Our hotel is massive. It takes 106 stairs to get to our room
on the fourth floor (yes, we counted). Large balconies rise into the air,
decorated with potted flowers of all assortments and colors. The hotel directly
overlooks the lake—a deep shimmering green, surrounded by trees and ashrams.
Our room is simple, but nice. A table sits outside of our door, shaded by the
balcony roof. Room service is prompt and persistent—they arrive precisely at
breakfast time, lunch time, and dinner time to take our orders.
We check in and eat breakfast---toast and porridge with
masala tea (or chai, as we call it in the US). Our driver sits with us, giving
us suggestions for the day. After we eat, we return to our room and clean up.
There is no hot water, and Nainital is cold (comparatively), so I choose not to
shower today. However, we do put on our saris, fix our hair, and I even put on
makeup.
We head out, looking for a bar. We desperately need a beer
to calm our souls. We ask at the front desk and they tell us there is no beer
here. Later, we will look at the room service menu and see the explicit
statement “no alcohol permitted on hotel premises” and realize how awful we
looked asking for beer. Anyway, there is a “beer and wine shop” directly next
door (ironically, they only sell whiskey and vodka). We stroll around town, our
driver following us the entire way trying to convince us to do this or that
tour. After no luck finding a bar, we sit in the park across from our hotel
overlooking the lake. A woman walks up to us and tells us we are beautiful in
our saris and she puts a bindi on each of our foreheads, directly between our
eyes. Afterward, we decide to return to the hotel to look at our guide book to
figure out how to find a bar.
Kalishk is still following us closely. Cindy finally tells
him that we really need space for ourselves and that we’ll call him later. We
return to the hotel and discover that at the other end of town there is a place
called the “Nainital Boat Club” which rests directly over the lake and is an
upscale bar and restaurant that requires membership. However, it appears to be
the only bar in town. So we take a bicycle rickshaw across town (for 10 rupees)
and stop at the boat club. At first we are confused (we missed the sign) and
have to stop at a “Tourist Information Boot” to ask. They turn around and point
at a building that is probably 10 feet from us. We head down the stairs and
into the bar.
It is a swanky place with dark wooden walls and floors. You
can easily imagine older Indian men playing poker, drinking scotch, and smoking
cigars in its lounge. Men in green suits and slicked back hair stand
everywhere. We sit on the terrace, under the balcony roof. The breeze from the
lake blows over us as we take deep breaths and finally start to relax and
recover from our, thus far, terrifying journey.
We order two large Kingfishers, and they arrive in cold
glasses. As soon as our glasses start to empty, one of the suited men appears
to refill it for us. We also order a “club sandwich,” which has a veggie patty
and curry sauce between three slices of white bread. We sit for some time, and
then decide to explore the lake. By this time it is almost sunset (we have been
at the boat club for five hours now!). We head over to the boats, which are almost
directly under the boat club. They are small wooden canoe-like structures, with
a bench across one end and a seat for the rower at the other end. We carefully step into our boat and put on our
life jackets. Across the river a yogi chants prayers over a loud speaker as
bells ring.
We head out onto the lake. The sun is slowly easing behind the
mountains. A breeze gently ripples he water around us. Nainital is a deep jade
green. It is said to be the green eye of Shiva’s wife, fallen to earth as he
carried her charred body across the sky. For thirty minutes we drift in silence and
peace around the lake.
After we return to shore, we walk around town—visiting a
small market that mostly contains western shops, a temple (where everyone tries
to guide us, direct us, and tell us where to put our shoes that we are
carrying), and then across the street to a large ornate, white mosque. As we
walk across the road we pass a cricket game in full swing.
Incense, prayers, and bells drift on the wind. As the sun
sinks into the clouds, the night becomes colder. We walk in a circle, back
through the market, where a woman sitting on the street pulls at my sari as we
pass by. For some reason this unnerves me—probably because I am still holding
on to fear and tension from our journey yesterday. We return to the boat club
and have several more beers before heading back to the hotel.
The streets have been closed to car traffic for the night,
and a brightly lit market has opened up. It lines the entire road from the boat
club to our hotel. Cotton candy vendors stroll the streets, stalls shout their
wares to people walking past, teenagers wear lit-up devil horns, and there is a
general festival energy in the atmosphere.
We make our way back to our hotel, walk up the 106 stairs,
and settle into our room for the night.
Tomorrow will be a long and bumpy journey back to Delhi,
where we will hopefully rest at our beautiful Godwin hotel before heading off
to Jaipur. However, for now I have learned to listen to myself. To hear my
discomfort and address it, which in this case means that if I am uncomfortable in
the middle of India---regardless of if this discomfort is fully warranted or
not---I should find some place where I can exist in peace. Once upon a time, at
a non-violent communication training school in Taos, New Mexico, a teacher told
us that “everything we do in life is a choice---all of our actions, our
decisions, and our behaviors are a choice.” It was our choice to continue to
the ashram, despite the darkness and the lateness of our journey; it was also
our choice to flee to somewhere where we could feel safe and away from harm. It
is our choice to return to Delhi tomorrow. Our lives, even in times of stress,
fear, and terror, are full of choices. And, despite everything, our trip to
Nainital ended beautifully.
Until later,
Namaste!
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