Down the cold, cold hills

What came first — the egg or the desire to build a nest?

I am not a travel blogger but this post is about a recent trip to Jibhi. In case you’re wondering, it’s a beautiful hilly spot in Himachal Pradesh. We reached there on Friday night after wheeling for about 15 hours. Summer is a preferred season but unlike most tourists — traveler is a word you earn — we (a group of 9 people) went during the off-season. Which basically means we were idiotic/brave/adventurous enough to freeze our asses off. By the end, it was all worth it though.

Here are some quick observations made during the 3.5-day sojourn up there.

• Not a lot of us get to witness snow in our lifetime; one stat puts it at less than one-third of humankind. So, yes, it was a special scene to have snow caked across the road. However, even though the temperature dipped to -5 degrees, there was no snowfall as such. A reminder of the fact that snow and snowfall aren’t the same thing. You must be lucky to see snow but very very lucky to experience snowfall.
• Embarked on a hike to an old fort and a temple in the region and realized that I am abominably unfit within the first 15 minutes of uphill walk. A trek/hike is a like a mirror to the stamina you possess. I was breathless, listless, uneasy and ended up with a headache along with a niggling lower backache by the end of the day. Again, a notsogentle reminder that a dedicated smoker/drinker can do stuff your temperance-adherent body can’t. This was Saturday.
• On Sunday, I skipped the trek to Saryolsar Lake and decided to visit a nearby waterfall. A pristine decision. While climbing up, I noted how women calmly go up while knitting. At any given point of time, I can only do either of the two.
• Pahari folks are affable by nature. They treat you fine without succumbing to the unnecessary diktats of tourism. There is an evident respect for community and it trickles on to those who visit too.
• On the other hand, they aren’t very keen on promoting their kitchen. Wherever you go, they offer you the Punjabi fare (parantha, butter chicken, egg curry, etc) with no recourse to exploring the local food. Maybe this has something to do with the fact that most tourists are from Delhi NCR region who tend to be ignorant or homesick. Which is obviously strange because in McLeodganj/Dharamshala, there were legions of local Tibetan eateries/hole-in-the-walls/restaurants celebrating indigenous cuisines.
• The water tastes great. But then, you have to warm it due to the chilly weather, thereby losing some vital oxygen.
• Speaking of which, my lungs were shocked to absorb so much clean air. Similarly, my eyes were gleaming thanks to the view of the clear sky. Stars? Gurgaon doesn’t know what they are.
• Wearing 5 layers of clothes is not enough. Just not enough.
• Locals are heavily into radio and tape-recorders; a nostalgic segue to the ’90s of my childhood.
• Rediscovered my love for chess. Played with Jeet, our 23-year-old tour guide, and found him to be an amazing player. A rare mix of offensive-defensive proficiency. We played 5 games with 3 in my favour so I was happy.
• Always listen to your wife while packing. She knows better.
• If you’ve got severe motion sickness like I do, then pre-drive tablets won’t really help. The winding roads will churn your stomach and you’ll hope everything stopped, especially time and specifically bus. The best cure would be to stay distracted. Play music, sing along or converse and somehow forget that you were cursed by the Hindu goddess of motion.
• Dogs up there are super-furry and super-super-friendly. They will accompany you on your hilly hikes just to rub it in that they can cover the ridge-y climbs effortlessly.
• Plastic wrappers are everywhere. Like an urban disease, you’ll find polythene and whatnot stuck in the wet ground, dry grasses and shrubs. I initially thought this must be individual masterpieces of stupid tourists but later, it turned out that the locals are no different. They are equally responsible for spreading trash. Observed some school kids eating chips before flicking away the plastic bags. It’s easy to conclude that the otherwise serene rustic India desires to have a piece of urbanity. The only problem is they can’t gauge the damage of harbouring such ambitions. It’s one thing to embrace plastic but quite another to underestimate the importance of recycling.
• Lastly, the greatest adventure happened when we returned home only to find that I left my house-key at the cottage itself. As a result, we were locked out of the house for 2+ hours waiting for our help to show up. Fortunately, she did. In the meantime, Ranga kept barking at us, complaining about the time he spent without us.