We were approached immediately by the tuk-tuk driver from yesterday, who wanted to charge twice the going rate for a ride to Ghandi (Pronounced gaaaandi)Gate, as we were negotiating a cyclo rider offered the same distance for half the going rate. Of course, we exploited the poor man and the two fat westerners were being cycled around by on old man on a bicycle.
At the Pakistan border. Well the bus stop anyway.
The exploited worker class
What was really disappointing was the expectation that the westerners were expected to get off and walk when travelling up the steep railway bridge incline. Sixty six percent of the load got off and pushed. The remaining 34%, like a queen, that she of course is, remained on the carriage.
She's loving it.
The final outcome, was Natahlie swearing she would nevertheless ride on one of those again, and we gave the cyclo driver twice what he asked for. Salve for a guilty mind?
We walked through the Old city, back towards the Golden Palace, but diverging into Jallianwala Bagh or memorial park Which is where, in 1919 a British officer ordered his soldiers to shoot on unarmed protesters. Four hundred men, women and children died and 1100 more were injured this day. Some of the bullet holes are still visible in the walls, as is the well into which hundreds jumped into to avoid the bullets, and died there instead.
It was one of the main focus of Nehru's and Ghandi's push for independence of India, not to come for another forty years. One of the men, Singh, who was a water server for the crowd, having seen the carnage, waited twenty years, to assisinate the governor of the Punjab, Sir Michael O'Dwyer Minister for India, in London in the '40s.
We are beginning to know what it must be like to be Nicole Kidman or Graeme Connors (go look him up)' as whilst we were at this park, at least twenty times we, more particularly the blonde one,was asked to be in family pics.
The short one is not Andrew.
Anyway the pressure was taken from us by the appearance of two Buddhist monks, so we could slip away, just kicking ourselves that we did not get our photos taken with them.
The mandatory Andrew and local Plod photo ....they love the Freddy...the officer's name was Singh. ABC has the Golden Temple head scarf on.
Siesta time, and then we were collected by our driver a full hour earlier than expected. So we arrived quite early, but were quickly touted to a shaded area near a food stand by John and his older brother Don (not their real names, but the ones they gave us), where onion Baji was the fare..and lots of water.
It was very hot...so the respite was appreciated. Then the first set of gates opened, foreigners and VIPs one side, and the seething ( but happily so) Indian ( Asian not American) masses the right side.
Then it was to the security checkpoint, where we were made to stand in the very very hot sun, for a running of the bulls type process to get past the local VIPs. You see, the VIPs had written passes for the whole family, but with women on one side men on the other the delay was matching the paperwork with the people of various genders. It started to get a bit 'heated' if that was possible. The richer class in India seem to have a far greater sense of entitlement and disdain for obstacles than we would see in our world.
Seeing a semi distressed white fellow, waving a passport to prove I was a foreigner, and because the border guard was fed up with the uppity family in front of us, waved me through to the pat down.
No bags, guns, knives or explosives were permitted.
On the Indian side of the border there are huge grandstands on each side of the road, VIPs closest to the gate, foreigners next, then the common folk.
Nathalie is the one on the right-
The crowd control was suburb. As you can see above, as an example, all the border guards are of large frame, definite presence, and quite intimidating. Their dress is immaculate and there is no denying their physique, indicated when the ceremony began. When they ask you to do something, you do it....immediately.
Not real good at estimating crowds, but probably half a grand final crowd of locals and maybe 200 foreigners, of which, there would have been 20-30 melting Caucasians. Directed to sit on a very hot concrete step, the water vendors did a roaring trade, at double the normal price, but we weren't about to dicker. Two and a half litres of fluid later the ceremony started.
In essence it is a theatrical production of 'thumbing your nose' at the Pakistan side of the border. Other than the size of the crowd, it's run basically the same on the Pakistan side. It reminds me of the Maori Hakka, where visual and bodily intimidation is used.
There was a competition of patriotic music from each side, chosen Indians get a chance to run holding an Indian flag to the gate. Then there was mass dancing of the women to patriotic music. The crowd being wound up, by the MC.
Then the soldiers, two by two march to the gate, in a goose stepping manner, but very fast and every so often the leg touches the forehead. Check out the YouTube videos....that's what it's like amazing, colourful. The flag was lowered, the gate closed, and the soldiers marched back.
Probably a quarter of the crowd
It has got to hurt...which is probably why we saw then limbering up before hand
Nathalie seemed to like this view?..
Flag lowering...
If I can work out a way of loading videos on to Blogger, we have some awesome ones to add.
The locals photographing, the foreigners photographing the locals
The driver we had today, was an anomaly, he was surly, made no attempt at communication, didn't want to be there,was unhelpful and subject to further enquiries, he may have rorted us by getting us there two hours too early. Sixty kph on the way there, 80 on the way back??
Back to the Shiraz Continental, for the third shower of the day, out for tea ther other side of Queens road, crossing which is truly frightening, and took at least three minutes to find a 'gap'. It's not like other places where the drivers will try to miss you...it is scary..so far so good.
Back to hotel for fourth shower, and bedie byes.
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