The first thing we did today was relax in the sun, out in the orchard style setting of the Village guest house. What a place. I purposely did not take many photos or video because I wanted to leave it all to fond memories.
We were joined in the yard by two South Africans and a Swedish hippie who'd be staying there for 8 weeks because the location of Matuera served as a good home base in the centre of other known villages in the area. He informed us about a gathering of the rainbow people in a place Khir Ganga. Once again, another reference to the rainbow people. We were getting closer to figuring out who and what these characters were all about.
We had some breakfast and then willingly did some chores we'd not been able to do for quite some time. Things like hand washing our clothes and cutting goblin like toe nails. It was such a warming environment that we smoked some early breaths of charas and puttered around until mid day. Then it was time to go and see what was so special about the village of Malana. As usual, we had heard about it from other travelers.
The story behind Malana is more of a legendary tale that goes back to the days of the greeks, when Alexander the great and his soldiers are said to have taken refuge in the village and then proceeded to fornicate with the locals, making the inhabitants of Malana today the descendents of Greek warriors. That's how the story goes. And it's a pretty good story, however it does come with some silly but strictly enforced rules for outsiders who visit the village. Ironically, it is these rules, along with the legend that attract people like us to seek the place out. The first rule is that outsiders are not allowed to enter the village and walk on the grounds until they are invited in by a local. Once inside the village of Malana, outsiders are not allowed to touch the villagers or any of their belongings. This includes the walls of houses. If you happen to break one of these rules you'll have to pay a fine and your money will go toward the purchase of a goat, which will be sacrificed in a ceremony to purify whatever it was that you touched. Despite how ridiculous it all may sound, it helps to understand that Malana is one of the oldest democratic societies in the world and although it has subjected itself in small ways to modernization, the villagers work hard to maintain their detailed traditions.
Jon and I hopped on our bikes and rode to the gates of a hydro electric complex that guarded the road to Malana. We had to show our passports to get in, and then carried on along the developed road until we reached a check point where we had to park our bikes and walk it from there. It used to take about 4 days to reach Malana, but now thanks (or no thanks) to the hydro electric project it only took 4 hours. The journey on foot started on a road that was used for hydro electric vehicles only. We hadn't been walking more than 5 minutes when we were greeted by 4 dogs - a mother, a father and two puppies about 10 months old. After a brief stop to say 'hello' they followed along side us as we continued our walk. When the road ended, a long climb up a twisting man-made staircase began. It consisted of natural white marble stones that were staggeringly beautiful but looked hard on the knees. There was a small group of people at the base of the path who had just returned from Malana. They said it would take 1 and a half to 2 hours to reach the top. By now it was 3 o'clock, which meant we only had a few more hours left until dark, so we had no choice but to grind the shit outta this mountain path.
Fifty minutes later we stood looking down into the valley that held Malana. I was proud that we hoofed it up there so fast, but even more than that I was proud of the dogs. The mother and one of her pups had journeyed all the way up with us. The other young one didn't want to do it so the Papa dog took him back.
We figured that the dogs were our invitation into the village. They practically led us in, so we entered without talking to anyone. In terms of appearance I didn't know what to expect, but I didn't expect what I saw. The place was trashed with garbage and animal mud everywhere. It was not pretty or sacred looking at all. We saw only woman and children at first and they displayed a silent arrogance to us that made me laugh. We walked through the village until we saw a big house that was painted with more color than the rest. Up until that point we hadn't engaged in any conversation with anybody. It was evident that this house was a guest house of sorts and the people that ran it were more open to foreigners in the village. They guys there were friendly and let us sit on the veranda that overlooked the village. We chilled out there and had a meal while our guide dogs took a nap. Jon befriended a young local who seemed drunk. He brought out a photo album and showed us pictures of a tremendous snow storm that rocked the village some time ago (I don't recall when). Then he tried to sell us some 'cream charas' - which is regarded as the best quality hash in the world. It is produced only in Malana and therefore makes the village sacred in another way. 'Cream' should typically sell for 1000 - 1,800 rupees, but nowadays it's more like 2000 for a tula (10 grams). We had to decline for many reasons.
On our way out of the village we met an Indian man who provided his personal explanation of Malana and it's people: "For them there is no India or North America, or any other part of the world. There is only Malana. They believe they are better than you because of their history and because you westerners eat the holy cow." I loved his answer when we asked him what would happen if we had to pay a fine of 1000 rupees but didn't have the money (because we didn't).
"They will most likely kill you" he said without a hint of humor. And with that, Jon and I, along with the two dogs, walked ourselves down the mountain path in 40 minutes. On our way back to the bikes the sky cracked open again and began a light assault of raindrops. Eventually we found the papa dog and the other puppy waiting and wagging tails under shelter. The papa dog respectfully walked us to our bikes and then we were back on the road, coasting through puddles on our way back to Jari. We rode out of the storm and into town with time to buy vegetables and check email. But once again we were forced to make the challenging drive in the dark, up the narrow path to our guest house in Matuera. This time though, it was muddy from the rain, and this time I ate dirt. Rather than go off the edge, I turned into the hill and my bike did a face-plant into the mud. Other than the shock of it, both me and Laura-Jean were ok. As I picked her up a young boy appeared out of nowhere, smiling from ear to ear. "Did you see that wipe out?" I said to him excitedly. He didn't understand. He just kept smiling. I made it back to the Village guest house, parked the dirty bike and went inside to warm up with soup and a sandwich.
If you're curious about Malana check this out.
Read Day 36
We were joined in the yard by two South Africans and a Swedish hippie who'd be staying there for 8 weeks because the location of Matuera served as a good home base in the centre of other known villages in the area. He informed us about a gathering of the rainbow people in a place Khir Ganga. Once again, another reference to the rainbow people. We were getting closer to figuring out who and what these characters were all about.
We had some breakfast and then willingly did some chores we'd not been able to do for quite some time. Things like hand washing our clothes and cutting goblin like toe nails. It was such a warming environment that we smoked some early breaths of charas and puttered around until mid day. Then it was time to go and see what was so special about the village of Malana. As usual, we had heard about it from other travelers.
The story behind Malana is more of a legendary tale that goes back to the days of the greeks, when Alexander the great and his soldiers are said to have taken refuge in the village and then proceeded to fornicate with the locals, making the inhabitants of Malana today the descendents of Greek warriors. That's how the story goes. And it's a pretty good story, however it does come with some silly but strictly enforced rules for outsiders who visit the village. Ironically, it is these rules, along with the legend that attract people like us to seek the place out. The first rule is that outsiders are not allowed to enter the village and walk on the grounds until they are invited in by a local. Once inside the village of Malana, outsiders are not allowed to touch the villagers or any of their belongings. This includes the walls of houses. If you happen to break one of these rules you'll have to pay a fine and your money will go toward the purchase of a goat, which will be sacrificed in a ceremony to purify whatever it was that you touched. Despite how ridiculous it all may sound, it helps to understand that Malana is one of the oldest democratic societies in the world and although it has subjected itself in small ways to modernization, the villagers work hard to maintain their detailed traditions.
Jon and I hopped on our bikes and rode to the gates of a hydro electric complex that guarded the road to Malana. We had to show our passports to get in, and then carried on along the developed road until we reached a check point where we had to park our bikes and walk it from there. It used to take about 4 days to reach Malana, but now thanks (or no thanks) to the hydro electric project it only took 4 hours. The journey on foot started on a road that was used for hydro electric vehicles only. We hadn't been walking more than 5 minutes when we were greeted by 4 dogs - a mother, a father and two puppies about 10 months old. After a brief stop to say 'hello' they followed along side us as we continued our walk. When the road ended, a long climb up a twisting man-made staircase began. It consisted of natural white marble stones that were staggeringly beautiful but looked hard on the knees. There was a small group of people at the base of the path who had just returned from Malana. They said it would take 1 and a half to 2 hours to reach the top. By now it was 3 o'clock, which meant we only had a few more hours left until dark, so we had no choice but to grind the shit outta this mountain path.
Fifty minutes later we stood looking down into the valley that held Malana. I was proud that we hoofed it up there so fast, but even more than that I was proud of the dogs. The mother and one of her pups had journeyed all the way up with us. The other young one didn't want to do it so the Papa dog took him back.
We figured that the dogs were our invitation into the village. They practically led us in, so we entered without talking to anyone. In terms of appearance I didn't know what to expect, but I didn't expect what I saw. The place was trashed with garbage and animal mud everywhere. It was not pretty or sacred looking at all. We saw only woman and children at first and they displayed a silent arrogance to us that made me laugh. We walked through the village until we saw a big house that was painted with more color than the rest. Up until that point we hadn't engaged in any conversation with anybody. It was evident that this house was a guest house of sorts and the people that ran it were more open to foreigners in the village. They guys there were friendly and let us sit on the veranda that overlooked the village. We chilled out there and had a meal while our guide dogs took a nap. Jon befriended a young local who seemed drunk. He brought out a photo album and showed us pictures of a tremendous snow storm that rocked the village some time ago (I don't recall when). Then he tried to sell us some 'cream charas' - which is regarded as the best quality hash in the world. It is produced only in Malana and therefore makes the village sacred in another way. 'Cream' should typically sell for 1000 - 1,800 rupees, but nowadays it's more like 2000 for a tula (10 grams). We had to decline for many reasons.
On our way out of the village we met an Indian man who provided his personal explanation of Malana and it's people: "For them there is no India or North America, or any other part of the world. There is only Malana. They believe they are better than you because of their history and because you westerners eat the holy cow." I loved his answer when we asked him what would happen if we had to pay a fine of 1000 rupees but didn't have the money (because we didn't).
"They will most likely kill you" he said without a hint of humor. And with that, Jon and I, along with the two dogs, walked ourselves down the mountain path in 40 minutes. On our way back to the bikes the sky cracked open again and began a light assault of raindrops. Eventually we found the papa dog and the other puppy waiting and wagging tails under shelter. The papa dog respectfully walked us to our bikes and then we were back on the road, coasting through puddles on our way back to Jari. We rode out of the storm and into town with time to buy vegetables and check email. But once again we were forced to make the challenging drive in the dark, up the narrow path to our guest house in Matuera. This time though, it was muddy from the rain, and this time I ate dirt. Rather than go off the edge, I turned into the hill and my bike did a face-plant into the mud. Other than the shock of it, both me and Laura-Jean were ok. As I picked her up a young boy appeared out of nowhere, smiling from ear to ear. "Did you see that wipe out?" I said to him excitedly. He didn't understand. He just kept smiling. I made it back to the Village guest house, parked the dirty bike and went inside to warm up with soup and a sandwich.
If you're curious about Malana check this out.
Read Day 36
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