Dalhousie

Jonno developed some vampiric tendencies

Our next stop was a place called Dalhousie, another hill station. We had tried to book a hotel online, but all the hotels that we could book online were expensive ones, and the ones we found that were in our budget were not answering their phones. So we took the risk of winging it and finding somewhere when we arrived- this had worked for us in most other destinations.

We were dropped off by the coach in the town square at 5pm. As soon as we had put our bags on our back, a man approached us, claiming he could take us to a hotel which was in our budget, about a 10-15 minute walk away. Great, that was easy. We walked with him for about 5 minutes uphill, when suddenly he turned back and said he had to go collect some other people but if we carried on we would find it. We didn’t see why this was a problem, so carried on uphill for another 5 minutes. No sign of the hotel yet. We get to a crossroads and decide the most sensible thing to do would be to ask instead of getting lost, but nobody seemed to know where this hotel was, and we had been given a card but were not answering their phone. Instead of spending ages looking for this one hotel, we choose to check out the other hotels along this road, of which there were many. The first few said ‘no rooms’. That’s a shame, but we carry on moving from hotel to hotel. And each time, ‘no rooms’. When I walked in through the back entrance of one hotel so passed corridors of wide open empty rooms but the person on reception still said ‘no rooms’ we started to get suspicious. We went back out onto the street, and met a local man. When we asked him why we were not able to book a room in any hotel, he explained that many hotels do not want to take foreigners as they did not want to do the paperwork required for foreign guests. He did say he knew of a few hotels that definitely did take in foreigners, and pointed us in the direction of them. Jonno went to check them out while I waited with the bags, and came back shaking his head. Apparently they were full minus the guests as well. Feeling tired but still trying to be positive, we carried on our search. Hotel after hotel declined us, and even the International youth hostel of Dalhousie which was in the tourist guide book apparently ‘had a group coming’. It was at this point I became so fed up I actually said ‘I have had enough of this country!’ For those of you that know my level of obsession and love for India, you can only imagine how high my frustration was to utter those words. Luckily Jonno, the calm and level headed person he is, put his arm around me and reassured me that we would find somewhere and we just needed to keep trying. We walked back to the town square and he left me with the bags while he continued the hunt. After about ten minutes he came back, smiling. He had been offered a room in a hotel for a cheap price. Feeling relieved as it was now dark, cold and raining and we were both exhausted, we heaved our bags to the room, closed the door, and collapsed on the bed. But as soon as we had got ourselves comfortable, there was a knock on the door from one of the staff members to say that actually this room was taken. Trying to contain our anger but not believing this excuse at all, we told them we would stay in the room and if the guests come then we will vacate it, and closed the door on them. Then outside the room we heard lots of muttering, and there was another knock at the door, and a man with a suitcase was standing there and said ‘I have booked this room’. This was so obviously set up to get us out of the room, but we didn’t know what else to do. Apparently this had been the last available room in the hotel too, even though they we unprepared to prove this to us. So we had to collect our bags and keep looking. As we walked down the road, a man in one hotel that had previously been ‘full’ poked his head out of the door and shouted ‘room available’, but when we walked into the hotel, turned around and said ‘no rooms’ while laughing at us. An Indian couple walked into the hotel and asked if there were any rooms, and were immediately taken up to a vacant room. It was at this point that Jonno’s tolerance level had reached its limit too, and we started shouting at the man and his friend who had joined in with this joke that we were the butt of, which made them laugh even harder. Realising that this would not change our situation at all, we left the hotel and tried to work out what we should do next. We found a travel agent, who told us that there was a coach to our next planned destination- Dharamsala- the next day so if we could find somewhere that would take us for one night we could get on the coach the next morning. Luckily, we had the details of my mum’s friend’s aunt called Jane who lived in Dalhousie and whom we had been planning to pay a visit to whilst we were here. So I dialled the number to make a plea for some floor space for one night, feeling awful about disturbing her and making this request to someone I had never met before. I was so relieved when Jane answered the phone and said if we got a taxi to a nearby shop she would meet us there.

We asked a taxi driver to take us to the shop we had been instructed to ask for, which he did even though he had a very confused look on his face as even when he explained the shop was now closed we still insisted to go there. We were dropped off, and waited. After a few minutes we saw a torch light approaching us, and were met by Jane. We followed her down a steep, uneven path which lead to the house that she and her husband Maqbul lived in. We entered the cosy house and were amazed to find that there was a spare room with a bed made for us, with heated blankets and duvets as it was so cold, and that we were so warmly welcomed. We were introduced to Maqbul, who is mostly bed bound due to illness, and were encouraged to make ourselves at home and get some sleep. We thanked them again and apologised for the surprise phone call, and got into our nice warmed beds.

The next morning we were greeted by ‘bed chai’, a luxury which we were not used to! Jane then informed us that we would need to register our stay in Dalhousie with the police, and then we could go and explore for the day. They also said that we could stay with them for a couple of nights so we didn’t have to rush off, which was lovely of them. Jane took us up to the police station, where one police officer proudly showed us the holding cells for prisoners (always good to know the accommodation situation if you get on the wrong side of the law), and directed us to the foreigners registration office. We took our passports and after sitting in front of a very stern officer and playing a game of 20 serious questions, were told that our stay was allowed. After this was sorted, we explained to Jane that we wanted to do some hiking around the area and she arranged for a taxi to take us to a point we could hike back from. We jumped into the taxi and were dropped off at the peak of a nature reserve, which was approximately a 2 hour 45 minute walk from Dalhousie. However, we had also heard that a place called Khajjiar that was nearby was a nice area to visit, but it was a 2 and a half hour walk in the opposite direction to Dalhousie. In the end we opted for the Khajjiar direction, and picked up a taxi after about an hour of walking, so that we could do the whole hike from Khajjiar to Dalhousie, a 5 hour walk.

Why did the monkey cross the road?

Khajjiar, which is also known as the ‘mini Switzerland of India’, is a mossy plateau in the mountains with a few small buildings. Granted it was not as picturesque as some of the images we had seen as it was fairly muddy and the lake was dry, but it was still pretty and a nice place to sit and have a chai before the long walk back. 

One of a few chai breaks

Snow selfie!

Once we had fuelled up on chai, we were ready. The walk was not an easy one, with the first 2 and a half hours being mostly uphill and neither of our walking boots had yet been worn in, but the sky was clear and the weather was refreshingly cool. Every five minutes we had to stop to take pictures of the amazing views, and there were points where the path was lined with snow.

Khajjiar

Great views!

 We arrived back in Dalhousie five hours later, hobbling but satisfied. After getting a well deserved thali, we returned to Jane and Maqbul’s house. After showering and crashing out on the bed at about 10pm, there was a knock at the door. Maqbul had fallen out of bed and could not get back up. Thankfully we were there, otherwise he would have been on the floor for a few hours. With a bit of negotiation, we managed to lift him back into bed, luckily he had not hurt himself, and Jonno set about replacing a fuse on the electric blanket which had gone just before Maqbul fell. We returned to our room, feeling relieved that we had been around to help out.

It was just as well that we had done our hiking that day, as the next day it rained continuously. Jane had asked us for some help with a few things (many of them computer related- cue Jonno) so we made ourselves useful. Jane had also offered us use of their toploading washing machine, which we were definitely in need of by this point, but as the rain meant we could not dry the clothes outside, we had to drape our clothes around Jane and Maqbul’s bedroom. Maqbul had been given some exercises from a physiotherapist to maintain his strength and movement, which he had been doing with one of the staff they employed. As I was feeling like I had not been able to use my Occupational Therapy skills in a while, I offered to see if there was anything I could suggest or help with. While observing and giving advice about how to do the exercises, I suggested that Maqbul attempt to stand and march on the spot, which he could do really well considering he had not walked in months. With a bit of reassurance and support, he was then able to take a few steps with a zimmer frame and suddenly a look of determination came across his face and he asked to go to the en suite toilet. Without going into too much OT detail, this was not the easiest task as there was a narrow doorway, a step and an extremely low toilet in a corner of the room. If I would have been at work, I would have told him that this was not recommended until there was sufficient equipment around the toilet and he had been assessed as managing a step safely and had some more walking practice. However, this is India and I didn’t have time to gradually practice with him, so off we went, and with only a few dodgy manual handling techniques (you didn’t see this ESH staff!) he managed to get to the toilet and nearly all the way back again, which was amazing to see.

The rain had died down a little and Jane needed some errands doing around the town, so we offered to go out for her. We were given a list of things that needed doing, including purchasing a lightbulb, going to the post office and a grocery shop. So we set off with our list and with the instruction that we just needed to ask people if we got stuck. We started with the lightbulb, which was easy as we knew where the shop was. From there, we asked one of the staff for directions to the post office, and she pointed in a direction and said ‘5 minutes’. So we went the way she pointed to, but soon came across some crossroads and got stuck again. So we asked another person, who pointed down one of the roads, and we followed their instruction. About twenty minutes later, not quite the five minutes but it is India, and we reached a town square with lots of shops, including a post office. Hooray, we found it! Once we had sorted out the bits there, our next instruction was to go down the steps to the grocery store. But on looking around, there were no steps and three roads that went downhill. We called Jane and she gave us the same instruction. Baffled but certain we could work it out, we followed one road for about 1km but this lead away from the town, so we turned back around and returned to the town square. Jane had called us a few times and was worrying about us. It was only when we called Jane again and put her on the phone with a local shopkeeper that we discovered the reason for the confusion; There were two post offices in town and we had been directed to the furthest one. Feeling a bit sheepish, we returned to the house. Jane then said she needed to go out to get some cream but it was too difficult to explain the directions so she would go herself. I volunteered to make the dinner- macaroni cheese- while she was out. One hour passed and Jane still hadn’t returned, it was dark and had started raining heavily. I was the one now beginning to worry. After ten more minutes she returned, with a man in tow. Jane explained he was the son of one of her friends who had an adventure tour company in Nepal, where we were planning on going to after India. We spoke to him for a while and he gave us some useful advice, and told us he could set us up with a hotel in Dharamsala, our next destination.

Bit cold out there

The next morning it was time for us to leave, we had a bus to catch to Dharamsala. Jane made us a packed lunch of sandwiches and cake (far better than the crisps and biscuits we normally have to rely on!) and we said goodbye. It was so nice to have met both Jane and Maqbul, they made us feel so welcome and at home which is a rare feeling while travelling. Even though I initially felt awful about inviting ourselves to their house as we had never met them before, in the end it worked out well for all of us as we could help them out too.

So, onto our next stop, Dharamsala.

Thank you for having us!