Day 9 - On my way to Kashmir, India

Kashir India.... hmmm... I know I know this place. Why can't I remember the history?! As we checked in at the airport, I realized where we were going exactly when I looked down at our boarding passes "Destination Srinagar- Kashmir India". Kashmir, I repeated in my head, knowing it was a historically significant location, and with a sad history. I was annoyed with myself for not having a better grasp on history and world conflict, because my historical instincts told me that where we were going, was not your typical destination.



I didn't remember the details of Kashmir and wouldn't find out until later. I won't go into the details of Kashmir until a future blog, because I don't want to spoil what became the most special part of the trip for me. If you are a better historian than I, then you will remember the history of Kashmir, if you don't know, leave it be for a moment, and read about the wonderful wonderfulness of Kashmir before researching its political history.

I woke up early that morning, realizing that I had fallen asleep at Manzoor's. I didn't know where I was at first, a symptom of jumping from city to city and not remembering which destination I was in today. The day before seemed surreal and it took me a moment as my eyes came in to focus to realize I was in Manzoor's apartment. It was tremendously hot in his room and it was only 8am. It was easily 95 degrees at 8am and I figured out his shower so I hopped in to cool off and get ready for my trip. After a nice air-dry and rearranging my luggage, I left the bedroom to see where Manzoor might be. He was in the living room asleep along with his cousin, who was also on the floor asleep. The village was quiet, and I wondered how anyone could sleep after the sun rises in Delhi. It was extremely hot and to sleep past dawn was to sleep in your own sweat.

I rocked Manzoor awake around 9, reminding him that we had to leave soon in order to make it to the airport in time.

After hot chai, a glass of steamed milk and eggs with toast, we loaded our bags into the back of a taxi and headed for the airport.

Passing easily through security, we plopped down with our bags at the airport waiting area for ticket holding passengers. Before getting comfortable, Manzoor went to get me something cold to drink. When he came back, he handed me a strawberry milkshake and the local newspaper. He watched my face as he handed me the Special Interest section side up: The headline read, "Indians Rank as Having the Fastest Sex in the World" and the article spoke on how Indian men spend the least amount of time in bed with women, German men being the longest...it went on with comparisons of men in other countries and their stamina for sex. It was ironic that he found this article since while we were talking the other night, we had a similar yet more subtle conversation about male/female relations in India. I found the article's research altogether silly and fascinating, and continued reading the rest of the entertainment rag.

In the book section, it has India's top selling non fiction books. I squealed with delight to see that the top selling book in India was "The Secret". I was overjoyed with glee. "I can't wait to get back and tell my 'Secret friends'," I thought. This is awesome!

We had to be shuttled out to the tarmac in order to

board our plane. The flight was only an hour and a half to Kashmir.

It was a good opportunity to get to know Manzoor a little bit better. We laughed and chatted during the whole flight, making fun of the poor service on SpiceJet, the small jet we were taking to Srinagar. An hour into the flight, he pointed over my shoulder and out the airplane window. "Look", he says, "The Himalayas. We are here." My lips parted in awe. I snapped several pictures through the window of the airplane.

When we got to Kashmir, I rode in the backseat of the cab to my hotel as Manzoor spoke to the driver who had been there waiting for us when we arrived. Manzoor seemed to know everyone and everyone knew Manzoor. His Hindi had changed -- now his Hindi was now Kashmiri, the local dialect. This was where Manzoor was born and raised, in the Muslim state of Kashmir. I sat in the back seat of the SUV, taking in all of the sights of Kashmir. At first I was afraid, seeing the Indian army, so many of them, armed and everywhere. What have I gotten myself in to, I thought?

I struggled again to remember the history of Kashmir...why were there so many soldiers here? Damn my memory!

But as we drove further into the city of Srinagar, I realized that this was indeed a peaceful place. Signs read "Welcome to Paradise on Earth" and other spiritual billboards that reminded Kashmir of why the Muhgul King Nuruddin Jahangir beautifully quoted "If heaven be on earth then it is here, it is here, it is here in Kashmir." A place rich with humility, spirituality, tradition, and love for the country. This, I thought, is the foreign land we envision when we think of India. This, I knew, pressed up to the glass of the backseat window, is why I have come to India....

Click here to view the slideshow of Kashmir from the first couple of days there.

Read upcoming blogs and photo blogs for more on why Kashmir changed my entire visit to India.