Shimla

July 24, 2009
We are in the Himalayas and my sweat has dried. After a scorching week in the plains, I've headed north to Shimla where royalty used to go to escape the same summer heat. To get here we took a toy train, a small, slow narrow-gauge railway that crawled up the mountains. The train twisted and climbed for five hours through breathtaking scenery. The air cooled and the dust disappeared as we rose higher and higher into the Himalayas.

Once we got to Shimla I opted to get my own room for the first time this trip. (I splurged for the $9 room with a shower and mirrored ceilings. Rowr!) Shimla is a lot safer and less intrusive than other cities, so I felt fine about branching out on my own...and I didn't feel like I was holding anyone back if I stayed in bed all day reading.

I keep referring to Shimla as the "Gatlinburg of India." It's a relatively quiet mountain town where the mist is constantly rolling, everything is within walking distance, and the whole place is chock full of tourists. I love not getting hassled by touts and being able to walk around dry and cool. People still look at me like I'm the only white woman they've ever seen, but I don't think that's going to stop (regardless of how badly I wish it would).

We will be here for a total of five nights before heading to Bangalore to meet up with John's family.

On July 22nd we all woke around 5:30 and climbed the steep incline into town. John hauled out pairs of welding goggles. Around Scandal Point, in the middle of town, the sun popped out from behind a building. We put on the goggles and stared directly at it. A small dark sliver appeared on the sun's white surface, slowly sliding to cover it. Over the next hour we watched the moon horn in on the sun during the longest solar eclipse of the 21st century. Because we're so far north we only saw about 80% totality, but it was still the coolest thing I've seen on the trip thus far.

The best part of the whole experience, though, is that we got to share it with the town. People slowly started making wide circles around the strange foreigners in the silly glasses staring at the sun. Eventually I waved one man over and gave him my lens and pointed upward. He called his friend over to look, and everyone else came in turn. We shared our glasses, tried to figure out the best way to take a photo without frying our cameras, and chatted with locals. An AP photographer even snapped a bunch of photos of us looking goofy...which I hope never see the light of day.