Tag: February 2003

Part One:

We had listened with excitement to our friend’s description of
his travels in the tribal regions of Kinnaur and Spiti, in the North Indian
State of Himachal Pradesh. Bordering Tibet, these areas had only recently
been opened to foreigners.

The following May we set off from Goa, where we spend our winters, and
headed for Shimla, the former summer capital of the British Raj. It was
our second visit to this bit of old England located on top of and spilling
over both sides of a steep ridge in the foothills of the Himalayas. Even
a scaled down copy of London’s Gaiety Theatre sits on the Mall,
the town’s high street from where on a clear day you can see high
peaks while strolling past and poking into quaint old shops, including
Maria Brother’s Antiquarian Bookshop, where you never know what
treasures you’ll find.

We inquired about Kinnaur and Spiti at the tourist office, housed in
a Tudor-style building on the Mall. They tried to be helpful but there
wasn’t much official information to be had about the region. That
was ten years ago. The bureaucratic hassles involved in obtaining permission
to enter this region at that time were so formidable that few travellers
managed it, and of those who did, most received permission to stay for
only a week and others were even required to take a police escort with
them. Surprisingly, the officer in charge of a small district headquarters
granted us a two-month unrestricted permit from simply because we had
struck a friendly note with him. Such is the way things happen in India.
In the past few years entry restrictions have been relaxed and we have
been back many times.

The district of Kinnaur is largely Hindu, but being far from the centres
of mainstream Hinduism, it has retained an archaic character: oracles
go into trances and the gods of the villages speak through them. There
are no Brahmins here to act as priests; Buddhist lamas conduct the major
household rituals for the Hindus, those concerned with birth, marriage
and death, a practice unheard of elsewhere in Hindu India. Spiti though,
is Lamaistic Buddhist as is Tibet, but the religion is more archaic here,
retaining ancient ways, magical practices and archaic rituals that long
ago disappeared from Tibet.

Over the years, we’ve spent many months exploring Kinnaur and
Spiti, living in small villages, walking the trails between remote villages
and into the high, uninhabited mountains and attending festivals at gompas
(monasteries)—colourful events when the lamas don gorgeous silken
brocade robes, masks and headdresses and perform graceful dances to the
sounds of kettle drums and unbelievably long, curved brass horns. Once
we pitched our tent on top of a flat-roofed mud house and watched the
lamas practice their graceful steps and leaps for a week before the festival
began. The dances are dramatizations of stories from Tibetan Buddhist
myths, all very well known to the lively and appreciative audience of
villagers, decked out in their finest and most exotic apparel; they come
from near and far to watch these shows. We sat among them and enjoyed
being among these gentle and colourful, full-of-life people.

At a festival at Ki Gompa, which is built around the small, rubbly cone
of an extinct volcano, when the dances were over, the audience got up
and moved to the hillside behind the monastery. There they formed long,
snaking lines and prostrated themselves to make a living carpet for the
lamas to walk on. Talk about devotion! The people consider their lamas
to be literally living gods.

Ki village is high above the Spiti Valley, north of Kaza, Spiti’s
main town. The bazaar has the timeless feel of an ancient entrepôt.
It is a meeting place of people from all over the Himalayas and the Indian
plains who come here to trade donkeys, yaks, rugs, turquoise and coral,
seed pearls and peas… (and Spiti is renowned for its fine riding
horses able to navigate the narrowest of mountain trails, and also for
its wily horse traders).

The town is dotted with small squares built around gleaming white, highly
embellished chortens or stupas, the reliquary mounds found everywhere
in the Buddhist Himalayas, and shaded by ancient gnarled poplars. And
surrounding the town are stark, boldly hued mountains. In this high-altitude,
desert-like region all cultivation must be carried on by extensive and
ingenious irrigation schemes, complex networks of channels that bring
water to the fields from glaciers in the mountains high above. The emerald
fields of barley and peas are like jewels set into this rugged, rocky
landscape. Massive mud-brick houses and monasteries washed gleaming white
with distinctive black and ochre trim stand out against the green of the
fields and the deep blue of the sky.

More in our next letter about Spiti’s distinctive style of architecture—it’s
amazing what you can do with mud! And, what happened when it rained in
this place where it never rains!

Martin and Carol Noval have been living in India for more than twenty
years and organize and lead several special cultural tours and treks a
year for small groups. They’ll be leading road trips and treks in
Spiti next summer (2003). If you would like to get in touch, email them
at tripsintoindia@usa.net and check their website www.tripsintoindia.com

Nick from London says that he thinks that it does not really count if
you have only been to the inside of an airport in a particular country,
though others may argue this point. There are other brief visits I have
made to countries. For instance, a couple of years ago I was holidaying
in Thailand and took one of those long tail boat trips on the Mekong river
in the Golden Triangle. During the short journey the boat driver called
in at a jetty on the Lao side of the river for petrol.

Aha! I thought to myself, This is an opportunity to visit Laos! I leapt
off the boat and walked up the jetty and spent a couple of minutes on
the riverbank on the Lao side of the river. So I have had a very short
“visit” to Laos, at least I have stood on Laotian soil, but
of course I can't really say that I have been to the country in any
usual sense. Perhaps others have similar rapid drop ins on countries?
Write in and let the Beetle
know what you think!

Meeting news from our branches around the world.

February is a slow month in the Costa Del Sol. This is why you can get
some of the best deals during that month. The temperature goes from 16-10
degrees Celsius. So you can still be in shorts.

I recently just got back from Costa Del Sol. I took advantage of the
airline price war that is going on right now. Arriving at the airport
I noticed that the traffic was not as heavy as it was during the summer
but still a fair number of the people getting off those planes were from
the UK, Ireland, Norway, Sweden, Denmark and Germany. First things I noticed
was that I needed sunglasses and needed to take off my heavy winter jacket.
I just arrived from a Northern European country where that morning it
was -6 Celsius. It was also icy and snowing conditions.

I was smiling as I thought of my colleagues back home at work. I was
thinking that some of them do deserve their day in the sun. Some of my
colleagues had become as cranky as the northern weather in the northern
part of Europe and the sun would bring back their smiles. Productivity
would greatly improve.

The second thing I noticed is the smile on the Spanish people's
face. They seem that they were enjoying themselves. I thought what enjoyment
have I had before coming to Spain? In my Northern country I was stuck
everyday in traffic, I was driving 20 kilometres an hour on the highway
due to snow and icy conditions, I had 3 layers of clothes on because of
freezing temperatures. Coming to Spain I was no longer stuck in traffic,
there were no icy conditions to peril my well being, and I was taking
off my 3 layers of clothes in February!!! Therefore, I too had a smile
on my face.

Once in Costa Del Sol, you will be tempted to stop on the highway to
view the ocean. My suggestion is to drive west towards Marbella. Take
the coastal highway N-340 so that you can get the ocean view throughout
your journey. Stop somewhere where you can view the great ocean- like
the top of the Sitio de Calahonda. Calahonda is 36 Kilometres west of
Malaga and on the N-340. Once at the top there are bars and restaurants
where you can sit outside and see the breathtaking views. You will soon
forget your problems at work, your icy conditions, and your 3 layers of
clothes that you left back home.

About the Author: Fred Desrosiers lives in the coldness of the Swiss
Alps. He has been to the Costa Del Sol several times. He loves it so much
that he returns time and time again. He can help you if you’d like
to visit the Costa del Sol. View his website at Fred's Homepage

Globetrotters meeting on 1^st February by
Padmassana

David Abram was up first and gave us a very interesting talk
on Trekking in Corsica. David has spent long periods in Corsica
in order to research his Trailblazer
guidebook. He told us that the cheapest way to get there is to take a
No-Frills cheap flight to either Marseilles or Nice and then take a ferry
across to the island. David first showed us the easier coastal walks;
we saw the azure seas and waves crashing on to rocky headlands. The main
route for Trekking/walking on Corsica is the GR20, which winds its way
170 Km across the islands roof. The route has an altitude change of 19,000
Metres. David explained that although his photos of the route looked daunting
to all but experienced mountaineers, including parts where it was necessary
to use cables and ladders, most reasonably fit people can manage the route.
The GR20 route is for the most part well marked with waypoints. It is
divided into 16 stages, which most of the 17,000 people who do the walk
each year complete in around 12 days. David finished up with some Corsican
music and some of his favourite photos of Corsica. In next month’s
e-news we are lucky enough to have one of David’s stories about
his time in Corsica – look out for it!

After the interval our second speaker was Peter Nasmyth whose
talk was entitled Caucasus adventure. Peter kicked off with
photos of snow-capped peaks like Mt Elbrus and hilltop churches, lit by
the intermittent electricity supply. This region has many surprises for
the visitor; it’s a place where the locals drink toasts to Stalin
(he was a Georgian) and to Adolf Hitler (he fought the communists). Other
surprises were a bubbling carbonated lake, surrounded by red mineral covered
rocks. Tblisi is the Georgian capital, we saw old areas where balconies
over hang the streets and a tower block that was once the best hotel in
town, but is now a home to many refugees from the wars in neighbouring
countries like Ossetia and Chechnya. Peter’s photos of the local
people included traditional dress that has built in bullet holders and
knives in the waistband of trousers. The Caucasus is an area where it
is possible to go heli-skiing, by renting a helicopter and heading up
into the mountains, very popular with German skiers. Peter finished by
telling us about his charity, which helps the local children, who are
bright and well educated, but have little to channel their energies into.
Peter also helped establish Prosperos bookshop. The first English language
cafe bookshop, which according to Peter sells the best coffee in the Caucasus.

Coming up: Saturday 1st March

Leslie Downer – “Sadayakko and her amazing
journey around the World.” Sadayakko was a geisha and Japan's
first actress. In 1900 she enchanted audiences around the World from san
Francisco, New York, London, fin-de-siecle Paris, Vienna and St. Petersburg.
Part II of Leslie's geisha adventures. Geoff Roy –
“Great Wall of China” is the longest man-made structure on
Earth- stretching from the Yellow Sea to Tibet (6,700kms.) Geoff's
talk covers walking on restored, as well as un-restored sections of “wild
wall”

London meetings are held at The Church of Scotland, Crown Court, behind
the Fortune Theatre in Covent Garden at 2.30pm the first Saturday of each
month. There is no London meeting in August, but we will be back in September.
For more information, you can contact the Globetrotters Info line on +44
(0) 20 8674 6229, , or register for email updates at at our website (click here)

Iris is a British lady of considerable character and pluck, on a 23
week overland expedition from Quito in Ecuador to Caracas in Venezuela.
After this, she plans to do a 3-month voluntary placement in Ecuador,
and then visit Central America for another overland trip between Panama
City and Mexico City, ending up with perhaps another 2-month voluntary
placement somewhere in South America again. This amazing journey will
take Iris one year. Here is an extract from Iris’ journey notebook.

30^th November: The Journey to Cuenca

I sent my last emails from Baños, was there 3 days and it was
a lovely little town but, as I say, that volcano was brooding over it,
which made things a little scary! One of our number said he had read there
are evacuation arrows in the streets showing the population the way to
run should there be an eruption but he couldn't find them which rather
concerned him! But we evacuated from Baños without any trouble,
but my, what a journey we had to Cuenca – right through the Andes at a
minimum of 2,000 metres, sometimes going up to well over 3,000 metres.
Everywhere – mountains that seemed to be almost piled one on top of the
other, with the occasional narrow valley plummeting down to the depths
with hamlets nestled in them. Scary at times as the road was just cut
out of the mountainsides and there were some really incredible hair pin
bends – looking over the side I was thankful we were going so slowly with
no danger of going over the edge because we would have all been killed
if we had crashed over the side – probably drops of at least 300 – 1,000m
in places with nothing but rock to fall on!

We saw lots of local people – mostly shepherds in the traditional Andean
garb of trilby hat, colourful (often red) shawls and brightly coloured
skirts, minding their sheep, goats, donkeys, pigs, cattle or llamas. Unfortunately,
the cloud was low and obscured what must have been some very fine views
but every so often the scene (rather than the sky) would clear and we
would see some awesome sights – steaming volcanoes, two or three of them
in a line; sheer precipices and steep mountains with their tops obscured
in cloud.

We left Baños at 0745 (yours truly being the last on the bus,
not because I got up late, I was up at 0500 exercising and showering but
the restaurant which was supposed to open at 0600 was later opening and
then the girl who waited on table had to run off to the baker's to
get bread. But by the time we were all breakfasted (and some rolled in
in the early hours of the morning so had no breakfast as they were suffering
from hangovers) and I had collected my belongings and finished my ablutions
(the obligatory cleaning of teeth), I turned out to be the last on the
bus!

We then made our way slowly out of Baños to Cuenca some 366 kms
to the south but the terrain, coupled with the weight in our bus – full
water tanks as well as petrol tanks, and with two drivers and 22 people
aboard with all their luggage – we made slow progress up hills and all
sorts of vehicles were continuously overtaking us. We were ok on the straights
and downhills but on the downhill had to go slowly again because of the
weight being hurled down steep inclines and having to negotiate some hair-raising
bends.

We stopped for lunch on the roadside – our leaders/drivers (Heather
and Martin) had bought local produce at the market in Baños and
so we helped prepare a lunch of salad (lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, radishes,
avocado pear, onions) and rolls, butter, ham and cheese for us all. We
go through an elaborate process of disinfecting our hands, using a spray
disinfectant after using the toilet and then washing our hands again in
disinfectant water and rinsing them again in disinfectant water and shaking
them rather than wiping them dry. All table surfaces and pots and pans
are sterilised and then work begins at cutting up and buttering and putting
things on plates and in bowls on long trestle tables and canvas stools
are put out for us all to sit on. Meanwhile, the local dogs congregate,
sniffing out the food and looking longingly at us, as are the local shepherd
population.

In the site where we were there were a couple of shepherds (women) with
their children, and their donkeys and pigs. The children were wide-eyed
but rather suspicious urchins (suspicious of us) and refused all requests
to have their photos taken, but hanging around watching these strange
tourists in their shorts and long trousers preparing food they could only
dream about. We didn't encourage the dogs with any scraps and we certainly
did not stroke any of them (dirty little mutts), but they all seemed innocent
enough and quiet if not friendly, but after we had all finished eating,
the food over was handed out to the shepherds and their children in the
form of ham and cheese and salad rolls, and bags of lettuce and tomatoes,
and for the pigs, all the swill resulting from the lettuce and other vegetables
used in the salad. So everyone benefited, even the local hospice (just
a dirty brick building with a small shop and rather disgusting loos but
at least we were able to use them and rinse our hands under the tap, hence
the strict regime of disinfecting our hands every time we used the loos
when we stopped.

At one stage, we experienced the necessity of relieving ourselves without
the aid of modern conveniences. The men went one way in a small wooded
area and the women went the other. It is at times like these one wishes
one was a man and could just open our flies without having to strip ourselves
half naked and crouch in the undergrowth. Of course, yours truly had to
choose a place with some rather long stems of grass, which tickled my
posterior regions as I crouched so I made a rather ungainly spectacle
of myself jumping around every time something touched me in a rather intimate
place! Then the ceremony of the trowel – burying the tissue we used in
the ground so that we didn't pollute the local area of scenic beauty!
I am sure this is going to be the first of many occasions when we will
need to wander off, trowel in hand, to seek out similar places for similar
purposes.

If you’d like to contact Iris, whether to wish her luck with her
trip or to ask questions about her itinerary and places visited, I am
sure she would like to hear from you. She can be contacted on: irisej2002@yahoo.co.uk

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