At Bonnaroo in Tennessee, I had been approached by two men hawking a book on
"vegetarianism and yoga". Not surprisingly, they were based out of West
L.A., and though they weren't explicit about a religious affliation, their
pitch felt evangelical. Despite their purified inner nature, they had the
hard sales pitch down, and I wound up buying their book - the Bhagavad Gita
- because I recognized the title and figured $3 wasn't a bad price. It turns
out it's a primary holy text of Hinduism, the biggest religion in India, and
emphasizes the permanence of the soul, which travels through many
reincarnated material bodies. With proper action in this life, your station
is raised in the next, until liberation is complete.<br/><br/>

We barely got outside Delhi international airport before I saw stark
evidence of this worldview. Heavily armed soldiers surrounded the
Maruti-Suzuki Gypsy MG413 - an obvious reincarnation of the Samurai. The
Gypsy is right-hand drive, and has a longer bed ith sideways bench seats, to
accommodate four soldiers and automatic rifles in back, but is otherwise the
same as the Samurai. Some have metal screens over the windows, to shed
grenades, I suppose. The Gypsy is the preferred vehicle of the military and
police, giving it respect it never knew in its former American life. I
suppose the Samurai, having fulfilled its duties nobly despite Consumer
Report's vicious attacks, has received its just reward.<br/><br/>

We made it to our hotel in Delhi at about 4 am, and it was already too hot
and humid for me. Many people slept almost naked on the sidewalk and on
rooftops. Our room was dark and stuffy, something like a prison. Thankfully,
we had AC, and started getting to sleep. About an hour later, it abruptly
stopped. I went to the front desk, and they went to fix it. The AC worked
for a few minutes, then stopped again. I followed the guy to the circuit
breaker, which was flipping off for some reason. Their electrical wiring is
scary, even by my standards - a rat's nest of live wires, many of them
exposed and stripped, right on the side of the building, exposed to rain.
After a few more circuit breaker flips, we moved to a new room, with working
AC. At this point it was about 8 am and sweltering hot. About an hour later,
the AC cut out again. This time it was explained that the power was out, and
they were running their own generator, which didn't have enough power to run
the AC. Power outages are a several times a day occurance in India, as I
would soon realize. Having rested somewhat, we went into the alleys outside
- furious honking traffic, cows shitting in the middle of the street,
beggars and shop keepers trying to steal your attention. The commotion in
the city was tolerable for me, but the heat was not.<br/><br/>

We wound up talking to a travel agent next to our hotel, who sold us on a
trip to Kashmir. "Isn't it dangerous?" I asked, which he seemed to laugh at.
"I live there, my family lives there, my little daughters are there - of
course it's safe." I mentioned that I read that there was a shootout the
previous day with 9 people dead. "Were they tourists?" he challenged me. I
had to admit they weren't. I did want to get out of the heat, and the trip
up there was carefully arranged, so we flew out the next day and came to
Srinagar.<br/><br/>

We met the agent's brother at the airport, which was surrounded by barbed
wire and soldiers. He whisked us to a houseboat on Dal Lake, through
Srinagar, which had checkpoints, sandbagged bunkers, patrolling soldiers,
and military barracks all over the place. Despite this, the people went
about their normal business, and there was no sense of present danger. We
were paddled across the lake to the houseboat, which had beautiful wood
carvings and rugs, and was more luxurious than we expected. After a couple
night's stay, we decided to go on a trek in the Himalayas, orgainzed by the
same travel family.<br/><br/>

Our trek came with far more than I had expected - a guide, a cook, two
horsemen, five horses, and two ponies. We started hiking from about 8500
feet, and soon were going over passes at 13500, with peaks to the side that
were probably near 17000. We followed a valley with rocky peaks jutting up
on one side, and a steep but constant slope on the other. The climate is
tundra, with little shade. There are many stream crossings with
near-freezing water. Gypsy people live there in the summer in tents and
stone and wood homes, raising sheep for money. Goats, horses, cows, and
chickens also roamed freely. The gypsies seemed nice enough, though always
were asking for money, and their dogs were prone to chasing you down. We
went about 12 miles in, finally arriving at a lake, fed by snow melt at
higher elevations. Waterfalls, pools, and underground streams were all over.
It was odd that such a peaceful place was only 12 miles from the Line of
Control between India and Pakistan. Well exercised but also relaxed, we
drove back to Srinagar for one night of rest before heading out the next
day. Our guides started to sell us on yet more trek packages, but we
resisted, wanting to explore on our own.<br/><br/>

On the following morning, the guides seemed anxious as we packed our bags.
They wanted to arrange our ride to various place, but I resisted the sale,
since they were a bit overpriced. When I suggested that they just drop us
off in town, they became adamant about making arrangements for us. The
father of the family said there had been several explosions in town the
previous day, some just a mile from where we were. He also mentioned attacks
on trains in Mumbai that killed hundreds. The Lonely Planet guidebook
mentioned that houseboat owners were sometimes deceptive, and would scare
people into buying additional services, so I didn't react. "That's OK, we're
just going to go to an internet cafe and then find a ride out of here." He
said we were his responsibility, and that two Korean ladies who stayed with
him had been murdered, and it was a huge headache for him ever since.
Sensing my skeptism, he said we could go to the police to ask about the
bombings and the dead Korean women. I guess because we were a liability, the
offers of expensive travel stopped and they got us a taxi ride out that cost
next to nothing. On the way out, we drove past one of the bombing sites - a
large transformer was knocked over, and soldiers swarmed the sidewalk
nearby. The streets were still packed with people going about their daily
lives.<br/><br/>

Having spoken to Kashmiris, and read up on things afterwards, I have a
better idea of the problems there. Pakistan backs insurgents who lob
grenades at civilians or tourists, who made good newspaper headlines.
Somehow this furthers the cause of a Pakistan controlled Kashmir. India has
responded with an overwhelming military presence which occupies the whole
state, and Srinagar especially. The Kashmiris would really like
independance, and will tolerate Indian rule, but are mostly sick of being
the battleground of two other governments. Kashmir depends on tourism for
its economy, so insecurity costs everyone their livelihood. I was pretty
safe, kept inside the guide's housing and transport bubble, but roaming the
town would have been pretty dangerous.<br/><br/>

Anyway, yeserday we came to Jammu by a Tata Sumo, probably the most common
car here. It's a 10 person SUV, though not "full size" by American
standards. Here you pass in the oncoming lane, honking to alert the driver
in front, or squeeze in the middle of the road if there's room. Passing in
the oncoming lane around blind corners, on mountain roads with sheer drops
and no guard rails, is par for the course. And they don't have seatbelts. We
saw a half-dozen serious truck accidents on our drive - I can't understand
how they don't see a connection between insane driving and crashing.<br/><br/>

Today we're taking a train toward Dharamsala, the captial of the exiled
Tibetian government and the Dalai Lama. It's high altitude mountain desert,
so I hopefully spent enough time in the mountains to avoid altitude
sickness. And it's supposed to be safe as well.<br/><br/>