Yesterday evening, as the bus began the slow roll out of the sprawling tentacles of Delhi, the young occupants, slightly spurred on by their adult supervisors, began to break out in song. Great idea, a good way to pass some time on the journey. The first group to start singing were seated in front of me. They ranged from what I would guess to be 8 years old to 14.
The girl that I was assigned to sit beside was part of this group but she seemed a bit older yet I still placed her in high school. One of the older women, but still maybe 20 or so came over shortly after I had initially sat down and asked if the young woman was okay. She fervently stressed that she was. Another woman, from a distant seat asked the same and again she replied that she was fine. I couldn’t help, in a light, humorous tone state “I’m not that scary am I?” Maybe not the best response but I think she got it. I later found out that Sarjita, my next seat neighbour, was an instrumentation engineer (hadn’t heard of it before, but sure). So with the education required and the fact she’d been at this job for 3 years, she had to be at least 24-25, but she sure didn’t look it. She was very friendly though and was nice enough to look out for me when some aggressive potato chip and soft drink vendors boarded the bus to sell their goods. It’s always good to have a native speaker on your side (that must to be in the “Top 20 Tips to Not Getting Ripped Off While Travelling” guide).
Some singing started to gain momentum with the young group in front of me but soon the group of older teenagers decide to pipe in to, unfortunately to songs of their own choosing. Once in a while the two factions collaborated on the same tune, which was much more pleasing to the ear, and I couldn’t help but smile from the energy in the bus.
I plugged away on my laptop as the singing soon died out when a Bollywood movie was teed up in the DVD player with a big flatscreen TV at the front of the bus. Most people dozed off after the flick but everyone was awakened as the bus stopped at a roadside restaurant where most of the tables were outside under a tarped roof. I sat down for a non-veg thali which I was told would run me 280 rupees (which I thought must be the foreigner’s price). As I dined on my fairly good tasting dish, occasionally having to pick to sliver like bones of chicken from my mouth, the manager (or maybe pit boss is a better term) of the place walked around barking out orders giving the environment the feeling of being an auction barn.
Back on the bus, everyone fell asleep but I could not maintain my REM stasis as we began to climb curvy roads up the mountains. I was actually quite impressed by those who were able to keep dreaming. I then noticed a woman slightly slumped over three rows ahead of me and then one of the adult supervisors hopped up to her aid. Well, she would turn out to be only the first of three people who would succumb to car, or I guess bus, sickness. Yes, it was a windy road.
In the early morning, feeling quite sleep deprived, I forced myself to open my eyes and take in the magnificent scenery outside the bus. It was stunning. We were cruising along a windy road on one side of a wide canyon with steep slope running up either side and water down below. At first I couldn’t tell whether it was a small but long lake created by a hydroelectric dam or a slow moving river...I think it might have been both. Himachal Pradesh has one of the highest incomes per capita thanks to its wealth in energy production which it sells to neighbouring states.
Turns out it’s the Beas river originates from the nearby Rohtung Pass, maybe twenty kilometres away and it heads south before eventually emptying into the Gulf of Cambay of the Arabian Sea, in the State of Gujarat The scenery was incredible and it was such a shame that the bus windows were so dirty that none of my photos turned out. I was befuddled by the houses perched high up on the opposing mountainside, just thinking of the effort to bring any goods home from civilization. There were a number of cables spanning the tumultuous water below and suspending a basket to transport both people and freight.
As we approached Manali, there were more and more tourist type businesses flogging their services for activities like rafting, canyoneering and trekking. We followed the Beas all the way from Kullu to Manali, a distance of forty kilometres. I felt as though we could have been in the Canadian Rockies, at least just considering the geography and flora and fauna, I have to admit that the buildings were quite a bit different than from home.
The canyon between Kullu and Manali:
I took a taxi to the Purnima Guest House, the crown jewel in Manu and Panna’s family empire. The place sports thirty or so rooms, a restaurant including an outdoor area, pool table and wood fired pizza oven. Manu tells me that they have expanded bit by bit over the years. They run 2-3 other restaurants at least at any given time of the year with four brothers performing the majority of the managerial duties. Quite the family business!
As my taxi crossed a steel bridge over a tributary of the Beas River which signifies the border of Manali to Old Manali, we pulled into a small parking lot and I was met by Payre, an older brother of Panna and Manu, and I could tell instantly that yes, this was their brother. Super friendly, clean cut and wearing a comfortable fleece top and slacks, I instantly felt at ease and like I had just met a new friend with pre-cleared references. We climbed up a number of stairs beside some buildings and entered the Purnima Guest House.
Manu was at the front desk at reception and it was great to see him again. We shared a greeting, a hug, a chai and caught up on the last month. He showed me my room and I was blown away, what a gorgeous place. The view from the terrace outside my accommodation looks at snow covered mountains, four to five waterfalls cascading down a slope to my left and the crashing of the river from below.
Outside my room:
My view:
The room (and all this for a little more than five bucks a day!):
Later I saw some of the other Olive Garden staff: Ram, Inder, Ramesh...nice to see these guys again. There was another waiter who came up, said hello to me by name and I definitely recognized him but he didn’t work at the OG. Manu had to clue me in, it was Jiwan and he worked in another restaurant at Arambol Beach, the Rice Bowl.
The side of Purnima (which means "Full Moon"):
Part of the courtyard:
One of the bigger rooms...pretty sweet:
It was a relatively quiet day as I was exhausted from the bus journey but I did go briefly into town with Manu in his cute little red Tata car.
I know I’m going to enjoy staying in Manali...what a stunningly beautiful place!
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