Author: gardella

I have to admit to missing coffee. I spent my first two weeks in Mussoorie trying to find a Madras coffee filter — people mostly just laughed at me. The “South Indian” restaurants here only serve Nescafe. For the most part, I have surrendered to morning Chai.
Recently I found a Western style cafe called “Cafe Coffee Day”. They have very good esspresso and cappucino. From what I gather, this style of cafe has become popular because of Indians watching the American show “Friends”.
I just stopped into the cafe for my semi-weekly coffee fix. I sat listening to the hindi movie music, which i assumed accompanied the television overhead. When I looked up, I realized they were showing a Jean-Claude VanDamme movie. It was rather surreal listening to a woman sing in a high-pitched hindi voice about love, while watching Jean-Claude beat people up.

This is the week of the Autumn Festival in Mussoorie. Every night there has been a different presentation of music and dance. Three of us went to see the “Boogie Woogie” show on Monday night. It was held in the “Rink” an old skating rink.

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I spent this weekend travelling to and from Yamunotri, the source of the Yamuna river. It is nestled at the head of a mountain valley, high in the Himalayas. You can take a car up the bumpy dirt road to a village about 6 km from the temple. From there you can walk, take a donkey or…
I woke up early Sunday morning and stepped out onto the balcony of my hotel. Down below, pilgrims were beginning their trek up to the temple. In the small plaza accross from our hotel, elderly people in litters were waiting to start their trips. Four coolies carry the wooden chairs up the steep 5 kilometers to the temple. All the pilgrims are bundled up in ski masks, gloves and coats over their kurtas. They are obviously from the planes and were not prepared for the cold mountain weather.
Other coolies carry people up and down the mountain in baskets on their backs. One of our group, an Italian guy named Fabio, got one of the coolies to get into the basket, and he carried him a bit.
On the drive home, a calf grazing by the road was startled by our car. She started running down the road, so of course we were following her. This continued for about half a kilometer, over a bridge and into a small village. In the village somebody ran out into the road waiving his hands to stop the calf.

The majority of people here in Mussoorie with motorized transportation, have scooters. Several weeks ago, i bought one. I wanted to spend more time down in town, but the hike was very long and tiring, so I found myself staying at the hotel where everybody spoke English.
A friend, Andy, took me to look at some scooters here in Mussoorie, and in Dehradun, but they were either in bad condition, or didn’t have papers. With the help of a teacher, I finally found a scooter at a reasonable price. It is quite old (1980), but it runs great. It is a lot of fun zipping up and down the hills.
I am also enjoying the popularity, and contact which having the scooter brings. Often men walking on the road will signal that they would like a ride, and I always oblige. I get a chance to speak some Hindi, and the get a lift. The best moment came yesterday, when a middle-aged Indian woman flagged me down. She was from Tamil-Nadu, and spoke no English. We both used rather broken Hindi to communcate. I gave her a ride to the local bus station, and felt like a real local.

I had my first Indian haircut yesterday. Friends had been recommending it to me, as you also get a head massage. I have been looking a bit shaggy, and two days ago I decided it was time.
I went to a ‘shop’ that a friend recommended. An older man started with my haircut. He kept his scissors clacking even when he wasn’t cutting, and I could almost believe they were electric. He gave me the standard Indian cut: short on the sides and a bit longer on the top. I was a bit disappointed, because there was only a bit of massage involved, but the haircut came out great.
Then I was passed to the younger barber for a shave. They use straight razors, which was a bit scary (they use a fresh disposable razor for each customer). Using a brush, he spent about 5 minutes working shaving cream into a lather. It’s rather odd to sit still while somebody swirls a brush around your cheeks and neck for that long. In fact the whole process involved about 4 different lotions. He gave me a great shave without a nick. Why does anybody bother shaving at home?
So, in the end it cost me more than 2 bits, but not much more (about 90 cents). I’m glad my hair grows quickly, so I can go again soon!

Last night was Diwali, the Hindu festival of lights. In many respects it is like Christmas in the U.S. Shops are all decorated with golden tinsel, and are overflowing with ‘mithai’ (fresh sweets). The bazar is packed with people, as this is a day that people buy new clothes, and housewives should buy a new pot for the kitchen.
Also in prevelance are fireworks. Sparklers, fountains and many loud firecrackers are sold and used in the market. One needs to pay attention when there is a crowd of kids, as they are likely lighting fireworks.
I wandered the bazar and then started the evening at a family’s house for tea and sweets.
In the evening a large crowd gathered in the hotel. We ate a big dinner, and then settled into the cozy living room. It has gotten quite cold in the last two days, so we lit the wood-burning stove and some candles.
Late in the evening, we walked to the far side of the mountain, to get a view of Mussoorie and Dehradun. It was a clear night, and we could see all of the city spread out below us. Everywhere there were small and large fireworks. We sat for twenty minutes just watching and listening to the far off cracks.
Finally we joined the hotel workers outside the hotel. The had a large stereo blaring Hindi and Garwali (the local dialect) music, and were dancing. We joined the dancing for awhile. Unfortunately my room was right next to where they were dancing, and the festivities went late into the night. I didn’t have the heart to ask them to stop, so I took a nap in the living room after the other guests went to sleep.

There is a local celebrity. Mr. Ruskin Bond, the author of some 70 odd books. I picked up one of his books about life in Landour. Having read it, I wanted to meet him. One day last week, I was scooting down the hill, and passed him on the road. I skidded to a halt, and called to him. He invited me to tea the next day at 5 PM.

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I am preparing to leave my mountain home. I am nervous to leave. It has been so comfortable and stable — didn’t I come to India for adventure and discovery? I am excited to go and see more of India, but I will miss the life I have had here. I sold my scooter yesterday, which made me sad.
This morning I have come down to town to say my Good-byes. As I walked down to town, I started to think of all the things I have not done here. It’s funny that when you spend an extended period of time somewhere, you always think, “oh, I’ll have time to do that later.” Suddenly your stay is over and you have not done half of what you intended.
I have a safe place to land in Delhi, my next station. I am staying at the house of a friend, Mark. I am staying 4 days in Delhi, in which time I hope to go to a concert, see a movie and hopefully go to an Indian wedding. Wish me luck!