So we took a sleeper bus to Bombay. We had the choice between a semi-sleeper which had reclining seats or a sleeper which had actual beds, so we foolishly went with the sleeper. Ryley and I, gentlemen not small in stature, especially by this point, shared a twin sized bed.
There was basically no way we weren't spooning. We couldn't see the road because it was dark but it felt like the highway to Bombay was a logging road. The bus stopped at 6am for what I thought was a pee break. We had stopped on a bridge, which seemed like a weird place for a pee break but I peed in the small stream that was probably the next village's drinking water without much regret. The driver suddenly motioned us to the back of the bus and I assumed that this was due to some safety concern (this is always the wrong assumption in India). I get to the back of the bus to find the driver seemingly leaning on the bus. Weird, I thought, until I realized that he wanted me to "lean" on the bus too, and that instead of leaning, we were actually going to push-start this giant fucking bus. I didn't know you could do this. But we did.
Bombay was pretty cool, lots of good food and an impressive array of stenches. Honestly nothing smells like India smells. Sometimes delicious and sometimes eye-wateringly horrendous. We saw where Gandhi lived, checked out some markets, admired the colonial exploits of our British ancestors, and got hassled by countless vendors and Hindu "holy men". One of them "blessed" me (for a very low price that he insisted was the same as what an Indian would pay), and confidently predicted that I would marry an English girl inexplicably named "Shishtel". Bollywood is also huge in Bombay obviously and we got recruited to be extras in a Bollywood movie, but went to the "beach" the night before filming and sampled some local delicacies and then came down with a local case of food poisoning. So our Bollywood stardom was postponed indefinitely. Driving in India is nuts. The roads in most third-world countries are presumptively dangerous places to be involved with, but India is another level. We got in a cab to the airport, and I tried to find the seatbelt until the driver assured me that "I no need". Great. As he was honking the horn like our brakes were cut, I wanted to ask him why those silly white lines were painted on the road at regular intervals, as all the cars just seemed to weave and bump into each other like sperm driving through a uterus. Same went for those annoying red lights on posts we kept passing. There was even a four-way stop on a 6-lane highway for some reason. But we made it.
To find that our flight was delayed. Which wasn't so bad and we still made our connecting flight from Delhi to Leh in Kashmir. We got on the plane in Delhi and I promptly fell asleep. I woke up 2 hours later, still on the tarmac. What the fuck?! We were there for 3 hours until they admitted that the plane didn't actually work. So we all had to get off, go get new tickets, and re-board another plane at a different gate. And then we sat down. And waited. For about an hour, until the Indians started to get riled up and they admitted to us that they couldn't find the pilot. How hard is it Air India? Before you make passengers board your 1970's-era cramped tube of an airplane, you need to have two things at the very least: 1) A plane that is able to fly and 2) Someone who knows how to fly the plane. The flight was pretty cool when it happened though, flying over parts of the himalayas into Leh.
It was cold in Kashmir and most things were closed for the winter. At least a couple of locals asked us why the hell we came to Kashmir in November.
But it was still very pretty and sunny the whole time and we didn't have to talk with too many tourists. It was around -10 degrees at night and we were without insulation or heating so we slept fully-clothed with about 6 blankets and 2 hot-water bottles. Showering required a bucket of hot water brought up by our stout, friendly landlady. Showering became a low priority. After hanging out Leh for a day, we headed off to Pagong Lake, one of the biggest lakes in Asia. The travel guy we got advice from told us that it was a 5-hour* bus trip and we could stay at this village* called Pangmik. We got on the "semi-deluxe"* public bus in the morning and quickly found that that "semi" means "in no way" in Kashmiri.
There really is no point in complaining about bus trips in Asia but nonetheless: The bus was fucking freezing, which was not helped by all of the locals puking out of open windows due to the "road" we were on. At one point Ryley peed out the back door of the bus and told me that it took him 5 minutes to find his penis, which made me laugh until we made a pit stop and I couldn't find mine. Regardless of the discomfort, it was an amazing drive for the scenery and seemed pretty safe since we were surrounded by soldiers in automatic weapons heading off to the border. * Lies.
We got to Pangmik which consisted of what looked like two families and a collection of huts and outhouses. The lake was really nice but since it took until 3:30pm to get there, we had about an hour of sunlight. The sun in Kashmir get blocked by mountains really early and then it's too cold to live so it's basically bedtime.
We got some stone-skipping in though, which was incredibly successful up there for some reason, but left me panting, reminding me of the altitude and my current fitness level (I didn't need to be reminded of the latter). Our homestay family was quite nice but it wasn't too much of a social visit. The bus ride back to Leh was better. The next day we went off to the Nubra Valley, going over the highest motorable pass in the world, no big deal. Huge valley with giant mountains and statues of Buddha and sand dunes and closed restaurants and army trucks. It was good times and there was no public bus so the ride in our private jeep was a little more comfortable.
There were very few Westerners up in Kashmir but we met this couple from Texas in a restaurant before we left for Delhi. I was fairly surprised that people in Texas knew what a Kashmir was, but we found out that they were filmmakers, which made a little bit more sense. Then we found out that they were filmmakers doing a film on Christianity in the region and everything made a whole lot more sense. They told us that their Christian friend up there was getting bullied by the local buddhists, which isn't so nice, until we found out that their friend was trying to "evangelize" the locals, which left us siding more with the bully buddhists. They also complained a lot about how they couldn't find good Western food in Kashmir. Really? In this small town of non-westerners in the very North of India, you couldn't get great western food? How surprising. How are the mutton dumplings and chapati in Texas anyways?
Then we went back to Delhi for a few days, Ryley went to see the Taj Mahal and I saw some stuff in Delhi I didn't see last time I was there. Lots of gross-looking shitbag travelers with shaved heads save for one strand of dirty dread-locked hair out the back, dressed in all black. And I mean a lot of them. We were going to meet up with my friend's family for dinner so decided to get cleaned up a bit at the barber.
Simple shave and a haircut turned into a weird golden facial which sounds worse than it is but probably costs about the same. There was an Israeli guy just finishing up when we arrived and he tipped the barber 4 rupees. That is 10 cents. The barber was not amused. Ryley informed him that 4 rupees was around 10 cents, and he tried to inform Ryley that 10 cents was a lot of money to this guy, despite that guy's protestations to the contrary. Anyways, after we left everyone in the barbershop vigorously agreed that "Israel is very very bad country". One thing we really discovered about India is how good their food is. Another more important thing we discovered is how they cannot fucking form a line to save themselves. There would be a line of 20 at the airport for check-in, and some guy would just wander up to the front and say something and stick his passport out. This happened frequently. What are you thinking? What is he saying to the check-in girl? "Oh hi, I think its my turn next. My name is Sanjay." Oh Sanjay! It's Sanjay Saturday! Of course you don't have to wait in that long and blatant line behind you. Come right over. Holy shit it was shameless.
So now we are leaving Singapore for the Philippines and then Thailand for a good old fashioned Asian christmas.
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