March 1st

So its come time to leave Mathura. Aside from the temples, and the annual Holi festival, little else draws the traveler to this place. Mainly an industrial town, the dirty streets and polluted waters make the stay a challenge. The tourist draw creates a competative sale, and the constant hassle becomes too much. I'm happy to leave.

I board a bus at 1pm to Delhi. A stop over in the citybefore an overnight sleeper train towards the northern town of Dharamsala. I'm happy for the company of Martin and Neel, two friends who had themselves painted from head to toe with me at the festival. We make the 4 hour trip in 28 degree heat, sweating in the cramped back seat sharing the bench with our luggage and the rotation of various Indians. The bumpy slow bus arrives on the outskirts of town, and after haggling for the best rickshaw rate, we again climb into our cramped quarters and head off into the city. I have a few hour to spare before my journey continues. We have lunch and exchange the cursory e-mail contacts, and then I kill an hour at the internet cafe, updating my blog ;)

So my train departs at 9pm. I had verified my seat, and train at the New Delhi station that afternoon. I assumed of course that this was the correct boarding site. I arrived at the station with a half hour grace, to buy some water, snacks and get my seat before departure. So when I look to the train listings, and I can't find my train number I get a little worried. I quickly ask the nearest official, and i'm told my train leaves from OLD Delhi station. Information I thought would have been given when confirming me seat...

So its now 20 minutes to 9, I have to get across a large section of one of the busiest cities in the world. My rickshaw driver is encouraged for the first time by me, to drive like hell and get me there fast. My fears of collision are lessened by my need to catch the train. So as we weave through traffic, I'm thinking more about my train than near death. We reach the station, and I dart across the street, thankful for my experience in Indian J walking. I push and shove like the best of the Indians, rushing my way up the stairs and to my platform. I scan the listings as I rush up the stairs and luckily find my train with ease. But as I'm descending the stairs, I see my train in motion. Its starting up slow, but moving none the less. I run along the train, and catch onto the first car I see. I pull myself up into the car as the train picks up pace. I sigh relief and next figure out which car I'm on, and which car I should be on. I start working my way down the cabins, passing between cars, and towards the front of the train.

I've passed through at least 7 train cars before I reach a locked gate. A barrier which separates 2nd, from 1st class. I groan with frustration realizing I need to wait for a stop in the route, to get to the next car. To my relief, I feel the train slow, and gradually stop. Its between stations, a stretch of track in some unknown part of the city. So I grab up my bag and guitar, and push my way towards the doors. I poke my head out and look up towards the next car, i cross my fingers and climb down onto the gravel. I have a moment when I realize now that I'm in the middle of the city, in some desolate stretch of train track, and that i really, really need to get to the next car. So I dash to the next ladder and climb back into the safety of the train. Just a brief moment, but scary all the same. I work my way down, and find another locked door, but this one is luckily able to be opened by the staff, and I can avoid the risk of being left at the track side again.

At last I'm on the right car, I find my bunk and I can finally stretch out and relax! I make my bed and read a chapter before passing out for a great sleep. My journey is not over yet.

March 2nd

I disembark from one train at 7:15, and board another. Within 20 minutes I'm moving again, up and towards the mountains. I'm leaving the town of Pathankot elevation 331 meters, destined for the mountain town of Dharamsala at 1,457 meters. The narrow gauge line weaves its way up a steep track, offering my first glimpse of the mighty Himalaya mountains. I look out the window at the distant peaks in awe, the completion of a dream since I first saw Canada's own Rocky Mountain range.

The end of my train journey is continued with two more buses. Further climbing into the mountains, up to an elevation of 2,082 meters in McLeod Ganj. Its around 1 pm in the afternoon, and a full 24 hours of travel. Some 1800 meter in elevation and I'm on another planet.


McLeod Ganj is a community of exiled Tibetan refugees. Home of His Holiness, the 14th Dalai Lama. I feel as though I'm in a different country here. The air is crisp and clear. The streets are immaculate. The population is largely Tibetan. Maroon robes fill the streets, casting a calm and peaceful feeling across the city. The place is small, only 3 main streets, and surrounded only by two tiny villages higher in the mountains. Towards the valley one can see the rolling foothills of the great mountains. Uphill, the snow capped peaks are seen.

Today I saw the Dalai Lama. I am rarely star struck. I could care less to see the stars of Hollywood. But when this man walks through a courtyard, silence falls and people watch. The calm, smiling face puts everyone at ease. I sat and wondered in my mind how this man who was forced to leave his home, forced to watch as his people are systematically erradicated, how he can stay peaceful. How does he smile despite the pain and suffering he is forced to manage and deal with. I was shocked to read the postings in the Tibetan museum today. I'm shocked and disturbed that this injustice continues today. 1.2 million people died in the last 50 years. I am shocked that I knew nothing of this.

I urge anyone to educate themselves on the issue if nothing else.

I am leaving this wonderful place today. I am sad to leave after only 3 days, as this has by far been the greatest place i have seen in India. I have made friends with ease here. As a popular travel destination, I have even run into some people I met in Mathura and Agra. Martin from Holi, and the Red Faced German from my blog traveled here the day after I arrived. I saw them in the street and shared a dinner with some others. If there is a place that I will visit again, this is it. On my next trip to India, this will be a good starting point.

I'm headed home soon! March 9th I'll arrive at 4:10pm. I'm sad to leave Mcleod Ganj, But I am soo excited to leave India. I have never missed my home or my family more. I miss my wonderful, patient and Loving girlfriend so much. I can't wait to share some of these experiences in person, and to share the images I have captured.

Talk soon everyone, Thanks for reading :)