A Day in Chandigarh

Judging by the phone calls my mom received, my last post apparently caused a bit of a panic. Don't worry, Seth and I are safe and sound; we were both a bit neurotic in Delhi, but we are enjoying ourselves up in the Himalayas.

I'll pick up from Thursday, when Senni (our driver), Seth, and I booked it out of Delhi and headed to Chandigarh. On our way out of the city, the streets became less crowded with people, but the traffic did not let up. Buses, trucks, and auto-rickshaws were packed to the gills and people had no reservations about hanging off the sides or tops of the vehicles to get to their next destination. Even motorcycles were piled high with two or three adults and a small child--all without helmets--and swerved in and out of trucks recklessly.

As we chugged along the highway my culture shock started to fade a bit and the guilt set in. Here I was sitting in an air-conditioned car with a scam artist/driver, while people were packed like sardines in neighboring cars and buses. The guilt only got worse as the poverty became more apparent. Most of the housing outside of the city was made up of sheets of corrugated metal, plastic tarps, and piles of brush or garbage molded into walls.

(I just want to mention that Vodafone and Pepsi are probably the most advertised companies in and around Delhi. They slap their logo on the sheets of corrugated metal that people use for doors, walls, and ceilings, and for a minute I thought that Vodafone was the only cell phone provider in India. Then I realized that I was an idiot).

Back to the trip…The route from Delhi to Dharamsala is roughly 13 hours. To cut the long drive down, Seth and I decided to spend an afternoon and night in Chandigarh, the capital of both Punjab and Haryana. This city was built in the 1950’s and was completely designed by Le Corbusier, a modern architect. It’s known for being an affluent city (although Indian affluence is very different from American affluence) and is also one of the cleanest cities in India. I don’t know if I agree with the latter half of that statement, but apparently the population in the city surged over the past five years. More people, more garbage.

Chandigarh is relatively new and lacks any trace of traditional Indian architecture. There are no fancy domes or intricate facades; instead, the buildings are geometric and mostly made from gray concrete. I know it sounds pretty gross, but what makes the city so attractive are the thousands of flowers that bloom in February. Since it’s September, we didn’t see one blossom, but the city was still nice. (Truthfully, anything would have seemed nice at this point. I was--and still am--scarred from my 24 hour run in Delhi).

So we get to Chandigarh and Senni takes us to the Rock Garden.

This is Seth in front of a terracotta wall. Obviously.
The story goes something like this: a Pakistani refugee, Nek Chand, was horrified by the amount of waste that accumulated when the city was being built, so he hoarded a ton of it on his property and started making sculptures.

Some houses made of recycled plastic and glass.

When Chand had tens of thousands of sculptures he illegally designed and constructed a garden on government land. It took 15 years before the Indian government heard about his project, but they granted Chand permission to continue.

Some of Chand's glass people.

The Rock Garden is now recognized as one of Asia’s most significant recycling programs; how ironic, considering India is filled with mountains of garbage.

Monkeys made from plastic and glass.

Afterwards we wandered over to the man-made Sukhna Lake (Le Corbusier designed this, too) and rented a swan-shaped paddle boat to kill some time.

Here are some paddle boats. If the picture looks muggy, it's because Delhi and Chandigarh seems to be constantly shrouded in a cloud of dust. My lungs are suffering.

Chandigarh might have a reputation for being clean, but the lake was a different story. The water looked toxic and when I asked Seth how much it would take for him to jump in, he said at least $5,000. (I don’t think I could ever be persuaded to take a dip).

We ended our day with an early dinner* (read: feast) of super spicy chicken, parantha (a stuffed bread), and some vegetable-sauce-spice medley and went to bed.

*Even if Senni was/is a scam artist, he is GREAT at letting waiters know that I am allergic to dairy products. I find this priceless when traveling in a country that depends heavily on ghi (clarified butter) and yogurt-based sauces.