I HATE THIS PLACE!
Zanskar
11/07/04
The Zanskar valley has been on my mind for a
while. Until 1981 there was no road access to Padum and the end of the valley
and it took over a weeks trek to reach there. Since then things have changed.
There are now busses, tourist taxis and 4wd's daily but it's still
supposed to be an amazing journey impressing even the best of travellers!
I set off from Kargil, stocking up with goodies on the way. There's only one
way in and one way out so everybody knows where I'm going but they ask me all
the same as they can't believe anyone can do it by bike. I explain where I've
been and they seem happy enough?
I push on. I leave the good tarmac and the people of Kargil behind and hit the
Zanskar valley. I pass through a few pleasent villages. I get asked for pens a
few times but it's no problem. As I get deaper into the valley I get more and
more pen requests and it becomes rather annoying. Even the adults ask for them!
I contemplate turning around but decide to push on thinking the villages will
soon dissapear and the valley become barren.....wrong!
The more I go down the valley the worse things become. I cycled Egypt many
years ago and the kids there were bad but the kids of Zanskar made the Egyptians
look like beaituful little angels. It was a far cry from the friedly Buddist
villages and I longed to see the beautiful Medusa girl again.
I was mentally and physically tired. I'd done 85km, over half uphill into
a growing headwind. I approached the town of
Sanku where I was planning to stay the night. The road was busy
with people and I was pestered to death for pens. I was 100% pissed off. I'd
tried everything I could to get rid of them. I tell them I have no pen,
they want a chocolate. I tell them I have no chocolate, they ask me for one
dollar! I can't win....
View from Panikar in the Zanskar valley.
I hit the passport checkpoint. There's about 7 locals stood around the sentry
post and they shake my hand. One of them ask me if I'm single and I balls up
and say yes. I forget that I'm now in the land of the oppressed Muslims!
Immediately one young guy takes my hand tightly with both of his and squeezes
it while staring into my eyes. The others start to perv me up and down. It's
totally bizzare. Forget the Mujahadeen bandits in the hills, it's these Muslim
bottom bandits that'll give me the most grief!
I've had this happen several times while travelling Muslim areas. The guys
can't get any off the chics so they sleep with each other. BUT....they don't
class it as being gay. There are absolutely no gays in any Muslim country in
the world. Well that's what they keep telling me....it's the old 'I've got a
sausage up my bottom but I'm not gay' routine!
Anyway....I find the only guesthouse is full and push on another 26km.
The pen thing incredibly gets worse. I slowly arrive at one village, it's abot
300m long. An adult sees me struggling up the hill and shouts to the rest of
the vilage that I'm coming. The jungle telegraph works quickly and soon I can't
believe what I'm seeing. All the village is slowly filling the street. It's
like the Tour De France in the mountains when everyone slowly crowds into the centre
of the road and open as the peloton passes. It really is hell. I get about 500
requests for pens from everybody. I'm tired, totally pissed off and want to
kill everyone. I can't believe the anger inside me. I even tell the kids to
'get fucked'!
I pass the village passing through peaceful fields....then I hear shouts of
'one pen' from children I can hardly see they're that far away. The simply
don't stop shouting!
I hear murmurs in the nearby long grass. Suddenly I can see children racing as
fast as they can through the fields trying to catch me while constantly
chanting 'one pen, one pen'.
I remember one young child chasing me up hill doing the 'one pen' chant. He was
running faster than Seb Coe with
Delhi belly. He wasn't breathing, only chanting. I was trying to
calm myself so decided to stop and explain that I didn't have a pen. I did so
in English and Urdu. He had an incredible look in his eyes like I'd never seen
before. It's almost like his one mission in life is to get that one pen of
Kevin the passing cyclist. I say no pen, he come closer and says 'yes, one
pen'. I say no again. He looks more eager than ever and again says 'yes, one
pen'!
I speed off....
I kept trying to understand what's happening here. I know this valley has been
travelled many thousands of times by high spending pen giving package tourists
but this goes beyond that. It's something of a culture now. I just can't
believe it's as bad as it is!
I push on. It's getting dark and the villages are emptying. I pass a small
kitchen window. I must only be in the womans view for a fraction of a second
but imediately hear 'one pen'. It's the speed of the request thats amazing.
Usually both children and adults do a double take when they see me on the bike,
but not here.
I reach Panikar and settle down for the night. I buy some batteries for my
walkman to try and de-stress a little. I didn't enjoy today and start to think
about leaving!
I wake the next morning and decide to stick my bike on the bus and leave the
valley back to Kargil. It's a hard decission because I can see the incredible
twin 7000m mountains of Nun and Kun just over the hill. I want to see them but
I decide that tourism has damaged the valley and I don't want any part of
it. I can't blame the locals for it....well not fully anyway.
I pop my bike on the roof of the bus and bacg my head on the low slung overhead
powerline. Luckily I'm insulated off the ground.
I jump on the bus. A simple guy stares at me for the next 2hrs. It's common in
India.
After 3 hours the bus stops in Sanku for a 20min break. The night before this
place was a one pen horror story. I jump out expecting the same....but nothing.
I walk down the street to buy fresh bread....nothing. I walk back up to
purchase bananas....nothing. I sit and eat at the side of the road without one
single request for anything. I can't believe it. Surely the simple feat of
riding a mountain bike can't create such problems? I mean I'm still the same
and the locals are still the same....I get more than a little confused....
Arrive back in Kargil. It's a crappy town only there to cater for the overnight
tourists on the Leh-Srinagar route. It's a single dusty street town filled with
local shops selling the usual stuff and dirty restaurants. The majority of
hotels are flee ridden shit holes. I pay a little extra for a slightly better
room. I get the usual hassle from the houseboat touts from
Srinagar trying to get me to pre-book their houseboat.
NEXT
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