Introspections along the Indus,......

Our intrepid travellers have made it to the upper Hunza OK. The C130 plane flight was cancelled from Islamabad twice due to dodgy mountain weather. So after a bout of the squirts due to mild food poisoning and the second flight cancellation, we all decided to get a bus,.... Ha. Asian buses, gotta love em! So twenty six hrs later, after 1000's of hairpin corners, one midnight road block protest by villagers angry at no electricity for four days, a minor bus breakdown at 3am, plus a kick-ass hair raising ride on the roof of the bus as the sun rose over the Indus valley gorge, we finally arrived at Gilgit. Little frontier town on the edge of Pakistan, China, India and Afganistan. The bus journey was tough on all of us, but we were all stoked to leave the heat and deadly smog of the big lowland cities.

Anna has been resting up for a few days at a beautiful guesthouse with lovely gardens in Gilgit, recovering from a smog induced cough. Mark, Joe and i just completed a four day trek in the upper Naltar valley. Absolutely stunning alpine scenery. Hanging glaciers, massive rock spires, succulent pine forests (very rare for here) and the odd ice blue glacial lake. A good few days on the trail, toning up the legs and working out the lungs in preperation for higher altitudes! Can't show you any photos unfortunately - lucky enough to access a computer here, let alone post pictures via it.

The general terrain here is very dry, exceedingly barren and rocky save for the few green oasis of areas irrigated by cleverly channeled glacial meltwaters. These green areas are all located on alluvial fans of epic proportions or the tiny bits of narrow floodplain that cling to the side of mountains. The Karakoram are wild, very raw a different to the other areas of the Himalayas i have visited. They are very young and growing fast. Everywhere is the look of simultaneous creation and destruction as bohemouth forces collide. The sharp, jagged-toothy peaks look like the spine of a giant saw-backed creature of earth and stone in progress of raising itself into the heavens. A rugged and elemental place. The mountains here are so steep and as there is mostly no vegetation to hold the rock in place, as soon as it starts raining or blowing hard, massive landslides start happening, roads block and nobody goes anywhere till it stops. Truly, parts of the 'road' up the gorge to Naltar valley looked so precarious and unstable that if you stopped the jeep and farted (a Hunza dried-apricot style fart!) you could bring a whole hillslope down on top of you. Seriously,......

Am encouraging Anna, Joe and Mark to contribute something to the blogsite, so you have something to read other than just my ramblings. Got something from Anna below. Will keep hassling the fellas!! Ciao for now with hugs,......

Anna: "Hey beautiful people! I've decided to post on the blogsite rather than write individual emails whilst on the journey. You're more likely to get an update this way.

Wow, where to start? I'm actually lucky to have been able to leave India. I threw my India disembarkation card some time ago thinking it wasn't important. The immigration crew at the border weren't happy with me kept saying "big problem madam, big problem,...." and wouldn't give me a new form to fill out. After many such statements, then asking me what my occupation was and me asking the right question "what to do?" they finally handed over the new form for me to fill out - halleluah. Next came the bag search which was a bit strange as we were leaving the country and upon entry didn't have to declare anything or have any luggage checked.

So far I've experiencd less hassle here and more friendliness in Pakistan than in India. The NZ embassy advised not to come to Pakistan at all due to extreme risk - hello, risk of what??? And at the same time for me as a woman, there is a more subtle, pervasive and supressive energy here.

I'm currently in Gilget in the Northern area of the Karakoram Highway in Pakistan. The lads have gone off into the hills trekking. I decided to stay put and rest for a few days at the Mountain Refuge with a paradise garden with a strong woman / Shakti energy. The last 10 days seem like a dream / whirlwind of dirty, hot, sleepless nights in cities. I am actually really exhausted and a bit sick after our most recent 24 hour+ bus journey and am enjoying not moving around. I must say I seem to be the "softie" traveller amongst the group, affirmed by my recent famous quote to Scott, "My kind of travelling is not travelling" - duh!

It's interesting being a woman here and I think most of my observations in this posting will be around this theme. There are hardly any woman out compared to men (I've had an urge to hide out when I'm here) and there are many variations of covering up from the full berka, to head scarf to no head scarf (more in the cities). The only thing that men can really check out is your ankles! Saying all this I haven't had any hassles from men and I am travelling with three males. I met a Canadian woman travelling on her own here and she said it has been a really difficult experience for her as many men perceive her as a prostitute.

I'm trying to get a balance between respecting the differences in culture and not feeling like a repressed woman (many of the men will speak to Scott and not to me when we are out). I don't think I was a very good advocate to let woman out of the house the other day at a local restaurant. I had a bit of a hissy-fit trying to order nan breads and gave the impression that I definately wasn't under the control of any man. And saying all that, where I am currently staying the woman are definately in their power.

Since September 11 the tourist numbers have gone down a lot in Pakistan. Especially here. To make ends meet the family running the Mountain Refuge have local woman from the hills stay for 9 months a year, to study at the local University. Sheshzadi, the mama, is 28 years old and is pregnant with her fifth child, after which will be her last. When she delivers her baby, it will be at an all woman's hospital (no men allowed, staff or family). Marriages are arranged here and most woman won't get to see their husband until the wedding. Sheshzadi's husband is really nice and I thought he was her father, woops! With their four little girls and the young woman students there are more woman about in a small space than I've see so far in Parkistan. The family are Ishmali Muslims, and are much less strict than many Shia's and Sunni's and pretty open in their world view. They have a job balancing Western men staying in a small space with young unmarried Muslim woman. They have to be careful to not risk a scandle (as simple as the family of one of the woman not being happy with her interacting with a western man) which could ruin the reputation of their business and a woman's marriage-ability.

So as a Western woman I am incredibly fortunate and have so many opportunities it's not funny. Thank goodness you couldn't arrange a marriage for me Mum and Dad, it would have been disasterous with my Taurian streeeek!!

Much love and hugs to you all,
Anna, Ana, Anahart

Four friends,.......

Well, four friends have finally begun the meandering trail to Mt Kailash. Leaving the little Dharma community we had created together with Venerable Shenyen in Dharamkot was tinged with some sadness, but there was a strong sense of completion and the sweetness of having done good work and practice together with harmony. Time for pilgrimage now,.....

The heat of the plains and Lahore was, how to say(?), a very rude shock after many months of cool mountain air at McLeod Ganj. You know that scene from the Wizard of Oz where Dorothy flings a bucket of water at the wicked witch of the west who then cries "I'm melting, I'm melting". Yeah, something like this is appropriate imagery,.....buckets of sweat,....

We weighed our backpacks and joint kit at the railway platform in Pathankot and it came to about ~125 kilos. The printout weight tickets had one line fortunes written on the back, like little cardboard fortune cookies that you can't eat (though i'm sure the Indian street cows would consider them a treat!). Mine said "Drama is coming for you", or some such nonsense, which i took with an appropriate huff at the concept of superstitiousness in general. Two days later in Lahore i was sent skittling across the tarmac by a motorbike i did not see at all, whilst 'mindfully' crossing a busy metro road, causing me to do slight a double take of the ticket message. No injuries save for bruising, fortunately. Enough 'drama' to last the next wee while thanks,.....

Our joint weight gives us some serious incentive to do determined eating of our trekking food and any other consumables ASAP! Marks Mother very, very kindly sent a whole bunch of freeze dried veges over from Australia (Thanks!), which will contribute greatly to keeping our weight manageable during trekking and staying healthy in when we eventually enter 'tsampa only' land. Pakistan is a serious meat eating nation hey. Getting vege food here is a bit of a stretch - Anna and i have resorted to Pizza Hut twice (!) - both in Lahore and Rawalpindi just to raid their salad bar (plus escape the heat!). We tried a local street resturant last night and after much miming and gesticulation and "Nay beef, nay chicken, nay mutton,..." etc and then physically pointing out the rice, dhal and chapatis, we still ended up with two big chuncks of dead chook on the plate of rice. A no meat meal is a little bit too far outside the box here i think - it doesn't compute real well.

The first day we called in at Amritsar to check out the Golden Temple, sacred hearth of Sihkism. A highly atmospheric and evocative place. Evening prayers echoed through the temple, mingled with fading light and 1000's of devotees, some dipping in the waters of the large tank and many more lined up patiently to visit the inner sanctum. Very mellow atmosphere, relaxed and comtemplative. Impressive.

The rickshaw to the Indian/Pakistani border was easy, if somewhat bulging with our luggage. A parting conversation at the border reflects my current sentiment towards India well: (Scene - getting out of rickshaw at Indian border post, checkpoint no. 1 of 6; Midday, 35+ degrees C. Mobbed by half dozen Indians, whilst putting on our packs in preparation to go through immigration and customs).
Indian: "You want DVD, cold beer, very cheap, good DVD sir?"
Scott: "No thanks"
Indian: "Cold beer, last beer, no beer in Pakistan, cold beer you like?"
Scott: "No thanks"
Indian: "You want DVD, very good DVD sir?" (waving said DVD in face)
Scott: "No thanks"
Indian: "You like DVD, very good quality sir?"
Scott: "What do you reckon??"
Indian: "You want cold beer sir, we have cold beer?"
Scott: "Kush nay chay aye" x 2 (Hindi for 'I need nothing')
Indian: "DVD sir, good quality, you take?" etc, etc,...
They don't get the hint so easily. We wander off towards the border shaking our heads in some humour, both to say no and also in partial disbelief. Got to give them 10 points for persistence, but to be honest i'm glad to be out of India for now. Am well over that kind of in-your-face hassle. The Pakistanis we have met so far understand a simple 'no thanks' very well.

Have found myself engaging in some pointless comparisons between India and Pakistan in the last few days. Partly as a way of trying to decipher my experience of India and also as a way of trying to find a reference point for Pakistan. Best to let go of such notions i realise. They are just different. Hardly any street animals here (ie cows, dogs, monkeys etc) and the omnipresent aroma of shit-piss that plauges India is also far less evident. People here are generally very friendly and curious. They often ask why we have come here and seem to think that we westerners think they are all terrorists. Our media back home is sooooo unbelievably biased and full of utter-bull about this place and its people. Most of us know this i realise; but to actually see the stark contrast between the images cultivated in the media back home and the reality on the ground is potent. They are different planets entirely - one exists, the other is fiction. Who is writing the story???


The lack of hassle here is great, however as westerners we have a high novelty value which makes us very conspicuous, especially Anna. She is well covered up with scarf and long sleeves/pants, but she is a western woman and the mostly Pyjama clad local men here think this is kind of interesting. We spent a couple of days in Peshawar, a place dripping with 1000's of years of history, near the Afgan border and Pashtun tribal areas. Very conservative there, many women in full Burka. Mark and Joe did a day trip to the Kyber pass, with a jolly armed guard escort and a friendly guide who offered to take them to several interesting places related to the manufacture of guns and hashish. The old city of Peshawar was fascinating to wander about in, labrynthine alleys and narrow stores packed with all things imaginable, but the 'stand out like a sore thumb' factor is a little exhausting after a while.

We attended some Sufi singing and a drumming night while in Lahore. Very interesting stuff. The drumming was amazing, cranking rythyms rising and falling, fast and fluid. One of the two drummers (2 brothers) was deaf, and the Pakistani crowd was well intent on getting stoned to the eyeballs. Hash-laced ciggarettes were flying in all directions (i saw one fella sucking on five at one time!) and several very interesting looking sufi mystics were adding to the ambience by shaking their heads to the sky in semi-trance with beads of sweat dripping and eyes bulging. Outside the venue loads of street vendors with horse drawn carts were selling all manner of sweet and sticky midnight munchies to an increasingly doped up crowd. Intriuging.

We are planning on flying to Gilgit tommorrow, by a military C130 apparently, as the national carrier is not flying the Fokkers any more after one crashed a couple of months ago. Good to know they take air safety seriously! Looking forward to escaping the cities and heading for the hills! Our trekking intentions include a few 2-6 day walks in the upper valleys of the Hunza region, including Rakaposhi base camp, Ultar meadow and maybe the Batura Glacier. Will see how we go when we get there. A couple of photos from 'google earth' of some of the areas we intend to wander in are below.

This could be the last blog update for a wee while, as net access will be seriously limited till we get to Kashgar in western China. Much peace and love from us all for now. The trail beckons,.....

Delerious in Delhi,......

What a place!! After arriving back in Delhi at 4:30 am by train from Pathankot for our visa run, my first impression was "Is this a war zone?". So many bodies sprawled on the pavement in brown rags, littering the roadside and endless alleys of crumbling concrete, surrounded by crumbling buildings, dimly lit and sweltering in the early monsoon-morning darkness. A crush of monsoon heat and the racket of traffic and horns soon to eject them from sleep. What sort of sleep is that??

Spacious and shady room with a view

A crazy place. How anything works here is a profound mystery beyond my comprehension. I guess the reality is that mostly things don't work, but they somehow manage to tumble along in broken and halting steps that the locals just adapt to. Being here again made Anna and I realise that we are ready to leave - 18+ months is long enough. There is a grinding here unlike any other place i have so far witnessed. Patience is wearing thin - with dodging rickshaws, touts, hawkers, hagglers, the omnipresent aroma of shit and acrid urine and the inscessent, jarring assault of mindless noise. Indians appear to like lots of noise,......So we intend this to be our last Delhi visit. For now.

Man with possesions

Phar-ganj rickshaw joyrides

We both got our visas ok, Pakistani and Chinese. The contrast between the mega-rich Australian embassy with its air-con high-tech super-security wall to wall carpets and free net access whilst waiting and the Pakistani concrete bunker dogbox-with-grill couldn't have been greater. Paper work to cross imaginary mind-made borders sorted,....

Outside Pakistani embassy

What the,....

There are so many strange and often unintelligeble phenomena here. Psychadelic bus altars with rapid-flashing coloured lights that make offerings to whichever divinity in order to keep the bus safe - and then they drive like maniacs! One of my recent favourites was a story on page 3 of a major national newspaper, about a policeman recieving extra payments for "moustache maintenace"?? Guess they reckon he has a killer mo. Full story below for your bemusement,.......
Being in a place such as Delhi can bring up a wide variety of emotions and responses. I know that the way that it appears to me is not how it is - my impression is just one distorted and biased impression among millions. Change of mood, change of day and it can all appear differently. However, for us hyper-sensitive, spoon-fed westerners it can often be a bit too much - some people leave here swearing never to return. Imagine how it must be for those who live all their lives in these festering mega-cities, being bludgeoned daily by sensory overload?? I cannot comprehend.

While waiting in Delhi for visas to be processed Anna and i decided to go and find an english language movie - for some temporary air-con bliss and respite from the noise as much as anything else. The cinema was 'broken' we were informed after arriving, so we teamed up with a couple of teenage upper-caste Indian girls for a rickshaw ride to one nearby that might (?) be working. On the way we rattled past a huge roundabout, swarms of traffic swirling around it like bees, of which we were a part - in the middle space were half a dozen low-roofed shacks, if you could call them that - patchwork human shelters stitched together from industrial refuse and plastic bags, sagging and drooping in the monsoon mush. The home, dining room, backyard and social space of 30 or so people, kids, grandmas, moms and dads. Beds consisted of concrete pavers, borrowed from the nearby footpaths, covered in damp hesian sacks, to lift them up a few inches above the lead and diesel infused mud. Lovely open view of the passing traffic. Seeing things like this make me think that whatever i have complained about in my entire life was a bunch of hot-air and mind-made bullshit - what do i have to complain about? Nothing.


When it is awake, this city hums with a relentless intensity that nibbles away at the edge of ones senses, like an alarm clock that you want to turn off, but can't quite reach. There are the odd spacious and leafy-green places, most notably in the well laid out embassy area; but this is not for the masses.

All things are impermanent - fair enough, i'm in the process of trying to get that. But the crumbling nature of Delhi has some extra dimensions and special ingredients that lend a unique flavour. A recent article by a columnist in the Times of India bemoaned the fact that every year during the monsoon the roads in Delhi become a pulverised mass of potholes and poor drainage. Then they pointed out that there is a part of Delhi, built by the Brits, where the roads are fine and have weathered the monsoon deluge for many years without disintegrating. The difference apparently is simply the quality of asphalt. Endemic corruption, tendering process baksheesh and the "screw to the last rupee" bargaining mentality means that by the time contractors lay down the Government supplied asphalt, it is cut with about 40% mud and dirt. Tar spiced with a sprinkle of earth,....

Crap quality products seem to be multiplying and invading the world more and more - like little alien viruses. Yet it appears they really are the norm here - and no one bothers to bat an eyelid. I have seen simple welding jobs that look like they have been done by monkeys on LSD and multi-story reinforced concrete buildings beginning to crack and drop chunks below, literally within days of being completed, because the cement was cut with so much sand and aggregate it hardly bonds. Its a wierd thing. When one considers the vast interconnected network of people, time and natural resources it takes to create even a simple item - like an umbrella for example - that when it explodes in a chaotic twisted jumble within 5 minutes of purchase, due to poor materials and workmanship, my first thought is "Why even bother making such crap". It is such an incredible waste of peoples time, lives and the dwindling resources of this little blue planet. Strange. I know there are many complex economic and social causes that lead to this lack of care in creating things, particulary poverty and caste, but it still perplexes me. I guess what is even more bizzare is that we have collectively created a lop-sided economic system that actually measures this kind of 'throughput' as a positive, ignoring the social and environmental costs.


Ha. On a lighter note, I used to wonder what happened to the advertising posters that are strewn all over the spare bits of wall here in McLeod Ganj - who is it that mysteriously takes them down? A couple of days ago i saw a street cow tearing and eating the posters off the wall, moistened by the monsoon damp. Cellulose is cellulose i guess - with or without ink flavouring. Another humourous thing Anna and i discovered today. For the last few days Anna has had a slightly dodgy belly and a very itchy scalp. She had thus been diligently taking some homeopathic remedy for her belly - or so she thought. Turns out it was a homeopathic remedy for dandruff!! Wonder if that explains the itchy scalp!



There is only so much of Delhi one can take in a single dose, so Anna and i bailed to Rishakesh for a few days while the Chinese visa was waiting. Near the sources of the Ganges River; holy temples, Shiva statues, colourful devout pilgrims paying their respects and freaky sadhus abound.





There was a strong festival type atmosphere there and it was a welcome respite from Delhi. Forests and mountains and wildlife of sorts. We managed a few dips in the icy and swollen Ganga, and gathered a little Ganga sand for use in the wedding ceremony. We spent a bit of time there creating and visioning the wedding ceremony, based around Buddhist principles and ideals. It flowed very smoothly and we are both pretty happy with it. Now we just have to get to Lake Mansarovar!




There is so much written on the faces of the people here. I have been enjoying trying to take pictures of people in natural poses, unaware they are being photographed. Its a bit kind of sneaky i guess, but the looks and the expressions captured in an instant of light and pixelated zeros and ones conveys so much that words or posed photos cannot. The joy of grandparents doting, resignation, raw pain and intensity of beggars, street urchins half-heartedly trying for some rupees,....A selection of recent shots below.















So, a reflection of sorts, impressions appearing briefly in the dew-bubble of the mind. Not the real thing - but then, what is the 'real thing'?,.......