First Impressions

Thank you accompanying me on this journey. I hope that you enjoy my blogs – I will try and distil my experiences and look forward to your comments.

I have had one week in India and I thought it important to capture my first impressions. It is like meeting a new partner – what captured your heart? Was it their eyes, their smile, or just chemistry?

SIGHTS – When I arrived at Delhi airport I was disappointed that it was so like any international airport – with W H Smith, Costa Coffee and McDonalds – the only difference in McD being a sign which said that they did not sell any beef or pork products. I flew directly on to Dehradun, the capital of Uttarakhand State and once in my taxi to town, I knew then that I was somewhere different. The troops of monkeys that patrolled the side of the road, rummaging through the rubbish and the cows that peacefully grazed the central reservation confirmed my arrival in India.

Indian towns are an amazing contrast –  from the outskirts little shacks made of bits of wood and tarpaulin that can home an entire family and an enterprise repairing washing machines, bikes or fans to a huge new shopping mall in the centre of town. The streets lined with rubbish and scavenging dogs, cows and mules wandering the streets at will, beautiful women dressed in the local tunic and matching trousers in brilliant colours as if to banish any thoughts of dirt and grime

And lastly the Himalayas themselves, almost Irish emerald green mountains as far as the eye can see. Steeply terraced with rice paddies leading down to deep ravines filled with fast-flowing rivers. The views are stupendous and nothing prepared me for this breath-taking beauty.

SOUNDS – I am living in Kharadi, a small village which exists because it is on a pilgrim route to a famous shrine in Yamunotri, 45 kms away. It perches on the banks of the Yamuna River, a tributary of the Ganges and at this time of year the monsoon rains swell the river to a cloudy torrent that roars down the valley powering various hydroelectric schemes on its way. The noise from the river and all the waterfalls pouring down the mountain side dominates the soundscape – the window of my room overlooks the river and as I lie in bed at night the noise is deafening to the point that I have to plug into some music or use ear plugs to sleep.

Other sounds of India include the continuous honking of car horns as they thread their way through the valley on the narrow and treacherous road. The horn is used to communicate various messages – ‘I am coming through’, ‘move over’, ‘Taxi is leaving – hurry up’ but whatever the message driving with your hand on the horn is an integral part of driving in India.

In the early morning, I am woken by the calls of the local birds. They have gloriously melodic songs and for a birder it is a paradise on earth.

SMELLS –  so now down to earth with the Indian squat toilet. Anyone who has experienced the two footprints and a hole type of porcelain found in France, Turkey or India knows all about it. First of all, I have never known which end to squat over – is it the end with the hole or the other end? Second, is it best to remove all clothing from the waist down before attempting to pee in order to avoid any splatter? Most toilets just drain into the ground and so a strong drain smell pervades the bathroom. Once you have got over the technical difficulties you learn to live with the smell.

Marijuana grows like a weed along every river bank and waterfall in the Himalayas. As you walk the footpaths through the mountains you can smell the aromatics and in every café men smoke weed.

Chapattis are cooked on a flat griddle and then toasted in the flames of the gas hobs in all the cafes, restaurants and homes along the road. At meal times, the smell of cooking chapattis fills the air and I love them.

 

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