Mountains.....

After my last post, I left the town of Shrinigar and took a taxi to Palghum (a little town in the mountains housing the starting point for a Hindu pilgrimage into the mountains of lord Shiva.
Anyway, the taxi was quite expensive and my driver looked like the Indian version of Dick Van Dike. He spoke English extremely well, and we stopped to buy some organic walnuts, and figs from this farmer on the side of the road. At first the conversation was perfectly harmless. We talked about how the state of Jammu and Kashmir want to be separate from India. It's a Muslim state, and 20 years ago Pakistan invaded slaying many. In response  to this incident, Kashmir asked the Indian Military for their assistance, and since then the military hasn't left.
The Indian army is terrorizing the people of Kashmir and last year killed 127 young boys in a protest. The people share with the Tibetians in the fact they wish to have recognition under the UN as a separate republic. After awhile of talking about war, he casually asked if I was married. I said I wasn't. Bad answer. He started asking me inappropriate questions, to which I told him it was none of his business. The taxi was silent from then on. I felt like a dog marking my territory.
He told me about a nice cottage to stay at which there was a nice owner who would help me learn how to make indian food. After ariving in the mountians of Palghum, we arrived at the cottage which was beautiful, and then went to lunch. I had Burgi Paneer and yummy roties. He told the staff I was a student, so they just charged me for the paneer and not the roties. After lunch he introduced me to the hotel manager- a 21 year old guy called Mushtaq who single mindedly declared me as his "new sister." I nodded, thinking to myself "right....let's see if I'm still your sister when were walking back to the cottage at dark."

But I completely misjudged him.  He kept a distance from me, and respected me the whole time, having appropriate conversations, and returning the unwanted stares I was getting from other guys. We walked through the small mountain market where I went into a Kashmiri shall stall. The shalls were nice, super expensive, and I was ready to leave when the creepo's hand started shaking frantically when he asked me if I was married. Euuuoohhh!

We walked 5k back to the cottage where I used the toilet, washed my face, and came downstairs where Mushtaq told me he wanted to take me to his village. We walked together on the road till we came to a little 10 wood shack town, cows walking around, and chickens running across the road. It was a peaceful place, and we walked up to his brick house, where his beautiful mother in a simple light pink sari, was sitting outside. She waved, and smiled- not seeking any English. He showed me their vegetable garden of potatoes, squash, beans and an apple tree in front of their house. His mother said his 5 sisters were on their land harvesting vegetables, and wouldn't be back for a couple hours. So we walked up this little dirt path to the side of this valley where you could see the whole city of Palghum, which for a city was quite small and picturesque.
He went up to a little tea stall in the valley, and got me a cup of tea, then went the hill a bit to let me enjoy the valley.
I felt so free! Before, I kind of felt like an old woman. Suppressed, and watching myself among the muslims. I don't know why, for no reason I suppose. I wasn't feeling as free as I am, but here that all changed. I decided I am free and I should feel as free as I am. I climbed a tree, and took a picture with this one random dude. I danced in the valley, and then got this strange sensation to start picking up all the trash around. So I did, and others caught on.
Mustauq introduced me to the man in charge of cleaning up the valley. I had him translate into Udu that Obama told me to help clean up the valley. This is not New Delhi where people through their trash on the ground. This is Kashmir. If you want India to respect you as a separate state, you first have to respect yourself. The baba in charge of cleaning the valley nodded his head in awe as he took little puffs from his wodden hubbly bubbly. He looked so funny I had to take a small video. We walked up the valley a few ways, and then back to the village.
We passed an old house where he mentioned that's where his mother was born. 2 women walked out and yelled something to him in Udu. He told me they wanted me to come in for one cup of chai. I gladly accepted the invitation, and walked up the stairs to a room filled with a young girl, 2 men, and a toothless granny who had the biggest smile on her face.
The young girl wore a pink dress and had the most beautiful hazel eyes I had ever seen. They were all Mushtaq cousins, and his brother showed me a horrific video of the sensitive incident of the Indian army killing Kashmiris. I thanked them, and Mushtaq said we had to go, so we left. We went down to the village where 2 minutes later this nice man invited me into his tandoori shop where he makes all of these Kashmiri breads. He let me try one, and was so happy to have a forigner in his shop. I tried one. It was like a hard cracker. I was trying to be nice about the taste until Mushtaq said it wasn't very good.

We almost made it back to the cottage, when his Uncle and family came out of the house with all of his 6 Aunties. They wanted me to come in for a cup of tea, so I accepted again. I sat in a circle with all the women, and one young 6 year old girl making faces at me. They made me chai and gave me some more hard Kashmiri  bread. This old, super old woman with a face like an eskimo kept pushing me to "bak, bak," or "eat, eat." I smiled politely and made jokes in what little hindi I picked up plus hand motions. They were all impressed. That or stunned by the dumb foreigner making elaborate gestures to explain my mother was a midwife.

They wanted me to stay with them at their house, but Mushtaq informed that if the Army found out, these women could be imprisoned for housing a foreigner, so we walked back to the cottage. My heart litterally felt warm from all of the love these people had showed me. The Kashmiri people were so, so nice. I expressed this to Mushtaq and he was greatly pleased, noting on how much "we people" respect you. I had non-veg 100% kashmiri chicken which was soooo delicious, then went to bed.

The next day I got up at 8am, and after breakfast, Mushtaq announced he was going to Biron valley and wanted me to come. I gladly accepted a trecking adventure, and had some leftovers we packed for lunch. We walked for a little over an hour up hill to this lush green valley with wild horses making babies, and children running and playing cricket. It was so beautiful. I stayed and enjoyed, taking a senic wee behind a rock next to a mating equine couple- absolutely unintentional- and made a seaweed necklace with an old bison tooth I found.

I had lunch and we hiked down to town. On the way I passed a mother dog, and her five sweet little pups nursing agressivly on their sacrificial mother. They were so cute! I had to stop and pet one. This boy about my age picked up the runt and gave it to me. I asked if I could take it to America, and he would have let me, but I decided that would be cruel because the puppy was still nursing. A boy came up with this huge scabby cut on his leg, and I got to treat it with my first aid kit. Diffidently highlight of my day, the smile he gave me afterward. I don't know if it was the iodine solution, or having a white girl touch his leg that made him feel better.
Back at the cottage I took a nap, we went to the market, then went back for a lesson on how to make dal, palak paneer, chai tea, and roties. We all ate dinner together this time in the kitchen with the staff and Mushtaq. It was really special, and I went to bed at 1am.
The next morning I got up at 5am, made chai with fresh milk, and walked down to the Yatra camps where several pilgrims were getting on the buses to Jammu. The pilgrims get first priority for the bus rides, and I wanted the cheep one going to Jammu, so I ended up walking around getting on and off buses for 4 hours under several people's advice. It was exhausting, but finally I found one which the man was trying to bargain for 200 rupies. The bus driver wanted 300rupies, but I knew this was the foreigner price and I wasn't going to budge. I was so stubborn, and finally someone in the crowd pulled out a 100rupie note and gave it to the driver. I was taken back by his kindness, and my rudeness, and thanked him tremendously. I got on the bus after taking a pee in the woods.

Atlas, it was time to say goodbye to the mountains. I was on my way to the valley,  Jammu, where the USA flag was burned 2 weeks ago. I was no longer an American on this bus, but a married Australian- again. I knew I was going to the valley, but what I did not know is that the next 72 hours would be a trip from hell.
I did not pass go. I did not collect 200 dollars. 

Will be continued...