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Published: November 3rd 2006
I hadn't planned to go to Manali as it has a bit of a bad reputation. Apparently it's packed full of neo-hippie staying there for months for the cheap drugs that is grown in the nearby countryside. The drug industry makes trekking around dangerous as you might walk in a plantation; several foreigners were killed while walking in the last few years. Now I have nothing against drugheads, but I do find that drug travellers are among the most boring people on earth. They just talk about how they did nothing last day and spend the whole night smoking. They're not interesting in visiting stuff, talking to locals etc. Fine if it suits them but it's not my crowd. Plus, by buying all that stuff they prevent us to trek around. Anyway there was no avoiding Manali as it is a transport hub, somewhere you need to pass through to go to Ladakh (which is too cold at this time of the year) or Spiti Valley which is still open (but barely) in mid-october. I was planning to go to Spiti, do a loop into Kinnaur valley and Shimla (the old summer Capital of the British Raj).
The local bus
Slaughtered lamb
Slaughtered lamb = happy marriage. Of course.was leaving at 6AM. I somehow managed to get there 10 minutes early. On the bus were 2 other backpackers but they were only going to Dharamsala, 30 minutes away. We talked while they were there, the guy gave me some info on Manali. After they left, I switched for a seat up front. I talked with a tibetan bloke called Richi (or at least that's what I've heard). We small talked at first but he opened up pretty quickly as I think he just had to talk to someone. His wife left him about a week ago for a nepali guy, even though they have a little girl together. She told him she didn't love him at all anymore. This is quite unknown in the tibetan community so he didn't know how to react. Some friend had told him to sue her to force her to stay with him, others that he should kill the man but he decided to respect her decision and bite the bullet for his daughter. He was now heading to his mom's place to relax and think about what he should do. We discussed his situation at length.
The bus first went to
Mandi, about 6 hours away from Mcleod and then followed the Kullu Valley up to Manali for the next 4-5 hours. The bus was slow, it was constantly picking up and dropping people. I'd be surprised if we went faster than 25km/hr overall even if the road was pretty decent. I got screwed at one of the first stop when I bought a bag of chips (Indians Lays are awesome by the way) for twice the real price (but I didn't know at the time).
Richi left just before Manali, I told him goodbye and good luck with everything. I arrived in Manali a bit after dark. Despite what I had heard from backpackers I had decided to get a hotel in town instead of heading to Old Manali, a little village in the outskirts of town. But when I saw what Manali was actually like, I cancelled my plan and started bargaining with rickshaw drivers. Manali is packed with people and totally uninteresting. Old Manali was much better, a small village full of stuff for backpackers (pizzeria, bakeries and cheap guesthouse). The place was quite empty however as we were at the end of the season. It was
getting fairly cold.
I settled for a cheapie called Veer Paying Guesthouse, a pretty nice single room but with outside toilet/shower. I headed to the pizzeria and had a delicious pizza. I then spent some time in an internet cafe where I met Marco, the dutch guy who I had met in Chitral and Islamabad. He had been motorbiking to Kashmir and Ladakh and had some funny story about how cold it was up there (-8C is cold when you're camping with a 4C sleeping bag). We talked for a while but I was tired so I eventually headed for bed.
Next day I was planning to go see the temple, walk around, get my ticket to Kaza in Spiti Valley but all these plans were shattered when I saw the weather. Well first it was freezing and there was nothing funny about it this time. I had to have all my clothes on and it was still pretty cold. There was no sun and it was raining, but you could see that one or two degree less and it'd be snowing. Now the thing is that I really wanted a shower but that meant going outside in
Yours truly
Doing a freaking siren pose. some little hut. The water was hut so it wasn't too bad while it was running but drying myself was like a torture. It took me 2 hours to recover under the blankets. I couldn't do anything that day as the weather was too shitty to walk anywhere. I ate in the nearby restaurant, spending a few hours talking with a really nice english couple while eating the most disgusting burger I've ever had. I did managed to get the info that the bus to Kaza was running and just had to show up before 6AM and jump on it, I should have a seat (and if not, I could always stand up...). So I set up my alarm clock at 5:00AM and went to bed.
For some reason I didn't hear my alarm and woke up at the very late time of 5:51. Too late to go to the bus station as it's at least 30 minutes away from the guesthouse. I swore like a pirate and went back to sleep. I woke up a few hours later. I was happy to see that the weather was magnificient and the sun was out in force. Going to the
Man trying to adjust his belt subtily
Hoping no one saw him. He shouldn't have eaten that extra pokara. shower wasn't as torturous as yesterday. After breakfast I walked around the Old Town and the surrounding hills. At some points a pack of street dogs started following me around. I guess they spotted I was a tree-hugger hippie tourist or something. I stopped to ask for direction to a local and he ushed them away. One word from him and they just left while I tried before and they didn't listen. I guess I really do look like a tourist.
I ended up at the Dhungri temple shortly after. It is a temple dedicated to the goddess Hadimba built in 1553. It is set in a beautiful coniferous forest with very tall trees and doesn't look at all like your usual indian temple, more like a canadian or russian traditional building (by russian traditional I mean things like the wooden huts in Siberia, not the Winter Palace). There were a few tourists, mostly indians around (Manali is a famous honeymoon destination). After I went walking around in the forest. I really loved the place, it reminded me of home so much. Coming back to the temple I saw that there was a gathering around the entrance and 3
Woman
After Pakistan I felt she was obscene foreigners were looking intensely. I came closer and realized that there was a pool of bloods (the errand dogs were busy cleaning the place) and a beheaded goat on the ground. I asked for info to one of the westerner and he said it was a marriage ceremony and they had beheaded the goat as a sacrifice to the gods. We watched the ceremony for a good 20 minutes and it was extremely interesting. The dutch guy said it was a mix of animist and hindu religions, religions often mix in the mountains as they're more isolated from the mainstream of hindu society. The bride had such heavy jewelry, her nose ring alone probably weighted a few pounds.
After the ceremony I hung out with the dutch couple. We walked toward the other exit while talking. There were people selling everything: saffron, postcards, rabbits to take a picture with, yak to ride and take picture with, little things of wood with cute inscription on it (as in: It's so good to have a brother like you) that can be used as keyholder. Needless to say I was uninterested. But the dutch woman was so after waiting around for 15
Manali in bad weather
It was raining and almost freezing. My toilet/shower was outside. Miserable day. minutes for her to decide which color she wanted her little piece of wood colored I said I had some appointment somewhere and left. Hey, I'm not married with her, I don't have to put up with shopping with her.
I walked some more, going to Manali since I wanted to give the city a second chance, maybe my first impression had been wrong. Well it wasn't. It is a very uninteresting place, plus the bookstores were closed so it made me angry. It's just a city where every building is a restaurant, a hotel or a shop selling tacky souvenir. I ate some amazing momos for dinner, skyped my parents and went to bed very early to make sure I'd wake up in time tomorrow as I didn't want to face the sarcastic smile of the guesthouse employee a second time (I had told I'd be leaving to Kaza at 6AM).
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Adriana
non-member comment
*sigh*
It's getting cold here, but I think I would able to deal with it if i was backpacking around like you are!!! You're not missing much here, busy writing a stupid grant proposal for class. You're blogs are great to just get away for a bit :) And you're right-with those trees it does look like home! :)