When we first made our plans to go to India last April, we decided we would leave Ammamma with family in the south while Padma, Joe, Xander and I did a bit of exploring in the north.

I had been dreaming of Kashmir for 37 odd years so that was my first choice. But it would be winter there and therefore we couldn’t do any trekking. After a bit of research I discovered that Gulmarg, a hill station a couple of hours away from Srinagar is regarded as one of Asia’s top ski destinations. None of us had downhill skied so we decided we’d travel to the Himalayas and learn to ski. 

I chose Gulmarg as our ski destination because according to all reports it gets a ridiculous amount of snow. I checked the snowfall history and always by December it would have about five feet of snow.

Every year but this year.

It was just plain bad luck that Gulmarg had no snow when we arrived. All of the locals were extremely concerned as it was devastating the ski and accommodation industries. Gulmarg sits at 2700 metres above sea level and was brown from the lack of snow. We had to take the gondola up to 3100 metres to find any snow and it was patchy at best. 

We enlisted the services of local ski instructor, Farooq, who was a ‘gold medal’ skier. Farooq was too modest to tell me what he won his gold medal in but I’m sure he was one of India’s finest. No doubt about it though he was gold medal instructor and guide.

Padma doesn’t take well to snow and the cold and as we soon discovered she didn’t take well to skiing either. But she was a trooper and tried it both days we were out. Farooq was incredibly patient and helpful with all of us. He wouldn’t let Padma lift a finger. On the second day he had to head down to the village to buy some gondola tickets. He left us to ski on our own for an hour. As late afternoon approached we decided to commence to hike across the valley and back to the gondola. Padma was feeling the effects of the altitude and set out before us as she was slower. She grabbed her skis and boots. She got 50 metres and then in the distance across the valley floor I saw Farooq in his red North Face shouting and waving his arms. We waved back and Padma continued. He shouted more and frantically waved his arms. He picked up his pace and finally met up with Padma and scolded her for trying to carry her own gear. He made her put it down and walk the rest of the way unencumbered with gear. ‘You do not worry,’ he kept saying to us. 

Farooq ‘You do not worry’ – our ski instructor and guide. He was from the local village of Tangmarg and was 28. He showed us photos of his grandfather who looked great at the age of 106.

It was around 5°C at 3200 metres where we skied. Almost too warm for us as we continually had to peel off layers. There was no tow rope or chair lift here so we had to walk up the hill after each descent. At that altitude we were puffed out after a few steps. 

On our second day of skiing, Xander fell on the ice and had a mild scrape on his hand. He didn’t make a fuss but just asked Mum for a bandage. Our guide, Farooq, and our friend, the chicken soup man, saw Padma fixing up Xander and insisted they help. They got some water to clean the wound and patched him up. Once Xander was mended the chicken soup man gave Xander a big hug. He was typical of most Kashmiris we met – very friendly, warm and quick to help out. 

In a word, the skiing was terrible. Horrible icy snow and not much of it. But we made due with what we had and after a couple of days we started to get the hang of it.

On Day 3 in Gulmarg we rode the gondola to the top of Kongdoori Mountain at about 4000 metres. We weren’t acclimated to the high elevation so we had to measure our steps. Behind us looms the ‘Line of Control’, the equivalent of Asia’s Berlin Wall. This line separates India from Pakistani-controlled parts of Kashmir.

The word ‘Kashmir’ is synonymous with ‘conflict’. In brief since 1947 there have been territorial disputes between the government of India, Pakistan and insurgent Kashmiri groups. Thousands have died during three wars and countless other periods of unrest. All has been calm though the last few years but the period of peace will no doubt be short-lived as the dispute is far from being resolved. I don’t use Facebook to share my political views and will continue to do that in terms of what we saw and learned about the Kashmir conflict and certainly visiting Kashmir as a tourist for six days doesn’t come anywhere close to helping me understand the conflict. 

Indian army barracks at the top of Kongdoori Mountain within spitting distance of the Line of Control.

The Gulmarg Gondola was completed in 2005 and is the world’s second highest cable car. We had to delay going up the second stage because of a ‘technical fault’ but eventually made it up. The cable car is run by electricity, which is hardly stable in Gulmarg. Several times we hung in the cars dangling. ‘You do not worry,’ Farooq would say. After a minute or so the generators kicked in and the journey would continue.

A pair of Rhesus monkeys was rummaging around the hotel. This one was drinking melted snow water while his (her?) mate was jumping up on the eaves of the hotel. They are pests in India and can be quite vicious. I kept my distance.

I’m thinking if we ever moved to India I could easily get a job as an English editor. How hard would it have been to just have someone proofread this sign before they painted it.

There are two things I want to say about this photo.

First, I cannot think of any hotel in the world where we have had better service than the Heevan Retreat of Gulmarg. This wasn’t a five-star hotel, it was just a basic place, but the service was five star. The staff were just absolutely and genuinely devoted to ensuring we were happy. They always greeted us with a warm smile and offered to help or get something for us. I don’t think it was because that’s their job, I think it’s because they were Kashmiris who by nature are keen to be kind.

Secondly, I noticed after the second day in Gulmarg that there were no women staff members. And I realised after leaving Kashmir that the only Kashmiri woman I interacted with was Insha on the flight over from Delhi. Everywhere we went in Kashmir we were served by men. In Gulmarg there’s a reason for that. No permanent residents are allowed in Gulmarg and hotel staff come from outside villages and sleep in the hotels during their shifts. I don’t know why that should preclude women but it does as we saw no women staff in Gulmarg. Perhaps it’s a Kashmiri custom or an Islamic tradition.

It pays at time to complain.

We couldn’t afford the top hotel in Gulmarg so we went for a lesser hotel which seemed fine on arrival. It was rustic but had the character you would expect in the remote mountains. Joseph and Xander were in an adjoining room and we didn’t need a phone to reach them. We could just talk to them at normal voice level through the paper-thin wooden walls. None of that bothered us. I only ask for two things when I stay at a hotel – a good sleep and a good shower. As we soon discovered, a good shower was out of the question as we had no hot water and the room was just as cold as the outside temps. I called reception and they had someone look at it and said just run the water for two minutes. We ran it for five and still no hot water. It was evening and we weren’t fussed but I mentioned it a second time. I thought perhaps the hotel only offered morning hot water so I didn’t complain too loudly. But then I looked up the hotel’s website and they promised 24 hour hot water. In the morning there was still no hot water. I complain a third time and an hour later a fourth time. By the fifth time I went to reception and put on my angry face and demanded to speak to the manager. That rattled the man at reception and I could see him reaching for a new set of keys. He upgraded us to two very nice rooms on the ground floor – rooms with brick walls so we couldn’t hear the boys at all. And the rooms had 24-hour hot water. We were happy.

On the night of our departure, the hotel manager visited us during dinner and apologised profusely for the hot water issue and blamed it on a burst valve or something. He was extremely eager to keep us pleased. I had never threatened them with a bad TripAdvisor review but in the course of the conversation the manager and his sidekick did mention TripAdvisor so I knew they were playing up for a good review.

After dinner we returned to our room and a bellboy brought in a departure cake for us with ‘Sweet Memory’ written on in. Most of the hotel’s guest only stayed one night as they were mainly domestic tourists who probably could only stand a day of cold. The manager said we were special guests as we stayed three nights and as thanks they gave us the cake.

Cake or no cake, I had decided to give the hotel a five-star rating on TripAdvisor because the friendliness and overall hospitality of the staff made our stay most enjoyable.