CyclingDutchGirl

A man grabbed my hand, looked at the palm, and told me; “You are very lucky”
Like he needed to tell me

It has been hot, as expected. And I’ve noticed (again) that my body still disagrees with the heat. If the temperature doesn’t drop below 33C at night I can’t sleep. And when it hits 40C at 8 a.m. and keeps rising, I can’t eat either. Not ideal when you still ride 100km days.
So when I arrived in Bodhgaya three days after leaving Varanasi I decided to treat myself to an air-conditioned room.
The first place I stopped to cool down and drink water, lots of water, looked expensive. And after chatting to the staff for a bit I found out it was (2000+ rupees). So when I asked the receptionist on my way out ‘You wouldn’t have a room under 500 rupees would you?’ I was surprised he answered with; “for you… yes we do.”
So there I was indulging in the luxury of a cool room, with TV. and warm and cold water. Bliss.

The night before I’d spend in my tent with the choice to get eaten alive by mosquito’s (with the tent open) or sweat like crazy (with the tent closed)
After the day cycling through ‘dangerous Bihar’, where the worst thing that happened to me was being charged twice the price for a aloo paratha (potato bread/pancake), I stopped in a village and asked at the police station where to sleep. Here, a police station is a big wall surrounding a small village where all who work there plus extended families live. The officer in charge let me pitch my tent in his courtyard while his wife made me food and cay. And no one ever asked for money.

Bodhgaya is the place where Prince Siddhartha Gautama found enlightenment under a Bodhi tree and became the Buddha. It’s a big Buddhist pilgrim place and a descendent of the original tree still stands tall. With monks chanting and meditating underneath and temples and monasteries cluttered all around. A nice place for a break. Some one gave me a leaf of the tree while some one else offered me tea. I sat down and heard about a group of 106 people walking down from Delhi to protest against the on-going in Tibet. Apparently the victims of the riots are denied medical care by the Chinese. Not very friendly of the Chinese..

I wanted to rent a motorbike to ride out to some caves where Buddha sat meditating for 6 years. But could only find a boy/bike combination. So with 18-year old Sudhi on the back, who kept reminding me to go slow while I kept reminding him to take his hands of my legs, I rode out to the caves while we both sang songs in our own language and had a swell time all together.
Half way back we ran out of petrol so my young friend went for a walk to find some, while I stayed chatting to some youths, it must have been a sight to see. First a bicycle stopped to stare, then a jeep and a motorbike passed, both looking at me instead of the road so they smashed into each other… More and more people gathered, lucky Sudhi came back so we could leave the scene. (No one was hurt)

And then the rain began.
I was hot and bothered. Dipping my scarf in every well I came across to wrap it around my head trying to keep cool.
Suddenly a strong wind came up, the sky went dark and lightning was flashing all around, the temp dropped with a whopping 20 degrees! And I felt better immediately. I could go much faster, felt hungry, and started singing again. Wonderful.
I did stop for shelter at a little shop where I joined three men for tea. As I got up to pay they said;” No sister, no money, this is home delivery!”

With a smile I continued along the Grand trunk road, one of the longest roads in the Indian subcontinent with foundations dating back 2000 years. It runs from Calcutta all the way into Pakistan and has been one of the most important trade routes over centuries. And now the part between Varanasi and Calcutta is mine
Mostly a 4-lane highway that get used as two 2-lane roads, with traffic going up and down on either side…
End of the day I reached a town where Abhiram runs a tiny internet cafe and lives with his mum and younger brothers and sisters.
They live in a small house at the edge of town and told me to spent the night there…
I was taken around the neighborhood and had so much tea and snacks (come to my house! can I have a snap with you?) I could hardly eat the beautiful dinner that evening.

I cycled along when a man on motorbike slowed down and stated: “you are Mirjam, you come from Netherlands on your bicycle.”
….ehm.. yes..?
“I read it in the newspaper. Let’s drink tea!’
The newspaper? Turned out one of the many men gathering in my room at a police station one night was a reporter from the Hindustan Times. I wonder what the article said since none of them had spoken English and they asked all sort of funny questions:
What is your father’s name..?
What is your father’s job…?
What is your qualification..?
Are you married…?
What is your mission..?

Same day a boy slowed down and asked me what my problem was. He didn’t believe when I told him I didn’t have a problem and then told me it would be a much better idea if I’d put the bike on a bus and continued on the back of his motorbike…
I assured him I was really fine the way it was, but he could drag me up the next hill if he really wanted too… So that’s what he did, and then he got me a coke and moved on but not before telling me:
“Look, this is my India.
A little spicy, a little salt, a little sweet and a little bitter. This is India”

The last two days coming into Calcutta where great (as well).
There was a ‘Bandh’, a strike organized by some political parties shutting down all transport to protest against the rising oil prices. For me it meant that I had the whole four lanes all for myself, and some random cows, sheep, kids playing cricket and a few other bicycles.
Arriving in Calcutta with no traffic at all seemed a bit surreal but soooo nice! No waiting for traffic lights, no horns beeping like crazy and no one trying to run me over. Just lovely.

I will stay here until I find a way to cross the water.
Will keep you posted,

-xxx-

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I left Pokhara on the 14th. The first 12km where straight up. A good start…
I felt a bit like on my first bicycle trip in 2003 when I stumbled upon some hills in Belgium (Ardennen) and nearly decided to go back
I didn’t then and I couldn’t now, so under a scorching sun I slowly worked my way up. Still the people were smiling all around (or are the laughing AT me..?) and schoolchildren walking up at the same speed as me.
But, as I was in no hurry, I stopped here and there for a coke or to throw some cold water over my head and by the end of the day I found a nice spot to pitch my tent just before the daily thunderstorm came over so I even stayed dry.

The Tanson road is beautiful, I already knew this ‘cause I came in the same way on the Bullet in March. It winds up and down over ridges and through forest, along rivers and villages where I can always find a Dahl Bhatt when I’m hungry.
Tanson lies about 5km from the main road and to get there you need to climb over 600m in the last few km’s. But in the town on the steep streets just the surprised looks gave me enough energy to make it up there.

In the evening Don came around on his bike to bring me my old saddle, I left it in Pokhara after buying a new one. But the new one was severely uncomfortable so I rather use the broken old one…
We fixed it professionally with a t-shirt and bits of shoelaces..

Another leisurely day of drinking coffee and takin’ the bike for a spin passed, ok.. I was not riding but still it’s great to be on a motorbike, before it was time to head for the border.
And this time I was going down, I hardly needed to peddle at all as I flew passed trucks and busses on the way to the Indian border at Saunali.

So finally, 5and a half months after my first arrival in Nepal I crossed the border on the 18th of May, exactly a year after I crossed into Turkey. The Nepali border guards asked me when I’d return while the Indians welcomed me to their country and were surprised I planned to get to Gorakhpur that day ;”You are very strong, you are like a Sir…”
But with a heavy tailwind, a cloudy sky and a nice comfortable temperature of 25C, it all seemed perfect.

The Lonely planet tells me: “It can get unbearably hot in May and June …. The hot season is the time to abandon the plains and head for the cooler hills”
Ah well, is all I can say.

Again India surprised me by how quiet the roads seemed. Only in towns it suddenly becomes slightly mad. Funny that it starts exactly at the edge and finishes on the other side of town, like everybody is just taking their bikes, busses, push carts, elephants, oxes and whatever else moves, up and down the main street..
And I like it

The people are good too. When I ask for directions I get them, and there’s no kids running after me asking for sweets, pens or rupees.
I do get many curious glances instead.
And the guys on bicycles who don’t like to be overtaken, so they catch up on me just to slow down again when they’re in front so I can’t do nothing but pass them which starts the whole game over again.
Three young boys got a bit too daring and got so close at a speed they couldn’t handle that one of them hooked the handlebars in my luggage. I just felt a push to the side and when I looked around the boy had crashed to the tarmac. They didn’t catch up again.

But so far I cycle and greet people and they greet me back. Sometimes with such a dazzling smile I stay happy till I have to play that game again with the next silly boy that comes along.

But sometimes one comes along for a chat, I’ve cycled 10km with a 17-year old who wants to be a teacher and practice his English on me.

And in the town of Mau I asked the way to a hotel and Ziaul made me follow him for 2km through windy narrow streets till we came to a building where I was surprised to find a clean, neat and dirt cheap hotel. He went on to arrange food for me and warned me never to open the door, but the window first if someone knocked. How sweet.
When I sat down outside I got swarmed with curious people ‘till the hotel staff asked me to go back in, it was getting a little too busy.

And now I’m in Varanasi.
On the way here I got stuck in a town where the road had turned into an enormous mud-bath. I took of my shoes and socks and with the help of some friendly people I pushed the bike through. Didn’t wanna think what was in that mud… upto my knees… Took a good while to get that stuff of the bike again.
After 120km in 40C I arrived and found my way to a comfy backpackers hotel. Lucky I met 3 friendly Korean girls going to the same place, I needed to climb up a few steps in the small alleyways and the helped me drag the bike up.
Here, on the roof, I pitched my tent and I’ll stay here till I get rid of this annoying cough and a sore tooth.

It’s a crazy place. You can expect to see anything in the narrow alleyways of the centre or along the Ghats that line the Holy Ganga river. I nearly got run over by a chanting crowd carrying their deceased relatives down to the ‘burning-Ghat’, where there are cremations all day and night. Big piles of wood are shipped in and stacked and weighted to have the precise amount it takes to burn a human body. The ashes go into the river, about 4m from where children are playing and learning how to swim. And next to that one of many sewage outflows… And then there’s carcasses of rats, cows, sheep and people who don’t get cremated peacefully bobbing passed downstream while crows enjoy a meal.

I joined a Puja ceremony, let my candle drift down the Ganga, Which should mean good Karma, took a little boat and wandered around the streets.

Now I guess it’s time to head east, into Bihar.
I’ve heard that ‘Bihar is to Indians what India is to the west…’
My plan at first was to get myself a little boat and row to Calcutta. But it’s easier said then done. Apparently there’s ‘pirates’ in Bihar who target boats. Usually I take warnings like this with a big grain of salt. I do think though I might be slightly more vulnerable alone in a boat on the river then on my bicycle in traffic with lots of people around. And I don’t wanna go looking for trouble.

So off I go on my bicycle again.
Into the wild

-xxx-

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There is a few similarities between bicycle and motorcycle travelling.
The most important one, and why I like it so much, is you’re free! You can come and go as you please without restrictions.
Both motorbike and pushbike have a couple of pro’s and cons;

With a motorbike you can…
… Take people with you for a day.
… Go at the same speed as the rest of the traffic so it doesn’t seem too hectic.
… Ride through sand, although it’s not easy.
… Not smell roadkill like you do on bicycle.
… Get rid of people following you easier.
… Go 20 or 30km more if you need too.
… And of course, look super cool

But, with a bicycle you can…
… Push it if something breaks, or fix it yourself.
… Hear the birds singing and see every flower and butterfly.
… Travel 5 times longer ’cause you don’t spend more on petrol and oil then you do on food and accommodation.
… Easily stop to take a picture or have a chat.
… Go anytime, even when there is no petrol.
… Eat as much chocolate as you like without the need to feel guilty.

All together I have to say I prefer to travel by bicycle but go on shorter trips by motorbike.
Good thing that this is exactly what I am doing

Then,
India continues to surprise me. Such generosity and friendliness of some people I’ve met. I hadn’t expected.
Prime example Would be the friends and family of Hermant in Mount Abu and Abu Road.

Sanjay, who showed me around and promised to get my mobile fixed that hadn’t worked since I dropped it in Delhi. When it couldn’t be repaired he gave me another one! Sadly that got stolen 3 days later.
He also showed Wouter, a cyclingdutchguy you’ll find on www.wprinsen.web-log.nl, and me a temple up a hill where a Gujarat family where on a pilgrimage and invited us into the temple with them to take photo’s. Afterwards they offered us lunch.
Then there is Hermants sister-in-law, who made me many cups of tea and dressed me up in her sari’s. She even gave me one to keep!
The rest of the family who live in Abu Road invited me to stay with them two nights.
I visited the school where Hermants brother works and try to teach the kids there a dutch song (hoofd-schouders-knie-en-teen..) I failed miserably. Lucky I missed my calling to become a teacher.
One of the girls from the family decorated my hands with ‘Mahendra’ a henna-tattoo that woman usually get when there is something to celebrate.
In the evening we had a nice gathering of family and friends singing and dancing along on Bollywood songs.
I shared a room with 22-year old Indu and we spent half the night chatting away ’bout things girls chat about; “Do you have arranged marriages in your country…?” …. ” So, what if you don’t find love?” …..

When I finally managed to drag myself away from Abu I slowly started making my way back north. Via small desert roads, half of which weren’t even on the map at all, where tulbanded men ride camels or invite me for tea. I got to the small village of Khudi, I never planned to go on a camel-safari after I did one 5 years ago in Morocco. Just can’t be bothered bargaining with hassling touts and being stuck in the desert with sleazy camel-men…

But then I arrived at Badal Singhs place, A lovely quiet and honest men that runs a family guesthouse and organises camel-treks for a price you can’t bargain for.
He was very surprised when I showed him the way I came on a map. “That road is illegal for tourist!, to close to Pakistan border..”
Oops.

So there I found myself on a camel. In a desert together with Marc from France who happened to know a lot about stars, and you can REALLY see many stars when you sleep out there in the open, I even saw the Milkyway!
And there was a lovely Italian couple who only stayed with us one night.
And of course Vikram, our saviour in times of trouble..

I rode a 9-year old male camel named Saha. He was more interested in the female camels then listening to me. He showed it by gurgling up and bubbling his insides out of his mouth while making a disgusting sound, all to impress the girls. One morning Saha started running and wouldn’t stop, I almost thought this was gonna be the horse episode all over again but luckily I managed to stay on this time. But men it’s a bumpy ride!
It’s nice that, unlike Morocco where all the camels were tied together and follow a guy walking up front, here you are free on your own camel or choose to have a driver sitting behind you. I didn’t, but borrowed Marcs after Saha decided he wasn’t gonna listen to me.
You can’t beat the scenery of the Sahara-dunes. But the whole relaxing atmosphere, cooking your own meal and being in good company made this trek much nicer. I wish I could’ve stayed longer.
Even talked about swapping my motorbike against two camels… But will have to leave that for next time…

It’s more and more fun riding as I’m getting used to the traffic here.
One particular surprising experience is crossing a railway.
When the crossing arms are closed, usually about half an hour before the train actually arrives, all bikes, scooters and bicycles push forward and occupy both sides of the road… On both sides of the track. Some crawl, with bikes and all underneath to cross before the train gets there. Then, when the train passes with an enormous noise, everybody starts up and let the engines roar. As soon as the crossing arms move the tiniest wee bit you try to get further up front to charge for the other side when they open…. and on the other side they do exactly the same. The art then is to get through unscattered and preferably as one of the first.
I love this game! getting pretty good at it too

I had a great day in around Bikaner where I took a cool Belgium chick for a ride.
We headed for the ‘world-famous’ Karni Mata temple a.k.a. the rat-temple… hundreds of rats run around freely and get well looked after since they’re the re-incarnated souls of dead story-tellers.
It’s supposed to be good luck if you spot the white rat. And we did! It worked immediately…
We took the bike over small sandy roads to the village of Koyalat. Mick had told me how to ride in sand… just don’t stop basically. So we pushed through with my wheel swirling all over the show but we managed.

In Koyalat we ran into this Sadhu, a holy man, with seriously long dreads and a pot belly. He took us for tea to his place and offered us to smoke ganja with him. I kindly refused the ganja since I figured it
might not improve my reaction-speed while riding. But the tea was lovely.

Now I’ve just come from Amritsar where I witnessed the India/Pakistan border ceremony. It’s completely mad! People running around with flags and spontaneous outbursts of dancing and shouting. Then the guards walk about kicking their legs up so high you’d think they’ll break their nose. After a good while of carrying on and both sides of the border trying to be louder and more ridiculous than the other, the flags come down and the border is closed for another night…

Amritsar itself has a great feel, the traffic is worse than anything else I’ve seen so far, but I love being in the middle of that madness.
As I came into town and asked directions I got invited to drink some more tea, and got shown the way to a hotel.
Wondering around town a men urged everybody passing into his temple. apparently it was lord Shivas birthday and because of that he got food for two- to three-thousand people. That included me.

Today, for the first time in India I rode on a road with a serious WOW-factor. Approaching the mighty Himalayas again, it’s my favorite place…
I just arrived at Mcleod Ganj. The headquarters of the Tibetan government in exile and home of the Dalai Lama. Not sure if he is at home, but I’ll find out and let you know.
A bit like Tibet…. But different.

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