The joys of bureaucracy

Victorious, I actually have a bike now for the bike touring. It only took 4 1/2 hours, 12 different printouts, two trips to the deputy commissioner, and about six different signatures to finally release my bike from customs. Really, there is no better way to spend your day than dealing with bureaucrats in a foreign country. In the end I win, because the bike trip can finally get rolling.

Killing time

My bike has made it into the country, wahoo. Unfortunately it will remain at the airport until tomorrow morning when the Customs office reopens after their three day holiday. I am keeping my fingers crossed that my bike is intacted and Paris and I can finally get rolling towards Rajahstan later this week. So tired of killing time in Delhi.

Christmas cheer

Nothing like celebrating Christmas in the Tibetan enclave of Delhi. The cafe where I ate breakfast provided yule tide cheer by rocking Aerosmith at nine in the morning, a forgotten Christmas classic. I was looking forward to picking up my bike tomorrow morning only to be foiled by the damn customs office which is closed till Tuesday, punks. Unexpected delays always fill me with Christmas cheer.

Agra

To kill some time until my bike arrives we rolled down to Agra for a few days to check out the Taj Mahal and other sites. Riding on the train was a pretty low key affair, discounting the fact that I was hauling my gigantic backpack with me. Me and my backpack were a little oversized for the train aisles, and I'm sure I pissed off more than a few people with inadvertent body blows from my red behemoth. I'm a jackass, what can I say.
Despite all the warnings about getting scammed by taxi drivers at the Agra train station, we still got scammed. Went to the prepaid taxi stand, paid for a ticket to the east gate of the Taj Mahal and the little douche bag who drove us dropped us at the west gate. Which sounds like something that you would notice, but since cars can't drive up to the Taj Mahal, we didn't realize it until we had schlepped our bags the 500 meters to the west gate. All you can do is laugh, or if you're lucky spot your driver and dish out some vengeance. Ultimately walking in the touristy chaos around the Taj Mahal is a sport in and of itself and not all that unpleasant after three hours on a train.

I love buses

Nothing beats 12 hours of overnight bussing in India. Coming down from Dharamsala felt like a rollercoaster, sharp turns and bumpy ass roads with plenty of exhaust to suck in. This was followed by my body being pleasantly folded up beneath the seat reclined in front of me for the following 7-8 hours all the way into Delhi.

The combination of the bus ride and our arrival in Delhi has left me a little scattered. After spending a week and a half hiking in the lesser Himalaya and wandering amongst Buddhist monks and Tibetan refugees on the streets of Dharamsala, Delhi has a distinctly different flavor. Hopefully my bike will take to the air tomorrow and in a week Paris and I will be out of Delhi and rolling along the roads in Rajahstan.

Triund

Our growing posse, temporarily up to 4 with the arrival of Paris and Bridget, rolled out for a one-nighter up to the saddle outside of Dharamshala. Due to various circumstances we headed out right around dusk with a collection of head lamps and cell phones equipped with LED's, to assist with navigation and death prevention. Of course as with any poorly planned, last minute trip a few things are usually forgotten, in this case shortly after leaving town we realized we had forgotten the whiskey. Valiantly I ran back to town to grab a bottle with every intention of quickly rejoining the group. Turns out, hiking in the dark in an unfamiliar area is a little harder than I expected. Took a few wrong turns, traversed a couple of peoples yards, and ultimately found the crew about 45 minutes later. Not one of my wiser decisions, but a very tasty one while we were sitting in our sleeping bags at the saddle.
We had some sweet views of the mountains all morning from our campsite and from snowline a little higher up. The hike down was nice, and I was thoroughly emasculated by a women at least 20 years older than me, carrying about 20lbs more than me down a steep rocky trail in slippers.

Northwest habits

Kashmir was great, but as an agnostic in a muslim dominated culture, I was ready to move one. Or perhaps its more accurate to say, that a muslim dominated culture is not conducive to someone who enjoys a cold beer from time to time. Dharamsala has beer and great hiking into the lesser Himalaya, done and done.