So despite a bad start, my stay at Manali had worked out to be quite exciting and interesting in the end. It was not the sort of place that was drawing me in though and was pretty cold to boot, so it was time it move on. I'd planned for my next stop to be Rishikesh, but being in the Himalayas transport was a bit limited and the journey had to be broken over a few days, so I had to take a bus to Shimla first of all and stay the night.
I took what they call the 'deluxe' class of bus this time, which it certainly was compared to the rattly night bus I took a few days before, but in reality is far from deluxe. I paid the rather odd 10 rupee (£0.10) charge for putting my bag in the boot and we were soon on our way, through deep grassy valleys, along the side of a long reservoir, passing a few apple orchards and lots of tall haystacks, sometimes built amongst branches of trees. I was sat by a nice Indian lady in her fifties who gave a helpful commentary of lots of things along the way, and identified herself as just working in a University, as if she was a cleaner, but at the end of the journey when I asked her name identified herself as 'Dr. G. D. Shamber, Professor of Philosophy'. I'd never have guessed. We went on, passing people making furniture by the road, cows wearing sacks on their back, many brightly painted houses advertising cement companies and mobile phone networks, and terraces built into the hillsides where people grow vegetables. What was most apparent was that in eight hours we barely spent a few minutes without passing a house or village, and there were many built in impossible-looking places up in the hills, reached across the river only by flimsy rope bridges. It was such an interesting journey, and I was glued to the window for almost the entire time.
Typical view from the bus window on the way
The Indian guys I'd been hanging out with for the past couple of days were also on the bus, and so once at Shimla we set out to look for a hotel together, taking the local bus a mile or two up into town for the cheapest fare I've paid yet - 3 rupees - or just 3 pence! We walked over the steep ridge that Shimla is built along, eventually finding a place nestled deep in the town among narrow streets. The other guys settled in the first hotel, despite the fact it didn't have a shower and they intended to stay four days, but I chose to stay next door where I could actually wash! The room was very tacky and dated and looked like it could have just about been the honeymoon suite in the seventies, but has been left like a time capsule and slowly got worn and battered. I was particularly amused by the notice on the back of the door - 'please keep the windows shut to keep the monkeys out'!
Sunset over the mountains around Shimla
I went out for tea with the Indian guys for the final time that night, eating a mushroom do piazza curry with jeera rice at a nasty looking pace they chose. In India ambience generally doesn't reflect quality though, just sometimes hygiene although not in this case. After a few days of slowly building up, the group's ringleader was now really getting on my nerves. Like many annoying people he kind of meant well, but everything he discussed was the biggest, best, fastest, most amazing, with no attempt to compromise or accept my opinion, doing his best to attempt to make anything I discussed seem trivial in a backhanded way. It had been fun hanging out with another group of travelers for a few days, especially as they were Indian and could teach me so much about their country. The other lads were very nice and genuine, but I slowly tired and agitated of top cat and in the end decided it was best to politely call it an early night and say my goodbyes.
I had no intention of staying more than a night in Shimla as I saw it as just a stoppover, so went the next morning to buy an onwards train ticket. With a queue behind me, and people jumping in, the guy at the ticket desk quickly said there was no direct train to where I wanted to go but was very vague and reluctant to tell me all the details about times. I went to the bus window next door and, barely looking up from his newspaper, the guy gave me an equally fast and vague story. I decided to find an Internet cafe and find out times for myself and having not used the internet for a few days, before I knew it the morning had ticked by and I had decided to stay in Shimla for a day. I purposely don't keep up with the news too much whilst away, why should I, but I read there for the first about the sad death of Nelson Mandela, what an amazing guy he was.
When Britain ruled India as a colony, the government based in Calcutta, found it got too hot to think in the summer, so moved every summer for a few months to my location - the hill station of Shimla. Consequently it still retains a very Victorian colonial style - well laid out streets, British looking stone houses, band stands, promenades, cafés and so on, all based along a long knife-edge ridgeline. I spent that afternoon having a wander around, finding all a bit surreal; a bit like a theme park. At the far end of 'the mall' was the Viceroyal lodge - the former summer home of the British Ruler of India and now used as a University. It was styled part English, part Indian and part Scottish and couldn't look more out of place in it's surroundings. Sat in the grounds looking at it, for a few moments I really felt like I was back home, it was so quiet, normal and comfortable for a change! Ignoring the building itself, there were a few things I found incredible about the place - firstly that during British rule a fifth of the world's population was ruled from this building. And secondly, in the drawing room two famous talks were held, formally giving India independence from Britain, then later partitioning Pakistan into a separate country with Ghandi himself in a leading role in both. A guide took us on a brief tour inside, and I chatted to the only other foreign couple there who were English architects from Southampton. The guy hated the place from a styling point of view, and also made the valid point that whilst the rulers were sat there amongst the walnut, marble and ivory, the rest of India was living in poverty. No change there today then.
Shimla is full of monkeys - roaming the streets looking for food, jumping between rooftops, swinging between trees, and in some cases stealing food from people's hands apparently. Walking with the English couple back to the town, the lady pointed at a baby monkey up a tree and said 'oh how cute', and before you know it, it's mother jumped down and hurtled towards her, screeching with teeth snarling obviously taking offense to her pointing. Her husband reacted, shouting and waving his arms and the monkeys turned and lept away into the undergrowth - a funny moment and the first (but not last) time I saw the monkey's aggressive side.
In the end Shimla worked out as an interesting insight into colonial India and made the stories I'd heard before more vivid and real, but one day was enough for me and it was time to head out of the mountains down to warmer climes.
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