Previously on Welcome to Kashmir, I had left Srinagar in a huff, for Leh, the Buddhist city in the Ladakh region of Jammu & Kashmir. Two week later, instead of heading on to Manali, as would be logical, I was back in Srinagar. No, I am not a glutton for punishment. In my haste to leave, I didn't get a chance to return the sim card that my friend Arshad had lent me.
Because of terrorism or the threat of terrorism in the state of Jammu & Kashmir, prepaid sim cards from outside the sate will not work inside the state and vice versa. My sim card from Bangalore, was useless. And Arshad's sim card did not even work in the Ladakh region.
Now, Arshad is a good guy, really, he is...I think... But he did want to take me on a week long shikara ride for the discounted price of 30,000 Rs, about $600. This was something he had planned and was looking forward to ever since we met in Varkala Beach. He and his boss were a bit disappointed when I told them that at more than $80 a day, this was way outside my budget, and I would not do it.
From Arshad's perspective, he thought this was something I would want to do; something we could do together; and it just happened to be what he does for a living in the summer, and he could charge me less than any other shikara operator. From my perspective, I saw a seven-month sales strategy for an activity, which I'm not sure I would want to do even if the price was right. But I would have done it, if it was reasonably close to my budget.
So anyway, I took the overnight bus from Leh back to Srinagar. When I arrived at the bus station, Shabir was there hustling for guests, so I decided to stay at his place again, rather than haggle with someone else over price. He suggested that I might want to stay in his houseboat instead, so I went to take a look at it. It was a creaky little thing, access to which was through a barbed wire maze and a police check post. I preferred to stay in the guest house, even though they had not yet fixed the sewer problem in the alley.
It was Friday, and my plan for the day was to visit Jamia Masjid to see a little of Islam-in-action, i.e. violence after the midday prayers. When I told Shabir that I wanted to visit the mosque, he said “No! Don't go into the old city, not on a Friday.” I said that I wanted to go because it was Friday. He said “It will be dangerous for you. They will be throwing stones.” I said I knew. That was why I wanted to go.
He was literally begging me not to go. Eventually, he conceded that he could not stop me from going, but he suggested that I dress like them and let everyone know my name is Jamile. (Jamile is a Muslim name, usually spelled Jamil, Jameel or جميل in the Arabic.)
I did not go. It was already nearly midday, and I was really tired, as I did not get any sleep on the bus. I went to bed instead. Having missed my chance to visit the mosque on a Friday, and with nothing more of particular interest to me, I left the next morning for Jammu. At the entrance to the tunnel, it says, “Thank you. Please visit the Kashmir valley again.” I smiled and thought, “not likely.”
To be fair, there are better guest houses and houseboats in Srinagar, but they tend to move out of the budget category. Indeed, Indian tourist go to Srinagar and spend lots of money to live in luxury on a houseboat for a day or two. Also there are other places I did not particularly like, and I don't say anything about them. But because Kashmir is touted as this amazing paradise, I thought I'd let you know, it didn't seem like it to me.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Welcome to Kashmir
I had decided to breakup the trip from the city of Jammu to Srinagar, the main city in Kashmir, with a stop in Patnitop. Patnitop is a nice green hill station, in the Jammu region, with some nice hikes. When I arrived I went in search of the tourist office for information about hiking trails. On the way, I met a guy from Kashmir. He could not believe that I was from America, because, as he said, people from the US are usually beautiful, but I am black. He claimed it was a slip, that he meant to say “white”. But that did nothing to improve my increasingly negative view of people from Kashmir.
You see, there is no such thing as friendship with someone from Kashmir. You think you have a friend. He thinks he has a customer. His underlying goal is to sell you a product or a service. And that is what he calls friendship. When I first met people from Kashmir, in Varkala, I thought they were the nicest people in the world. But as I met more and more of them throughout India, my opinion changed. I never did get any information about hiking trails, so I continued my journey into Kashmir the next day.
For several months, I had been hearing the non-stop praise about how beautiful Kashmir is (usually from people from Kashmir trying to sell a package tour to Kashmir). And while I had reservations about the people, I was expecting to be wowed when the bus exited the 3km tunnel from Jammu into the Kashmir Valley. I almost took out my video camera for this moment. What I saw instead was an overwhelming military presence. It seemed that every 100 meters, there was a military post. Not quite what I was expecting.
About one hour before Srinagar, the bus stopped for a break. There I was met by a guy who was offering rooms in a guest house or a houseboat in Srinagar. He wanted to get onto the bus and go with me to Srinagar to show me the rooms. I told him, I would prefer to wait until I arrive in Srinagar to start looking for a room. I took his card, with his and his brother's numbers.
I had forgotten all about him, when I arrived in Srinagar and was greeted by his brother, Shabir. Ok, why not? I'll go see the guest house. At the same time, there was another guy telling me that I needed to first register with the tourist police. There was an argument back and forth about this. But Srinagar has a very heavy military presence, complete with lots of razor wire, so if someone tells me I need to go register, I go register.
I thought everything was going fine, until I was asked where I would be staying. I told them that I met a guy at the bus station, and I was going to take a look at his guest house. This was obviously the wrong thing to say. Suddenly, the room was full, and they were all standing around me in an agitated state. Then an officer, who seemed to be the senior officer, came in. He asked me why I came here. I thought he wanted to know why I came to Srinagar, but to my surprise, he wanted to know why I came to office of the tourist police!
He sat down at the desk and went through a battery of questions. In answer to the question of where I would be staying, I told him that I didn't know as yet, but I would look at a guest house, and the owner, Shabir, was standing just outside the door. In a raised and more agitated voice, he asked “How did you come to know this person?” I explained about meeting the two brothers and gave him the card.
Next thing, he was yelling at me. “Why do you trust this person? You do not know him! Why did you take his card?” I responded, “What am I supposed to do when people approach me? Push them aside and tell them not to speak to me? And how am I to find a place to stay, if I can't speak with the people who have guest houses?”
“You verify first! Do not go with someone you don't know who they are!” “And how do I verify his identity? Is there a list of approved guest houses?” “You come here to verify...” “Well, this is the first place I've come to after getting off the bus! And why are you yelling at me?” “I am not yelling at you!” “Yes, you are yelling at me.”
All this time, Shabir was standing in the doorway shaking his head with disbelief. Then the officer must have decided that he had satisfactorily exercised his authority, and said “He is a good guy. You can go with him.” And it was all over.
I went with Shabir to his guest house, down a narrow sewer filled alley. The guest house was nice enough, and for just 200 Rs, I wouldn't complain. I did mention the alley to Shabir, a few days later. He admitted that he loses a lot of potential business because of it. Shabir was a nice guy. As long as I had no illusions of friendship, but kept in mind that he was the guest house owner, and I was a paying guest, things were fine.
While I was there, two girls had been raped and killed, and the people accused the military of the crimes. As a result, there was a general strike, with all the businesses closed. If you were to ask the people of Kashmir, they would tell you that there are no terrorists in Kashmir; there are no problems with the people of Kashmir; it is the news media and the government who makeup stories about problems in Kashmir. But they are very willing to believe in any report about police violence against the people.
I never came to like Srinagar and eventually left after I got fed up. One day, after hiking 1.5 hours, without eating, up the hill to Shankaracharya Mandi, a temple that predates the invasion of Islam by 1000 years, I was not allowed to visit the temple, because I had cameras and other electronic devices, which were prohibited. That was the last straw for me. I left the next day.
As a visitor to Kashmir, I was constantly asked the questions, “How do you like Kashmir? How long are you staying? a month? a year? forever?” It was as though they needed external verification and assurance that Kashmir was the most beautiful place in the world. My usual answer was that I had just arrived or had not been there long enough to form an opinion. As I was walking toward the bus station, a guy, who obviously knew who I was, stopped to ask where I was going, how I liked Kashmir, and if I would come back. This time my answers were, “I didn't really like it,” and “no, I probably won't come back.”
You see, there is no such thing as friendship with someone from Kashmir. You think you have a friend. He thinks he has a customer. His underlying goal is to sell you a product or a service. And that is what he calls friendship. When I first met people from Kashmir, in Varkala, I thought they were the nicest people in the world. But as I met more and more of them throughout India, my opinion changed. I never did get any information about hiking trails, so I continued my journey into Kashmir the next day.
For several months, I had been hearing the non-stop praise about how beautiful Kashmir is (usually from people from Kashmir trying to sell a package tour to Kashmir). And while I had reservations about the people, I was expecting to be wowed when the bus exited the 3km tunnel from Jammu into the Kashmir Valley. I almost took out my video camera for this moment. What I saw instead was an overwhelming military presence. It seemed that every 100 meters, there was a military post. Not quite what I was expecting.
About one hour before Srinagar, the bus stopped for a break. There I was met by a guy who was offering rooms in a guest house or a houseboat in Srinagar. He wanted to get onto the bus and go with me to Srinagar to show me the rooms. I told him, I would prefer to wait until I arrive in Srinagar to start looking for a room. I took his card, with his and his brother's numbers.
I had forgotten all about him, when I arrived in Srinagar and was greeted by his brother, Shabir. Ok, why not? I'll go see the guest house. At the same time, there was another guy telling me that I needed to first register with the tourist police. There was an argument back and forth about this. But Srinagar has a very heavy military presence, complete with lots of razor wire, so if someone tells me I need to go register, I go register.
I thought everything was going fine, until I was asked where I would be staying. I told them that I met a guy at the bus station, and I was going to take a look at his guest house. This was obviously the wrong thing to say. Suddenly, the room was full, and they were all standing around me in an agitated state. Then an officer, who seemed to be the senior officer, came in. He asked me why I came here. I thought he wanted to know why I came to Srinagar, but to my surprise, he wanted to know why I came to office of the tourist police!
He sat down at the desk and went through a battery of questions. In answer to the question of where I would be staying, I told him that I didn't know as yet, but I would look at a guest house, and the owner, Shabir, was standing just outside the door. In a raised and more agitated voice, he asked “How did you come to know this person?” I explained about meeting the two brothers and gave him the card.
Next thing, he was yelling at me. “Why do you trust this person? You do not know him! Why did you take his card?” I responded, “What am I supposed to do when people approach me? Push them aside and tell them not to speak to me? And how am I to find a place to stay, if I can't speak with the people who have guest houses?”
“You verify first! Do not go with someone you don't know who they are!” “And how do I verify his identity? Is there a list of approved guest houses?” “You come here to verify...” “Well, this is the first place I've come to after getting off the bus! And why are you yelling at me?” “I am not yelling at you!” “Yes, you are yelling at me.”
All this time, Shabir was standing in the doorway shaking his head with disbelief. Then the officer must have decided that he had satisfactorily exercised his authority, and said “He is a good guy. You can go with him.” And it was all over.
I went with Shabir to his guest house, down a narrow sewer filled alley. The guest house was nice enough, and for just 200 Rs, I wouldn't complain. I did mention the alley to Shabir, a few days later. He admitted that he loses a lot of potential business because of it. Shabir was a nice guy. As long as I had no illusions of friendship, but kept in mind that he was the guest house owner, and I was a paying guest, things were fine.
While I was there, two girls had been raped and killed, and the people accused the military of the crimes. As a result, there was a general strike, with all the businesses closed. If you were to ask the people of Kashmir, they would tell you that there are no terrorists in Kashmir; there are no problems with the people of Kashmir; it is the news media and the government who makeup stories about problems in Kashmir. But they are very willing to believe in any report about police violence against the people.
I never came to like Srinagar and eventually left after I got fed up. One day, after hiking 1.5 hours, without eating, up the hill to Shankaracharya Mandi, a temple that predates the invasion of Islam by 1000 years, I was not allowed to visit the temple, because I had cameras and other electronic devices, which were prohibited. That was the last straw for me. I left the next day.
As a visitor to Kashmir, I was constantly asked the questions, “How do you like Kashmir? How long are you staying? a month? a year? forever?” It was as though they needed external verification and assurance that Kashmir was the most beautiful place in the world. My usual answer was that I had just arrived or had not been there long enough to form an opinion. As I was walking toward the bus station, a guy, who obviously knew who I was, stopped to ask where I was going, how I liked Kashmir, and if I would come back. This time my answers were, “I didn't really like it,” and “no, I probably won't come back.”
India: Images 82
I found the building materials to be very interesting. Because it does not rain here, most buildings are made of mud bricks and mud for mortar. For some of the newer buildings, concrete is used.
I think this is a calf. It is a bit furry. Animals here tend to be a bit furry because of the cold.
These might be Himalayan wild asses, but they didn't seem to be very wild.
Images from three separate meat shops.
My first Sizzler. This is a standard tourist meal throughout India. It makes a lot of noise because it is sizzling when they serve it, and people go "ooh" and "aah".India: Images 81
Shanti Stupa has images from the life of the Buddha.
One of the images, Defeating the Devils.
After visiting Shanti Stupa, which can be seen on the right of the photo, I climbed a barren rocky hill and sat for a while. I am amazed that they can coax life out of the desert.
Apparently, the government raised some tax or the other, so the people went on strike. All businesses were shut for 3 or 4 days. The only places open were trekking companies and internet cafes. But even they had to scramble to close up shop when the people came along to break the windows of any business that was open. That's what this crowd was about. I kept my distance. Then I would edge a little closer. The people would start to run, so I'd run. Then I'd edge a little closer then run when stones started flying. At the very left of the photo, there is a rooftop restaurant. They would let me in and cook food for me. But I had to hide to be sure no one would see me eating.
Images from one alley during and after the strike.India: Images 80
The Leh Palace and further up, the Nyamgal Tsemo Gompa & castle. The Gompa holds a 3-story high Buddha.
The castle is not in the best shape, but still interesting. At the top, the elevation is 3721 meters.
One view from the Gompa.
Another view from the Gompa.
A third view from the Gompa.India: Images 79
Leh is a predominantly Buddhist city. It lies at an elevation of more than 3500 meters.
The people, culture & architecture is more similar to Tibetan than to Indian.
Prayer wheels are a common sight.
There are many old, decaying stupas throughout the city.
It is interesting what you can find as you wander through the alleys.India: Images 78
There were numerous police check posts, where we had to present our passports.
Stunning desert landscape.
Pee break.
In another small town.
Example of the traditional building type. Mud bricks held together with more mud.India: Images 77
I think the mountain pass was somewhere here. I did not have out my GPS unit to check the elevation.
This area gets almost no rain.
Overnight stop in Kargil. Kargil is much bigger than this...
Lunch stop in a small town along the way.
Nice view at another stop.India: Images 76
Overlooking Srinagar is Shankaracharya Mandir. This temple predates the Islamic invasion by 1000 years. There is heavy security around it. After hiking 1.5 hours up the hill (without eating first), I found out that cameras, mobile phone & all electronic devices are not allowed. I had 2 cameras, a mobile phone, an mp3 player & a GPS unit. I couldn't visit the temple. That's when I decided to leave Srinagar.It takes 2 days to travel by bus from Srinagar to Leh. This road, which is closed in the winter, takes you from the green forests of the Kashmir Valley, over the snowy 3529m mountain pass, Zoji La, dangerously close to the Pakistani line of control at Kargil, over the 4147m mountain pass, Fotu La, into the barren desert of Ladakh, with its improbable patches of green. I was not lucky enough to get a window seat, so my photos were taken through the dirty bus window.
One of the views while still in the Kashmir Valley.
Another view in the Kashmir Valley.
No longer in the valley.India: Images 75
Several times a day, you can see large herds of sheep and goats traveling down the streets of Srinagar.
Some of the sheep can be found on the dinner plate. Mutton kebab. On a side note: everything I ate in Srinagar disagreed with my stomach.
Panoramic view of the lake.
Two guys fishing on the lake. The guy in the blue shirt caught a fish every few minutes. The other guy had no luck.
Sunset over Jhelum River.India: Images 74
There is a heavy military presence in Srinagar and all the rest of Kashmir.
Many hotel are occupied by the military and are surrounded by razor wire.
The lake is the big deal in Srinagar, and shikaras are used to transport people to the houseboats and for sightseeing. The guy in the yellow t-shirt is Arshad. I met him several months before in Varkala Beach.
Meet Yasir. He has a shikara.
Sunset over the lake.India: Images 73
Stopped at a railroad crossing, on the way to Jammu. This guy has a pistol tucked into his waist. Jammu & Kashmir is a troubled state.
Entrance to Raghunath Mandir in Jammu. I didn't go in because cameras are not allowed. And not being Hindu, it is just another temple to me.
The first and only modern shopping mall in Jammu.
There is a Christian colony in Jammu.
Jhelum River, Srinagar, Kashmir.India: Images 72
more turbans
These guys obviously take their time in the morning.
There are different ways of wrapping a turban, and each person chooses the style that best suits him.
Some can't be bothered and just wear what looks like a stocking.
another turban
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