TRAVEL /HOLIDAYS SPECIAL...The do nothing vacation

The do nothing vacation

A riverside hamlet in the middle of overcrowded Kullu district offers sedate strolls, café lounging and memorable food for those who don’t want much on their ‘to-do’ lists

As a journalist with just a few vacation days, any time I leave home, the impulse is to maximise every waking moment. But this time, I needed a vacation like the old times, before white water rafting and river crossing became leisure activities. I was looking for a holiday with minimal interaction with people, no late-night karaoke, no group safaris, no adventure camps, no meditation classes, no temple hopping and no waiting outside a restaurant for a table with a bunch of monkey-capped vacationers. I looked for places that were boring, had practically nothing to do, that no one had heard about and that provided ample scope for supine positions. As puzzling as it may sound I chose Himachal’s most popular and visited district, Kullu. I boarded a bus to Manali packed with newly-married couples and a few wailing babies who I was happy to bid goodbye to at Bhuntar, where the fierce Beas that comes from touristy Manali meets the tranquil Parvati that comes from little-known Manatalai. From Bhuntar, I travelled alongside the Parvati with small groups of Israelis for company. Almost 40-odd km later, after crossing a few sleepy villages, the humongous Malana Hydro-Electric Project, sign boards in Hebrew welcomed me to Kasol. With fewer than 4,000 people in the town, cheap accommodation most of which faces a clean, gurgling river, coniferous forests, snow-capped mountains and practically no place to “see”, Kasol is the perfect ‘do-nothing’ vacation spot. A walk to discover the town ended in 15 minutes. All I could spot were signboards of homestays and guesthouses that offer rooms with hot showers for Rs 150, family-owned restaurants offering Israeli “continatal” and Italian food, momo and thukpa stalls, forex and travel agents offering travel services to Arambol in Goa, where the Israelis shift base to between October to February. There were also general stores stocked with everything from tahini, olives, fresh mozzarella and zatar spice mix to Nutella, sour punk and fancy glass bongs. On my first day there, I did little beyond eating and staring at the river. Mornings would mean staring at the empty street and wolfing down massive portions of eggs, butter, toast and hash browns or shakshuka prepared by teenaged Himachali or Nepali cooks who are paid less than Rs 12,000 a month. Early afternoons were spent lolling about in a conifer forest, drinking water straight from the river and munching on apple crumble or carrot cake from the popular German bakery run by a local who claims to have a German teacher. Afternoons were spent buying hand-painted stone chillums and playing pool at artist-run cafeterias that serve horrible tea but some outstanding fries and coffee. Evenings I spent in the company of friendly Israelis eating steaming momos or freshly-rolled noodles at one of the Tibetan run stalls by the river. Nights would mean sipping on vodka for hours and heading back to one of the restaurants for a dinner of wood fire oven pizzas, schnitzel or grilled fresh trout. The routine for the remaining five days was similar: calm and unruffled. The peace of Kasol subtly worked its way into my bones so much so that I didn’t snap at anyone for a week when I returned to Mumbai despite being stuck in the city’s annoying traffic jams and being provoked by slow wait staff at restaurants. Yoshita Sengupta dna130305