The road through Kashmir
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One of the few things that gets me seriously mardy when travelling is being told horseshit at some travel/bus/train station - and this happened the day I went out looking for a bus to Srinagar. Tried to get the local bus but the guys were all on strike - nobody seemed to know what it was all about and when they would be back at work so I ended up having to trail round the agencies. All the jeeps were leaving at the same time but allegedly they could arrive anytime between 4 and 10 in the morning - I knew this was rubbish so went for the one who gave me what I thought was the right answer - though he was a little unwilling to write "jeep to Srinagar" on my receipt till I persisted as I didn't want them thinking I'd given a donation to the festivities at the travel agents Christmas party.
The trip was amazing - if Robert Plant had actually been going to Kashmir when he wrote the words to the song he would have been on the Leh/Srinagar Road. Though it wasn't the most comfortable of rides as I was squeezed in the back next to a chunky policeman from Bangalore who should have either have had his legs tapped together or coughed up some more mullah for a front seat - he wasn't too fragrant either! The other downside was that it was a night drive but it was kinda made up for with the stars which were really amazing - millions of them - we stopped at a small village for chai and you could could tell we were heading west by the pictures of Ayatollahs on the cafe walls as the Muslims in this part of J & K were all Shia rather than Sunni like the rest of Kashmir.
I didn't get much sleep as chunky kept falling on me, maybe I was a bit awful but it's probably the only time I'll get away with shoving a policeman and not getting arrested. I was pretty sure that Zoji La pass was shut at night or only allowed one way traffic as the road was so narrow so at half two in the morning we pulled up in Drass (second coldest inhabited place on earth!!) to join the queue to make the crossing. I managed to extricate myself from the back seat and went for tea in a local cafe with Jessica and Milo who were in the same jeep - it was so cold even in the slight warmth of cafe. The Zoji La pass which marks the border between Ladakh and Kashmir was amazing - once you reach the top, the road winds its way down a cliff face - no photos as I was on the wrong side of the jeep and was drifting in and out of consciousness only waking up when my head cracked against the window - but it was one of those sights that I'll never forget and is described in the Lonely Planet as "not for the faint hearted).
Big welcoming committee at the tourist reception centre in Srinagar which we managed to shake off by going across the road to relative safety of the info centre - we'd been hustled coming into the city by some guys telling lies about where we would be dropped - they shut up when I pointed I knew exactly where we going to be dropped. I headed to my old haunt Dal View as I wasn't too keen on the houseboat the others were staying on and then spent a frustrating couple of days trying to sort out my rail ticket from Jammu. No railway station in Srinagar I was told - that's funny its marked on Google earth (don't ask me how I know but its deffo there) - but the guy was insistent in the tourist office I had to go to the DC office (nothing to do with David Coulthard) - there then followed a long list of complicated instructions as the guy couldn't read a map, the only problem being I couldn't do left/right - took a bit of time and patience till we came to a compromise. I was thoroughly frisked at the DC office and had numerous items taken off me - amazing what they consider a threat to security with items such as malaria tablets, tampons, inhaler, mp3 player being held onto and others like my lighter and mobile phone being okay - after all that palaver the computer was down with no idea when things would be up and running.
Giving the train ticket up as a lost cause I headed off to Aru back to see the guys at the Rohella Guesthouse along with the essential 5 bottles of beer carefully stowed in my rucksack to last me the week - local price in the jeeps all the way. I was bemused in Pahalgam bus station - to be given a hotel recommendation all in Hebrew - "I'm English" - turned out the guy had been living in Bolton the previous year and thought it was beautiful - not the two words I would have thought would have gone together in the same sentence. It was really nice to see everyone back in Aru - Bisma the little girl I remember the most had really grown and was now 7 years old and Rafi was thinking of heading abroad for work maybe Dubai as it wasn't easy to find a job in Kashmir.
Unfortunately I fell ill whilst I was there - really bad cough and fever - in between my bouts of being bedridden want for a couple of short walks, played endless games of Caram and cards and ate far too much pasta. One day a Bengali family turned up - the Bengalis do like to travel - they were a little disappointed that there were no TV's at the guesthouse and two of the family never left their room after checking in - the little girl with them Shibamgini was really surprised that I didn't have a swimming pool at my house back in England and 17 cars in the garage like her. She was really sweet and wanted to be a fashion designer when she grew up - I said I wanted to be an astronaut - but I did feel a little sorry for her as she said her parents were away and to make up for that they had bought her an i-phone - her dad didn't seem to bad as he took her for a pony ride but the others did seem to leave her alone a lot - just shouting random stuff from upstairs every now and again.
Eid and the end of Ramadan happened whilst I was there as well - coincidence that I was last in Aru at Eid two years ago - this time a French lady called Lydia came over with her son Takrick (sp) to celebrate the festival. She was living in Laripura just up the road but she said that she found it hard living there as the locals weren't as accepting as when you were travelling through. We all had lunch up at the big house before heading off to the Betab valley - this was when I started to feel ill and I'm sure it wasn't helped by the drive there - bouncing along the road and facing backwards. It was real shame that I was so bad as two Israelis turned up raring to go trekking and as I could barely walk to the end of the garden there was no way that I could go.
As the RIFF festival was starting on the Thursday, I left Aru on the Monday so I would get there in time - I still didn't have my ticket from Jammu to Jodhpur so I wasn't sure I would make it for the start. Rafi came with as far as Anantnag on the way we stopped off for tea in Ringo Starr's cafe in the bus station - it was strange place with pride of place going to the TV in a very fancy flashing light cabinet, Ringo seemed happy enough in his new life so I didn't bother him for an autograph. Rafi was great he sorted out my jeep to Jammu and I felt like I was handed over into the care of the old man driving - he was really nice encouraging me to eat though I'm not sure how good his eyesight was as he managed to puncture the tyre by driving over a dead monkey. It was lucky we weren't going too fast - wheel changed on the side of the mountain as the trucks hurtled past at breakneck speed before we pulled into Jammu a couple of hours late. The old man I think took his responsibility seriously and took me to a nice hotel only problem it was well over my budget and they wouldn't haggle - one of the porters then took me to a cheaper one round the corner but I still had to do a lot of hard bargaining and even though I was a bit on stroppy side one of the guys went off to find me a beer.
Finally got my train ticket sorted out the following day - went to the wrong place on three occasions before I eventually found the rail reservation counter - the other customers didn't think twice about barging in front of me in the queue even though I was stood waiting patiently with my rucksack on my back and a booking slip in hand. In the end I took to a bit of barging and shouting and eventually got my ticket.
Sorting out a hotel was a bit more problematic - I needed to be nearer the railway station so headed to the tourist office to see if they had any ideas. The guy in the know suggested either a Hindu Hostel for pilgrims or his hotel but then he blotted his copybook a bit by starting a massage conversation - okay hindu hostel it is!! Big mistake - firstly right palaver checking for contraband and they were rubbish at that and then they only had dormitories. I thought they would be single sex and about 6 bunk beds to a room - dream on - they were mixed and the beds a centimetre apart - memories of the Amsterdam Sleep-In came flooding back when I woke up in the middle of the night with this random blokes arm round me - I can't stay here. Luckily I met a guy called Omar once more at the tourist centre who was really nice and found a cool but extremely expensive hotel which looked a lot safer place to stay and he wouldn't take any money off me for finding the place.
I know people go on about Kashmir being dodgy but I felt really well looked after all the way down the valley - even walking down Lal Chowk in Srinagar people didn't hassle me - they stared which I understand but none of the rubbish like "you buy this","which country" - which does get on your nerves if you hear it twenty times a day. I was really sorry next day when the train chugged over the bridge into the Punjab and I left Kashmir behind - just for now!!

