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| Breathtaking Beginning to the Day |
Tuesday morning dawned bright and sunny. By 5 AM it was already light. We almost did not want to open our eyes suddenly, wanting to prepare ourselves to be able to take in the sheer beauty of it all. When we finally did, as expected, the lake and mountains seemed even more stunning than we had imagined it. Once again drawn to the balcony, we sat for half an hour, not talking, mouths agape. Finally tearing our eyes away, we went in and packed up, this time reducing the number of bags by packing the smaller ones into the bigger ones. We quickly got ready and while breakfast was being prepared, decided to go for a small walk to explore the island.
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| Island Friends |
As we walked toward the northern tip of the island, four friendly doggies came along and said hello, wanting to be petted. Continuing our walk, the dogs following us now, we passed a couple of gentlemen who had pitched their tent near the island tip. There were three camping platforms, probably run by our hosts. From there we walked down a narrow path to the waterfront. Right by the lake edge, we were met by a surprising sight - a cemetery with one tree planted beside each grave.
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| A Tree for Every Departed Soul |
Some of the trees had grown to a significant height while others were saplings, their size being an indication of how long ago the person had passed away. Hungry by now, we walked back to the boathouse. A breakfast of Maggi, eggs and tea had been served and we tucked in with relish. Breakfast devoured, we were charged up for the day, and we asked Angam to call for the boat when he came to clear away the dishes.
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| Row, Row Row your Boat |
He did that, and while we were waiting for it to arrive from across the Lake, he took us for a small ride across from the boathouse to the jetty on a rowboat. The speedboat had already arrived and we moved our things from one boat to the other. Wishing Angam goodbye and good luck, we set out back to the water sports complex on the mainland.
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| Farewell Umiam |
Once again, the view of the shores from the lake was magnificent and the speed boat trip was over far too quick. Paying the boatman the 400 rupees for the ferry, we climbed up the path to the parking lot, fingers crossed that the bike was alright. It was, and we set about tying our rucksacks onto the back of the bike. Securing them this time was a breeze as not only did we have fewer bags but we had also figured out the most efficient manner to use the elastic luggage cables.
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| Spectacular View of the Lake |
Being a short journey into Shillong City we decided not to use the knee and elbow guards, and secured the two small bags onto the fuel tank. This proved to be a far more comfortable mode of travel for both of us. Twenty minutes into the journey, we arrived at a viewpoint overlooking Umiam Lake. The view was spectacular and the boathouse we had stayed in could be seen in the distance. Another thirty minutes of climbing winding mountain roads brought us to the outskirts of Shillong. We passed a number of suburbs which we initially assumed was the city centre but later realized was not.
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| Latei Ville Bed and Breakfast |
Ten more minutes of riding brought us to Latei Ville Bed and Breakfast where we quickly made friends with the owner and dumped our bags in the room. On asking the caretaker for recommendations for trying local cuisine, we were recommended Trattoria at Centre Point. Hungry by now, we headed towards Police Bazaar, hoping it would not disappoint. The ride towards Police Bazaar was polluted, dirty and crowded. There wasn't place to manoeuvre a bike, let alone a car. Of the hill stations of India, and I had seen quite a few of them - the heart of Shillong was arguably the most disappointing and worst experience I had had.
A series of one ways had Google Maps and consequently us, riding around in circles. Even after we had reached, parking was a major problem. We circled around the Centre Square three times, the first time being wrongly directed by one of the locals, the next not finding parking and going around. Finally we squeezed the bike into a crowded parking lot and set out on foot to search for this elusive restaurant. Not one of the locals had even seemed to have heard of it which was baffling. It was like it never existed.
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| Cafe Trattoria - Like a Little Chapel |
Finally, we called the hotel and asked for directions. With great difficulty, he explained where I had to come, and after a fair amount of searching wefinally found the place. By first impression alone, it was a let down. In a tiny, dingy corner, the sign TRATTORIA beckoned for all those who dared enter. Stooping through the low archway, we entered what looked like a miniature Chapel, each table resembling tiny pews and all the benches facing the same direction.
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| Pork Jadoh - Four Kinds of Pork |
As none of the dishes on the wall written menu made any sense to us, we asked the waiter to get us his recommendation. Confirming that we ate everything, he suggested the pork jadoh, a preparation of four kinds of pork in pulao. Though the taste was too raw and oily for our liking, we put on a brave face and polished off our meal. Thanking the owners, we gladly escaped the confines of the tiny restaurant onto the noisy polluted streets of Police Bazaar. Buying gifts for Marba, Ami’s friend and her three year old child who we were to visit later on in the evening, we set out to see the Don Bosco Museum for Indigenous Culture and Art which we had heard a lot about.
Thirty more minutes of breathing in Shillong’s pollution, and we arrived at the Don Bosco Museum that was adjacent to the Church. An entry fee of a hundred rupees each took us into what was one of the most elaborate and all encompassing museums I had ever visited. Spanning seven floors, it covered every possible aspect one would need to know about the eight North Eastern States. From education to culture, weapons to art, attire to religion, musical instruments to fishing tools, farming techniques to various other occupations, the different tribes of the North East were covered threadbare.
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| Shillong Museum Sky Walk |
Not even the roof of the building had been spared. A fabulous steel spiral walkway had been constructed on the roof, overlooking all of Shillong. Boards with the names of various landmarks pointed in various directions. Thoroughly impressed with the construction and organisation of the Museum, we returned to the bike.
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| Keeping us Entertained - Denissa |
Just outside the museum, we stopped at a quaint little cafe called Three Birds Bistro for a cup of tea and plate of chicken wontons. Feeling better with a bite of something that wasn't pork in our tummies, we set out to Marba’s house. A little bit of searching was required but we finally found the place. Marba and her family were extremely nice and sweet natured, something I had noticed was typical of people in the Himalayas. Her lovely four-year old daughter Denissa was adorable and kept the two of us entertained the whole time. As we were leaving, they invited us to dinner two days later, the next time we were in Shillong.
After spending an hour at their house, we decided to get back just as it had gotten dark. I discovered here that the Himalayan did not have a headlight switch. The headlight remained permanently on throughout the running cycle of the bike. We soon returned to the B&B and freshened up before heading out to a pub named Cloud 9 in Police Bazaar recommended by Anu’s friend Damien. I was disappointed to discover that Shillong did not have a culture of cheap drinking places with good food, music and ambience like Gangtok. This time the traffic had eased out a little as it was past 7 pm. We ordered a couple of drinks and in a short while Damien and a friend of his, Kat joined us.
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| Night time Ro-ad-venture - Damien and Kat |
A few drinks later, we decided to leave and headed downstairs to the numerous food stalls set up in the square. Mouth watering Wai Wai noodles and chicken were downed by us before Damien suggested riding to a viewpoint up in the hills from where one had a bird's eye view of Shillong. Setting out, we covered a good twenty kilometres of windy roads up into the hills that included a couple of extremely steep slopes which had Anu hanging on for dear life. Finally, we even went through an Army gate followed by several kilometres of extremely narrow roads to get to the village of Mawshbuit perched almost at the top of the hill. Unfortunately for us, an envelope of mist had shrouded the hill top and we could barely see each other, let alone the whole of Shillong.
With a couple of peals of thunder and streaks of lightning lighting up the misty sky, we decided to call it a night, particularly as none of us had any rain gear with us. Bidding farewell to Damien and Kat, we decided to return home and made it back just as the clock struck the midnight hour.
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