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We trained our way into the lovely city of Amritsar with the intention of staying a night (two at most), seeing the golden temple and the cave temple, maybe seeing the border closing, then moving on to Mcleod Ganj. After two day of ilnes andnothing on our itinerary accomplished, we finally felt good enough to venture out of the hotel room for more than a couple hours. We finally felt good enough to get this city DONE.
Our first stop after a lazy morning was the incomparable Golden Temple. The day revious had seen us through the Silver Temple, a Hindu version of the Golden Temple, with the same architecture consisting of a temple in the midle of a square, man-made lake. It's called the Silver Temple because of its plating, but the nickname is also appropriate if the two temples are placed on the olympic medal scale. The Hindu temple was much dirtier, and the surrounding architecture was nothing special. The golden temple, in contrast, was so clean you could eat off it (and many do, as they have a kitchen that serves free meals to upwards of 40,000 pilgrims and visitors a day), and the water was crystal
clear. The whole thing was in much better repair than the Silver Temple, and the surrounding architecture was nearly as stunning as the cetral temple itself. Two large clock towers, two towering, thin minarette-like towers, and marble everywhere. Simply sinful amounts of marble. Many compare the Golden Temple to the Taj Mahal in terms of beauty and iconic status, and in my opinion they are right to do so.
After the our golden experience, we headed off to the Hindu Mata Temple (cave temple). Envisioning a hill temple nestled in some large cave with narrow passages and natural streams, we were slightly surprised to find ourselves dropped of by our auto-rickshaw in the middle of town. We bought some sweets, took our shoes off, and headed in. The immediate interior was filled with prostrate Hindus chanting to a statue, and we were quite unsure where to go when a priest directed us through a door and up some stairs. The narrow passageway we went down had an uneven ceiling that started canting more and more, until the both of us had to be quite hunched over. Despiteits irregular proportions, it was clearly not the product of decay or bad
design. Rather, they were clearly trying to create a fun-house representation of a cave. There were several switchbacks, one place where you had to crawl for a few meters, a small aperture leadng into an internal "stream", and hundreds of idols for praying to and paying to. The color scheme, the face painting, the sugary snacks and the distorted and contorted walls, and the sense of fun all brought to mind a nice stroll through a religious fun house. Not at all what we had in mind, but I wouldn't have missed it for anything.
Leaving the temple, we decided to see if we could catch the border closing ceremony between India and Pakistan. We auto-rickshawed our way to the bus stand (rps40), hopped on an uncomfortable bus to the Attari-Wagh border (rps30) and finally a bicycle rickshaw from the bus stop to the border itself (rps20). We got to the border to find that we were too late (damn that bus; I've never been on a slower one, even in India), and decided to take an auto-rickshaw home (rps150). The whole thing cost rps240, and was very uncomfortable and slow on the way up, and slow (although comfy)
on the way back. In contrast, the share taxi that we took the next day was just rps150 for a return ticfket; it wasn't the most comfortable ride, but it was quick and cheap. We usually try to do things the way the locals do, but in this case the foreigners had the right idea.
To avoid the heartbreak of the day before, we started this journey way too early. We got to the stadium (there's bleacher seating at the border; they're under no illusions as to this being a solemn ceremony) a couple hours before the show, which meant quite a long time on blisteringly hot cement seats. Finally, a family from the crowd was recruited to run the Indian flag up to the border and back again, at which point it was brought high into the stands and waved aggressively at the sparse Pakistani side. After this small show of jingoism, the dance music blaring over the loudspeakers cranked up and an impromptu dance party began. Starting small with a half dozen Indian women, it soon balloned into more than a hundred (mainly Indian girls and women, but there were some boys and white foreigners who found
the music too infectous to resist). Several songs were danced to in the 100 degree plus heat, then the border guards in ridiculous hats decided enough fun had been had and ushered everyone back to there seats. A half hour or so later, our side started shouting nationalistic phrases at the offending Pakistanis, culminating with our leader bellowing a loud cry into the microphone. At cry's end, on of our people marched ridiculously up to the border and started high kicking. Then two more did the same. A series of yells, people high kicking, more yelling, some stomping and the like went on on both sides for a good 15 or 20 minutes. The whole thing culminated in the ritualistic simultaneous lowering of both Pakistani and Indian flags, and the emphatic slamming shut of the border gates. Which were then opened again, leading to more stomping, high kicking, some saluting, a violent international handshake, and another slamming shut of the gates. Lucy loved it; I found it silly, boring and probably unhealthy. But definitely worth seeing.
Before the border closing, we'd made our way down to the Ram Bagh gardens to see the Maharaja Ranjit Singh museum. Ranjit Singh
was the most successful Sikh ruler, driving Afghans and Gujjars out of Punjab, and increasing his kingdom's size until it included much of present day Kashmir and Pakistan. To celebrate his now legendary life and character, the museum had a series of paintings, followed by a room full of diaramas, then a room that was itself a walk through diorama (they called it a panorama), then another room of diaramas. I thoroughly enjoyed the museum and would have simply adored the "panorama" had I been a child, but the truth is that much of it seemed amateurish and not very well done. The diaramas were clearly just dolls in expensive clothes in front of painted backgrounds, and the few times perspective was attempted were a complete failure. Some of the paintings were quite good, but most of them were poorly executed and of a story-telling nature rather than art for art's sake. The panorama was fun, and some of the blues and greens in it were amazing. Overall, I liked it and Lucy was unimpressed and bored.
That's pretty much it for Amritsar; on to Mcleod Ganj!
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