My Name's 'High' and Yours is 'Maintenance'

This past weekend, Heather and I headed out to Shimla, which lies in Himachal Pradesh on the slopes of the Himalyas. Shimla is what's known as a 'hill station' and was the favorite summer get-away during the British Raj. It has been known as the 'Queen of Hill Stations' and is much-favored for it's cool, crisp weather and British architecture. There are several ways to reach Shimla, of which an express train from Delhi and a connecting toy train from Kalka is probably the best. However, with only a two-day junket as a possibility, we ended up deciding to drive up on Friday night after work. And so the adventure begins....

The drive up from Delhi was fairly uneventful until we reached the Himalyan foothills and started the climb up to Shimla. Though we had the usual Indian road trip fun along the way: a bike-full of Indian stud-muffins blowing us kisses, the Indian Oil restroom in Kalka with the most prolific and vibrantly-colored collection of bugs I have ever seen (I'm to a point now where I see this as a plus in a bathroom, as long as none of them crawl on me), and near-death experiences every 3 to 5 kms. Once we left Kalka and paid our HP states taxes, the road increased its pitch to a stunning degree. I have to say that, in general, HP made me feel right at home - winding roads a-la Highway 17, blue-green conifers with mist hanging amongst their branches, roadside stands with piles of crisp apples, and wonder-of-wonders - true blue skies with puffy white clouds. On our way up, the majority of the journey was in pitch darkness. We passed the time singing along to my iPod's 'Music to Drive Home By' playlist. You have to love Devindar - he speaks only some English, but that didn't stop him from contributing back-up vocals to 'Black Horse and the Cherry Tree.' That always makes me smile. The road was super-duper winding, which for me was absorbed and buffered by the velvety blackness around us. Devindar, however, was not so lucky. Poor guy got carsick. Twice. I've told him I think this might be a bit of a liability for someone in his profession, but he assures me that, as a flatlander, he is rarely bothered by this. I've prescribed ginger candies and no more long road trips with 'Meather' - we'll see if that cures him.

We rolled into the Oberoi Cecil in Shimla at about 1 am, only to find that, despite being 30% occupied, they'd given us the 'best' room, without a view and hovering only two floors over the road. Ugh. The room itself, in true Oberoi fashion, was very nice, so I made one attempt at an upgrade with the guy who showed us to our room, and once rebuffed, settled down to brush my teeth and use the facilities. Heather prowled around the room, miffed at the poor service and inflexibility of an Oberoi staff and eventually decided to object for sport. Admittedly, they showed a chink in their armor when the night manager called me, post valet piss-off, and asked if we needed anything, could she 'send the chef to our room,' etc. Knowing her adversary was back on her heels a bit, Heather went in for the kill - 'We expect a better room...,' 'I'm sure that you can do better,...' --- Needless to say, due to my fearless companion's indomitable spirit, we were quickly ensconced in a top-floor room with a view out over the valley. That's us - 'High' and 'Maintenance.'

The next day, we made good use of that room and slept in until about 10 am, before rolling downstairs for a very nice buffet breakfast. The dining room at 'The Obs,' as Heather calls it, looks directly into the tree tops, so we ate our breakfast surrounded by mists and lovely filtered light. And they had warm croissants with strawberry jam. Life just doesn't get much better than that. After breakfast, we got cleaned up and rolled out to meet Devindar. Our initial objective was Mall Rd. for shopping and sightseeing, but Devindar suggested that we go to the HP state museum that was just up the hill from where we were staying. We scaled a small mountain to get there and discovered a small but charming bungalow of artifacts, paintings and coins. On the way back down, we encountered the kind of cluster... you can only find in India. A delivery truck had tried to pass a parked car without enough space, and now about 10 people were conferring on how best to rectify the situation. Since the entire road was blocked, we climbed over the railing and goose-stepped along the edge until we could get back on solid ground. Ahhh, India.

Post-museum, we debated a wide variety of options and finally settled on driving to Kulfri, which is apparently a skiing spot during the winters. In typical fashion, insert several traffic jams, one or two wrong turns, and much debate before we arrive at our location. Kulfri turned out to be an absolute mill of people and ponies. Absent snow, Kulfri is apparently where folks go to traipse into the wilderness on horseback. By the time we got to this point, Heather was having no part of a pony ride, or a Yak ride, which seemed the more-appealing option to me. On a side note, real yaks - gorgeous. You've never seen such a silky mop of hair on an animal. I wish I could have gotten pictures, but in the interest of domestic tranquility, we went on our merry way. On our way back to Shimla, we attempted to get into the Oberoi's Wildflower Hall for a drink and snacks and were somewhat politely and very soundly rebuffed. Let me take a minute here to say that, I don't care how ritzy a hotel is or how posh their usual clientèle, I have NO respect for an institution in the hospitality industry that doesn't actually exude any welcome whatsoever. If their reception of us is any indication, I would never, ever spend money at Wildflower Hall, and I would think twice before choosing an Oberoi again - the saving grace being Ms. Priyanka Singh's late-night room upgrade and gracious care of us at The Cecil. Take a Taj hotel any day.

Thoroughly disgruntled by now, we headed back to Shimla to attempt Mall Rd. On the way there, we stopped at the Radisson, which a colleague at work had told me was famous for their trout, which is caught in local streams. Again, no room at the inn - they're all booked for dinner. But, huzzah! Their bar is open. And, their super-friendly and accommodating staff go the extra mile to whip us up a couple of trout dinners. So, along about 5:30pm on a Saturday night in Shimla, Heather and I ponied up to a basket of fries, two cocktails, and the best trout I have ever had. Replete and much happier, we shared a warm brownie and brightened our outlook on the day considerably.

Mall Rd. was chaos. The incline to get to the summit is steep enough that there is a paid lift that you take to get up there. Once at the top, there's a nice overlook, with a big Christian church. There were tons of Indians on holiday, complete with cotton candy, looky-lous, and drunken boys. But, on the whole, mostly harmless fun. Heather and I picked up some nice shawls and a few woolen caps that are typical of HP. I must pause here to admit that I have a reputation in India that has grown to somewhat terrifying degrees. We were walking along Mall Rd., and this guy that looks somewhat familiar approaches Devindar and says that he knows me. I do a double-take and realize that it's the cousin of my shawl guy at Dilli Haat, Mansoor. Super small world. And of course. we go to his stall and buy a couple of things. Now, if this were the first time this had happened, I wouldn't be so sheepish, but it's not. Last time I was at Dilli Haat, I was helping one of our visitors negotiate for some traditional paintings only to realize that the guy was the same vendor that Shannon, Lauren and I met in Udaipur. And he recognized me! Good gawd. 'She Who Shops A Lot' for sure.

Tuckered out from our long day bumming around Shimla (I know, we're hopeless wusses), Heather and I headed home and went early to bed. Our Sunday was pretty great, to a point at least. We got up, went to the gym, swam in the lovely Oberoi indoor pool, and then headed back for more lovely breakfast, which we then topped off with massages. Mmm, mmm, good. Relaxed, replete, and smelling pretty good, we packed up our things and headed back to Delhi with Devindar, and proceeded to re-knot most of the muscles that had been unwound during the massage. Let's just say that HP's winding roads are better cloaked in darkness. The up-close-and-personal viewpoint that we got on the way downhill in bright daylight didn't do much for our charming natures. Even I, with unshakable faith in Devindar, was a little spooked by the process of wending our way around all of those curves. It goes something like this: every third car is a large Punjabi truck, and we simply can't wait behind one of those, can we? So, as you approach the hairpin turn, you honk, pull alongside the truck, and then drive directly in front of it at the apex of the curve. Needless to say, if anyone is coming the other way and doesn't harken to the honking, you're toast. With each iteration of this process, Heather is increasingly displeased. I am holding on for dear life and enjoying the fresh air. Mostly. But, you can't fault the results. After watching Devindar (and all the other cars and buses on the road) repeat this process over 100 times, we sailed unscathed into Kalka and were back on flat land. The rest of our trip was fairly uneventful. We stopped for dinner at Gulshan dhaba, which is a super-famous roadside stand/restaurant, and had dal makhni, naan, and palak paneer. Heather got put off of her food by the super-chauvanist stare fest emanating our way from the table behind us, so our visit was short and to the point. We were quickly back in the saddle again and headed for the NCR (National Capitol Region), and another destination crossed off of my list. Shimla is like a little bit of northern CA hidden away in India. If I get homesick, you might just find me making the climb again to get a crisp apple and feel the cool fog curl itself around me.