Plastic junk.

Hampi, 18-12-1994. The main festival of the year dedicated to the deity of Hampi - Lord Shiva himself - started yesterday. Last night they carried statues of Lord Shiva and his wife Parvati from the temple to the tank in front of my hotel where they put the statues in a boat and let the boat float around for a while. I watched the proceedings but the exact meaning of all this eluded me despite the efforts of the chai shop wallah to explain it all to me!!! Despite the VERY polluted water of the tank several locals overcome by relicious fervour, no doubt, jumped into the tank and swam along with Lord Shiva`s boat. Naturally all the noice, singing and chanting, the cries of exited devotees chased me away from my customary place at the chai shop late afternoon. Off course the festival brings bus loads of local tourists to Hampi as well as sellers who come to Hampi en masse building their market stalls in Hampi`s main bazaar selling all this plastic junk the average indian tourist is so happy with. Plastic bangles in a billion different colors but with only one design.

Chai shops.

Hampi, 17-12-1994. I quite mellowly live my life from one day into the next. The chai shop opposite my hotel or the Trisule chai shop a bit further on in the village, are sure bets looking for me late afternoon. Early in the day I`ll most likely be on a walk discovering new temples and more ruins everytime I leave the village. I`ve come to know most dope dealers by face and am now quite familiar with their prices, who has the best grass in what place can you smoke and where not....

Cool babas.

Hampi, 15-12-1994. All the friends I`ve made since my arrival Have all suddenly decided to move south or go to Goa for X-mas. So I`ve finally some time to clear my head and look around. Apperently there`re some real cool babas at the other side of the river, might go there tomorrow to check things out.

A fertility scrine???

Hampi, 14-12-1994. Almost at the top of Archyutaraya Temple is the entrance to a small cave dedicated to Lord Shiva. Through a semi-dark tunnel of about a km. in length which is sometimes broad and huge and at other times small and pitch dark, we got to a small chamber with a small lingam. I imagine the place to be a small temple dedicated to fertility. I imagine the childless women in the village and from far away to come up there and make sacrifice and offerings in the hope to get pregnant with a son. I imagine the oldest and childless spinster in the village living up there taking care of the scrine. I imagine this place to be stricktly OFF LIMITS to all males, females only!!!....There were actually quite a number of local women up there shyly looking away from us and there WAS an old woman at the place who looked quite upset at us being there..........

A skeleton in a cave.

Hampi, 13-12-1994. From the top of the Achyutaraya Temple on top of the hill over looking Sule bazaar, the views are great and inside the temple are cool babas and sadhus always willing to share a chilam with you and explain the "religious" aspects of the chilam, singing ancient Veda songs in Sanskrit and Pali. An australian archelogist who wa stoned out of his mind on good and cheap indian grass, showed me the human remains, a skeleton probably left there among the rocks by the local constabulary as he explained to me, got the picture myself really! We reached it after a circuitous route up and over huge boulders and finally inside some sort of cave. At night I end up in chilam parties with weird people from all over the place who are always preparing a new mix and talk absolute bullshit.

Baths in the river.

Hampi, 12-12-1994. To avoid the laddle-style shower in my "hotel" I take baths in the river during my long walks around Hampi. The whole area is set in a magnificent landscape and with the ruins behind me I take off all my clothes but my underpants and bathe in the murky water, feeling more relaxed as ever despite a period of intence and persistent bad luck. There are many sadhus living in and around the ruins always willing to share a chilam with you. With their orange robes and long rasta beards they fit in nicely with the magic of the landscape.

A soaked mix for my chilam.

Hampi, 11-12-1994. Had a nice walk today visiting most of the ruins in the immidiate vecinity of Hampi despite getting stoned well before breakfast. Maybe that is what made all these ruins so special!!! A begging sadhu at the river showed me how to make a good mix for my shilam, how to make it burn longer. Basically he just soaked the whole mix in a mixture of hash oil and some liquid before throwing it into the chilam.....no wonder I got so stoned out of my head when I left him!!! I`m still not over my wonder at having found this place!!!

AN AMAZING FEAT!!!

Hampi, 10-12-1994. Finally in Hampi, fabled Hampi. The area is everything I imagined it to be and much more!!! Big boulders are strewn all over the place and evry bend in the uneven footpaths reveal new ruins that are in an amazing good condition considering how long ago they have been built. For 25 Rp. a day i found a small room witha thin matress on the floor in a place called Durga Lodge. I left my key inside the room this morning when I went out with the padlock in a closed position. One of the boys of the hotel/lodge managed to get the key through the bars of the open window with the aid of a self made "fishing rod" with some electricity at the end turned into a hook. AN AMAZING FEAT!!!

On the way to Hampi.

Hospet, 09-12-1994. I spent most of today in the bus thinking about Sri Venkatesan, all the sellers with their plastic junk that seems to be so popular here among the locals, and all the devotees waiting patiently in endless queues gaining merit by giving to the poor of whom their were a surprising lot in such a small little and prosperous town. tomorrow I`ll arrive in Fabled Hampi I been hearing so much about on the backpacker`s road.....

Lord Venkatesan.

Thirupathi, 08-12-1994. 51 haircut curves and all the way up in a rambling old bus I fear will fall apart at any moment, full with pelgrimsdressed in black, their voices shrill in exitement. their eyes full with devotion. Their time has finally come to get darsan from Lord Venkatesan. Nothing can stop them now, not even the prospect of 5 hot and dusty hours in a queue. I followed them and full with wonder but bought myself a entrance ticket for 30 Rp. to shorten the waiting time. In the end I saw a black colored, 3 m. tall statue, bulky like the priests that were in attentance and covered in garlands, tikka and flowers at about 20 m. of murky dark distance. A mean looking indian pushed on those devotees who spent more as the presumeably usual 10 seconds. As a western tourist who had also bought a hefty 30 Rp. Entrance ticket, however, I was allowed a special place at the side and could take my time.

Long-awaited-most-promised letter.

Thirupathi, 07-12-1994. Finally this long-awaited-most-promised letter from Magareth informing me cheerily about this other bloke she met and blablabla, not really a great surprise, did I really expect her to wait for me after I ran out on her???? Off course not..Surprising myself I even felt happy for her. However close Mahabalipuram and Thirupathi might seem to be on the map of India, it still took me most of today in the closed confinement of an indian bus with a change in Madras - confinient becuase I had to go to the G.P.O. anyway to pick up Magareth`s letter -and a broken down bus30 km. or so before Thirupathi Needless to say that I retired to my room after wolving down a couple of plain Masala Dosas.

The crocdile farm.

Mahabalipuram, 06-12-1994. Fully packed in in the super right spirit to hit the road again, I walked to the bus stand this morning just to be told "no bus today, sir, strike". I have heard this before and over a year of travelling in Asia has thaught me to see this philosophically. Returned to myu hotel, smoked a joint, hired a bike and cycled the 14.5 km. to the crocodile farm. Interesting place with pits full with ugly, mean looking crocs. They watch you with their ice-cold beady eyes, not moving an inch, just waiting and waiting.......Naturally the indian holiday makers in their fancy clothesknow quite a few tricks to get the crocs active, throw a Tumps-Up bottle on top of them for example.

White eagles at Thirukkkalikundram.

Mahabalipuram, 05-12-1994. I`ve started thinking about leaving tomorrow but ain`t sure yet. Supposae I`ve to figure out which place first to go to...18 km. inland from Mahabalipuram is this place called Thirukkalikundram with lots of interesting indian country life in between and therefore a good daytrip by bicycle! Two big white eagles come to the hill temple - you get there by going up 500 stairs on foot, you could also get up by being carried up - to be hand-fed by a local priest at noon every day. I climbed the 500 stairs leaving my bike downstairs but these eagles were nowhere to be seen. The local priest was there, however demanding baksheesh from me. He, after all had also climbed these 500 stairs to hand-feed these white eagles that I still have to see. hahahaha!!!!! This is India after all!!!

My first joint of the day.

One whole year I`ve been on the road today, I did, however, nothing to celebrate it apart from the fact that I smoked my first joint of the day a hell of a lot earlier!!! I do remember vividly, however, Magareth, tha nice little black lady, bringing me to Schiphol and passionately kissing me goodbye seriously believing I would come back soon instead of staying away, today one year.

Modesty in India.

Mahabalipuram, 04-12-1994. "You hear that a thousand times a day", The irate voice behind me whispers. Turning around I see the voice belongs to a pretty blond passing me while this beggar - he must be the skinniest beggar in the whole of India, dressed only in a loin-cloth - tries one more time to get some baksheesh out of her, completely ignoring me. On the beach I see rich middle- and upper class indians bathing with their clothes on, the local fisherman 30 m. further on is less modest, cleaning his ass with sea water after just having a shit in full view!!!

Crowds in India.

Mahabalipuram, 03-12-1994. You`ve got to be carefull with crowds in India. Crowds can really gather quickly in this place!! Something out of the ordinary and almost instantly half of India is out en masse to see what is going on. A white tourist with a huge sketch book is sufficient reason to attract bus loads of locals.

Dirty street children.

Mahabalipuram, 02-12-1994. Dirty street children with a weird american accent ask me for a cookie while the tank just behind Arjuna`s penance is being used to clean one`s ass after having attende to a ever repeating daily need. I almost fell asleep in the shade of trees, the distinct sound of the sea in my ears, at Tiger Cave, four km. out on the road to Madras. The sunset at the tank offers fantastic views, a great panorama with the Vs of over flying geese that remind me of my youth in the south of Holland. Many dutch people here, most of them on organised tours. I eavesdrop on their conversation: discussions about indian life and the cup of chai they just drank in front of this primitive shed that houses a whole family back in the fishing village.

A local professional opinion.

Mahabalipuram, 01-12-1994. Spent most of the day making drawings for this sketch book. One has got to be carefull with this hoppy, though, in this part of the world. The moment I take this book out of my bag I can feel curious eyes - local eyes, that is - rolling up and down in their sockets in exitement. A crowd gathers quickly in this country and in no time I`m surrounded by locals giving one another their professional opinion with exclamations like; "Oh, artist. Very Good. Let me see! One photo, please". And more of the same. All of a sudden I see quite a few tourists. Did they all arrive overnight or what? I mean there was practically nobody yesterday....

Mahabalipuram.

Mahabalipuram, 01-12-1994. Heavy drinking at the airport with a stream of tears last night but I`m alone again with my not-so-any-more freedom. Mahabalipuram is full with hotel touts and but a few tourists. So naturally all these hotel touts are rolling over one another looking for business. I avoided them all, took a room and knocked myself out with good grass trying to forget the fact I`m alone again.I told Christina just before walking out of the airport "I love you, you know that!!!" Just to give her confidence a good booster! Could use some myself, though!!!

Goodbey to Christina.

Madras, 29-11-1994. Looking back to the last three weeks or so - 2 and a half week really but it feels longer - I just can`t but wonder how much influence my short relation with Christina had on my person. Time has literally flown during our time together! I`m usually mostly into the sex when I`m in a relationship but with Christina I was also quitew content just to be around her. The same for her as she happily told me. From a selfconscious and scared shitless of the local males she turned into a self-assured and confident woman over the past few weeks. However, all good things come to an end. Tonight she`ll fly back home, to work and a boy-friend who hopefully won`t notice the little horns that have come growing out of his head recently. Who doesn`t know yet that just 3weeks ago he was her "my dearest boy-friend" to a "good friend"now..... The pic is of the two of us together in Periyar underneath the watch tower.

Auroville.

Pondircherry, 28-11-1994. Despite the absolutely hopelessly chaotic traffic situation on the roads of India, we decided to take our chances and hire a bicycle to go to Auroville, an international settlement of idealists about 13 km. from Pondicherry. Ian, a New Sealand amigo of mine, moved out of Auroville leaving his 30 year younger wive behind with another - probably younger man - according to one of Auroville`s residents. I met Ian and his charming local wife during my last visit to Auroville 5 years ago. The famous Matri Mandir - I would personally rather use the word "notorious" - is after several years of internal strife in the upper echelons of Auroville`s hierachy finally nearing its completion. To me and my most charming amiga it still looks like a blemish on the very green and fertile landscape of Auroville. Wildlife aplenty with even a sighting of a mother mongoose with two offspring.

Pedalling dope dealers.

Pondicherry, 27-11-1994. The pedalling dope dealers - rickshaw wallahs - of this former french enclave in Tamil Nadu amuse me beyond believe. The street might be totally deserted but they still wisper "you wanna buy good grass"? Ijust start screaming "hey everybody just listen up, this man here wants to know if you want some good Ganja"! Naturally thay disappear in a hurry probably believing I`m completely off my head,

The Sri Rangam Temple.

Trichy, 25-11-1994. Many cities and town in southern India have two names - one of them in Tamil - which is occassionally quite confusing. The Rock Fort Temple - definitely worth a visit - offers good views at 23 m. in height. As usual with these hindu temples, devout Hindus are prostrating themselves in front of Hindu idols making a small offering, a bowl with fruit, a coconut, some insence and a bit of colored powder called .T.I.K.K.A. The little shops providing all thesae necesary items in religious Hindu life do a triving business! The Hindus are dressed in their best clothes, chatting among themselves and asking us, the foreign tourists, if they can pose with them for a picture. They buy plastic bracelets and similar stuff - even plastic binoculars - from the souvenir sellers, naturally after the usual haggling over the price. A few km. outside Trichy is Sri Rangam Temple, the biggest temple complex in India with seven walls surrounding the Sanctum Sanctorum. Pelgrims dressed in black and local children explaining the stone sculptures to us.

Shri Meenakshi Temple.

Madurai, 24-11-1994.After our disastrous experiences with State Transport busses which were obviously non-excistent despite the efforts of the locals to convince us otherwise, we have gone into the habit of getting up real early whenever we wanna move to an other city or place and catch the first bus leaving for our preplanned destination. We still will have to wait around a little but at least we manage to get our precious bus. Madurai with the Shri Meenakshi Temple belongs among the cream of India as far as most western backpackers are concerned. An opinion with which I readily agree! Even though the inner sanctum is not accessible for non-hindus, the place is still fabulous with spacious corridors, the walls and collumns full with stone carvings and gargoyles. The ceilings covered in murals, a temple elefant that will pat you on the head with its trunk after you`ve given the animal a coin and everywhere very devout Hindus in their best clothes. Naturally the "official" guides have a problem with a negative answer to their services but in general the place is quite relaxed.

Tripping on Magic Mushrooms.

Kumily, 23-11-1994. Our adventurous and drug induced time in the watch tower came to an end this morning. In three days we finished a whole tola of grass between us and got on a far out trip on Magic Mushrooms. I had never before tried Magic Mushrooms in my life, always waited for the right opportunity and company....The watch tower offered me the right opportunity and Christina the right company. It was quite an interesting experience! First I started to feel extremely relaxed, next I was able to break the colors of any object down or add to them, any way I wanted. Eventually I was seeing all sorts of Walt Disney cartoon sort of shapes marching by - maybe that were the elefants we never saw....I made the squares of the chess board go around in circles, yeah, I was most definitely tripping!!!

Fresh tiger droppings.

Periyar, tiger territory, 21-11-1994. Two days we`ve been here in our wooden watch tower, sleeping on a wooden bunk and spending the morning brewing noodle soup mixed with Magic Mushrooms that keeps us high and happy for the rest of the day which we spend on the little balcony of the watch tower watching wild life while working on our tola of grass. A pity for Christina but we`ve to as yet see any elefants....Where are all these elefants I saw when I was here in 1989. Maybe they`re not around any more. All shot by trigger happy, money oriented poachers - ruthless business people or else locals brought to those horrible acts by the starving of their families. Who can say? During our very first forray in the nearby forest we found the fresh tracts of a female tiger which got Christina quite worried. I decided to tell her nada and nothing about the recent tiger droppings I had found earlier in the morning very close to our watch tower.

Periyar, tiger territory.

Periyar, tiger territory, 20-11-1994. After a full five years I`m back in Periyar and staying in the very same watch tower as at that time. But not alone this time. The boats that cruise the lakes of Periyar cost 50 Rp. for us foreigners and only a fraction of that for locals. They are loaded mostly with indian middle class holiday makers, all in their best clothes and eager to see a real wild tiger, camaras at the ready. In sheer excitement they start shouting like a pig that is about to be slaughtered, whenever a they see a deer, wild boar or whatever sticks its head up. I`ve a nagging suspicion that they`ll have to wait a very long time for that tiger they`re so keen on!!! We need this boat to get to our watch tower which is deep inside the park. We`re well equiped with a whole tola of grass, tabacco and food for the next couple of days. This is all pretty much deja vu for me but then Periyar has always been my favourite wild life park in India.

The Hindu holy books.

Ernakaulam, 17-11-1994. The jewish synagogue in Cochin is very interesting, especially when you are jewish. But even when you`re not you can`t but be impressed! Only a mere hundert meter further up the street is the Matkunderry Fort also called the Dutch Fort. Magnificent murals depicting the Hindu holy books like the Mahabarata and the Ramayana. At the jewish synagogue they showed uas a page of the Toran , the jewish holy book, supposedly 100 yeras old. A few days ago I thaught Christina how to play chess. Now that might have been a little mistake! Despite no real previous experience, Christina picked up the essence of the game remarkably fast and actually beat me in the third game.

India`s transport system.........

Kottayam, 18-11-1994. Trying to explain today`s debacle in plain terms instead of abussive language against India`s transport system , not easy really. More like practically impossible!!! We spent four hours - waiting included - to get to Kottayam where we had lunch and waited for the bus to Periyar/Thekkady. By 19.45 h. we gave up and found ourselves a room instead. Of course the room`s wall were riddled with peep holes but by that time we were to exhausted from sheer frustration to care!!!

The backwater trip.

Alleppuza,16-11-1994. We did the very relaxing and mightily interesting backwater trip today.A very good way to watch the life of the people who live on and along the backwaters of Kerala. All along the backwaters the locals use these chinese fishing nets. I seemed to me a lot of work just to catch a few small fish. It is quite amazing to see how some locals live on small, little floating islets, having a hut to live in, raising chicken and pigs and even growing some vegetables. For 2400 Rp. it`s possible to go down the backwaters in your own private cruise ship. However, the only one we saw had engine problems of the mechanical type and under the irritated supervision of the foreign clients, the locals were paddling it on. Must take a long time to reach Alleppuza that way! Well, this is India after all!!! I`ve actually been to Alleppuza before but though I vividly remember this backwater trip< I`ve no recolection of Alleppuza whatsoever.

Kollam or Quilon, Alleppuza or Alleppy?

Kollam, 15-11-1994. We left Kovalam early today nearly getting into a fight over breakfast with Terry and his friends. Staying easy and relaxed and looking them straight into the face over the breakfast tables that seperated us, they chickened out. Anyway they were probably all carrying Kerala grass which can only get shitty when the local constabulary gets involved. A train got us from Trivandrum to Kollam. The last time I was here they called this town Quilon but apperently it is Kollam now, well, whatever....We took an obscure hotel downtown near the bus station with walls full with peep holes - we are in India after all! - and bought our tickets for the backwater ferry to Alleppuza - the last time I was here Allepuza was called Alleppy but who cares?

A closed zoo.

Kovalam, 14-11-1994. It is not really like we were getting tired of these pot induced massage sessions, and our walks down the beach to our very own - as we have come to call it - village. Still we decided we needed a day trip to trivandrum to get information on this famous backwater ferry trip and a excursion to the city zoo. Trivandrum was dusty and chaotic like any other indian city and the zoo closed - that figured! - but we did manage to get the backwater trip info we were after before hurrying back to our hotel down in Kovalam for more massage, fruit salads and pot smoking.

Tae-kwon do on the beach and massage in my room.

Kovalam, 13-11-1994. Today I managed to get beyond the kissing and massage barrier with Christina. Before we got to that point she wanted me to teach her Tae-kwon do on the beach. Much to the amusement of the locals. The massage technics and all that came with that, we did in private in my room and on my big double bed, knew that the bed would come in handy when I took this room.

Smoking pot and having fun.

Kovalam, 12-11-1994. I spent most of today together with Christina and like yesterday, we first smoked a whole bunch of Kerala grass before walking down the beach to our very own little village just a few km. away from Kovalam and watch the fishermen pull in their catch of the day. We walk down little alleys in their village meanwhile having fun with the local village kids who ask us for "one Rp., sir, please". one bonbon or a schoolpen.

Christina from Down Under.

Kovalam, 11-10-1994. I met Christina, a 32 year old woman with brown/reddish hair and blue eyes this morning at breakfast and spent the rest of the day together smoking pot. When we eventually left my room stoned out of our heads, we walked down the coast where we found a small local fisherman village where the catch of the day was being sold on the beach with the usual bartering and people losing their temper with heated arguements as a result. Absolutely nobody in this village hassled us apart from a drunk who demended sigarettes but I have always known how to handle El Senyor Borracho!!! It was definitely an intence experience walking through this village the mental state we werew in!!!

Following me around foolhardedly.

Kovalam, 10-11-1994. Slowly getting back to my roots. India, a fascinating country - most of the time I think of India as a continent - of which I haven`t gotten enough yet. Passport control and customs went smoothly as well as getting a triwheeler to Kovalam at a reasonable price. Nor did finding a place to crash pose much of a problem, a nice room among the coconut trees, my gear thrown all over my double bed and a tola of good Kerala grass. Terry - the bloke whose face I smashed back in Unawatuna, is in Kovalam too. Funny because I already saw him in Negombo, does the fool follow me around foolhardedly? Kovalam`s main attraction doesn`t seem to be the beach, there are three actually divided by big rock formations. But good Kerala grass with the whole Kovalam native population trying to push dope. From the numerous shop owners to the fishermen on the beach. And not just plain grass but also hashish, hash oil, extacy, and much more no doubt but at that time I have already disappaered among the coconut trees. Local women on the beach selling fruit salads - 15 Rp soll der richtige Preis sein - delicious I`m sure but their real money comes from the grass they hide underneath the fruit. Of course being back in India means meeting these weird accentrics who are comonly called Sahdus and like to spend most of their time smoking pot.

Not all belgiums are bad after all!!!

Airport Colombo, 09-11-1994. I pay a very hefty 890 Rp.for my room here at the airport which is probably more than I have ever before paid for a hotel room in Asia but I can`t affort to miss my flight tomorrow morning at 08.30 h. to Trivandrum/India. Did absolutely nothing the whole day but smoking delicious grass which I git from a belgium bloke. Not all belgiums are bad after all!

Negombo`s beach.

Negombo, 08-11-1994. My hotel in Negombo is right on the beach, spotlessly clean and the people who run the place are friendly. However the roof over my room leaks whenever it rains and this being the monsoon.....well, I think you get the picture. The beach is full with dirt and fishermen repairing their nets. Some very ancient looking fishingboats on the beach. The locals offered me some excursions out to full see in them but I have to yet accept.

Wandering around Mt. Lavinia.

Colombo, 06-11-1994. wandering through Colombo and Mt. Lavinia today despite the heat. My departure date is creeping up on me so I am preparing myself for hectic and chaotic India. The end of Galle Face Green - no green to be seen - is full with a sorts of shady characters that offer me dope, snake charmers whose snakes perform their antics doped out of their minds i believe. They make their trained and doped up cobras waggle their heads and the monkey wallaws let their dressed up monkeys dance for a few meagre Rp. With the big hotels nearby and all the fat german tourist couples I can understand they ply their trade here.

Ugly black crows.

Colombo, 05-11-1994. Buddhism is the main religion in this country but from the amount of churches i would presume the catholic faith the be a fair second with a good number of muslims around as well. The first couple of seats in a bus are always reserved for buddhist monks. Like in India there is a huge population of ugly black crows anywhere were there is human population. They live on the filth of the city and seem to eat about anything they can get their claws on. Terribly aggresive birds, one picked me on the head while overflying me a few days ago in the town of Galle. I`ve no doubt they terrorise the small bird life as well, eating their eggs and babies and destoying their nests. I took a bus to the airport today to reserve a room in one of the hotels facing the airport building. They are a bit more expensive than my guest house in Negombo buty at least i Won`t have to worry about curfews or how to get to the airport early in the morning.

The lungy and the sari.

Colombo, 04-11-1994. Got my visa today and I`m glad about it. While waiting for it - bring it in the morning and pick it up in the afternoon - I went to a bar and got myself drunk on local beer together with an american who lives in Hawaii and walks with a bad limp. Nonetheless he claimed to be a notorious and well experienced martial artist. His opponents probably kick his legs from under him in case of a fight, I know I would!!! The sri lankan people are pretty much dressed like the people from south India. They wear mostly lungies, a piece of cloth wrapped around the hips and aproximately a meter in lenght and width. sometimes they wrap it double, a bit like the difference between long- and short pants. Off course the ladies`favourite garment is the sari.

IT REALLY RAINS IN THIS PART OF THE WORLD.

Colombo, 03-11-1994. Getting soaked by a tropical downpour in the streets of Colombo makes me long for the closed confinements of an over-populated Colombo city bus, or maybe just a bar with ice-cold beer. As I have said before: when it rains in this part of the world, IT REALLY RAINS!!!I took a local bus to the nearby beach resort of Negombo today. Very interesting fish market on the beach - basically the fishermen selling their catch of the day right out of the boat. Many camara toting toursts from the nearby tourist district crowding around looking for the perfect photo opportunity. The district itself was overpriced to the max and considering the huge amount of hotels and restaurants almost completely devoid of tourists. They were either all still busy with their camaras on the beach or asleep in their expensive hotel rooms.

Ma fist on da face, mon.

Colombo, 02-11-1994. Apperently the Indian High Commission will have a public holiday tommorrow so I could have stayed one more day in Unawatuna en vez de tener que matar un dia en Colombo. From the moment I first met Micheal`s friend Terry there have been tesions between him and me which I tried hard to ignore but after a couple of plain insults this morning by Terry, the shit finally hit the fan and my fist his nose. Too bad.....for him!

A stale smell in the garden

Unawatuna, 01-11-1994. Slowly coming to the end of my stay in Unawatuna. I`ve decided to return to Colombo to pick up my visa for India which should be ready by now. The people of my guest house - Happy Banana guest house - wonder about the smell of stale urine in their garden. No real surprise to me, I usually have a leak at that particular place during the night. I have to go through their house to go to the toilet but at night they close and lock the door, so......Let them think it is one of these mongrel dogs that are so abudant here.

Waking up to black colored monkeys.

Unawatuna,31-10-1994. Together with Micheal and Terry I went on another day trip to Galle. I took this travel journal with me to make sketches and drawings which i do best being on my own so I soon seperated myself from them to explore Galle on my own. The following page shows my drawings of Galle and as soon as they were finished I bought myself some cold beers and looked around for a suitable place to consume them. A nice spot on the city wall looked good for drinking beer, watch the life beneath me and contemplate my trip so far. It was not like sitting under a mango tree back in Thailand but contemplate I did up there. I the morning - like every morning since I`ve been logding in Unawatuna - I wake up the screams of black colored monkeys, they seem to live in the tree behind my guest house.

A faithful clock.

Unawatuna, 30-10-1994. Two days ago my clock stopped. I managed to get it going again but one day later it stopped again and this time, I am afraid for good. Slowly all the things I took with me from back home, - was that Holland? - have either been replaced or need to be replaced on short notice. In pure fustration I smashed my clock that has faithfully accompanied me on countless travels across the globe, to pieces.

A mellow day on the beach.

Unawatuna, 29-10-1994. Together with Michael and Terry - a friend of Michael - we spent a mellow day on the beach. In Unawatuna once the rain stops all sorts of small, little places open up. Restaurants where you never expected one, or souvenir shops, some of them as small as a telphone booth. Also locals walking up and down the beach trying to sell beach wear, marionets and incense. Local tourists changing into their bathing suits using their towels in a vain attempt at hiding their nudity. Many new faces on the beach today I`ve not seen before. Where were they when it rained? Probably hiding in their hotel rooms. Most of them exremely white, trying to soak up as much sun as they can. Yea, trying to soak the sun right into their pores and getting a sun tan before flying home and face their 8 to 5 shifts at the job, their friends and relatives and their neighbors.

Grass from Colombo.

Unawatuna, 28-10-1994. No excursions today, too much rain. Spent most of the day in my room reading and resting. A walk in the afternoon together with Michael. We went to to the other bay where a friend of Michael`s stays but didn`t manage to find the bloke which pissed us both off since he had apperently been boasting to Michael about this suburb grass he bought in Colombo.

The old city of Galle.

Unawatuna, 27-10-1994. Woke up to a beautiful and sunny day so I decided to be active today after last night`s pot smoking session with Michael, an australian I met last week in Colombo. I spent the morning snorkling and took the 3 Rp. bus to Galle in the afternoon which is only a few km. away, to have a look at Galle Fort. The whole old city of Galle is surrounded by a thick wall interspersed by bastions. Each bastion has a dutch name - from the former colonial dutch days - as well as many streets in the old city which has a distinct dutch/potuguese colonial admosphere to it. Many locals around trying to sell all sorts of worthless looking souvenirs to the many tourits like dried coral and handmade table cloths.

Day trips to Galle and Hikkaduwa

Unawatuna, 26-10-1994. Unawatuna is one of these beach places popular among long-term backpackers. A small village dedicated to shoe string travellers with guest houses and restaurants prominently visible along the palm tree studded beach and the village`s one and only street. Naturally pot is readily available and no cops around to hassle the dope-addicted backpackers. Yes, I can most definitely spend some time here waiting for my indian visa to get processed. Perhaps make some day trips to Galle and Hikkaduwa which are probably okay to stay at as well but has too much organised tours from europe to my taste. I decided to make the day trip to Galle by train and then a ten min. bus trip to Hikkaduwa a bit further south. Just outside Unawatuna is what the locals call a sacret area with atop a hill a small stupa with images of Lord Buddha and beautiful views in all directions.

Finally, the visa.

Colombo, 25-10-1994. Today`s hassle at the Indian High Comission was less as I had expected but still typical indian bureaucracy. I should have my visa somewhere next week, though. I went to see the city zoo afterwards and felt irritated with the entree price; locals 15 Rp. foreigners 75 Rp. smells like a good dose of racism to me!!!Also I visited the G.P.O. where I picked up some letters, one from Jeffrey. I might have to be carefull with that bloke, he could become a close amigo once I am back home in Amsterdam. Lots of soldiers around after the suicide bomb attack but they left me pretty much alone.

A suicide bomb attack.

Colombo, 24-10-1994. Six months from now I will be home if everything goes according to plan. I can finally see light at the end of the tunnel. Last night in downtown Colombo 56 people and the main prestitent-candidate for the up-coming elections next month, got killed in a suicide bomb attack. Very bad for all these people killed, also for me because today there is, as a result, a curfew which means that everything is closed including the Indian High Comission where I wanted to make the necesary arrangements for my visa to India next month. Nothing to do today but to hang around the hotel, read my book and play chess with one of the other guests.

The local Peeping Tom.

Colombo, 23-10-1994. Back to Colombo, mainly for my visa to India which considering indian bureaucracy and stupidity, might well take quite a while as well as many misunderstandings, in comprehensibily and losing my temper. Back at the Big John guest house - where the hell did they ever get this stupid name from? - the old american woman who stays here sort of semi-permanently, has never even been away. Last week I was here, she got herself blind drunk on cheap Lankan Arak and made quite the fool out of herself - now this is actually an understatement, she was hilarious. I thought at one time she was gonna fall of her chair. Just to kill time I took a bus to Mut Lavina which is about three km. from Dehiwela, the closest beach to Colombo. However, i was unimpressed and definitely wasting my valueable time. Some beach restaurant even tried to charge me 25 Rp. for a bloody coke. The beach itself was dirty with only a few foreign tourists and the little bit of bikini-cladwhite-skinned female tourist flesh was well surrounded by frustated lankan males who were busy looking like absolut fools and obviously only there to play the role of the local version of Peeping Tom.

Clock towers in Sri Lanka.

Kandy, 22-10-1994. The lake of Kandy is full with fish, birds that feed on them, turtles and huge monitor lizards of up to 1.50 m. in lenght. Thier bellies big and swollen, presumably from gorging themselves on fish, their skin black with white/yellowish freckles and though the heads are small, their mouth cavity is enormous as i could see for myself when one of these monsters was gorging himself on dead and rotting fish. Also i saw snakes in the lake, one this morning of maybe 35 cm. grayish color with brown bands. So far every village or town in this country i have been to or driven through either by bus or train had one or more clock towers. However, i have as yet to see one in Sri Lanka that is in proper working order. Last night i went to the Devon Restaurant together with Janet and Nelleke from Holland. At the Devon they served thai food and at reasonable prices. More importantly, their food was good and tasty, something to remember, finally good food in this country. So the food was good, the beer was bitter and the ladies interesting table partners, we were the last to leave the restaurant.

A japanese cannon.

Kandy, 21-10-1994. Leaving early to escape the worst heat of the day i got to Kandy just after noon and checked in once again at the Old Empire Hotel for a mere 150 Rp. Though poluted the lake of Kandy might be, it is full with carps and all sorts of other fish. Just above the lake and near the Indian High Commission is a park that contains a cannon taken from the japanese during W.W. Two and a gift from Mount Batten during his stay here in 44/45. Nowadays the park is used by young local couples who like some privacy away from the watchfull eyes of the family.

Place names in Sri Lanka.

Anurathapura, 20-10-1994. I am pretty close to breaking my tongue trying to pronounce place names here in this country. Getting up early, once again, i caught a bus to this place called Anurathapura, 200 Rp. a night i pay for my accomodation called Milano Tourist Restaurant, a quiet place a bit out of town and close to the lake. many birds around this place, huge swarms of parakeets. Near the ruins i saw a 1,50 m. long monitor lizard and a small snake. The ruins, mostly stupas, at Anurathapura are spread out over a huge area and going from one stupa to the next and on makes a nice walk.Most of the ruins are set among rice paddies or lush vegetation rich with bird life. Trying to avoid another12 bucks entrance fee i admired most of the stupas and statues from outside the gates but that was quite okay. You don`t actually need to climb on top of them to have a good look. For 20- to 75 Rp. you can hire a bicycle but i preferred to walk so i could enjoy the bird life.

Uneducated masses.

Polonnaruwa, 19-10-1994. The locals in this country are convinced that we, the europeans, are responsible for all the evil in this world, even the tamil question, though it seems to me to be a local affair. It has always been the policy of incometent leaders to blame outside powers so as to give some necesary enemies to their uneducated masses. That way those masses have something to occupy their minds with and a direction for their fustrations, their anger and their hatred..... Busses in this country always seem to have to be hopelessy overcrowded but i managed to get a seat on the bus to Polonnaruwa where i paid a hefty 12 american bucks to see the famous ruins, famous because they are so expensive to see?

The Dambulla caves.

Dambulla, 18-10-1994. Near Kandy is a place with a name similar to Dambulla and this being Asia with all its misunderstandings, i ended up in the bus to this place mentally convinced i was on the bus to the real Dambulla. But after nearly one year in Asia i have become wary at times and mananged to get out of the bus just prior to departure. The cave temples Dambulla is famous for, are just a mere hundert meters above my guest house and about three km. outside the village. Funny enough the place has no admission charge which is remarkable for Sri Lanka where they try to get a much out of the foreign tourist as they can! Quite nice caves really. The caves contain statues of Lord Buddha in various positions, most of the walls are covered with images of Lord Buddha as well. I did, however, discover a mural of Lord Ganesh and a statue of what looked like a king with a throne on his head.

A statue of Lord Buddha.

Kandy, 17-10-1994. Lots of rain today but i am getting used to it here in Asia. High above the little town of Kandy a white colored 10- or 15 m. high statue of Lord Buddha in lotus position, hands folded in his lap looks down on the hustle and bustle of Kandy beneath him probably listening to the sounds of the birds that inhabit the trees surrounding him. So far i have made two serious efforts to hike up there but today the rain forced me to take shelter in an abandoned truck. Maybe i was never supposed to get up to that particular statue....

The Udawattakele Sanctuary.

Kandy, 16-10-1994. I am not too much impressed with Kandy allthough the lake is nice and so is the Udawattakele Sanctuary just outside Kandy and full with monkeys, spiders, birds and even an european monk. Entree to the sanctuary is 12 R. for locals and a stunning 25 R. for foreigners! Service in most restaurants is slow, unfriendly and even the most simple orders produce blank uncomprehensibility on the faces of waiters allthough most sri lankans seem to have a good grasp of the english tongue, colonial as their english might sound.

A small war.

Kandy, 15-10-1994. So far Sri Lanka reminds me a lot of India. The locals - the males - wear the same designer clothes, their women saris, their children dressed in rags or - for the middle class and up - like dolls with clothes full with glitter. They don`t seem to bother about washing their clothes too often - just like the indians. I see the occasional - holy? - cow searching through the numerous piles of garbage that line the streets looking for something to eat. Street sellers everywhere who occupy every spot on the sidewalk forcing the pedestrians to walk at a slow pace or in the street risking their lives among the heavy motorised traffic. Rickshaws and three wheelers but no Ambassador taxies. Rats and cockroaches abound and they must feel the streets are paradise! I took the train to Kandy today - at 500 m. altitude, up in the hills, it feels like an indian hillstation - and even managed to get a seat despite the little war that was on for free seats as soon as the train came to an uncertain stop. The Old Empire hotel has a colonial admosphere, a beautifull old mansion that charges 150 R. for a room.

Pattaya, the male Kingdom.

Colombo, 14-10-1994. I had a comfortable flight with lots of free booze to keep me occupied. I arrived just after midnight so i slept on a field just outside the airport rather that going into the city which would probably mean i would need to get into an arguement with some taxi wallah about the price...Early morning i took the airport bus downtown Colombo where i found the Big John guest house, a bit out of the city centre but i can live with that. Last night at the airport in Bangkok i got dragged into a conversation with four dutch Pattaya punters, all of them grey haired and foul mouthed bragging about puta-city Pattaya, the male Kingdom for Lonely Farangs from the west.

blabla part 4.

blabla part 3.

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TEST

Continuation of this trip.

Amsterdam, 26/05/2007. From here on this trip which i copy from scetch books i kept at the time, will be continued on my A FARANGS ODESSY BLOG during my time in Thailand.

Thai pleasures.

Bangkok, 31-05-1994. fianlly back in Thailand after quite some years. The country that i have allowed to steal my heart. Staying at my old favourite the Madame Guest House for 160 Baht a night, saying hello to the old woman who owns the place and i have known for many years. She looks older , almost like a scare crow now but her mind is still healthy as ever and her heart as warm as ever. Naturally after checking in my first stop was Kenny`s Place for a bottle of Mekong whiskey on the rocks and with cola, the way the locals drink this hard stuff, to celebrate my return to Thailand, a country full with willing women that attract single white males from all over the place. But also a place frife with prostition - the average thai male goes to a prostitude once aweek girlfriend or no grilfriend - lets not forget the cold beer that tastes so good in this local heat! Thai ladies are actually very beautifull and elegantly dressed with booming smiles that the country likes to advocate as a tourist attraction at which they do well, however these girls lack the big boobs while and black women have and that i am so keen on. Lets also not forget the thai cuisine with its numerous delicacies you can sample at absurd low prices at every street corner outside in the open air, the foodstalls are just as numerous as the varity of food dishes they serve.

No more Bhangladesh.

Bhangladesh, Dhaka, airport, 30-05-1994. Once again i am at The Dhaka Airport waiting for my conection flight to Thailand/Bangkok, waiting yet again for a flight to Bangkok, it almost sounds like a clicee. I really hate these over night flight that rob you of a good night`s sleep but they seem unavoidable. I have been outside the airport perimeters as well moving and travelling around in Bhangladesh but thanks be to all the gods existing in man`s imagination it is not Bhangladesh i gonna travel around in this time! OH NO, OH NO, OH NO, OH NO!!! Thanks to Jeffrey i found out ther is an airport bus from downtown Dehli to the airport which will save me one last discusion with some taxi wallah.

Thailand, here i come!

New Dehli, 29-05-94. I still enjoy wandering around the endless bazaars and old parts of Dehli where everybody seems to be involved in some sort of trade, desperately trying to raise these necesary few rupees to buy the daily cup of chai, the daily bowl of rice. I still enjoy sitting on the lawn of the park in the middle of Connaught Place watching the ground squirrels fight with these terrible crows that seem to eat everything but glass and steel, over the remnants of a chocolate ice-cream. Tonight, however, i will fly to Thailand - with a short stop-over in Bhangladesh - not exactly a new country in my life but surely with new impressions. Been to Thailand before but it will be fun to go back. Thailand will be more expensive but the heat will be less, the humidity higher though. Off course there will be girls - how could there not be in Thailand - but hopefully i will be able to avoid these notorious and in famous Thai whores and instead hook up with some western ladies on the look-out for a bloke like me.

precious stones and gems.

The other story i hear a lot is of travellers getting talked-pressured into buying so/called precious stones and gems. Yeah man, you buy cheap from me and sell with a profit back in your country. i have the address of my friend in your countr, he will have give good price for you, you come back to India and have more money, can stay longer. good for you. Needless to say, the story is crap and the stones fakes and glass. But the number of people who fall for this scam is amazingly big, greet takes over and makes them blind to all else, especially common sense!!! Big profits, yeah, yeah, just a matter of greet and stupidity on the part of the buyers and sweet talking and phycological warfare on the part of the sellers. I always stay well clear of anybody telling me stories that seem to good to be true. Nicely dressed loacal blokes - though i met travellers who are into this shit as well - with sweet talk who want to start a conversation with me with somewhere along the line a story about a brother or uncle who owns a gem shop will creep up. hahahaha.

sexual hassles.

New Dehli, 28-05-1994. Checking in yet agian at the Ringo Guest House after my return to Dehli 2 days ago i met Jeffrey who was after 6 months in India and Nepal, waiting for his flight home. Coincidence or not we enjoyed some beers together and exchanged some travel stories from the last 6 months and played chess again. He told me how he was in Madurai inside that huge temple compolex they have there, bending forward to read a text in the wall when he felt a finger gliding up his ass through the baggy shorts he was wearing, turning around in unpleasant amazement he saw three young indian males dressed in suits walking away all having a good laugh, the one in the middle showing off his middle finger in great pride. Yeah he was happy having anally touched a foreign tourist. Jeffrey set off in hot pursuit and kicked the culprit to the ground with a swooping low kick, a good kick in the face of the already prostrate indian for good measure before hastily leaving the scene. Now i have heard countless stories of european women getting sexually hassled by indian men and half grown up boys, getting their titties pinches and their asses touched but this was the first time i heard of something similar happening to an european man.

Toilet time for pink skins.

Agra, 25/05/1994. There is a whole string of restaurants and hotels around the Taj Mahal, all of them equally dirty and competing with each other for the favours of the foreign visitors to the Taj Mahal. Whole tour busses filled to the brim with camara toting colorfully dressed tourists, all recently arrived to India on organised tours enter these restaurants. Their local guides faces beaming with pleasure, no doubt thinking about the huge commission they will rake in. considering the dirty and unhycienic food they serve in these places i can only wonder how much time these pink skins will have to spend on the toilet tommorow. Having been to Agra before and being mostly here to kill time away from the hassles and polution of New Dehli i am in no rush to see all the sights at once and the hired bike keeps me mobile.

Torn money.

Agra, 24-05-1994. Over the last couple of days the heat has probably risen enough for the ink in my pen to melt which gives ugly smears when i use to write or draw in this travel journal. I wake up early also because of the heat but was is okay this morning because it enabled me to make an early excursion to the fort when there is still nobody around but the ticket seller, when money is involved in this country you can be sure there will be at least some-one around! Trying to get rid of a torn 5 Rp. note i gave it to an icecream vendor and inmediately cycled away with the vendor in hot pursued 5 Rp. note in hand. When i took the torn note back and gave him the torn note in return he got mad as hell. These indian Rp. notes can have a hole in the middle you could probably push a baby head through / they staple there money here - and that is okay, their money is usually so dirty i feel like washing my hands evry time i touch it but that too is okay, however torn money is unacceptable here. The sights in Agra are so wide apart that i hired a bicycle.

Old- and New Dehli.

Agra, 23-05-1994. There is this invisible line between Old- and New dehli. In New Dehli, for example, the streets are broad with better organised traffic - no cycle rickshaws, only three wheelers and Ambassedor taxies - more trees and vegetation, big houses with gardens and all the ambassies - no surprise there - are locatedcin New Dehli. In Old Dehli traffic is hectic, almost always jammed, streetsellers, beggars and richshaw wallahs fighting and screaming for a place and hassling you at every street corner. Houses are old and look ready to collapse or catch fire and burn down at any given moment. That rare tree is always used as a public toilet by men as well as women, not much in the way of open spaces and when you see an open space it is used by the homeless. Today i decided to leave all that weird shit behind for a while and spend some time in agra and see the Taj Mahal one more time. Agra`s rickshaw three- wheeler wallahs are terribly competetive and have a strong hotel-business-comission thing going, going by foot with a heavy backpack is totally unacceptable to them.

Finally getting the shits.

New Dehli, 20-05-1994. Like everything else in India getting things done can and usually is a major hassle, even more so when it is official stuff. Never mind the official stuff in this case entails a Thai visa. This is India and not Thailand and the employees at the embassy are local so something that should only take a day and a minium of paperwork takes at least two days and a lot of being pushed around and rubber stamp shit, forget about the paperwork, filling in that heap of shit was actually relaxing after all push-push and hush-hush - the hush-hush stands for the employees who told me "please sir, do not tell my boss that i want you to pay me some some baksheesh". Was it all this typical indian bureaucracy and the stress that comes with it or bad food, i know not but finally after all my time here i got the shits this morning! Amazing it hasn`t been there before, every tourist gets it and a lot of them all the time they are here.

His Holiness The Ambassedor himself.

New Dehli, 18-05-1994. My train to New Dehli was at 07.00 h. p.m. and arrived at Dehli at 04.00 h. in the morning so i had to walk through darkened New Dehli to the Ringo Guesthouse. Not that this proposed some sort of proplem. I was just once more reminded of how many people in the huge country occupy the streets camping, whole families living and sleeping peacefully together on the pavement. The rickshaw wallahs sleep on top of their vehicle. At least that way nobody will steal your source of income!!! Today i went to the dutch embassy to read newspapers and got hassled by his Holiness The Ambassedor himself. By god what a slime he was!!! He even wanted me to stand up while he was talking to me and shaking hands was completely out of the question. Like i had some sort of disease and would contaminate him by my touch or something. The heat in New Dehli is oppressive after all my time in the hills and the north of India and Kashmir.

Watching darshan.

Amritsar, 17-05-1994. I spent most of today inside The Golden Temple watchinh hindus, muslims and sikhs alike making darshan. There are small niches on the first floor from which i could watch the going-ons on the ground floor. There is always religious music being played which is not unpleasant to the ear. In the afternoon the tiled floor of the temple complex outside was so unbearable hot by the never ending pounding of the sun - you can only get inside the complex on bare feet and with head covering - Loads of volunteers were busy filling up buckets with water from the lake - The Golden Temple is located in the middle of a big lake - and throwing them out on steaming tiles. Amritsar has a nice old city but i only saw a small part of it. The rickshaw wallahs in Amritsar don`t seem as persistent as in other parts of India.

Watching darshan.

Amritsar, 17-05-1994. I spent most of today inside The Golden Temple watchinh hindus, muslims and sikhs alike making darshan. There are small niches on the first floor from which i could watch the going-ons on the ground floor. There is always religious music being played which is not unpleasant to the ear. In the afternoon the tiled floor of the temple complex outside was so unbearable hot by the never ending pounding of the sun - you can only get inside the complex on bare feet and with head covering - Loads of volunteers were busy filling up buckets with water from the lake - The Golden Temple is located in the middle of a big lake - and throwing them out on steaming tiles. Amritsar has a nice old city but i only saw a small part of it. The rickshaw wallahs in Amritsar don`t seem as persistent as in other parts of India.

The Golden Temple.

Amritsar, 16-05-1994. There are more sikhs in Amritsar as i have seen anywhere else in India but then Amritsar is the capital of their home state The Punjab and the place of The Golden Temple, Theit main Gurdwara. These guys all seem to be big and dapper, successful in life - never have i seen a sikh beggar in India - and they are rumoured to be great mecanics, to name but a few of their qualities. To do seem to develop a beer belly once they pass the age of 30/35 years of age, though. Their proud and manly bearing singles them out from the average hindu or muslim indian, also their women seem more feminine and beautiful. They are the most properous ethnic group in India and like i said, i have to as yet see a sikh beggar!!! I spent most of the day around The Golden Temple - free admittance for everyone - making sketches for my travel journals.

A hash pipe and a scam.

Amritsar, 15-05-1994. An uneventful bus ride from Jammu to Amritsar apart from the buffalo that suddenly crossed the road and almost got knocked down by our bus. Probably nothing special in India where there is so much stray cattle around. Some crazy bloke from California with a tibetan wife i met in the street outside my hotel, explained how one can make a shit load of money when going to Pakistan. Now i have no desire to go to Pakistan nor any interest in making money in a most likely illegal way but i enjoyed the free hashish in a hash pipe that went around while he exitedly told me the scam in the room of his hotel.

Bahu Fort.

An easy two and a half km. stroll got me from the hectic centre of Jammu to the relative quietBahu Fort which is on top of a hill and has good views over the city. With most of the inside of the fort being occupied by a temple, i had to take my shoes off. The brick ground of the court yard was so heat - heated up by the sun - that it almost burned the skin of my soles. Tommorow i will be off to Amritsar, the golden temple.

Raghunat Temple.

Jammu, 14-05-1994. The Raghunath Temple in Jammu is actually a whole complex of temples, each dedicated to one Hindu god or another. One of these gods looks a bit like Gog Jaghunath together with sister and brother. Some temples were dedicated to Hanuman the monkey god. Naturally Lord Shiva was also present, symbolised by his representation as a lingam. Whole chambers of this massive complex were dedicated to Lord Shiva with steps of lingams and around the temples were niches with steps with lingams.

Heavy machine gun fire and a loud explosion.

Jammu, 13-05-1994. Heavy machine gun fire and a loud explosion were the last of my impressions of Kashmir last night waking me up twice. Today was okay spending most of the day in the bus back to Jammu where i took the same hotel as roughly two weeks ago before leaving for Kashmir.The Tami Hotel is on top of the bottom-end hotel list in Lonely Planet and the management seems to have no qualms abusing that advantage trying to get guests who stay overnight before gonig to Scrinagar to reserve house boats with them at inflated prices. I have no doubt these house boats are as dubious as the one they got me, Mo and Lisa on. You are supposed to spend, spend, spend and spend even more!!!

another invader.

Scrinagar-city, 12-05-1994. At night Scrinagar is pretty much dead as a walk around the boulevard and Dal Gate proved. Many Kashmiris have blank eyes with the only thing visible in them, the horrors and fear of the ongoing war. Mo and Lisa left the boat as well this morning planning a trip into the mountains around Scrinagar. I took a small hotel in the old part of Scrinagar town near Dal Gate. The locals in the hotel`s bar told me some gruesome stories of toture thecnics by the indian soldiers on p.o.w.s and how the Kashmiris want independence. If they ever do manage to boot the indian army out the pakistanis will march right in and they will have another - probably - even worse invader to deal with. I spent most of the day walking up to Shankaracharya Hill where there is a templewith a nice lingam symbol and lots of very nervous and trigger happy indian soldiers camping around it in tents. Amazingly most of Shankaracharya Hill was covered in thick vegetation with lots of birdlife. I even saw a weasel attacking a bulbul. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me however. My presence probably saved the little bulbul bird`s life.The views from the hill over Dal Lake and Nagin Lake were worth the struggle of hiking up. Absolutely beautiful!

Dal Lake.

Nagin Lake, Scrinagar, 11-05-1994. Against better judgement i decided to stay another day. The sun was out today so the day was just perfect for one last time out with the Shikara. We went to Dal Lake where a friend of Mo and Lisa stays on a house boat. we had a nice day on the roof of his boat with tea and bisquits and the inevitable charras smoking session. Dal Lake is an amazing intricate with all its waterways, channels and canals, everywhere i saw floating grass islands with low bushes and small trees on them, waterplants aplenty and lotus flowers in full bloom. These floating islands can be very confusing when trying to navigate your way around the lake.

War in the streets of Scrinagar.

Nagin Lake, Scrinagar, 10-05-1994. Life on a house boat relaxing and all that is starting to pall i will move into a hotel in Scrinagar town and prepare the trip back to "India". The only thing on this great house boat is the english chandelier, i keep banging my head against it because the bloody thing is hanging so goddamned low. Renting a bike at 20 Rp. a day, i cycled a the way around Dal Lake and along Nagin lake to the old town. The Jami Mashid mosque had a colorful market around its sqaure perimeter and lots of people running away because of a shoot-out, naturally i ran with them!!! !5 min. later and back on my bike but not too far from the Jami Mashid mosque, i first saw a cop making some sort of movement with his lathi presumably warning me to go back, a little bit father out a Kasmiri woman shouted at me to go back immidiately. Only 50 m. further on i saw a big armoured personel carrier with a very big and mean looking gun on top of it pointing straight at me, strategically placed in the middle of the road. I definitely did not need any more warnings and left the area in a rael hurry pedalling faster as ever before in my life!!! Only a few blocks away from the war scene life was normal like nothing was happening so short a distance away.

A bad season.

Nagin Lake, Scrinagar, 09-05-1994. I am slowly getting the hang of these Shikaras navigating the lakes all day while Mo and Lisa spend their days smoking charras and being lazy. did fall into the water yesterday though. I paddled by myself all around Nagin Lake to find out exactly how many boats were having foreign visitors, i would guess that their are about a hundert boats on Nagin Lake of which only 5 have guests ours included. Talking about a bad season!!!

Nagin Lake, scrinagar, 08-05-1994. Life on a house boat on Dal Lake - or in our case on Nagin Lake - is definitely relaxing with only "minor" disturbance of the occasional seller of typical tourist junk who sort of accidently wanders into your house boat`s living room. These sellers are absolutely desperate to sell at least something now with hardly any tourists around because of the war. Our house boat is absolutely A-class delux with our own personal man servant and three meals a day - we are talking wholesome and tasty food - twice a day tea and bisquits and a hot water bottle discretely place the sheets of your bed before you retire to sleep and the free use of the boat`s Shikara etc etc. All of that for the absurt price of a 100 Rp. a day!!! Before the war one paid for all this 38 american bucks a double or 28 a single, talking about desperate people. Of course the chocolat wallah is irresistable with his assortment of sweets, cookies and chocolates with their walnut, honey or whatever exotic concoction you might like.

A bloody warzone!!!

Nagin Lake, Scrinagar, 07-05-1994. Taking the Shikara again this morning we were confronted with harsh raelity and the simple fact that the whole of Kashmir Valley is a bloody warzone when we saw a couple of locals in their civvies guarding a small floating island that had a small wooden shed on it half hidden among the long vegetation. Both locals had a very serious looking machine gun and were stategically placed on both corners of the island. They kinda waved at us so we gave them a friendly but nervous hand waving back, most locals gliding by in their Shikaras didn`t even give them as much as a second look. At night sitting on the balconey of our house boat we are every night reminded of Kashmir`s peculiar political situation when we can hear pretty heavy fire fights in the distance with lights flashing and the occasional beam of strong laser lights. Mo and Lisa have some friends staying opposite our former house boat had a chai stop - Kashmiri tae actually which is much better as the indian catpiss the hindus mistakenly call chai - at their house boat and a little charras party to round things of.

Trying a Shikara.

Nagin Lake, Scrinagar, 06-05-1994. Trying a Shikara is definitely not as easy as it might look like. Me in the front, Mo at the end and Lisa in the middle caused quite a bit of amuzement to the locals watching us trying to navigate our way through the lake. Mostly we were going around in circles before we figured out a way to go more or less in a straight line, more of a sig-sag course to be honest. The Hazratbal mosque was nice enough but the place was clowling with soldiers armed to the teeth and wearing bulletproof vests, most of them hiding in sandbag made bunkers surrounded with barbed wire. The area had a really war like feeling with burned out house to add to the scene.

Kashmiri house boats.

The Kashmiris have built up an amzing good and luxurious tourist accomodation system withn their house boats. Old english furniture with quite intricate woodwork all over, a dinning room, a living room and some sort of, what i presume is english, toilet on every boat, seperate bedrooms with attached bathrooms. You eat on the boat and the food is good and healthy and as much as you can eat served with tasty kashmiri tea. The Moghuls as well as the english colonisators definetely knew how to live it up when they came to Kashmir. Nowadays the boats are nearly desrted of tourists because of the independence struggle and only hippies, alternative types and marijuana smokers come here to live it up. The boat has got its own Shikara so i think i will be out today and explore the lake.

Nagin Lake.

Nagin Lake, Scrinagar, 05/05/1994. After changing house boats, too much hassle at the other boat, we spent the whole day being lazy and smoking our newly acquired hashish.

Lotus flowers and dirty dogs.

Apart from shikaras and house boats the lake is full with ltus flowers and water lillies. With summer approaching fast and the sun out in force, there are more of these beautiful water flowers appaering ev ery day, amazing. The lotus flowers open up early each morning when the sun comes up behind the horizon and close again at nightfall, a true wonder of nature!!! The kashmiris cultivate their vegetables on small floating gardens, collecting dead waterplants from the lake they use as fertiliser. In short, Dal Lake is really worth my coming here on this long overnight bus from Jammu. Scrinagar on the other hand is dirty, polluted, smelly and full with heavily armed indian soldiers referred to as ``dirty dogs`` by the kashmiris.

Life`s necesities.

Dal Lake, Scrinagar, 04-05-1994. Dal Lake is full with boats, shikaras as the local here call them. Some are loaded with life`s necesities like soap, shampoo, toilet paper bisquits and even hashish, handy for when you do your shopping, you never need to leave the house boat even the dope is there for the buying. Like floading supermarkets, something for the Edah or Albert Heyn to consider in the Amsterdam canals, sure they would make a bundle. Other boats have a paddle wallh and a well dressed business person aboard trying to sell jewelery to foreign tourist, not too many around of these nowadays. Old men is shikaras loaded with sweets and munchies come along side your own shikara and try to sell their wares at terribly inflated prices, usually twice the price asked ashore, i presume you have to pay for their paddling to your house boat or shikara. Naturally when you do buy your house boat owner rakes off a little commision.

The Hobbly Hobbly.

Scrinagar, 03/05/1994.The Kashmiri are definitely smooth talking and hard working! I arranged a house boat with a Kashmiri in Jammu for a mere 100 Rp. with dinner and breakfast included. After a 12 hour busride which went through some rugged country side, hills and mountainous scenery and not to forget the Jawahar Nehru tunnel, impressive all in itself, 2500 m. long and damp and dusty inside, it was sort of nice to see there was actually someone to pick us up from the bus. They really picked us up way before Scrinagar by Maruti minibus, were they afraid the competion might snatch us away from them at the Scrinagar bus depot, but they bring us to the promised house boat. Good food and a nice house boat in the middle of Dal Lake. But after dinner me and Mo, the male part of an english young hippie couple i share the house boat with and were with me on the bus, got taken into a small shed with the family s son and father that own the boat, for a hobbly hobbly, local waterpipe, filled with hashish. Me and Mo were the only people smoking while the family present ate their food and watched how the son tried to talk us into buying carpet, smuggle hashish which he supplied naturally, into Europe and all that shit. Mo, however handled him pretty well and he never got a hold on us and the scene never got violent. We both got quite stoned from the hobbly hobbly and, lettin Mo do all the talking i found the whole scene quite comical.

On the way to Kashmir.

Jammu, same day. After the cool days in Manali Valley and Mc Leod Ganj it is sort of hot here in Jammu which is despite being part of Kashmir still on the indian plains. Just have to change busses here for the long haul to Scrinagar.

A Quebec folksong.

Papillon tu est volage. tu resmbles a mon amant. L amour est un bandinage. L amour est un passe/temp.Quant j ai mon amant, j ai le coeur content. Si L amour avait des ailes comme toi joli papillon, je retournerais a elle. Comme une ame en sa maison. Je mourrai d amour. Je pense a elle toujours!

My reward from Lord Buddha.

Mc Leod Ganj, 01=05-1994. My last day in Mc Leod Ganj and the rain is coming down in buckets, it really is rainig cats and dogs, wonder if that is some sort of bad omen.... A couple of bottles of ruma nad the sexy company of Maija celebrated my final evening in this small but very sympathetic and peaceful tibetan community. I will be hard to forget my strange time here and the things that have happened to me, the people i met and how things went after the "heroic action thing", was teaming up with this young and volumtuous finnish lady my reward from Lord Buddha after i rushed in to help this one/legged german from getting beat up by enraged indians while they whole population of foreigners stood by and did nada= Maybe i will find out in the next life but then i have no hurries to find out too soon!!!!!

Dutch queensday.

Mc Leod Ganj, 30-04-1994. Dutch queensday and i miss all the fun, well can`t be changed! We spent most of today in my room, walking around and visiting an elderly german who has got a house here. He filled us up with cakes and pastries so much i had lost my appetite later on in the restaurant.

A 7 year old tibetan boy.

Mc Leod Ganj, 29-04-1994. The contact between me and Maija, my finnish love, is improving rapidly. It definitely is nice to be around her apart from of course the physical thing. Together we went all the way up to the hill above the ZKL monastery where they train a 7 year old tibetan boy to take over the duties of His Holiness The Dalai Lama when he will be to old to continue his peaceful work. A very bored looking 7 year old boy greeted us and after we had prostated ourselves in front of him which is the custom, < 3 times as a matter of fact> asked us a couple of all-day-questions in pretty good english like "wher you are from?" and "she your wife?" His english was quite Oxfort accented though.

A 20 year old blond from Finland.

Mc Leod Ganj, 28-04-1994. Despite a strong catarro i spent most of yestrady in the charming company of a 20 year old blond from Finland, talking and walking around the hilly surroundings of Mc Leod Ganj. I brought her back to her hotel around midnight and we ended up sort of french kissing but nada mas which was okay with me for a first date. It has, after all, been a while since last i was in the company of such charming and beautiful finnish lady.

A room that is alive.

Mc Leod Ganj, 27-04-1994. The last couple of days i have been spending quite a bit of time with the israeli neighbors in my hotel. They like to smoke pot and chat up the ladies, obviously they are having a good time here in Mc Leod Ganj. Their room, at the street side of the hotel, is a melting pot of people, A spanish nymphomaniac is a frequent visitos as well as what is probably the only tibetan prostitute in this small tibetan refugee city. They all come to this room that gives out to the street which is convenient because because from their balconey they can see and call to all the western and tibetan beauties alike to come up and pay us a visit.The shops are finally strating to open as well as the restaurants, hesitantly and slowy though. The general admosphere is slowly improving.

My heroism action.

Mc Leod Ganj, 25-04-1994. After smasing the peaceful community of tibetan refugees, the indian "heros" stick to threatening speeches down in Dharamsala. Together with Shifra, a duch jewish blond from Israel we had a look at the damage done to the tibetan library, mostly broken windows and a few cars set on fire. My heroism action during the indian mop violence has made me quite a few friends here in Mc Leod Ganj, foreign tourists as well as tibetan refugees!

Mop violence.

Mc Leod Ganj, 23-04-1994. Being in a country where shops are open 365 days a year i was sort of surprised this morning to find everything closed but my mind dismissed it as something local and i therefore didn`t consciously try to figure out what was wrong. Only after my return from my walk to Disala and at St. John`s church in the Wilderness did the shit really hit the fan with irrate mops of hindus armed to the teeth with wooden clubs and iron staves ransacking tibetan shops, restaurants and hotels, beating up those tibetans dumb enough to still be outside. Setting things on fire and trowing stones through windows were common with the indian riot police standing by idly, fingering their bambu cane shields. Trying to free a one-legged german from a threatening crowd i got them all against me but being aforeign tourist finally spurred the police into action and with a serious lathi charge scared away my would-be assailants. Hindus are not exactly big heros and when they do get into fights they like their friends to hold them back so that they can show off safely. However, an indian mop is capable of murder! All their repressed frustrations just come out!!! A tibetan killed a Hindu lat night down in Dharamsala and that is the cause of everything, the hindu crowd says and conveniently leave out the jealously part, a crime pasionel by the spoud of it. The tibetans in Mc Leod Ganj are slowly getting rich and their bellies grow by the day on the lucrative tourist industry. The Hindus down in Dharamsala only see the tourists passing through and not spending any money apart from, maybe, a cup of chai waiting for their bus up to Mc Leod Ganj.

Bagsu.

Mc. Leod Ganj, 21-04-1994. Mr. Dalai Lama fled to dharamsala after his volutary exile from Tibet, a lot of his country people came with him and today the place is quite a scene with hotels, restaurants, movie houses and all sorts of peopl, freaks, hippies, people in search of themselves, idiolisers of tibetology, buddism seekers or whatever they call themselves. I saw one tourist with huge tibetan scribts tattoed all over his legs today. I meet lots of people i have met already on this trip, yeah the place really is popular. Only a short walk got me to Bagsu, a nearby village where the locals hope to make a bit of dough on this huge tourist implosion at the nearby holy presence of the Dalai Lama.

The Dalai Lama.

Mc. Leod Ganj, 20/04/1994. Mc. Leod Ganj is officially a part of Daramsala but it is 10 km. furter up the road and 500m. higher. Full with tibetan refugees, the residence of the Dalai Lama, full with good food and a shitload of foreigners. My hotel room is a sorry affairs with no windows and i pay a hefty fee of 70 Rp. a night. Today for the first time since being on this trip did i have to stay in the bus, no seats, sir. Using the roads in India you can be sure to come along flocks of sheep, cows, donkeys, horses and mules thrown in for good measure. Especially in the Himachal Pradesh.

The weirdness of Malana.

Mandi, 19-04-1994. Still not sure if the weirdness of Malana was a charras induced nightmare/dream or actual reality!!! At any point i put my pack on my back and hiked back to Jari and hence on to Bhuntar where i took yet again a bus to Mandi. I took the same guest house as last time i was here, the place is still dirty like hell but cheap enough at 40 Rp. a night.

Malana.

Malana, 18-04-1994.A hard day of walking with my backpack on my back, brought me to Malana brought me to Malana where the houses and the people should not be touched-punishabe by Malana law with a fine of 1000 Rp. The villagers are a strange and weird lot, they inbreed, but the village is probably the most intence experience i ever had. On entering i thought i was on another planet or something. Not just the people and their dresses and jewelery, not just the looks they give you but the wholew ambience/admosphere is completely diferent as i have yet experienced! I must have looked like a complete idiot the way i staggered into the village and gaped around. The place has no running water nor electricity and the locals seem to spend most of their time sitting around and rolling charras. They have a guest house, 60 Rp. for board and lodging, the owner is the government representative and not from the village itself. Apart from me there are some Italian alternatives around that, i have no doubt have come to Malana to buy bags full with tolas of charras.

A panther

I saw some green parakeets, black head and yellow tail, size of am comon indian green parakeet today on my way back from Jari. Some locals told me there was a panther nearby, actually throwing stones at the presumed location of the beast to scare it away. The only thing alive i ever saw up there was a Rhesus Macaque and the stupid monkey seemed quite unnerved by all the commotion.

A fly in your food.

The waiter of the mountain restauren-watch the spelling-a dopehead who always hovers near the table when a chilam or joints goes around, told one of my table partners that she should remove the fly in her food before eting it!!!

The gurdwara sikh temple

Manikaran, 17-04-1994. There are some great walks to be made in this area, like the one to kasol, following small paths at the other side of the river. Tends to be a bit complicated finding my way around being stoned out of my heads as i seem to be most of the time. Being stoned is like a shifting of consciousnesses. The rael world and the not so real world!Lots of sikh tourists in Manikaran. They come to this small village with the whole family in tow, all dressed in their best clothes which is so typical for the locals when they go on holiday, driving these small Maruti vans that are popular among indians, to see the Gurdwara temple, the sikh temple.

Pulga.

Manikaran, 16-04-1994. Like in Vashisht there is quite a chilam and charras culture in Manikaran. The beautiful trek to Pulga, a small village full with long term visitors and 14 km. from Manikaran was very nice and took me through some wild and rugged parts of Parvati Valley-as they call this valley. A small village, the ocasional bunch of small kids, a few local women in ragged clothes that were suposed to be tradional i believe, looking after their cattle, goats and sheep and strong looking but not very tall, black cows and bulls were all i saw on my trek to Pulga. Did see some rhesus macaque and Hanuman monkeys but they were much more shy as in other parts of India.

No toilet

Manikaran, 15-04-1994. Not much to say about Manikaran mainly because i got myself stoned out of my mind only a few hours after arrival. I changed my hotel this morning because the other place didnot have a toilet, i had to piss off the verandah last night! Like Vashisht this place has natural baths but the water is much hotter here, in fact close to boiling temperature. At the main gurdwara are many babas smoking charras from a chilam, nothing new in that.

Leaving the freaks and weirdos behind.

Vashisht, 13-o4-1994. Probably my last entry in this travellog from this small and picturesque himalayan village, gonna leave all these freaks and weirdos behind. Coming back from Nagar, a stiff 18 km. walk i met this bloke from Down Under i met two months ago in Calcutta having just come over on his first trip to Asia. He was there and then pretty green but now he talks chilam, charras and that sort of shit. The jargon of the experienced chilam smoker. Tomorrow is defitely LEAVING TIME!!!

The chaishop

Vashisht, 12-04-1994. Whenever someone wants to light up a chilam and has the hashish but not the chilam they borrow the chilam from an old grey haired, bearded local who is always around probably for just that purpose. After all when other people borrow your chilam you naturally get a good hit from it too! An ugly frenchman with a nose that resembles a carrot, is also always near waiting for someone to light up a chilam and pass it along, accidendly is always seated in the direction the chilam gets around. The man has got no shame whatsoever and even eats the leftovers from a pancake or any other food people have ordered. You do hold on to your money this way though. A local who looks pretty much 90 % out of this world also behaves as though he is 90 % out of this sorry excistence! He lights up a chilam-if he doesn`t fall asleep in the process-and cleans it out straight after, knocking a fully prepared mix on the table.

Travel Urge

Vashisht, 11-04-1994. I am still not bored with Vashisht but i can feel the travel urge building up inside me again. Had one more run-in with mister Sikh and his Bramin friend today so like last time i challenged them to a batalla de punyo puro but again they chickened out. Like most indians they are not exactly the brave kind induvidually but beware meeting them in a group. However, my "friends" now know i have hair on my teeth.

Hadimba Devi Temple

Vashisht, 10-04-1994. Had a look at the Hadimba Devi Temple today which is just outside Manali in a pine tree forst and looks a bit like some temples i have seen in Kathmandu Valley years ago. Old Manali, a few km. away from Manali is the "other" tourist hang-out but prices in Old Manali are reputedly more expensive as in Vashisht and the people staying here seem of a completely different type as those in Vashisht, no big surprise there.

More of Vashisht architecture

The houses in Vashisht are built of natural stone with a fire hardened wooden veranda that circles the houses, covered by a wooden roof. Ussually a loom can be seen on the veranda together with all sorts of loacl utilities and washing lines. On a sunny day grand father will smoke his waterpipe on the veranda and the family s children use it as a play ground. Small villages in Kulu valley are almost exclusively made up of these house and are quite a nice sight.

Problems with a Sikh tourist

The last couple of days i have been having some problems with a Sikh tourist and his Bramin friend, so getting pissed of with the whole situation i went over to his hotel to face the whole shit head-on challenging them to a fight but they chickened out. No big surprise there.

More Falcons

vashisht, 09-04-1994. Saw more falcons yesterday and today. All the crevices and small holes in the sheer mountain sides and all the small bird life they feast on must make this part of the world an ideal habitat for these predatory birds.

Pimps and their whores in Amsterdam

Vashisht, 07-04-1994. Today the weather was finally good enough to make an excursion out of Vashisht. Kothi, also called Snow Point was my goal. About 13 km. from Manali and a real tourist attraction, a must for local tourists whish means lots of shops along the way where they can rent rent rubber snow boots, gloves to keep your hands warm and fur coats, not that the fur is real, that remind me of the fur coats used by the pimps and their whores in Amsterdam and in the infamous American police movies. The place also has some hot natural baths that are being used by locals and foreigners alike. None of the houses in Kohti seems to have toilets or baths. During my hike up to Kohti i was lucky enough to see some Shaheen Falcons fighting over a recent kill only a few yards away from me.

Vashisht Houses

The houses in Vashisaht are very picturesque with women working the loom on the verandas. With the influx of freaks and hippies, alternatives and charras smokers from all over the world their are several new hotels being built. These people do need a place to stay after all. Every so often i see local tourists dressed in their sunday clothes coming up the hill in their middle class cars, no doubt wanting to have a look at all these weird caractres from the "WEST".

The movie house

Vashisht, 06-04-1994. The soft thud of chunks of melting snow falling of roof tops is what woke me up this morning. Combined with the constant sound of falling rain I knew that today would be another day of inactivity, another day of playing chess, drinking chai and smoking chilam in the Freak House, maybe taking in a movie at the local movie house, just a wooden shed with a old iron heater and a bed sheet that is supposed to be the movie screen. at least the movies are foreign and not the local Masala Dosa type and the locals feed a steady supply of chunks of woods to the iron stove/heater so the place is sort of warm. The stove actually is the real reason all the freaks and hippies frequent the shed cald in old clothes and old and smelly blankets wrapped around their shoulders they complain about the bad quality of the movies, mostly the action type. Always a couple of locals around begging for free chilam hits.

A thick layer of snow.

Vashisht, 05/04/1994. Woke up this morning to find the whole world under a thick layer of snow. So instead of going on a morning hike i spent all day in Freak s Place eating, drinking chai and playing chess and, off course smoking chilam after chilam. When finally walking the short distance back to my room with the snow coming down in huge chunks i was as stoned as i could possibly be falling asleep the moment my head hit the piloow.

Vashisht

Vashisht, 04/04/1994. This village offers me plenty of good walks and good entertainment in the local chai shop, the place is so small that they only have one chai shop that offers food as well, GOOD. There are some termal baths in Vashisht and the semi permanent population of freaks and alternatives seems nearly as large as the population of locals, GOOD. spent my first day in Vashisht in the chai shop, which i have nicknamed Freak s Place, playing chess, drinking chai and smoking chilam. The cahi is expensive at 2 rp. / 1 rp. in the rest of India / but there is always a freak around offering me a hit from a chilam. They actually pas these chilams around by the sack full, GOOD.

Kulu Valley

Manali, 03/04/1994. Driving through Kulu Valley this morning gave me my first impresssions of this beautifull valley. I took a small room in a local hotel in Manali for tonight but i do not intend to stay long, instead of Manali i wish to move up to the small village of Vashisht first thing tomorrow. The village is supposed to have a semi permanent population of freaks and alternatives. Walking up there this afternoon i had a chai in the local chai shop and got offered a hit from a chilam leaving Vashisht stoned out of my head, quite happy and determined to return tomorrow with my gear and staying a while.

River Beas

Mandi, 02-04-1994. Surrounded by mountains and built on the shores of two rivers, one of them the Beas, is Mandi, between Dharamsala, Shimla and Manali. Nothing of interest in Mandi, really, apart maybe from some old temples on the shores of the river Beas. These temples just offered me a nice opportunity to strech my legs and use my eyes before nightfall, i arrived late afternoon i did not feel like spending the few remaing hours of daylight in my crappy hotel room. all the hotels in Mandi look the same, grubby and very basic not to metion extremely dirty. The hotel where i took a room for the night does not even have a name, it does have an unwashed toiled and a broken sink. The owner a desintrested sihk shop owner taking me up to the room above his shop. At least i have a room, just a 100 meters down the road some homeless locals camp in dirty tents made out of black plastic, on the shores of the Beas. However the women of these homeless campers wear fine and expensive looking silverey jewellry that somehow gives them a dignified look.

Queues of cars

Shimla, 01-04-1994. If a traffic accident happenes on one these small and winding mountain roads you will see soon long queues of cars that naturally have to wait untill the local constabulary has cleaned up the mess. That in this country takes its time so people just wait stoically as though they were waitng in a movie house after the generator has once again given up and the movie has stopped. Or the movie house experiences a brown out had has no back up generator what so ever. In the bus to Craigano, a forested area 16 km. from Shimla and the walk back my activity for today, i met a swedish guy who was the spitting image of my friend Frank back home in amsterdam. In behaviour, accented english and looks. He seemed quite impressed with my near perfect swedish which i learned from Frank, a norwegian himself.

A good deed

Shimla,31-03-1994. Today offered me the unique opportunity to help out a fellow human being. On my way back from Wildflower Hall which at 2500 m. above sea level and surrounded with once again nice pine forrest and the former residence of Lord Kichener, who ever the fuck he might be, 13 km. away from Shimla and offering me great views which were mostly obscured by rain clouds, i met a little indian girl who asked me to pluck her a wild flower out of her reach on a mountain cliff. Now, how could i refuse these big, dark and begging eyes? Hanging above the cliff and using all my acrobatic skills i got her the red colored flower. Happily she bounced off in her dark red school uniform with striped tie. Lots of rain today, all the usual fog being washed away by the dozens of buckets of rain water that came down. Howevr, when the rain finally stopped the views were really nice. Many Sihk families in Shimla, well dressed and accompanied by their children they walk up and down the mall, probably holidaying like me, i presume.

Summer Hill and Chatwick Falls

Shimla, 30-03-1994. Summer Hill, a nice and quiet suburb of Shimla, about 5 km. away from the mall and with some fine english colonial houses and Chatwick Falls, a waterfall surrounded with nice smelling pine forest another 3.5 km. down the same road as Summer Hill, were my goals for today. To write down all the minutiae of indian life that my eyes and other senses take in day after dayis beyond any possibility. The biggest problem, however is the enormous gap between me and the locals.