For the last five border crossing I had been questioned about the motorcycle’s engine number. No such number is mentioned in the vehicle registration documents, neither in the Carnet papers. So I assumed that I didn’t have any, with the customary reply being an accepting OK. But for the Indian custom this qualified as a “big problem!!!” I had to wait half a day while they figured out how to deal with the situation. It was tiring and boring, a good day wasted, and I arrived Amritsar quite late where the first face I saw was of a Swiss guy that left the border as I entered it. He asked about what had taken me so long. I told him about the hassle of not having an engine number. Then he took a 10 second look at the machine. “There it is”, he said.For the last five border crossing I had been questioned about the motorcycle’s engine number. No such number is mentioned in the vehicle registration documents, neither in the Carnet papers. So I assumed that I didn’t have any, with the customary reply being an accepting OK. But for the Indian custom this qualified as a “big problem!!!” I had to wait half a day while they figured out how to deal with the situation. It was tiring and boring, a good day wasted, and I arrived Amritsar quite late where the first face I saw was of a Swiss guy that left the border as I entered it. He asked about what had taken me so long. I told him about the hassle of not having an engine number. Then he took a 10 second look at the machine. “There it is”, he said.
Why is he looking at us that way? And what is that barbecue fork doing in his hand?

I was looking forward to my first rickshaw ride. A young pedal pusher took me to a bookstore, to a supplier of electric socket adapters, and then to the Golden Temple. While I was inside, a policeman told him to move the rickshaw to the other side of the jam-packed street. So when I came out and did not see him where I expected him to be, I hijacked another in assumption that the young man had run away with my new book and adapter. Nevertheless, in the afternoon he showed up again at the hotel. He gave me my items, said he had been waiting outside the temple for three hours, and that he was very upset for loosing me. Alright, I though, I’d better give him a sympathy ride. The problem was that I did not really want to go anywhere, so I figured that a ride to the kiosk would be sympathy enough. He pedaled down the street while chain-smoking, emphasizing how upset he was. I sensed that something was about to happen. He asked if I wanted to go to a restaurant. No. What about a hair cut? No. Shaving? No. You must shave…we must go somewhere… I have not eaten all day… I’M VERY, VERY UPSET!!!

A roadside break with the monkeys

Everybody warned me against driving to McLeod Ganj. This time of year it would be very cold up there. Cold compared to what? Hmm, I went anyway and enjoyed day temperatures above the summer average at home. Besides, it was a really nice drive, especially the last couple of hours. For those who do not know, McLeod Ganj is the commando center of Dalai Lama and a group of bald men in orange. I envy them. It must be very refreshing and comfortable walking around town in your evening gown. I wish I could do it in Tromsø without being arrested.

McLeod Ganj: The bars on the window is not to keep the monks in, but to keep the monkeys out

Chandigarh is a major city that on paper looks interesting because it was designed as recent as last century by a Swiss architect. I dreamt of clean avenues with metropolitan cafés. But don’t be fooled. Just imagine Zurich full of cows… I planned an early start to avoid Delhi and make it all the way to Agra to celebrate New Year Eve. It was an ambitious plan, and I would need the daylight from dusk till dawn to make it. But two dudes were outside the hotel, seemingly waiting for me, and as I was ready to go I discovered that the rear tire was flat. One of the men approached, went down on his knees, and without any searching he pulled a black spike out of the rubber. Oh, you’ve punctured, he said. But hey, this is you lucky day Mister; we have a tire repair shop and can help you. Thanks, I replied, but you’ve done quite enough already.

The hope of celebrating New Year Eve in Agra was very faded when this photo was taken