Nainital
Ahhhhhhhhhhh, Nainital, the first mountain town I visited. I boarded a bus at the main Delhi bus station at 9PM and settled in for a long ride. Though Nainital is a mere 300 KM away from Delhi, it's a long way up the mountains and our arrival time was scheduled for 9AM.
Bus drivers here have a little team up front with them. One of the team members hangs outside of the door and yells the names of the destination town and signals for the bus to stop should someone want to get on. And by stop, I mean slow down, as passengers hop on and off.
We made our way through Old Delhi, AKA the walled city, and up towards the Himalayas. I slept well through the night, waking up occasionally to observe steep drop-offs outside of the window and hectic traffic scenes in the towns. I felt very fortunate that the bus driver had his team with him because it looked like one foul move would send us to into a pitch black abyss, never to return.
In the morning, I woke up when we driving through Haldwani, the closest city, where the market was bustling, two days before Diwali. Traveling along the main drag, the bus man hanging out the door called out Nainital, Nainital, Nainital, Nainital in a slight crescendo. Outside of Haldwani, the tree cover became thicker and little monkeys swinging about invited us to climb the mountain. To bring us up to Nainital, we followed a narrow, winding, steep road. After 15 hours on the bathroomless bus, we arrived at the center of the Nainital, perched right next to a lake. People wore hats and hoodies to insulate them from the brisk lake breeze. This was a welcome change coming from hot, damp Delhi.
A taxi brought us down the road to the bottom of the hill, where we got out and walked up a winding path, densely populated with hotels, apartments, markets, and restaurants. A small man who probably weighs a quarter of what I do carried our luggage (for three) up the mountain by bundling it up with a strap, putting it on his back, and placing the strap across his forehead.
The views were gorgeous and the whole feel of the place was a stark contrast to the chaos of Delhi. The mountain people from there mostly work in the service industry and speak a different dialect than the Hindi spoken in Delhi. They have the gentle happiness about them compared to city folk. One, named Dolly, cooked our meals, and let us help in the kitchen. My favorite tool she had was a great stone slab that wasn't so much a cutting board, as a grinding board. A forearm-sized piece of stone is used to grind up onion, garlic, cardamom, and whatever spices are being used to make tea and food.
The day after we got there, it started raining and man, did it come down! It felt like we were inside the clouds that thundered around us. It became cold and damp. There was no one to bring firewood because it was a holiday and the electricity was out, rendering the electric heaters useless. I found our lack of wood particularly ironic as we were surrounded by forest-- but it's illegal to cut down wood from there. So, we hung around, layered in everything we brought (which wasn't much), eating very well, and playing cards-- a traditional Diwali activity. As soon as the rain stopped, fire crackers started and continued on and off for the next three days. Fortunately, we were far enough up the mountain that they weren't too loud. Out on the street was a different story. I ventured to the market to get something warm for Karly to wear, who had become ill. The deafening "crackers" were constantly being set off in close proximity to crowds. Thank goodness for my earplugs!
By the end of our stay, the clouds had parted, the crackers were spent, and peace returned to Nainital. The highlight of the trip was taking a boat ride on the lake, which gave the town an even more serene feel. It reminded me a lot of boat rides I've taken on the lakes in Maine.