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3 - The Indian Himalayas

Chandigarh, August 22

LeCorbusier India
the evening I took the train to Chandigarh, a new city Punjab built in the fifties by Le Corbusier. Its inhabitants are extremely proud to remain in this zone clean and orderly, which contrasts so incongruous with the unfathomable chaos engulfing the rest of the country. But for Europeans, this city to the tunes of a wealthy suburb with little retro pavilions in gardens and large public buildings in concrete did not much interest. I have two hours, the opportunity to take a shower in a kind of Soviet youth hostel, and go directly to the Parvati valley in the foothills of the Himalayas, at eight o'clock bus.

Manikaran, 24 August
A familiar scent

A few kilometers from the finish, a familiar scent makes me look up from my book. I look out the window and there I can not believe my eyes, bushes grass grow out of sight on the roadside. Not a bush from time to time, no good drunk on for miles and miles ... Two hours later, here I am in the village of Manikaran, a holy place for both Hindus and Sikhs. I take a room overlooking a raging river and a nice Sikh temple built on a hot spring turned into public baths. As Lonely Planet says that access is allowed to foreigners, I bathe me down, even a little intimidated when surrounded by all these big bearded men in turbans who stare with curiosity at the little blonde paddling in his red bathing suit.



Malana, August 27

Among the descendants of Alexander the Great
The next day I embarked on a grueling climb to reach Malana, a village perched atop a mountain, whose inhabitants claim to be descendants of Alexander the Great. They are a thousand, speak a language of their own and feel so pure that nobody the right to touch them, neither they nor their homes, or face a fine of one thousand rupees! When one crosses the village, it is recommended that a small stone path to be sure not to violate the rule.



This exacerbation of the rule by caste has a surprising impact on children of the village, which I do not chase as in other Indian villages, and for some, seem even looking at me with a disgusted mine ... But if physical contact is outlawed, people are cons very urgent for me to sell their famous cream of Malana, famous throughout India to be the best charas in the country. I stay two nights in a small guesthouse overlooking the village wonder, should not long keep its uniqueness to believe the repeated explosions of dynamite workers who build a road in his direction.



I'm leaving with two other passengers and a guide towards the valley of Kulu. The road passes through a collar at all there is to rush about twenty kilometers on trails sometimes very steep. We go from mountain landscape with trees and purple with large trays of heather, where large stones pierce through the fog. It very nice, by the ball against opium ingested the day seems not to happen, because I'm sick as a dog in the early climbs. I have no breath, no legs, fever, nausea constantly. I vomit, stop every half hour to recover, holding on to catch the other three, on the contrary, cavort like rabbits, it is the horror.

Vashisht, August 28

Spot hippie
After a long day of struggle, I manage to Vashisht, twin village of Manali, mythical spot of hippies in the '70s. But I only stayed the night-time dip in ancient bathhouses, a meal overlooking the mountains and a few moments of tenderness with a rabbit angora giant.



Because I'm anxious to reach Ladakh, the Indian part of Tibet, or I will stay for a while. About two o'clock in the morning, so I take a jeep. During the twenty-four hours of travel in the middle of massive Himalayan my condition gets worse, I have a raging fever accompanied by terrible bouts of diarrhea. But as I do believe that everyone is Driver Ladakhi Farting unabated, no one dares protest. I know is despicable.

Leh, September 13

Finally Ladakh!
When we finally arrive in Leh, the capital of Ladakh, I discovered a small traditional town built on a rocky plateau at 3500 meters. It is surrounded by monasteries to mountain slopes and surrounded by towering in the distance snow-capped peaks rising to 7000 m.



The atmosphere is so different from the rest of India that I feel have changed country, if not continent. The Ladakhi, who are Buddhists, are more quiet and more attentive, their clothes and architecture are much less exuberant. Below, some stupas, a kind of crosses.




The streets are clean and the only animals in the wild are donkeys and yaks. I even find a good bakery run by an old Sikh always smiling.



I arrive in full folk festival and the opportunity to attend a parade in traditional costume Ladakhi red and black with their small pointy boots embroidered, preceded by lamas wearing the same strange golden cocked hats they wear in Tintin.



The first night I met Juan and Hugo, two French perched just run the world on their motorbikes to assemble Ouroboros, huge snakes that bite the tail, before taking a picture satellite. They make me laugh to tell many anecdotes of travel, chanting each story of a chillum preceded by a solemn boom! .

The yellow eyes
Unfortunately, I can not enjoy my stay because I will becoming worse. I consult a doctor, who prescribed me antibiotics and aspirin to fight against what he believed to be a big burst, but the treatment has no effect. My strength continues to leave me, the fever is still strong and I have stomach pain that I twisted in two. I spend the next week at the bottom of my bed, barely able to stand up for the toilet. Soon I can no longer swallow anything, even if only to accompany my medication. When I look in the mirror, I have bad Mine, of course, but especially my eyes are all yellow, it's really disgusting. I am also becoming leaner, I lose everything in a dozen pounds. Fortunately, Juan and Hugo come and tell me jokes every day since the situation does not evolve, they eventually take me to the hospital. The doctor put me on bed rest and infusion of glucose and salt water before me that I caught hepatitis A smoldering probably from Pushkar. The worst is over, but I must keep two days in hospital. No treatment is required outside of energy supplements, but I'll have for two months before being tiredness really recovered.



When I left the hospital, I try walking in the street. It's pathetic, I walk at the speed of a very old lady and I am obliged to stop every ten feet to catch my breath. Before crossing, I must be very careful because I am quite unable to escape a car too fast.

A motorcycle in the Ladakh Himalayas
is primarily known for its beautiful scenery, conducive to long walks. In my state, there is no question. But after a few days I recovered sufficiently forces to rent a bike and go for walks. After I tested with shipments to the monasteries of Leh a few hours.











My hosts an evening.





I then passes Kardung La, the highest pass bodywork in the world with 5600 meters of altitude. At the top, I'm on the verge of turning of the eye due to the cold and lack of oxygen, but a hot tea and some sweets served in a hut was very timely call me straight.





On the other side, workers are working to rehabilitate the road, the gel continues to explode. I avoid the deepest crevices and rolls all day lunar landscapes amid monumental.




the evening, after passing a herd of wild camels arrive in the Nubra valley miraculously covered with fields of flowers and gardens.



I borrowed the only way to get there, the borders with neighboring China and Pakistan being cut because of border disputes, so the place is incredibly isolated and living in slow motion, almost self-sufficient thanks to its delicious vegetables. I only have a few more days and I'm procrastinating up in this little garden of Eden of the world's end. I walk, take the time to talk with people, give a hand to the kitchen.



Paris, September 16

Check
Finally , I need it off well under penalty of planting my return ticket. So I go back to Leh to my bike, flying to New Delhi avoiding bourgeois forty hours by bus, then, in the wake, take my plane to Paris. Glad to see my friends, but deep inside me a fixed idea again.