what we didn't know, was that a ceasefire had held since November last year so our vigilant lookout for incoming missiles was terribly misguided!

The thing to do in Srinagar is get a houseboat on Dal Lake - it is this lake, surrounded by misty, magical mountains, which has made Kashmir so famous. The houseboats were a British insitution, created because the fiercely independent Kashmiris wouldn't let the Brits own land. So instead the Brits built houseboats, making them into floating palaces.

We got an intricately carved boat, replete with chandeliers, chaise lounges, elegant carved dining room table and even a dressing room attached to our room. With plush red carpets and heavy, stylish curtains hanging from the windows, we felt more like royalty than two dusty backpackers. For this priviledge and luxury we were paying the princely sum of about $17 Australian!!!! (about $12US) And that was including breakfast and dinner! From our houseboat balcony we were blessed with a parade of boats floating by, all filled with colour that reflected perfectly in the dark blue waters.

On the first night, we were securing the windows on our pleasure boat when I heard a resounding thud - I yelled, "Mum are you OK?", to which she replied faintly, "No." Turns out that she had fallen straight down an open hatch to the bottom of the boat! Luckily, apart from a few scratches and BIG bruises she was fine.

Life on Dal (Golden) Lake was suffused with a magic, special light. Much like Venice, the only way to get around is by boat - be it tiny dugout canoe or the more elegant Shakeera - a gondola like boat where we reclined on mattresses, screened discretely by curtains if we chose. We were paddled like princesses around the lake, regal and elegant, breaking the perfect reflections with the bow of the boat!

A week in Kashmir and we could have stayed for a month. But instead we headed to the home of the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan Government in Exile, McLeod Ganj, (near Dharamsala) a place that people fall in love with, and come back again and again.

We saw a notice that conversation teachers were wanted for Tibetan refugees and having had some experience in Cusco thought we would give it a whirl. It turned out it was some young Tibetan guys who wanted to practice their English. These four "young guys" aged in their mid twenties who seemed like pretty ordinary blokes, actually
had incredible stories:
* All had been political prisoners in Chinese occupied Tibet, serving sentences between 4 months and 3 years. Torture is normal in these jails. One of the boys was just 14 when he was in prison.
* Two had been monks who had been persecuted for practicing Buddhism
* All had escaped over the mountains from Tibet to Nepal by walking over very high passes, escaping Chinese border guards by walking at night and in terribly cold conditions. The actual walk, with no food took most of them around 20 days, with the actual escape to Dharamsala and the Dalai Lama taking around 4 months.

We left the Dharamsala area after being blessed by the 17th Karmapa Lama (the most important figure in Tibetan Buddism after the Dalai Lama) a slightly surreal but thoroughly wonderful experience. Only 19 years old, he is of huge spiritual importance, but also described as "the most powerful teenager in the world". So though it was bizarre to see him escorted in by Indian guards with guns, it was no surprise.

From here we headed south to the Sikh religion's most holy temple at Amristrar - a place where one is filled with spirituality. This religion, based on the idea of equality fascinates, and the Sikhs in India seem to be much easier on Western women than the bulk of the other Indians. (For spiritual reasons, many Sikh men go unshaven, don't cut their hair and wear distinctive turbans, which makes them easy to identify!)

Amristrar is only 27kilometres from the Pakistan border and so we headed out to watch a border closing ceremony - OK, sounds a bit drab. But this was far from it! We, along with about 1000 Indians and a bunch of foreigners sweated profusely in pushing crowds for one hour before we were allowed through to the specially built viewing stands. All the body contact was to no avail in our case as we were classed as VIPs and got a good place to sit. In stands on the other side was a huge crowd of Pakistanis! With minimal help from a crowd rouser the people began to shout and chat, dance in the street and on their chairs. It was absolutely phenonemal. Men charged at the border
gate with the Indian flag held high while the Pakistanis chanted PAKI - stan, to which the much larger Indian crowd screamed frenzily, "HINDU - stan." We had caught a rickshaw to the border with two Aussies, one who commented, "all this and without alcohol!"

The next day we arrived at New Delhi station to see a Walpolian in a Salwar Kemise (traditional Indian dress) dodging through the thick crowds to meet our train!

Copyright Ariana Svenson, 2005 - Comments and enquiries, please email us.