Alive in India!

September 14 and 15, 2010

On the night of the 13th, Lucky found us at our hostel and gave me a couple pieces of her Otia Root which I tucked between my lip and gum and sucked on for hours. Waiting at the bus stop, we said goodbye to Lucky (and hello and goodbye to a couple of Lucky's new friends who were also leaving) and read our books. Just before the bus came, we met a Canadian named Steve who had been traveling in Egypt and Turkey for the past couple of months. As a Physical Therapist, he had gone over to Kuwait to work for about 6 weeks, and that stint had earned him enough money to travel for a bit.

Eventually, the bus came, and we all boarded, saying goodbye to Cappadocia. Although sleeping on a bus is deeply unsatisfying, we still managed to sleep for most of the 10 hour bus ride. Our bus line, Metro, dropped us off at the Otogar, and although they offered a free shuttle into Sultanhamet, there were too many people waiting, too few buses, and one person said he had been waiting for nearly an hour. We ended up hanging about for a little bit, trying to figure out our best option. The full and mini buses would pull into the parking lot and they didn't slow down at all: you just had to leap out of the way. It was especially funny when the buses would drive right into the crowds of people, and everyone would try and guess where it was going next in order to stay out of the way.

Opting out of the free shuttle in favor of the more reliable tram/underground route we had taken before, we walked with a French couple and a young undergraduate from Istanbul to the underground. On our walk, we chatted, and by the time we had switched onto the tram, I found that I really liked Claire and Nicholi. The two live in Paris, and Claire works as a freelance translator for film subtitles. She's interested in documentaries, and she's spent the past couple of years working on a project involving pen pals of death row inmates in Texas. Before we parted ways at Sultanhamet, we exchanged info and agreed that it had been wonderful to meet one another.

We arrived at the Grand Bazaar at 9 AM. Our flight to Delhi was scheduled to take off at about 6 PM, so we figured that we would need to be at the airport by 3 PM. Taking basically the same route we had taken to get from Sultanhamet to Otogar, we figured we need about an hour to get from the city center to the airport. Which meant we had 5 hours to shop.

The Grand Bazaar is a covered and walled complex that has many aisles made of small stalls. Within the Bazaar, there are also separate sections that specialize in different crafts or products. There's the leather section; the gold section; the fabric section; the Turkish lamp section; the silk section, etc. Starting from one corner, we methodically made our way, up and down the aisles, to the opposite corner. Because it was still relatively early in the morning, the Bazaar had very few costumers, and all the shop keepers were setting up their wares and drinking tea. As we were slowing down one of the shops, a younger boy poked his head out, beamed hello, and asked us how we were doing. Neither Joshua nor I are very good at figuring out how to evade salesmen while still remaining friendly and polite. Luckily, Yunus, this shop keeper seemed to understand that we were just looking. Like the man in Uchisar, he gave us his business card, hassled me for my sister's facebook contact (he told us that he had just broken up with his girlfriend last night, and did I have any beautiful sisters? Well, as a matter of fact, yes I do, but no, you may not have her facebook :) ), and then as we were leaving, gave us two free evil-eye magnets as a parting gift.

The jewelry was plentiful, but by and large, none of it really caught my interest: there were silk bracelets with beads and golden clasps, but at 35 lira a piece, I though they were far too expensive. Similarly, the earrings and necklaces were lovely in brass and tarnished silver and many bells, but they too started at 20 lira. What we really wanted to buy were the Turkish lights: with a disc near the ceiling, these lovely, mulit-colored glass globes hang in a staggered spiral. Shops that specialized in Turkish lights were just brimming with these sparkling globes, and we couldn't help but wish that we had stopped in Turkey on our way back from India (so we could stock up on bigger stuff).

By the time we got to the other corner, Joshua thought there might be something wrong with me. Is it really possible for Ellie to walk through the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul and not buy a single thing? I felt a little disappointed in myself, too; I mean, when else am I going to have the opportunity to load up on Ottoman jewelry? But the truth is I wasn't particularly enamored with anything, and all the stuff that I might have bought was too expensive. Plus (and I don't want to disappoint any fantasies you might have had about the Grand Bazaar), it actually wasn't the greatest craft market we'd ever seen. Don't get me wrong; it's still fun to walk through things like this, and it's definitely a must-see part of Istanbul, but I think I prefer smaller markets where some of the wares are actually being sold by the men and women who made them. The Grand Bazaar seemed too clean, and a lot of the shops were just selling the same things that another shop was selling two stalls down. And, although most of the crafts would have been made by women, there wasn't a woman in sight.

Once we had finished with the Grand Bazaar, we walked the half mile down towards the Bosphorus. Next to the Yen Cami, the Spice Market is another covered, enclosed complex; however, with just four aisles and all the stalls selling spices, it was quite different. It's so much fun to browse through all these bushels, sacks, and boxes spilling over with brightly colored, fragrant spices. There was cumin, coriander, saffron, dried jasmine, every kind of loose tea you can imagine, and still some more mysterious powders in nearly neon colors. I had this overwhelming urge just to sink my hands into the saffron, but judging my the price - nearly 200 lira for a quarter kilo - I thought that might be a bad idea.

Outside the Spice Market, we found the same cafe where we had had baklava and tea. Tired from our long night on the bus and wandering the markets, we sat down and savored two small plates of pistachio and walnut baklava. It was enough to make up for not buying anything at the Grand Bazaar, and it was just as good as it had been the time before. Drawing out the experience as long as we could, we read for a little bit.

Walking back up to Sultanhamet, I finally spied the combination I had been looking for: cheap AND cute earrings. For just 2 lira, I was the proud near owner of Ottoman-inspired brass danglies :) In the square, I left Joshua with the bags and went in search of a couple more postcards and stamps. Although writing more postcards had started as a resolution, it's now one of the things I really enjoy. I love picking them out, figuring out who would like which ones, and then writing little notes while I sit in some fantastic place - above the Bosphorus, below the Blue Mosque, etc.

Postcards written, addressed, stamped, and posted, we used up our last few lira on a piece of boiled corn from one of the street stands and some freshly squeezed pomegranate juice (the answer is yes. Yes this is the most amazing fresh-squeezed juice of your life.). While we were finishing our snack on the park bench, the Call to Prayer sounded from the Blue Mosque. It would take so much longer than just one week to get tired of this sound.

We made our way to the airport by tram and underground, and once we got there, we went through security and took an hour-long nap on the benches. At 4, we checked into Turkish Airlines, and before we boarded, we took turns going to the bathroom to brush our teeth. If you can't be clean, this is the next best thing: fresh breath :)

Turkish Airlines is pretty plush. The seats are a cheery light teal, you get a free package with an eye mask, headphones, ear plugs, and socks (?!), and each seat has an individual self-select screen. The ride from Istanbul to Delhi is just 5 hours, so after we finished eating the delicious Indian-vegetarian in flight meal (I know; delicious AND in flight?!), I chose to watch the Indian-American film, The Namesake (which was ok, but not great).

By the time we arrived in Delhi, it was midnight in Istanbul and 2:30 AM in Delhi. We quickly made our way through immigration (the officer said that the permit to re-enter within 2 months doesn't apply to neighboring countries, so hopefully we'll be ok coming back from Nepal), and then waited nervously for our packs. Although they were the last on the carousel, they were there, and I'm certainly not complaining (for a while there, I was thinking, 'and what exactly do we do when we lose everything?').

Outside the airport, we searched for the free shuttle to the Domestic Airport. It was hot. I mean, we lived in New Orleans, and if anyone knows the meaning of humidity, it's people who've lived in New Orleans... Delhi brings the meaning of humidity to whole new level. I wasn't even sweating and I was soaked. Eventually, after asking for directions a couple of times, we found the shuttle and boarded. Thankfully, there was air conditioning a couple of the people riding with us were also flying on the same flight to Leh. Derrick and Aubrey are two gaunt, young Americans who've been traveling in the Middle East and Indonesia for the past 6 months. Ironically, they went to LSU together, and Derrick's from TN while Aubrey's from TX. It really is very strange to see other American backpackers; we just haven't seen very many of them.
At the Domestic Airport, we had to go to the Ticketing line to get a print-out that said we had tickets. Before we got to the gate, we had to wait in two more astronomically long lines, and there was really intense security. Thankfully, we made it to the gate just in time to start boarding, and to get to our plane, they took us all on little buses and drove us half-way across the airport, through planes, and around other buses to a plane that looked like it was parked in a parking lot of planes.

The flight from Delhi to Leh is an hour long, and at 6 AM, the plane took off. Although Delhi sits at about 300 m, Leh is at 3500 m (in other words, I think half the flight was just gaining elevation). Before we knew it, the plane had landed in Leh, and we all deboarded to catch little buses to the terminal. With our packs in hand, we headed outside to pre-pay for a taxi into the city-center and then jumped in the back of a jeep taxi.

Prepare yourselves: I'm about to gush. Leh is surrounded on every side by the most magnificent, craggy mountains. Some of the mountain peaks are covered in snow, but most of them are naked and dry. Leh sits nestled in a cup at the base of all these formidable Himalayan peaks, and it is a small oasis of tall, skinny trees, gorgeous vegetable gardens, brick and timber homes with elegant scrollwork and carving, gompahs, stupahs, mosques, and prayer flags around every corner. Cows with horns roam the streets, poking their heads in the trash to rummage for food, and dogs have curled up in corners and along curbs to snooze.

The people may well be the most beautiful people on Earth. A huge Tibetan community, the people of Leh have thick, dark hair, smooth, wide faces, and ready smiles. Everyone says, "joo-lay," an all-around, all-purpose greeting, farewell, thanks, and you're welcome. While the men are wearing Western clothes (and some of them wear turbans), the women are either wearing long tunics with baggy pants and a shawl (North Indian shalwar kameez) or even longer tunics with big woolen jackets and traditional, pointy hats. Everyone has a brightly colored shawl wrapped about their head and face to ward of the chill and the smell of exhaust. Occasionally, monks in red robes walk buy. It's not even fair to talk about the children. They're freaking adorable, and one of them came up to me and said (in perfect English), "hello. Where are you from?"

Our taxi took us up past the ramshackle city center to the smaller, farm-y neighborhood of Sangkar where we found our guesthouse. Inside a gate festooned with prayer flags, we walked along a beautiful garden, spilling over with flowers, cabbage, root vegetables, and fruit trees. The house is made of brick and carved timber, and the man sweeping the front porch showed us into our room: we have a double bed, a wide window overlooking the garden, and one naked light bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling. For 200 rupees (about 4 dollars), we said, 'we'll take it.'

The shower is solar-heated, and since it's pretty cool (about 20 C), we skipped it today. Upstairs, there is a Turkish toilet and a Ladakhi toilet (read: human compost heap). Thanking our host, we got out our sleeping bags and immediately tumbled into bed. We slept from 9 to 12, and when Joshua's alarm went off, we pried ourselves out of bed.

The walk into town is about a half mile, and on our way there, we stopped at the Ladakhi Women's Alliance to fill up on boiled, filtered water (10 rupees per water bottle). The woman behind the counter was popping bubble wrap and beaming at us the entire time. In town, we wandered in search of the bus company that we plan to take to Manali in about 5 days. There aren't really any maps or street signs, so we had to make do with a rough map in LP. Finally, we found the bus company, but it was closed with directions for another office. That office was closed too.

No worries. We're charmed by Leh (actually, totally and completely in love), and we'll find the bus details tomorrow. For today, we went to the book exchange to unload our read novels and stock up on a couple new ones. Hungry, we went in search of a light meal. The altitude started to take its toll, and by the time we had found 'My Secret Recipe Bakery,' we were both feeling nauseous and woozy. Although the Secret Bakery wasn't in LP, the signs for baked bread looked promising (it's hard to commit to something exotic when you're feeling like you might pass out). Inside, the Secret Bakery sits next to a school, and in a comfortable room with lots of couches and windows, the bakers served us our meal overlooking Leh and the Himalaya.

We ordered a piece of Himalayan cake which was absolutely delicious - moist with cooked apricots throughout, a bowl of vegetarian noodles - savory, but not too crazy with cabbage and carrots, and ginger-honey-lemon drink. We ate it all for less than 200 rupees, and when we were done, we chewed on the ginger to help with our altitude sickness. All around us, travelers who have come to Leh over and over again told us that we had found the best meal in town on our very first try. We felt blessed :)

Feeling much better, we went in search of the vegetable market to stock up on food for dinner. We picked out a couple of apples and pears for 40 rupees, and then we went to check in at an internet cafe. As you might imagine, internet is a bit slow in this neck of the woods, and it took us nearly an hour to write three e-mails. Just as we were finishing, the power went out in Leh (this happens pretty regularly, we gather), and the owner sprinted out to flip on his generator. Outside on the street, shopkeepers were all doing the same thing, and we wandered in search of bread through the smog. Just beneath the Mosque, we found a little bakery and bought some bread, and then up around the next corner, we found a Ladakhi co-op with boiled, filtered water and other home-made, fair-trade food stuffs. We filled up our water bottles and bought the apricot preserves from the beautiful Ladakhi attendant.

Walking back to the guesthouse, we passed more stray livestock in the streets. A couple monks came jogging past us, and we just panted our way slowly up the hill (feeling a little dizzy). At 6:30 PM, the sun began to set, and we made it to our guesthouse just in time to see the sun explode behind the Himalayas. It's gorgeous here.

For dinner, we munched on a couple fresh rolls and the most delicious apricot preserves you've ever had in your whole life. Oh my god. A cute, fat little kitten came out and did her best to work her wiles on us, but Joshua has forbidden me from making friends with the strays. The family who own the guesthouse were finishing up their dailing chores, and their adorable little girl came to get all the pots and pans that had been drying in the intense sun. On her way back to the house, she kept sneaking glances at us, and then when she went inside, I saw her go up to the second floor and sit by the window to spy on us. Her dad tried to stop her, but she wouldn't listen, and instead, she hid halfway behind the curtain to watch us some more.

At 7:30, it was completely dark and another stray had come to see if there were any crumbs (oops. There were.). I exhibited a vast amount of will power with this adorable puppy sat down at my feet, rested his nose on top of them, and then sweetly begged for more.

Back inside the room, I'm writing, and Joshua's already fallen asleep. Sounds like a good idea to me.

P.S. This really shouldn't be a post-script because it suggests that I'm anything less than grateful, but here it is anyway: thank you for all of your concern over my rebellious tonsils. The Otia (Ocea? Osha?) Root proved to be a miracle drug, and I have no more symptoms - yay! I'm feeling much better :)