Amritsar

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The worst hotel of our trip was in Amritsar. They wanted 1100 Rs (33$C), we ended up paying 450 Rs, still way to much. Nothing worked, it was noisy and not particularly clean but otherwise ok. We found another hotel the next day, more expensive but much cleaner.

Later, Jamie and I took a bicycle rickshaw into the city centre anxious to see the famous Golden Temple, holiest shrine for the Sikhs. We had to check our bags, shoes, wear a cloth over our head and wash our shoes before entering. It was indeed beautiful, even after having seen so many Maharajah palaces and the Taj Mahal. There were many pilgrims, obviously taking the scene very seriously and religiously so we comported ourselves accordingly, with respect. We were virtually the only westerners - I should say white people there, except curiously enough for a fellow with a familiar face surrounded with important looking Sikhs. I found out later he was a cabinet minister from BC. Small world!

We spent a couple of hours walking around the golden temple, then explored the city. It was a typical chaotic, noisy dirty Indian city, nothing much to set it apart from others. We visited the Jallianwallah Bagh, site of the infamous 1919 massacre by General Dyer. Possibly a nadir of British colonial history.

Later that afternoon, we took a taxi to the Pakistani border to view the daily ceremony - held in conjunction with a similar ceremony on the Pakistan side. A friendly soldier - who we had given a ride in the taxi - guided us to the VIP section, then later decided that we warranted a seat in the VVIP (very, very important person) section. The grandstands filled up with I guess 1000 people, many with Indian flags. Everyone was cheering and chanting pro-India slogans (I was assured), while across the border and through the gates, the Pakistanis were doing the same. (We were only about 35 km from Lahore). The ceremony consisted of formal marching, British-style, by very smart looking soldiers. Incidentally, the average height was over 190 cm (well over 6 feet), well above the Indian average.

The next day was spent mucking about getting organized. Jamie was going on to Chandigarh and Simla, Connie and Juan were going somewhere not known, and I was going back to Delhi for my flight home. We found out how frustrating and bureaucratic the Indian Railways are. Jamie, Connie, and Juan spent nearly 2 hours waiting in a queue, only to find it was impossible to book ahead for their destination. I relaxed in a nearby cafe.

The next day, I left Jamie at 6:30 and started my journey home, by motor rickshaw, train through Punjab and Haryana to Delhi, taxi and finally by four flights. A total of 48 hours of constant travelling. The end of my travels, but Jamie continues on.

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