Taking into account my feelings of well-being and contentment, compay, food, sites to see:
Bruges (Belgium)
Verona (Italy)
Dal Lake, Srinagar (Kashmir)
Luxor (Egypt)
Lucerne (Switzerland)
Oporto (Portugal)
Paris (France)
Santiago de Compostella (Spain)
Florence (Italy)
Sighisoura (Romania)
Cesky Crumlov (Czech Republic)
Budapest (Hungary)
Venice (Italy)
Barcelona (Spain)
Puerto de la Cruz (Tenerife)
Haarlem (Holland)
Check out my YouTube videos
AI produced version of a song from my poem "The River of Life"
I would welcome any human being that can produce a better version of these words to music
River of Life!
Whether we laugh, or whether we cry,
the river of life goes rushing by,
down the hills and mountain sides,
into valleys, long and wide,
towards the ocean that is its goal,
it's journey travelled by our soul.
When I was but a little boy,
the river rippled and dashed with joy,
and as I grew and longed to learn,
the river for the ocean yearned.
As young man travelled round the world,
the river twisted, turned and twirled,
eager to find it's resting place,
eager to travel in time and space.
And as the seeking man grew older,
the river found the bigger boulders,
but on it travelled without care,
it knew it's destiny's not there.
The rushing water's now quite slow,
the river old has nothing to show,
it's happiness is calm and deep,
as old man takes his final sleep.
The ocean that is never ending,
is to the sky it's waters lending,
to rain again on mountain top,
to make sure life's rivers never stop.
The rivers message lies in this
Ocean of Mercy, Peace and Bliss
The River Aru in Kashmir, where I wrote these words in 1981
Memoirs of my travels in India 1972, India, Nepal and Kashmir in
1981 and 1985, and Egypt in 1989, 1990 and 2010, along with a murder
mystery and poems - includes the nitty-gritty from my previous books
"All About My Hat The Hippy Trail 1972", "Back to the East, India, Nepal
and Kashmir", and "Myhat in Egypt Through the Eyes of a God" - all in
one book.
It's a very different world today.
Alun Buffry
was born in Wales in 1950 and studied Chemistry at UEA. In 1972, he
travelled overland to India, with little money or support, becoming ill
in India and spending time in hospitals in Delhi, Kabul and Tehran.
After returning to the UK later that year, he became a follower of Prem
Rawat, then also known as Guru Maharaji, whom he still follows today. In
1991 he spent time in HMP for cannabis offences. After his release he
started writing his books which contain personal accounts of his life
experiences and travels, as well as poetry and science fiction..
In
1999 he co-founded the <a href="http://www.ccguide.org/lca/lca.php"Legalise Cannabis Alliance (LCA)</a> with Jack
Girling, He stood for Parliament in 2001and local council elections in
Norwich As well as many published letters, interviews and speeches, he
spoke in a debate on cannabis legalisation at the Oxford Union and
testified before A Select Committee in Parliament.
His other books are
"From
Dot to Cleopatra", a concise history of Ancient Egypt, "The Effie
Enigma, The Motherless Mothers" (Sci-fi), "Out of Joint, 20 Years of
Campaigning for Cannabis 1991 - 2010", "My Piece of Peace£, "Time for
Cannabis, The Prison Years", Inside my Hat and other Heads" (poetry with
others), "Words of Weed and Wisdom" (poetry with others), "An
Alliance-of Eyes" (poetry with others), "Damage and Humanity in Custody"
with William D Hutchinson, "If Only Suomi" time-travelling romance",
"Legalise and Utilise Commemorative Edition", "Cannabis: Challenging the
Criminal Justice System" with Don Barnard.
<a href="http:/www.buffry.org.uk/abefreepublishing.html">SEE HERE</a>
TAKEN FROM BACK TO THE EAST: INDIA, NEPAL, KASHMIR - Alun Buffry
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1916310796/ref=nosim?tag=webbooks05
CONCLUSION
I
have made three trips to India. The first, pretty much out of the
blue because when we left the UK we had intended to travel only as
far a Turkey, in a van. There were four of us. None of us had very
much money. I had left UK with just about £60, three weeks wages in
those days. By the time we reached Antalya, in Turkey on the
southern coast, I had just £20 left. We slept either in the van or
in a tent until we reached Istanbul, where we rented cheap rooms.
After that, we slept in Turkey in the open. From Turkey Keith and I
took a boat eastwards, intending to travel to Beirut then back to
Istanbul to meet up again with the others. On the boat, however, we
were advised not to go to Beirut, so instead hitch-hiked across Syria
into Iraq and on the Baghdad, then on by bus to Tehran. Then we
headed east across Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan and into India. The
main problem for me was lack of money, so not being able to eat the
food I should have been eating and staying in cheap and often dirty
hotels. I ran out of money in Kabul, a dirty city but cheap and
friendly. I sold a few items such as shirts and a compass and met a
wealthy German guy called Helmutt, who helped us get to India, by
plane from Lahore to Amritsar, one of the first passenger planes
after the end of the Pakistan-India war. In Amritsar, we stayed for
free at The golden Temple and I hitched a truck ride to Delhi.
I struggled on very little money, receiving just a few pounds in mail from the UK. Keith went on alone to Nepal. I became ill and spend a week in hospital (free) in Delhi, suffering from dysentery and hepatitis. I tried to travel back overland to the UK but became ill again and again, being hospitalised in Kabul and Tehran, from where I had to take a flight back to London, which my parents paid for. I was 22-years-old. Looking back, it’s easy to say I should have had more sense.
Yet looking back, it was a pretty dumb thing to do, although very educational and an experience that I valued. But it was hard work in the east, with such different people, customs, lifestyles, religions, languages, foodstuff, politics and the divisions of wealth and poverty.
That was a disastrous trip, not only did I and Keith became ill, but after we left Turkey my good friend John Sullivan was killed when the van crashed in Antalya; the other passenger, Mike, was seriously hurt, broken leg, broken ribs and bang on the head. I did not even find out what had happened until I was back in Kabul, months later, and by chance met somebody that I knew from Norwich, Pete Roscoe, who was on his way to India.
From the moment we had left the UK, everywhere we went, we managed to buy hash, in every country we passed through with the exceptions of Iraq and Iran. In Iran, we actually stayed on an opium farm run by a licensed farmer who also supplied it illegally. He was also the village policeman.
That tail is told in my book “All About My Hat The Hippy Trail, 1972”
What did I learn?
The
variety of people in our world.
The generosity and care we
received from people with so little.
That I had people that I
could call on to help when all else failed.
To travel with
enough money to get one through and get one home safely.
To take
more care of health regarding hygiene and diet.
So my next
trips to India, both by plane, recorded in this book, were 1981 and
1985.
By this time many places had already changed in respect of politics and freedom, and it was not so possible to travel overland.
1981 was a two week holiday. 1985 was a two month journey.
At both times I had more money, enough as I thought, being older and wiser, as I thought. Yet in both cases we spent our money faster than we had anticipated and had to write home for more.
Of course another problem that was easy to have forgotten, was that contact with family and friends back in the UK was not instant and easy. A phone call had to be booked a week in advance and one had to hope that the call would be answered. Otherwise, it meant booking another call. Also in those days not everyone in the UK had a phone in their house and nobody had a mobile (cell) phone.
We were lucky to have booked the holidays through travel companies that were able to help us out.
So I reiterate my advice, make sure one has enough funds and remember, cash and bankers cards can be lost or stolen (as can possessions and passports).
Delhi and Agra, had changed noticeably since 1972 since I had visited those cities.
They were more populated with more traffic, more noise, more dirt and more beggars and hasslers on the streets. Also more “richer” tourists. Kashmir was attracting people with money, staying on houseboats, often isolated and even protected from the people and poverty on the streets. Corruption, baksheesh, favouritism and bureaucracy were all more common – you will have read about our problems getting seated on planes that had been overbooked.
One of the favourite sayings of many people was “no problem”. Either they did not see a problem, did not see it as important or simply did not care. Yet paying baksheesh in advance would often avoid those problems. ‘Jimmy’, on the houseboat in Kashmir in 1985 never did post the letter that he had promised to post; that cost me a sitar.
Many Indians won’t say that they don’t know; instead they tell one what they think. An example was when we were told that our funds were at abank when they were not and had not even been sent.
I certainly would not advise anyone to drive a vehicle in India. The rule of the road everywhere was “Might is Right”. Walkers and people with carts pulled by animals got out of the way of cars, which got out of the way of buses, which got out of the way of trucks. Everyone was listening out for the loudest horns approaching them. Everyone in the cities seemed to drive using their horns more than indicators. Of course walkers and those with animal-pulled carts had no horns.
At one point in this book, you will see a photo taken from a rickshaw on a road in Delhi; you can see pedestrians, bicycles, rickshaws, cars, buses, trucks and even an elephant.
Of course food is another problem: you may have heard of “Delhi belly”.
The difference between western and India food and water, the way in which so much ghee is used, often the lack of hygiene, that does not cause serious problems for locals, almost inevitably causes some problems for westerners on short holidays. Often these problems are short-lived, being simply a matter of adjusting, but one does not want or need to spend a few days feeling ill especially on a short trip.
At all times, one needs to be aware of thieves and conmen on the streets. People, bot men and women, that will simply want to take advantage of you.
There are those that will simply try to pick your pocket or steal your bag; there are those that ask for money and won’t take no for an answer; there are those that will tell lies and try to mislead you for their own advantage; there are those that say they just want to practice their English and end up taking you to a shop where, albeit they are friendly and often the craftsmanship is fine. That includes foreigners as well as locals.
Of course those people are in the minority, thankfully, and the majority will be friendly and helpful or simply stand and stare. One certainly has to become used to people staring. Also some people don’t want their photographs taken and will ask for money or become very angry, whilst others will ask you to take a photograph of them with or without you.
The gap between wealth and poverty is sometimes atrocious and sickening. One can do nothing about it. In Delhi we made a quick visit to a five star hotel. Inside was spotless and elegant and a cup of tea cost about £5. Right outside the guarded gates that led to the garden from the street, was a tiny chai stall where a cup cost pennies and the street was littered with rubbish and rubble. One sees street food stalls selling hot and cold dished whilst donkey-pulled carts trundle by in the dust, dropping their crap as they go. Many people are unaware of hygiene or unable to do anything about it. Certainly it is essential to ensure that even bottled water ins restaurants is actually bottled water and not just from the tap, or to use purification tablets.
But
all that in India. That is part of the experience. But just as it
is wise to wear a safety helmet on a building site anywhere, one
needs to take care and precautions.
Taken from Back to the East, India, Nepal, Kashmir on Amazon
20th May
We wasted much of the afternoon trying to get to Thomas Cooks, which turned out to be at Johanson Travel not the Grindleys Hotel as we had been told. Money was coming. This was after being told for ten days that money for us was at Grindleys. But there was still no money there. So we sent a message to Thomas Cooks in Delhi to tell them to keep the money there.
Jimmy, who did not turn up last night where we were supposed to meet him at the Tourist Office and waited, came to see us and said he had been waiting for us on Houseboat Jupiter. He said that he would bring the smoke to the New Wild Rose tonight.
We never did get "Numero Uno" from Jimmy but I did get my money back.
I had asked for tickets back to Delhi tomorrow, but so fat there are none, so we will be here another day. I have arranged to pay our bill later, either in Delhi or back in the UK. They said that is no problem. Yeah, like my sitar!
I just wanted to get back to Delhi now, pick up some money and confirm the flight home. If we needed to wait a week, we could go to Kulu and Manali and get stoned, I thought.
The people here were all friendly enough, but they never say they don’t know and brush everything aside as if nothing mattered to them but of course it did. In fact everything mattered. There was a lot of ignorance and lack of experience. Many lived such limited lives. They didn’t understand tourists and travellers, think we are all super rich; well compared to so many we are, after all, we are there on holiday often living like kings, miles from our home, and they have so little and life can be hard. They don’t even realise the harm that can come from washing in the sewage of Dahl lake; they don’t know that it was getting worse because they are polluting it themselves.
Many people are fighting for freedom, freedom from India. They mistakenly, in my opinion, think they would be batter off as part of Pakistan because they are Moslem. It’s not violent in Kashmir, completely different to Pakistan. They are too bound by superficial religious appearance and ritual.
The family structure was very strong but men could take multiple wives and, strangely enough, although they would all smoke hash with us, they hid it away from each other; and many were secret alcohol drinkers.
They often used smiles and pleasant offers of chai or small gifts to buy their way into our pockets.
But still, Kashmir was one of the safest and most beautiful parts of the world.
Then suddenly our flight back to Heathrow was confirmed for the 25th, four days time, so we planned to get the bus back to Delhi tomorrow.
In some ways I thought I’ll be glad to be back in Norwich. In other ways I felt I could travel on.
22nd May
The bus ride back to Delhi was almost 24 hours, but it’s the best one yet, with no problems. We spend some time in the drivers cabin, up front, so some fantastic views.
23rd May
Back in Delhi at 7 AM at the Ringo Guest House with air conditioning and shower, opposite the Indian Oil Building.
We went to Thomas Cooks and picked up some money. It’s been there all the time.
We bought some cheap chokers and beaded necklaces and some very cheap women’s shirts from the underground market where they had a sale. Some were less than £1 each and I know I can sell them for at least £6 each.
Ali met us and had Lesley’s lost jeans from Rajasthan. He took her to a night club in the evening. When they got back to the hotel, he as clearly a little drunk.
24th
May.
I went back to the market and bought more
cotton
blouses,
now my rucksack was packed very full. It
was far too hot and uncomfortable outside during the day.
In the evening we went to the Mandarin room at the Hotel Imperial.
Then we went to see Ali and on to the airport.
25th May
Back in the UK.
I walked through customs at Heathrow airport without a problem.
Lesley got pulled by the customs team. They found her little musk ball and, she told me later, she said “That’s not what you think it is.”
So they did a strip search and called in a doctor and she had to hand over her little stash from her personal space and was busted. Fat Stan had come to pick us up with another guy called Nigel and we were waiting in the arrivals hall for Lesley when there was an announcement for Stan. Nigel went in to learn that she was being detained for a few hours and so he gave her enough money to get back to Norwich by bus or train, as we could not wait.
A couple of months later, we took her to Uxbridge Court where she as fined £100. Everyone else in court while we were there had suitcases full of drugs.
Stanley Atkins RIP
Taken from Back to the East, India, Nepal, Kashmir on Amazon
10th May
We set off walking and sometimes on the ponies. The rain had eased off and the scenery was absolutely incredible. We walked for about two hours and when we got there, a place with no name, the tents were already pitched.
With the snow capped mountains and rushing stream, it was lovely. It rained again in the afternoon after we were served omelette and chips, but the tent with fly sheet and ground sheet was quite adequate.
We walked and rode towards Kolahai, crossing the snow line. Kolahoi Peak was the highest mountain in Kashmir with a peak elevation of 17,799 feet. Obviously we had no intention of going to the top!
But, as was typical here, they did not tell us what was happening and suddenly we were walking into the snow, with the ponies behind us along with my rucksack and shades which I would certainly need to avoid snow blindness at that height. “Ponies wait for us to come back,” said Ali, “they not like snow.”
So we stopped a little way past some empty huts. Ali and Martin, the Canadian guy that had joined us, were to walk on to see the glacier. We would go back. Fine with us.
The air was so thin that even cigarettes went out when one stopped puffing on them.
They returned after two hours. Martin was almost blind. The snow had become too deep and dangerous for them to continue. Ali should have known that. We are not mountaineers, we are not equipped for that. This was supposed to be a pony trek.
So we returned to our camp, which we are told was called Lidderwatt, such a beautiful tranquil spot. Ali told us tales of who died here last year. Two fell off ponies crossing the river and one whilst rafting.
At some point we met an old chap that asked if we had any aspirins because his wife had toothache and he was on his way to walk to Pahalgam to buy some. He was barefooted. I had some in my bag and gave them to him. He gave me a small piece of nice black hash. Hash is no good for toothache.
On the way down, we stopped at a small shack. There was a smiling woman there with what may have been her daughter. She invited us to drink some chai. It was pink milky and salty, just what we needed. The girl was fascinated with Lesley and her hair.
As we moved along a track with low branches handing down that I had to duck under, my pony fell behind the others. As they disappeared behind some trees on bend, my pony panicked and started moving faster than it ever had before with me on its back. But as soon as it caught sight of the others, it slowed down again.
Taken from Back to the East, India, Nepal, Kashmir on Amazon
4th May
A warm day, much spent just enjoying the sun on the houseboat.. Lesley, Brad and Kerry were all feeling better. Now I was slowing down! I felt fine.
We called in to see Yussef Baktoo in his office. He said that in Kashmir Lesley was “Puxley” and Alun was “Ali”.
The guy who met us from the bus, Gulab Khar, told us a tale. When he was a baby of four years old, a vulture swept down and carried him off; his father quickly threw a stone and it hit the bird which dropped little Gulab ten feet and the father caught him. Lucky Gulab!
5th May
We spent most of the day lazing around on the deck of the houseboat, watching the clouds and shikara boats. We had a splendid view of snow-capped mountains. I bought a silver box, also earrings with coral.
The local Islamic people were fasting today.
It rained heavily during the night.
6th
May
Suddenly at 7 Am we were awoken by loud voices and knocking on the door.
“Quick, quick, come quick, water is coming into the boat”.
So with pounding heart I jumped out of bed and put on some cloths, making sure Lesley was doing the same. I am not sure she believed what was happening.
We rushed outside then Bashir says “No, it is OK, go to sleep, as they are bailing out the water with buckets."
Apparently one end of the boat was lower in the water and caused a panic.
By noon it was too hot to sit on the sun deck.
It was either a holiday or a strike.
7th May
Trying to find the Thomas Cook office was not easy despite the offers of help from the holiday company. Mr Kahr said it was at the Oberai Hotel.
Lesley bought some medicine called Amelast that contains dioxamide and tridazole, an intestinal anti-parasitic drug.
In the afternoon we went on a shikara ride to the beautiful lake Nageen to see the new Butterfly Houseboat, which looked palatial with beautiful paintings in the Mogul and Indian rooms, carvings in the Kashmir room, and in the Shikara room a bed shaped like a shikara.
On the way back we called at a carpet shop. I bought a woollen carpet in 1981 for £200, so did not want one this time, but Lesley bought a beautiful silk one for a deposit and then monthly payments when back in the UK. They will send it to her my air mail. Of course there will be duty on it so it will cost her over £400.
8th May
So far we had seen shikaras selling jewellery, now it was saffron. It’s cheap though.
Lesley had developed a habit of saying “Maybe later” and inevitably they come back.
I wrote a letter to the Sitar shop to arrange a later date to meet the guy back in Delhi with the Sitar I bought as we would be there later than expected. I gave it to Jimmy to post.
9th May: The Valley of the Shepherds
We went by taxi to Pahalgam and a few miles more to the toll gate. It was raining hard. By the time we walked to Aru we were soaked.
The village lies on the left bank of the Aru river, which was a tributary of the Lidder river.
The village was a base camp for trekkers to the Kolahoi Glacier, the Tarsar-Marsar lakes and the Katrinag valley. It was also a base for the treks to Lidderwat, the Vishan-Kishansar lakes and Kangan.
Aru was situated at 9,000 feet. The population was less than 50.
Taken from Back to the East, India, Nepal, Kashmir on Amazon
After breakfast we went on a shikara ride around Dal lake. We were able to stretch out and relax on a mattress with cushions under a canopy. Very relaxing.
The view of the mountains was beautiful and tranquil. Nehru Park was in the middle of the lake, then Rup Lank (gold island) with its four chiner trees. The Nighat Gardens were between the lake and the mountains. We decide to pay them a visit. They had been there since 1833, splendid gardens of grass, flowers and trees, with its own canal and cascades running down the middle and a series of terraces takes one up to the fine lake views.
To our left we saw Hari Parbat Fort on top of Sharika Hill. It was built 1592 to 1598, during the reign of Akbar. Visits were only possible with written permission from the Director of Tourism. Outside was a shrine to the 6th Sikh Guru.
On
our way back, we passed the Hazratbal Mosque.
New and shining white, supposed to house hair from the Prophet. (image found on line)
30th April: Srinagar
Taken from Back to the East, India, Nepal, Kashmir on Amazon
(some images taken from on line)
We stayed the night at the Hotel Palace in Jammu, although not exactly a palace. We had to share a room with a Canadian guy. We were up at 6 AM to continue our journey on the bus.
Of course we were going to be many hours later so whoever was going to meet us at the bus depot will probably not be there.
It seemed to be that every long bus ride in India comes with a little adventure.
It was a nerve-wrecking drive through excellent scenery with sights such as monkeys and herds of goats along the way; sometimes we had to stop for the goats on the road. The herds and goats were driven along by what looks like whole families.
There’s a 5200 foot long tunnel and signs reading “This is not a race or rally, this is Kashmir Valley”. I was not sure that our driver could read though.
One surprise was seeing stalls along the way, selling cricket bats, made from local walnut.
When we finally arrived in Srinagar at about 6.30 PM, we were met by a group of young hasslers each claiming that they have been sent to meet us, not one seem to know of the name of the person that sent them, so we went to the office to phone Kashmir Himalayan Holidays. Before we got an answer, a guy arrived with all our details and off we go by Rickshaw and Shikara to our houseboat, the New Wild Rose.
Shikaras are of various sizes and are used for multiple purposes, including transportation.
The usual shikara seats six people, with the driver paddling at the rear. Like the Venetian gondolas. They are a cultural symbol of Kashmir. Some shikaras are still used for fishing, harvesting aquatic vegetation (usually for fodder), and transport, while most are covered with tarpaulins and are used by tourists.
We met Ibram and Bashir who were there supposedly to do our will. Omelette and chips served, we were shown to our room which was OK, but not as good as the Kashmir Paradise where I stayed in l981.
1st May
It rained all last night and most of today, which I spent playing backgammon. It was almost chilly after Delhi. I was glad I had my sweater. Outside were some salesmen on their shikaras, touting for business. One was selling furs. Lesley had ordered one and given her red leather jacket so they can measure it. In the distance we heard children probably at school, horns and the whistling and squawking of geese and other birds. A simple meal of rice, vegetables and dahl, cooked was served to uson the houseboat.
2nd May
It had stopped raining so we took a shikara to the land and walked to the poste restante at the main post office. There was letter from my friend Stan, back in Norwich, short with no mention of money.
The two Australians, Brad and Kelly, who were staying on our houseboat were both sick, which made me wonder abut the hygiene here, or lack of it. Although the water looked clean here, we were downstream from many other houseboats. Down by the bridge where the poorer families live on far less luxurious boats, it was stinking. And it seemed like the toilet empties direct into the lake, where they also seemed to wash dishes and cloths.
