As I turned on the shower it really was as hot as Ruth had said, and combined with the pressure, soothing in a way I can't remember since early January - yes no proper hot shower since our last night in Bangkok. I felt the dust and the soot run off me, the water was actually black; I blew my nose into my hand - black and disgusting too. 36 hours of travelling running off and out of me. We had set off from Darjeeling for our last adventure in India, happy to drop below 2000m again, shed the fleeces and enjoy the heat, but then - one delayed train; 9 hours spent sitting on a dirty mosquito infested platform; an involuntary overnight train journey once the train arrived; coach full of agitated, mainly male, passengers and the accumulated waste (and rodents) of having departed from the other end of the country; night-time harassment of Ruth by some disgusting, poor specimen of a man; rest of night spent sleepless and scared; life-threatening journey up the half-finished mountain road at uncomfortable speed whilst breathing dust and diesel all the way up there; arrive into yet another noisy and polluted hill-station; despair and tiredness, a runny nose.
At this point we decided to throw in some more money than the budget allowed and we got a private taxi to our destination, still not knowing whether it was going to get any better but trusting good advice from friends. As the city subsided behind us the countryside opened up; it seemed the day would most likely end alright and Ruth fell asleep in the back seat. As we drove across the Meghalayan plateau towards Cherrapunjee I was lazily enjoying the stunning scenery, with vast valleys dropping off the sides of the road steeply, and the beautiful Khasi villages lining the road.
After arriving, and after THAT shower, we sat looking out over the misty hills rising up from the Bangladeshi plains with the sun setting in the west whilst sipping tea. We were clean and content, and once again this amazing country of contrasts had saved us. Travelling India requires endurance; you don't just move from one amazing place to the next, the in-between can sometimes be enough to book an early departure out of the country. But if one endures the hassle, the dust, the pollution, the stares, the poverty, the begging, and the indecent men, you always get your reward - it is just how it works. It was as if Mother India wanted to remind us one last time before heading home that if you persist here, if you see through the dirt, then she is all too easy to fall in love with.
And what a reward Meghalaya is!!! A land of bees and butterflies, tucked away between Assam and Bangladesh and well off the beaten track in India. It is where the women rule, following a matrilineal tradition where husbands and children take the surname of the mother. Khasi is the main language and the people, from a Burmese/Chinese background, give wide smiles as they greet you with a 'Khublei' - hello in Khasi.
We were here to explore the living root bridges that Jackson, from ANET, had told us about. These amazing structures are created from Banyan trees; trees whose roots grow above ground as additional support and water source, and these roots have been trained across rivers as wide as 30m creating incredible 'living bridges'. The tradition of guiding the roots goes back hundreds of years and Dennis, whom we were staying with, discovered them only 15 years ago whilst walking in the area. Before then the locals simply considered them as a convenient way to cross the rivers which, during the monsoon, become huge roaring masses of water - Cherrapunjee has the Guinness World Record for the highest annual rainfall and the area is known as the 'Scotland of the East'.
Still, the area gets very few visitors and we felt like superstars when walking through the villages with children pointing, smiling and running up to us; shocked when we greeted them in Khasi! Dennis' guesthouse is perched on a ridge in Laitkynsew high above the valley, so after a day of exploring the largely Christian community and enjoying the views, we packed a small overnight bag before heading down into the jungle to explore the bridges - spending the night in Nongriat on the valley floor.
2227 very steep steps take you down to a string of villages along the river where life is as peaceful as it gets. Busy honey bees buzz all around you (the area is famous for the honey), thousands of butterflies flutter between trees, beautiful women give you wide red betel nut infused smiles as you pass, strong men carry large, wonderfully smelling, sacks of bay leaves heading back up the steep steps, in the distance brown sheer faces of limestone shoot up from the jungle and rivers pierce the green landscape. We sweated as we climbed up and down the humid paths and then cooled off in crystal clear river pools trapped between huge boulders. The bridges are completely like something out of Lord of the Rings and some of the most beautiful built things I've seen, spanning rivers and generations, and showing off human ingenuity and ability to live alongside nature.
That night, whilst sharing stories with a permanent Israeli street musician traveller, we kept hearing loud horn like noises that Adil claimed came from a small amphibian - we set off to find out the source. Adil took us down below the famous double-decker bridge and gave us a 'leg-up' into this water filled hollow in the rock where a tiny purple frog was sat inflating its cheeks and giving off an almighty amplified croak. Laughing, we returned to swapping stories about the best off-the-beaten track destinations; I think Adil will head for the Andamans next!
The next morning, over breakfast, we got to know Byron and his father, now 76, who last year carried a fridge/freezer all the way down the 2227 steps on his head. This is not the first time we've met a fitter-than-average OAP whilst out in the most primitive villages - their peaceful and healthy, though hard, lives seem to be the key to a long life! With this in mind we set out to trek back up the steps.
On our last day in this incredible place we went for lunch in the village after a morning spent reading and lazing in the sun. More smiles and polite pointing greeted the foreigners whilst we tried to make our food order understood; pork fat in gravy with paratha and meat pakoras was served. We smiled, ate, paid and left - yum.
When stepping back out the local church group was getting ready for an outdoor service, so we stayed to enjoy the enthusiastic singing. Before we knew it, we had been ushered to sit down, been given a Khasi hymn book and were attempting to sing along. Not wanting to be rude we stayed the whole service, which was 2 1/2 hour long and first involved some very beautiful singing but then proceeded to an hour of the preacher essentially shouting the word of Jesus to his increasingly fidgety audience. The service then ended in a number of American inspired healings before half the congregation rushed up to us to ensure we came back for dinner. A lovely dinner followed, although we had to eat pork fat for a second time that day, with the most gorgeous children fighting over showing us around whilst our kind hosts were curious to find out as much as they could about us.
It's now time to leave this country of mad contrasts, and the idea of seeing our families and friends at home soon again is beginning to feel real - we've missed them! Leaving Meghalaya means going back down that road, filling our lungs with dirt and fumes. Leaving Meghalya more importantly also means adding another magical experience to the diary; a totally different India with its mesmerising landscapes, its tangible history, fascinating culture and people who so warmly invite us into their world, so distant from our own. Our experience here has reminded us that new discoveries, even in today's society with its ever-increasing population, is possible.
