The highlight of Vashisht is definitely its natural hot springs. The rest of it is, to me, rather disappointing. Every building seems to be perpetually under construction, being made bigger and and wider and better able to block out the views. These new concrete slab buildings are rapidly replacing the old wooden ones that used to line the Vashisht street. There is rubbish in the stream and there are cars and rickshaws forever zooming up and down the narrow road. But the hot springs...mmm, they are still a winner.
Mum and I have woken up early for the past couple of mornings to enjoy the ladies' bathing pool. There are hot springs at the top of the town and a temple has been built around them. The ladies get a more private bathing situation: four walls and an open sky. The men have a few different options but I think they are all public. We go early because Vashisht can be beautiful of an early morning, when the valley is clear and you can look up at the snow capped mountains, and the drivers are still asleep. Early is when you meet few tourists but many locals, going to bathe and start the day's work. It is also when the hot springs are still clean, as they refill overnight but gather dirt and hair (yum) in the day.
Each morning there have been around ten local Vashisht women in the baths. Young girls and ancient old women sit around, catching up on local gossip and scrubbing each others backs. The space is small and steam rises up off the water. Old stone carvings decorate the walls; gods and goddesses stare out at you as you bathe. Next to the bath and slightly below it there are four taps where as many as seven women sit under the flowing water, lathered in soap from head to toe. Yesterday there was an old woman who must have been in her late eighties sitting below a tap and being helped by two younger women. She sat smiling as they poured water over her, scrubbed her hair and rubbed her weathered old skin. They barked commands at her and she'd raise an arm, look down, get up. They were just there when she arrived, I don't think they were relatives but rather it seems the younger women share around the responsibility of looking after the oldies in the bathing pool.
The water was so hot I could barely get in. It was like a bath before you add the cold. It took me about five minutes, submerging one toe at a time, before I could get in. The other women find me amusing, the way my skin is super red when I finally give myself permission to stop the burning ritual and get out. The way I try and converse with them in Hindi - even if I say it right they laugh at me! It is nice though, more like friendly mocking than the 'we are not amused' laugh they give to some of the crazies in the baths. This morning there was a crazy Russian lady in there, talking nonsense to all the Vashisht women and telling me I should go up to Brighu Lake (4300m) and bring her back a bottle of 'death water'. I said it might be difficult because I am starting a trek tomorrow and she said, I live near Delhi - bring it to me there, please, just a little bottle. Crazy.
After our bathe the temple men at the Rama Temple invited Mum and I in for tea and puja. We drank tea while sitting below a five thousand year old stone (no concrete) temple and looking out over the Beas River in the valley far below. The mist had spread all the way up the valley this morning, rendering the mountains on every side invisible. After our tea the puja ceremony started. We stood inside while six men in Manali hats clashed cymbals, rang bells, blew a big conch shell and chanted blessings. The room was thick with incense and candles burned - it felt very holy. When the chanting had finished the puja-leader gave Hanuman an offering of pizza and chapatis and put holy water into each of our hands. He then gave us - the other men conducting the ceremony, Mum and me - a small piece each of sweet chapati and savoury chapati, which we wrapped in a tear of newspaper to eat when when we left the temple. After the ceremony each man picked up his things and carried on with his business. They nodded us goodbye and we went off to have brekkie. I have a great appreciation for those small, special experiences - genuine exchanges.
After breakfast Mum and I walked into manali to do the fruit shop for our trek. We have so much food already but I have to keep remembering that we are shopping for three weeks, three people. Today we bought a few kilos of fresh pears, nectarines, plums, apples and peas. We also found some delicious lime, lemon and ginger pickle and a delicious organic honey from Uttarakhand. Mum and I both seem to have a weakness for dried fruit and nuts, so I think our fruit and nuts store will sustain us and a small Himalayan village for an easy three weeks.
You'll hear from me again in three weeks time.
Phir Milenge!
Mum and I have woken up early for the past couple of mornings to enjoy the ladies' bathing pool. There are hot springs at the top of the town and a temple has been built around them. The ladies get a more private bathing situation: four walls and an open sky. The men have a few different options but I think they are all public. We go early because Vashisht can be beautiful of an early morning, when the valley is clear and you can look up at the snow capped mountains, and the drivers are still asleep. Early is when you meet few tourists but many locals, going to bathe and start the day's work. It is also when the hot springs are still clean, as they refill overnight but gather dirt and hair (yum) in the day.
Each morning there have been around ten local Vashisht women in the baths. Young girls and ancient old women sit around, catching up on local gossip and scrubbing each others backs. The space is small and steam rises up off the water. Old stone carvings decorate the walls; gods and goddesses stare out at you as you bathe. Next to the bath and slightly below it there are four taps where as many as seven women sit under the flowing water, lathered in soap from head to toe. Yesterday there was an old woman who must have been in her late eighties sitting below a tap and being helped by two younger women. She sat smiling as they poured water over her, scrubbed her hair and rubbed her weathered old skin. They barked commands at her and she'd raise an arm, look down, get up. They were just there when she arrived, I don't think they were relatives but rather it seems the younger women share around the responsibility of looking after the oldies in the bathing pool.
The water was so hot I could barely get in. It was like a bath before you add the cold. It took me about five minutes, submerging one toe at a time, before I could get in. The other women find me amusing, the way my skin is super red when I finally give myself permission to stop the burning ritual and get out. The way I try and converse with them in Hindi - even if I say it right they laugh at me! It is nice though, more like friendly mocking than the 'we are not amused' laugh they give to some of the crazies in the baths. This morning there was a crazy Russian lady in there, talking nonsense to all the Vashisht women and telling me I should go up to Brighu Lake (4300m) and bring her back a bottle of 'death water'. I said it might be difficult because I am starting a trek tomorrow and she said, I live near Delhi - bring it to me there, please, just a little bottle. Crazy.
After our bathe the temple men at the Rama Temple invited Mum and I in for tea and puja. We drank tea while sitting below a five thousand year old stone (no concrete) temple and looking out over the Beas River in the valley far below. The mist had spread all the way up the valley this morning, rendering the mountains on every side invisible. After our tea the puja ceremony started. We stood inside while six men in Manali hats clashed cymbals, rang bells, blew a big conch shell and chanted blessings. The room was thick with incense and candles burned - it felt very holy. When the chanting had finished the puja-leader gave Hanuman an offering of pizza and chapatis and put holy water into each of our hands. He then gave us - the other men conducting the ceremony, Mum and me - a small piece each of sweet chapati and savoury chapati, which we wrapped in a tear of newspaper to eat when when we left the temple. After the ceremony each man picked up his things and carried on with his business. They nodded us goodbye and we went off to have brekkie. I have a great appreciation for those small, special experiences - genuine exchanges.
After breakfast Mum and I walked into manali to do the fruit shop for our trek. We have so much food already but I have to keep remembering that we are shopping for three weeks, three people. Today we bought a few kilos of fresh pears, nectarines, plums, apples and peas. We also found some delicious lime, lemon and ginger pickle and a delicious organic honey from Uttarakhand. Mum and I both seem to have a weakness for dried fruit and nuts, so I think our fruit and nuts store will sustain us and a small Himalayan village for an easy three weeks.
You'll hear from me again in three weeks time.
Phir Milenge!
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