‘They don’t mind do they? They know they’re holy’ said Oyv, frowning in annoyance at the cow lounging in the middle of the busy street ahead, obstructing our way forward. We sat in the back of an auto-rickshaw as the driver valiantly battled his way through a traffic jam. The sea of vehicles around us honked futilely at each other and at the cow. The holy cow was perfectly oblivious to us all. It remained seated in the lane, one foreleg stretched out, placidly chewing on a cardboard box.
Obviously we were back in India once again. In Amritsar, only separated from Pakistan by a border (…and a stadium, some pretty massive gates and two of the world’s biggest armies), we nevertheless felt far, far away from our neighboring country even though it was just 30 kilometers down the road.
When we checked out of Pakistan it was just us and the immigration and customs officers. They joked with us, let our bags go without a search and asked us about our travels. They thanked us for coming to Pakistan, wished us safe onward travels, and God bless (I nearly cried. I’m super sentimental that way).
When we got to India’s side it was all bureaucracy and business, scans and searches, queues and forms. We were barely in the taxi and driving towards Amritsar past tidy fields and little shops, before Oyv mentioned that everything ‘felt orderly and dull’.
‘Orderly’ and ‘dull’: two adjectives that have probably never before been applied to India, and never will be again, but at that moment I knew what he meant.
Coming from Pakistan we felt the difference the moment we arrived. Coffee – not always good – was at least widely available. Also widely available and highly visible: alcohol. There are outlets of the ‘English Wine and Beer Shop’ everywhere, not that they sell a selection you’d want to buy (Jordy’s Bar Premium Whisky, anyone?). Everything was more expensive – although that’s a relative term – and seemed bigger, better, more built-up and developed. Not least the tourist industry, which pretty much doesn’t exist in Pakistan but is definitely thriving in India, with all the inflated prices, travel agencies, scams, touts, souvenir shops and ripoffs to prove it. And then there were the tourists themselves, for that matter – I mean there actually were some, which was a change from the last few weeks for us. We also spotted pigs. Loose in the city street, sure, that could seem strange but that’s not why we noticed them – it’s just that there were pigs at all, and the pork products they represent.
Amritsar is also as friendly as the next place, except when the next place happens to be in Pakistan. People said hello or good morning in the streets, like people do mostly everywhere (except in Scandinavia) and that’s about it. So fewer stops for chai and chats (actually none)…but on the other hand, we were free to go about our day and do what we wanted without ever being sidetracked by a well-meaning passer-by and pulled into another conversation.
Of course, one thing definitely remained inescapably the same: it was hot and humid AF on both sides of the border.
And after a lot of channa and lamb and too much meat in general, there was another thing I’d been waiting days for: eating in Amritsar. Who am I kidding, I’d been waiting the entire trip for that. One big butter-fest, Amritsari food is rich and fabulous.
Forget the English Wine and Beer Shops – we were both in real danger of developing a ghee belly.
But probably the most noticeable change was that the countless mosques 30 kilometers down the road gave way in India to so many different places of worship. We made a beeline for Amritsar’s Golden Temple: one of the most spiritually important sites in Sikhism. Of all the majestic monuments and beautiful shrines I’ve seen in India, it’s my favourite and I couldn’t wait for Oyv to see it too. Arriving at sunset we paused at the top of the steps leading down to the edge of the Pool of Nectar – the Amrit Sarovar for which Amritsar is named. The temple seemed to float on its own golden reflection in the middle of the sanctified water.
We looked at it glowing in the last light of the day, and then at each other. I was happy: Oyv actually drew in his breath just looking (at the temple, not at me). It’s an amazing sight at any time of day, and we went back over and over again.
We returned to the border later on to watch India and Pakistan say goodnight and close the gates with their usual daily fanfare of high-kicking and fist-shaking.
Craning our necks past the cheering crowd on our side we peered into Pakistan and spotted the officer who’d let us through the gates when we crossed the border.
It seemed almost surreal: we were there in Pakistan, just a couple of days ago. Travelling in that country turned out to be one of our favourite adventures so far.
Now here we were, irrevocably on the other side of an international border, pacing quietly around the Golden Temple, hanging out at the pool on our hotel rooftop, eating delicious butter-drenched food and washing it down with whisky from Jordy’s Bar (not really – but we did have cocktails at the hotel one night). This might take some getting used to, we decided.
All the way from Kyrgyzstan to India: another successful road trip through four very different countries. Now to just sit back, relax and enjoy some ‘dull orderliness’. Pass the ghee, please.
Read More
For more of our adventures (and misadventures) in India, check out the rest of my stories from the road.
I also wrote a guide to crossing the Wagah border: everything you need to know if you’re planning to cross it soon yourself.
