Kaas - plateau of flowers

Thoseghar falls

A walk in the clouds

Wind turbines at Chalkewadi

Flowers at Kaas plateau

Old Goa

Viceroy's Arch

Dome of St. Cajetan's Church

Se Cathedral

Laterite walls of Bom Jesus Basilica

Barges in the Mandovi (view from Our Lady of the Rosary Church, Old Goa)

Restoration outside the chapel of St. Catherine

Gate of the college of St. Paul

Ruins of St. Augustine's tower

Our Lady of the Rosary church

View from Our Lady of the Mount chapel (St. Cajetan's church in the foreground)

The Latin Quarters - Panjim

The next time someone tells you that they are going for a holiday to Goa, ask them what they intend to do there. You are likely to get ‘surfing’, ‘lazing on the beach’, ‘swimming’ and the like. But that’s not all, there are a few who might try something else, like ‘getting drunk on the beach’, ‘eating vindaloo at a beach shack’, ‘dancing at a club’(near the beach). The single minded need of tourists to cling to the state’s sandy strip often makes one wonder if there is anything more to this Portuguese colony of old. Is Goa just one long beach with different names to confuse tourists? Thankfully it isn’t. The experience that is Goa – the free flowing alcohol, the late night parties, the spicy chicken and pork dishes and the fun-loving yet laid approach of the locals – has a history to it. The beach is where it might all come together, but there is another side that is still traditional and charming, the side I believe to be the authentic Goa. She can be found in little hamlets a short distance from the coast, in old Portuguese baroque churches and colourful bungalows. Today, I explore the Latin quarter of Panjim to immerse myself in her heritage.

Sao Tome marked on the map of Panjim

Ourem creek

Sao Tome

Contrasts of Sao Tome

Statue of Dr. Dias with Casa da moeda in the background

My taxi drops me off on Ourem road, close to the St. Sebastian chapel. It’s a short walk from there to the Tobacco square, named after the current office of the post master general, earlier known as Tobacco house, where the tobacco trade was started to revive a recessionary Goan economy. I guess smoking isn’t injurious to commerce. Her clean reddish-maroon and white exteriors suggest a new coat of paint – one of the better maintained buildings here. On the other side of the square, Sunday morning mass is on in the Sao Tome chapel. On its left stands the G.X. Verlekar & Sons Jewellers. Unfortunately, the only well maintained part of the building is the name plate. The rest is antique and broken with green wooden balustrades and old wiring poking out of its decrepit and randomly plastered side. However, you can still see the discoloured stucco mouldings above the balconies. On the other side of the tobacco house is the Casa da moeda (“house of coins”) which served as Goa’s mint from 1834-1841.

Sao Tome chapel

It’s then onto the Rua Luis de Menezes and the 31^st January road (named after the date of Portugal’s

liberation from Spain), where the buildings of Sao Tome come to life – the predominant pastels mingling with the darker reds and browns, the contrasts around the casement windows, the red tiled roofs and the vintage overhanging balconies although fewer.

Fontainhas

Morning quota of bread

The colour and contrasts continue into Fontainhas. I also begin to notice the hand painted name plaques for roads and houses. White backgrounds with blue decorated borders seem to be the most common but not the norm. The plaque generally holds the name of the family or street prefixed with a ‘Casa’ or ‘Rua’. But I am more interested in the pronunciation of ‘fontainhas’. I keep saying “fôntīnäs” till finally when asking an elderly man for directions; he replies “fôntānyäs” firmly. I repeat the same, and he nods his head with approval and says, “It’s Portuguese!” with pride. Meanwhile, still within a earshot, as I walk away, I hear a woman mumbling something to which the gentlemen replies, “Ah!  turistas..” with an air of dissent as if I were the hundredth person he corrected that day. But don’t be misled by that incident. The people are very friendly and are more than happy to correct your pronunciation, engage you in chit-chat and share their version of Goan heritage with you. I walk upto the spring or fountain from where the place gets its name and then turn back and left over Emidio Gracia road towards the church square (earlier known as ‘Largo da Igreja’) which is home to the famous Church of our Lady of Immaculate Conception.

At least the sun is shining on them here!

Hand painted plaques (tiled)

Fontainhas

Central Panjim

The Church of our Lady of Immaculate Conception, which was built in 1541, stands tall overlooking the church square. Her white façade is broken by a series of stairs leading to the top. Unfortunately, another morning mass is on and I can’t get in.

Church of Our Lady of Immaculate Conception

It’s down Dr. R.S. road and right towards the statue of Abbe Faria, a Goan monk famous for his contributions to hypnotism. I end the walk at the old secretariat on the Avenida Dom Joao Castro road on the banks of the Mandovi.

Statue of Abbe Faria

It’s now half past ten – Casino Prime on the other side of the river is probably closed, but the yachts are up and cruising through the Mandovi – time for the touristy version of Goa to take over!

References/Good reads

(http://casacandolim.com/the-sao-tome-walk.htm, http://goanarchitecture.blogspot.in/, http://casadamoedagoa.wordpress.com/about/home/, http://goacentral.com/Goachurches/churches_of_goa.htm, http://www.heritagejazz.com/about_goa.php?view=more&id=7, http://www.goaholidayhomes.com/info/87/the-statue-of-abbe-faria/)

Reflections of Dal Lake

A reflection is more than simply an optical effect. It presents a different view – an opportunity to look at oneself or others in different light. Some notice details, some look for flaws while others see what they want to.  But reflections can often tell you a story – as the old monkey tells Simba in ‘The Lion king’, you just need to look a bit harder.

SM and I were looking hard alright! After our arrival in Srinagar in the early evening, we began our hunt for a hotel. After several deliberations, we finally chose the Akbar hotel on the banks of the lake near Dal gate. No tour of Srinagar is complete without a Shikara ride on the Dal Lake and that was right on top of our checklist!

The bazaar

The floating vendors

Our first sight of Dal Lake is a line of Houseboats and Shikaras lined near Dal gate. The Shikaras are on the banks while the houseboats are across the canal. Since the houseboats are stationary, you wonder why they too aren’t on the banks – perhaps it’s to give tourists a feel of staying afloat in the middle of the lake, or perhaps it is so that tourists HAVE to take a Shikara each time they need to go to shore! Your guess is as good as mine.

The thinking boats

We hire a Shikara for an hour around the lake. His name is Shah Jahan (Yes, boats can be male). We are to move in and around Dal gate area itself, before the Nehru Park. It doesn’t take long though for vendors to come up in their smaller, sometimes open boats right besides ours, selling anything and everything from carpets to coke. And it’s not a few of them – they are everywhere. Alongside some of the house boats, are handicraft shops – some stand on stilts, others on a sort of earthen reclamation. Darting between the boats and the weeds are ducks – plenty of them. It seems more like the floating market of Bangkok! In fact our boatman tells us that in the early hours of the morning, the lake hosts a floating vegetable market- one of its kind in India. The boatman repeatedly urges us to take a look at some of the handicrafts in the shops – He is obviously in for a small cut if we buy something from there – it’s a common practice across the country. We turn out of the smaller canals into a wider area – there are fountains, many more houseboats and more floating vendors. The interesting part is not really the houseboats but their names. The boats are christened after almost anything from places, both Indian and foreign – Montreal, Prince of Bombay, Lake Victoria, Khyber etc to philosophers – Plato, Aristotle etc. Some might prefer to differ, but to me, it’s Indian ingenuity at its best. The sun is now setting, and the lights in the houseboats and the roads near the lake are coming on – time for the markets to wind up, time to get back to shore.

Sunset at the lake

Lake Placid

The evening ride just wetted our appetite for more – another Shikara ride at sunrise was arranged, a longer one that would take us past the Char Chinar and drop us off near the Nishat gardens.

Misty morning

We set out in the early hours, while darkness still covered the city. The city isn’t awake yet and Dal Lake isn’t either. We are groggy and our thoughts are as hazy as the misty panoramas before us. The lake is showing us her other side, her true self. At 5:30, the call to prayers pierces the silence. The dark, deep blue sky slowly begins to get streaks of orange. In the meantime, our boatman, an elderly man, perhaps in his sixties, breaks into song. I can’t tell the language or the song, but from our earlier conversations, I assume its Urdu, from the tune and the intensity, I assume it’s a song of praise, perhaps a hymn. Surreal is not the word! Urdu hymns, eagle cries up above and just the paddle sweep of the oar – I don’t want the sun to rise; I just want time to freeze! Neither SM nor I say a word lest we disrupt the serenity. Mist creeps in from the poplar lined banks and a few other boats can be spotted in isolation. Heaven knows what they are doing out here at this ungodly hour. Perhaps they, like us are here to experience God himself! Slowly, but surely the sun rises, sparkling the lake and making clear the horizons, just in time for us to get clear reflections of the Char Chinar. The Char Chinar is a manmade island in the middle of Dal Lake that harbours four Chinar (Maple) trees, which change colour with the season – now its yellowish orange. In a month from now, it will be red! We stop at the island for a break and to admire the lake around.

...and the sun begins to rise

Lone boatman

....and another

The Char Chinar

Yellow Maple

Reflections!

The sun is out now – the images in the water are brighter but distorted by the ripples of the falling maple leaves. As the city awakes, the tranquillity of the lake will be shed off to give way to the hustle of floating markets of commerce and the bustle of life itself. Dal Lake awakes and sleeps with Srinagar, the city and her people; it hosts everything you could associate with the city – carpets, shawls, Kashmiri food, tourists and beauty. She is a microcosm of Srinagar, a reflection of more than life afloat on her waters; it’s a reflection of the character of the Kashmiri city – aspirations of modern civic life with a desire for peace and calm - something for me to reflect on as I head to shore.

POINTERS

• October and November is off-season – bargain for hotel, Shikara rates
• Unlike the houseboats of Kerala, the ones on Dal Lake don’t move around – it’s just an experience of staying afloat on a lake and vendors selling handicrafts in a boat at your doorstep.

Chasing Glaciers - Suru valley

It’s simply water in its solid form. We add it to our scotch, we devise sports around it but we take it for granted! Ice, in its natural form creates some the world’s most amazing landscapes – white crowns for towering mountains, complete biospheres near the poles and glaciers that sculpt out valleys or perhaps fjords. Here in Kashmir and Ladakh it creates nothing short of the same. It’s easy to sight white mountain crests in the Himalayan North, but not really glaciers. The slow icy rivers are easily the most reticent of landforms – they stay aloof, slowly navigating the higher, inhospitable regions of Himalayas. It’s a privilege to see one, an adventure to get to one and I am on my way to the Darang-Durung glacier in the heart of western Ladakh.

A Kashmiri autumn

Srinagar brings to mind gory and horrific images of bomb blasts and terrorism. But, the Srinagar we arrive to is peaceful - hazy and overcast, but calm. +Salil Malik  (my batch mate and friend) and my spirits are raised when we get a vehicle to Kargil within the hour. Our driver, Muhammad Ali, is soft spoken and courteous unlike his namesake. His name might suggest a more Muslim, perhaps Kashmiri lineage, but the features are definitely Tibetan-mongoloid. He is quite at home conversing in Urdu, but the accent again is more eastern. We take a short detour at Ganderbal since the road is blocked by a hartaal and make our first stop at Kangan - my first opportunity to bite into local cuisine. It’s simple – a sort of pattice without any filling which is a Kashmiri Kulcha (Thanks +Tiksha Kaul  for this clarification) and some noon chai  (salt tea) – a pink coloured tea that is prepared with pistas and cardamom.

Breakfast at Kangan - Kashmiri Kulcha with Noon chai (right).
Regular tea on the left

The drive to towards Kargil continues. It’s now October and autumn has arrived in the Kashmir valley. The greens of the valley are gradually being replaced by the yellows and oranges of the season and the air has a whiff of winter. At Sonamarg, we pass the opportunity to see the Thajiwas glacier. It is a few kms from Sonamarg, and we want to get to Kargil before sunset. Besides, it’s very accessible and a little too touristy for our liking. A few frames of horses grazing in the meadows will do for now.

Horses in the meadows of Sonamarg

Before we get to Drass and Kargil, we must cross the Zoji La (3,528m). The skies have been overcast since Srinagar and we are expecting a rough time. Half way up to the pass and we are hit by sheets of snow. The experience is enthralling and intimidating at the same time – our vision is reduced to a few meters – we can just see the truck ahead. A quick glance down and I can barely see the edge of the road; leave aside the bottom of the valley. But MA is seasoned and navigates the Scorpio well through the frost and snow and past Zojila. The autumn colours continue on the other side of the pass, but are sparse – Ladakh beckons!

Crossing the Zojila

The War memorial – Drass & Kargil

The Kargil war fought between India and Pakistan in the summer of 1999. In the preceding winter, Pakistani troops and mercenaries took positions on the Indian side of the Line of Control as the Indian army abandoned the positions due to the harsh winter (a normal practice at this time). The incursions set off a military confrontation between the Pakistani backed forces and the Indian Army. Fighting ceased on the 26^th of July – India managed to push back the insurgents. (http://www.newworldencyclopedia.org/entry/Kargil_War)

Some would describe the state of Jammu & Kashmir as a ‘paradise’, but it is also a region torn apart by conflict with some western parts controlled by Pakistan and some eastern ones by China. It’s a region where ‘glacier’ is almost synonymous with the one of the highest battlegrounds in the world – Siachen.

Tin domed mosque at Drass

Drass has seen its fair share of war, but I don’t see the scars – no poverty, mistrust of foreigners etc. Life it seems is back to normal in the coldest place in India. But, I do see plenty of memorials in and around the town dedicated to the Indian soldiers who gave their lives for their country. We reach Drass in time for lunch. The locals are said to be of Dard ethnicity and Sunni Muslim ⁽¹⁾, but I am not good enough to validate the first. The bazaar still looks a lot like the ones we crossed on the way – a line of restaurants with long bearded men hanging around – they either wear sweaters, coats or a local ‘pheran’. All the restaurants claim to serve wazwan, but once you get in, it’s just the good ol’ chicken biryani that is available – perhaps it’s because this is the off-season. But there are three things that did catch my eye – the amazing view of Tiger Hill from the bazaar, the tin domed mosque - Tin or asbestos is often used for the top of the mosque in these parts but it’s the first I have come across – and that the houses have started to flatten down into single storey cubical structures with flat roofs.

Local in Drass in a 'pheran'

The wide fields of Drass start to compress once again into the mountainous rocky road at Bimbat. At Channigund, near an Army post, a board reminds us of our proximity to the Line of control – it reads “Caution. You are being watched.” The LOC is across the river and we are truly being observed. Regardless of the signs, the memorials and bunkers on the way to Kargil are enough to let you know how close you are to the enemy. I come from a city that has seen plenty of terrorist activity, but I have never been this close to the devil himself!

Autumn in the valley (our Scorpio on the right)

Kargil is a pleasant surprise - it’s not just a big town, but a thriving one. On the banks of the Suru river and amidst an arid landscape, it boasts of most of the amenities of a modern town – ATMs, good hotels, transport options, decent internet connectivity, an active market etc. After checking into Hotel Siachen, we stroll about in the main market. Again, my tongue needs a taste of the local food – I spot a few street vendors selling a small sausage like preparation. The locals tell me that they are goat intestines. They are fried and served with a spicy red sauce and chopped onions and for Rs. 2 apiece, they are a MUST try. However, they are rather heavy and spongy (as compared to a chicken sausage), and I am struggling to get past half a dozen.

Suru Valley – the metamorphosis

More autumn frames....

It’s an early start the next morning from Kargil. Many travelers start even earlier to capture the sunrise over the Nun & Kun peaks, but we prefer to watch the valley unfold before us in the day – and we are well rewarded. Kargil was a melting pot of ethnicities, religions and cultures – sure, it was a big town. But here in the valley, it’s a slow change, of terrain, of vegetation and of religion. Speeding out of Kargil, we pass her suburbs and get to Trespone to see the grand Imambara. It is still early morning and the Imambara is closed, but a place beyond her walls is good enough for admiration. It’s then on to Sankoo for breakfast, followed by Panikhar.  Autumn continues to sprinkle her colours by the way, albeit in smaller portions, but the land is distinctly Muslim. The tin domed Mosques are now in greater numbers.

Parkachik Glacier

Bearded men with Taqiyahs and women with scarves loiter around by the fields that turn a lush green in the summers – watered of course by the Suru River. Flat mud houses lay squat in clusters surrounded by fields and short trees with black billed magpies darting and tweeting all around. Now and then, you will get glimpses of Nun peak, the highest in the state, that’s ofcourse if you know which peak is Mt. Nun. Unfortunately, even the locals seemed baffled when you ask them about it and keep pointing in different directions.

Parkachik marks a change of terrain, vegetation and people. It is the transition point of Suru valley. Chortens indicate a switchover to Buddhist settlements around. The mud houses continue in spurts but the valley empties out – a vast expanse of lifeless land, with just the river for company. Parkachik is also where we see our first glacier –the Parkachik Glacier– a rather small mass of frost clinging to the mountain side. It is close enough for you to cross over and get up close. A little further ahead, we catch our first glimpse of the Rangdum monastery – a red structure atop a small hill with mountains standing guard.

Kids in the family that hosted us

The expanse beyond Parkachik - Rangdum monastery in the distance

We halt at Rangdum and take a room with a family. MA talks to the family in another language now, one that sounds similar to Tibetan – the language has also changed apparently. But there is bad news on the horizon. Beyond the monastery, we see clouds sweeping into the valley. The bad weather seems to like playing hide and seek with us. Within minutes, Rangdum is covered in snow. The family tells us that it’s the first of the season – we seem to be lucky yet unlucky! The snowfall continues for the next 3-4 hours. After an initial frolic in the snow, we get back to our room to contemplate our fortunes. If the snow continues, Pensi la and Darang Durung glacier will be inaccessible! Sleep it seems can counter our disappointment and we hit the sack earlier than normal.

Making Noon chai at the homestay

Yaks return to the village after the first snowfall

Our homestay 

Rangdum monastery

Winter wonderland

The senior monk

Prayer hall in Rangdum monastery

The next morning brings blue skies and the hope that we can get to Pensi la. First up, we make a pit stop at the Rangdum monastery. The monastery, a good 5 kms from the town, is perched on a hill with the river weaving past its sides.  It’s the beauty of isolation – Shangri-La you say? Well, a strong contender I’m sure. The monastery looks deserted, but a monk soon comes out to show us around. He even invites us in for tea and snacks with the other monks. One of them is noticeably senior – partly because, well, he looks old and perhaps partly because his head gear resembles that of a Catholic Cardinal! It's a traditional hat in Ladakh and you can find many monks wearing it. He asks us why we would venture out here to Rangdum at this time of the year. “It’s so cold!” he says. We tell him that we are on our way to see the Glacier. “It will be still colder there!”, he retorts. The climb to Pensi La continues. It’s October, but it feels like spring – the Sun is out and the frost on the ground is thawing. We ascend past the 4,000m mark to discover a series of glaciers – each defrosting into a tributary of the Suru. The Scorpio slips and slides on the ice as MA negotiates the bends and the frost and then finally we are there – a little after Pensi La, the demarcation of the Suru and Zanskar valleys, laid the Darang-Durung glacier. It’s white all around – the terrain around us, the mountains opposite us and of course the glacier. You need to see the crevasses on the surface to outline the glacier and once you have that figured out; it really is a sight to behold. It is as Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton would describe it – ‘a winter wonderland’ and I have got my Christmas gift 2 months early!

Rangdum Village (taken on the way back from PensiLa) with Mt. Kun in the background

Darang Durung Glacier

It’s funny this little journey of ours, we set out to discover glaciers and at each juncture were pushed back by snow and ice itself. Come to think of it, they weren’t impediments; they just completed the chase for Ice!

POINTERS

• Kargil has a strong taxi union, if you hire a taxi from Srinagar/Leh, you might have trouble taking it into Suru. (We had to rehire MA at Kargil!)
• Rangdum is an excellent site for star trails – make sure you have enough batteries
• Home stays are common in Ladakh and are extremely comfortable

References

1. ‘Ladakh’- Partha S banerjee