Kashmir

Day 1- Arrival in Srinigar

Until last weekend, I thought I knew what Adventure Travel was. Kashmir has just redefined that for me. Now I see the other places I’ve been so far as just so many dots on the maps and guides connected by busloads of tourists buying trips to the great unknown off of the Internet. The inevitable packs of tourists flaunting their newfound, spiritually-linked lack of concern for their personal appearance were nowhere to be found as I stood in line for the flight to Srinigar airport early Saturday morning. While a mad jumble of people pushed and shoved in line (jostling for position is too polite of a phrase to adequately describe airport behavior here) for the flight to Mumbai at a neighboring ticket counter, I started in position three in line for the flight to Kashmir. I saw a few scraggly foreigners in the line next to me, complete with their requisite Ohm t-shirts and faded jeans, but nothing of that ilk in line with me. The tourists here are odd; they don’t dress like the locals (those who try usually overdo it), they don’t dress like the people at home- they just dress like each other.

“Srinigar?!” the gate agent asked me, with some measure of disbelief that I was in line for the correct flight. I showed her the ticket confirmation, and was issued a boarding pass. After the customary molestation by the guards who patted me down in the security line, I waited in the terminal for Alison and Nilton, the two fellow associates on business here joining me for this trip to arrive.

Once together we boarded the flight, which ended up being less than half full. I got the “YOU’RE going to Srinigar?” question once or twice more from the various people I had to show my ticket to. About 40 minutes into the hour flight, I saw the tall edge of the Himalayas approaching, a long line proceeding past the horizon through the window on both sides of the plane. Crossing over that line, we saw jagged, snow covered peaks beneath us- too craggy for human settlement. As the plane descended, valleys of evergreens and snowy fields came into view. Farm houses appeared as the groan of the landing gear rumbled through the floor. As the ground loomed upwards, buildings painted in camouflage, barbed-wire fences and stacks of sandbags appeared. I was thinking it to be odd that the plane was allowed to fly so low over a military base… and realized that we were too low for this to be anything other than the airport we were to land at. Welcome to Kashmir.

If the Delhi airport has a lot of people to handle luggage, Srinigar has just as many people handling AK-47’s. Alison and I were approached immediately upon entering the terminal by an official who gave us paperwork to be filled out by arriving foreigners- something not typically required once you’re actually traveling from within the boarders of another country. Passport information, visa information, where I’m staying… great idea, I thought, “Let’s document where they newly-arrived Americans are going to be in case anyone wants to find them”.

The travel guy who arranged our stay in Kashmir met us there, and took us to the awaiting Scorpio SUV. We were happy to see that we wouldn’t be making the trip in a sub-compact car- which is pretty much the standard here. After a security check or two (you lose count here) we left the airport and were of the road. We passed stacks of sandbags such as were seen from above, but from this distance we could see the soldiers with their machine guns and rifles standing behind them.

The day was cloudy, but the snow reflected the grey light back up at us. Large stone and wood houses lined the streets and canals we passed by. The houses were large and at first glance, deceptively simple in design. Many of the houses were square or rectangular in design, with large triangular roofs extending over the houses in various directions. The windows had ornately designed panes which contrasted with the austere fortress-like walls. All of the houses were dark inside. I really loved the design; some of the houses reminded me of the houses in Amsterdam, others of some of the old houses near my home in Midtown Atlanta.

The people of Srinigar milled about on the streets, with practically every man (who made up the majority of those outside) wearing a coarse brown or grey wool pull-over full length coat. Most of them watched us as we rode by. If you can’t stand being stared at in New Delhi, then Kashmir is definitely not for you. But one advantage a car ride here had over that in Delhi- no one approached my car to beg for money.

We had the driver take us to a store to look at Kashmir-made rugs. I’ve already been doing my homework on how rugs are hand-made, the quality and the pricing. The ones in the good stores in Delhi usually come from Kashmir, but with Delhi tourist pricing. At the store I went to I was probably the first tourist they’d seen in a week.

Persian rugs are made with wool or silk string one knot at a time (if you buy the higher-quality single knot variety, vs. a double-knot rug which has larger knots and thus less detail- think of it in terms of pixel resolution if that helps). I found two red rugs with an Islamic design which I liked and purchased them, and a large cashmere shawl to give to my mom when I return home.

We drove out of town by way of Daal Lake, where on our second night we would stay in the large city of houseboats stationed on the water, and headed to Gulmarg, high up in the mountains.

The trip to Gulmarg I will have to describe in another sitting, as to try to write about this entire trip in the time I have available in one day would not do it justice.

Houses along a canal in Srinigar. In the front you can see a couple of houseboats.





Crossing a bridge over one of the many canals.

Many houses such as the one in the foreground were three stories. Whether or not they were occupied I couldn't tell. As in the rest of India, these houses are often inhabited by several generations, hence their larger size.



Daal Lake with a resort on one of the far banks. Most likely empty as tourists don't exactly flock to places known for dischord.