Determined to salvage the day, it seemed Milton had hired a fixer. ‘This is Maputo. He knows another way’ he said, and pointed at the ten year old boy now standing next to him. We didn’t know what to say. What we did know was that we definitely had to see what this was all about. So we piled back into Milton’s sedan, this time with a child-fixer up front muttering in Portuguese.
We got a taste of the mountains ahead on the bus ride to Syrabru Besi. The road was worse than the trek itself could possibly be. It involved teetering on hairpin bends of the sort that made me close my eyes, although I noticed that other passengers seemed to relish the views of certain death, should anything go wrong. Then, we set off on the trail and spent seven days hiking the Langtang valley.
I’ve been to India many times before, but I just keep going back. India never ceases to amaze me. In part because no matter how much time I spend there, it still feels like I’m just scratching the surface. Here are a few of the things that – for us anyway – make a trip to India….such a trip.
We had a night train to catch to Varanasi. ‘The City of Learning and Burning’, on the banks of the Ganges: Varanasi is one of the holiest places in all of India.
By train, or bus, or boat, or rickshaw – it’s rare that we’ve not been able to get somewhere we want to go. Except the time India wouldn’t let us in in the first place. However, once we’re inside the country we’ll find a ride one way or another. And keep in mind, India is huge. Bangladesh, on the other hand, is tiny. But it doesn’t always feel so tiny, when you’re traveling by public transport.
When we reached the Wagah border in Pakistan, we’d been on the road for almost seven months. Starting all the way back in Cameroon, we’d seen some wild places and done some amazing things. Still, we were looking forward to a bit of a break someplace restful and chill – like…India?
It’s true that Pakistani hospitality is legendary amongst travelers. We’ve been here before and have always been met with kindness and generosity. On the other hand, some people are so keen to help us I get the feeling that they think we are nearly helpless, if left to ourselves.
We’ve been to Pakistan before. It felt familiar and comfortable. But I was too quick to let my guard down. Literally. The immigration officer reappeared and informed us that it wasn’t safe for us to travel alone to Peshawar. As foreigners we wouldn’t be allowed to spend the night there, either. And so we found ourselves in the back of another taxi, this time riding through Khyber Pass with an armed guard in the front seat.
So this was it. We drove slowly through the greyness over the Friendship bridge between Tajikistan and Afghanistan. There was no time to question the wisdom of our decision. I couldn’t think about it anyway, what with ‘I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus’ still stuck in my head.
I felt like I could just stay in Istanbul, breakfasting and hanging out with cats, but it was time to get this show on the road. We were bound for Iraqi Kurdistan: an autonomous region in northern Iraq. Still, we weren’t in any rush to get there. We had time to kill and a bit of Turkey to cross.
Determined to salvage the day, it seemed Milton had hired a fixer. ‘This is Maputo. He knows another way’ he said, and pointed at the ten year old boy now standing next to him. We didn’t know what to say. What we did know was that we definitely had to see what this was all about. So we piled back into Milton’s sedan, this time with a child-fixer up front muttering in Portuguese.
We got a taste of the mountains ahead on the bus ride to Syrabru Besi. The road was worse than the trek itself could possibly be. It involved teetering on hairpin bends of the sort that made me close my eyes, although I noticed that other passengers seemed to relish the views of certain death, should anything go wrong. Then, we set off on the trail and spent seven days hiking the Langtang valley.
I’ve been to India many times before, but I just keep going back. India never ceases to amaze me. In part because no matter how much time I spend there, it still feels like I’m just scratching the surface. Here are a few of the things that – for us anyway – make a trip to India….such a trip.
We had a night train to catch to Varanasi. ‘The City of Learning and Burning’, on the banks of the Ganges: Varanasi is one of the holiest places in all of India.
By train, or bus, or boat, or rickshaw – it’s rare that we’ve not been able to get somewhere we want to go. Except the time India wouldn’t let us in in the first place. However, once we’re inside the country we’ll find a ride one way or another. And keep in mind, India is huge. Bangladesh, on the other hand, is tiny. But it doesn’t always feel so tiny, when you’re traveling by public transport.
When we reached the Wagah border in Pakistan, we’d been on the road for almost seven months. Starting all the way back in Cameroon, we’d seen some wild places and done some amazing things. Still, we were looking forward to a bit of a break someplace restful and chill – like…India?
It’s true that Pakistani hospitality is legendary amongst travelers. We’ve been here before and have always been met with kindness and generosity. On the other hand, some people are so keen to help us I get the feeling that they think we are nearly helpless, if left to ourselves.
We’ve been to Pakistan before. It felt familiar and comfortable. But I was too quick to let my guard down. Literally. The immigration officer reappeared and informed us that it wasn’t safe for us to travel alone to Peshawar. As foreigners we wouldn’t be allowed to spend the night there, either. And so we found ourselves in the back of another taxi, this time riding through Khyber Pass with an armed guard in the front seat.
So this was it. We drove slowly through the greyness over the Friendship bridge between Tajikistan and Afghanistan. There was no time to question the wisdom of our decision. I couldn’t think about it anyway, what with ‘I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus’ still stuck in my head.
I felt like I could just stay in Istanbul, breakfasting and hanging out with cats, but it was time to get this show on the road. We were bound for Iraqi Kurdistan: an autonomous region in northern Iraq. Still, we weren’t in any rush to get there. We had time to kill and a bit of Turkey to cross.