Driving to Leh is breathtaking. No, seriously:
First of all - The scenery IS amazing. Climbing from the Kashmir valleys up to the mountainous regions of Ladakh, leaving the greenery for the arid and jagged scapes of the Himalayas. Crossing the valley leading to the Amarnath cave, where tens of thousands of tents and buses are leading the way for the sacred lights the Hindus flock to see each year. Spending one crazy day where you are subject to sweltering heat, hard rain and snow left over from the past winter, only to finally reach a desert surrounded by temples and snowy peaks.
Secondly - No ride so far in India, has prepared me for the terrifying terrain, or for the recklessness of the driver. Though much of the road crosses plains, there are passes along the way, that are usually narrower than a standard bus, but somehow allow for a truck and a bus to manage crossing each other along the way. The BRO (Border Road Organization) is still "building highways in the sky", but the further you get away from the populated areas of Kashmir, the lesser the roads seem to resemble roads. Add to that the well known fact that many truck drivers along the way are driving while intoxicated, and you've got another reason to hold your breath and make deals with the almighty.
Third - Did I mention this is the Himalayas? Coming from Srinagar (elev. 1,5Km) to Leh (elev. 3,5Km) in one day is bound to cause at least a little bit of AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness). While the Jeep driver and my fellow passengers were throwing away my Ibuprofens as if they were M&Ms, I mostly suffered from the rising lack of Oxygen. The weirdest thing is, that breathing is no longer a natural action, and you sometimes feel the need to take a quick deep breath, just to keep things steady, as if rising from the sea after a long dive.
And finally - The Indians, known as such a caring, polite people, will never miss a chance to pass around a pack of cigarettes. And with my luck it's been so long since I've had a ride with any other Westerners in the car with me (there were three Brits who almost joined the ride, and in the last minute were ushered to a different car). And so, it would take about two minutes after leaving the rest area for the smoke to start feeling up the cabin, and since it's so cold (or hot) outside anyway, you're not going to let a little air in. And I'm not even mentioning the exhaust from other cars (Oh well, maybe I am).
And in the end, after 21 hours of non-stop driving, with bumps, cigarette smoke, exhaust fumes, heat, cold, rain and one drunk guy who was sitting next to me for the whole time, we got to Leh.
The House
When you get to a new place, it's recommended to have the name of a guest house or hotel for the first night. I never do. As a result, when rides end at night time - and half of them seem to - I usually find myself at a shady place, in a shady part of town, where the owner is most likely to be a friend of the driver. But it's been so long that all I wanted to do was get to my room, take a shower and read a book for an hour before going to sleep for two days. So naturally, there was no single room available and I had to share a double with a fellow passenger (an Indian businessman from Dubai meeting a friend who's finishing a trek), there was no hot water, so I couldn't take a shower and, of course, there was no electricity, so I couldn't even read.
Six hours later, very grumpy and dirty, I packed my bag and started browsing the hikers part of town for cheaper, nicer accommodation. It seems like most houses in town serve as guesthouses during tourist season (June-October), and I just happened to knock on the first door on my way, which had no sign on it and no advertisement at all, but whose owner agreed to house me nonetheless.
Though I stayed there for a lovely week, I still have the feeling that this place is not actually a guesthouse, and the owner just took pity of me and agreed to let me stay in for awhile. There were no other guests, and I actually think my room was the only one not regularly used by the family. There was no food or drink offered, though in times when I was having fits with my stomach the owner gladly offered rice soup and black tea to soothe my pains. At one point the owner - an old Ladakhi lady, practically Tibetan - along with the nun who also shares the house, left for two days to visit family at a nearby village, and simply showed me where they hide the keys to the front door and told me to take care of the place in the meantime. Add to that the fact that whenever I was relaxing in the sun in the lovely garden outside with a book the owner would come and engage me in conversation with broken English that very much reminded me (the English and the badgering talk) of my grandmother, and you get a great, homey place all around. Whenever my landlady will feel I have slept enough - say, it was already nine o'clock - she'd wake me up promptly, and one time it was even worth it, because she had kicked me out of the room telling me that the Dalai Lama was in a nearby village in cause of celebrations of his birthday. Naturally, he wasn't - I later heard he spent the occasion in Washington DC - but the masked dances and the singing was still a lovely experience.
And all was well, until I got my eviction notice, for coming home too late and *gasp* hosting a lady in my room! Thank god they didn't know about the my little joint, or they would have had to burn the place down for sacrilege. So being a little over two thirds of a rockstar (sex and drugs, and maybe my MP3 player counts as a bit of rock'n'roll), I had to find a different place, this time at a much more common, run of the mill guesthouse.
The Ultimatum
Though a lesser known fact to those who've remained in touch only by being avid readers of the blog (and you guys have only yourself to blame!), there have been physical issues. They have been troubling non stop. They have been frustrating. And they are ongoing.
Coming to India, I knew a person with IBS is much more susceptible to ailments than the average traveler, but I was unaware of the extent of these problems. Taking the time to try and find a suitable diet, having periods of "forced relaxation", and having used antibiotics to no avail, there were times of great frustration.
After allot of consideration I have decided to prescribe an auto-ultimatum, and give myself till August 1st to feel a change in my condition. If there is to be no change by said date, I'm moving onwards from the subcontinent.
Where to? Thoughts right now are centered around either Japan, Australia or anywhere in south east Asia - depending on cost issues, Visa difficulties and my whims.
Other recommendations are most welcome, and may be addressed to my email inbox for me to consider and discard of.
There is allot more to Leh, and there is allot more to say, but it'll wait for the next time (Internet here is so expensive, 2$ an hour is a rip off!).
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