About 9 on the morning of the 10th I left Silchar on a sumo (an SUV; I was told that early Indian SUVs were called Sumos to emphasize that they were tough, like Japanese sumo wrestlers, and that the name has stuck to SUVs used for public shared transport) bound for Aizawl, more than 100 miles south in Mizoram state. The ride was comfortable, with only five passengers, including a 75 year old American named Ray who lives in Maui after many years in Aspen. We crossed flat terrain for about an hour and a half before we reached the Mizoram border, just as we entered the hills. The friendly state border guards (few other Indian citizens other than the indigenous people of Mizoram are allowed into the state; they need permits) took photos of us two Americans. Mizoram apparently means "Land of the Hill People." The people are the same ethnicity, though speaking a different dialect, as the people of Chin state (which I had visited three months earlier) in Burma next door.
We drove up into the hills, forested but dry this time of year long after the monsoon. At first whole hillsides were covered with groves of slender betel nut trees. There weren't many houses. We made a half hour lunch stop about noon at Kolasib, the first town we reached. I ate chicken, rice, and vegetables in a wooden building. There are churches in town and people looked Tibetan or southeast Asian to me. Signs on the streets are all in the Roman alphabet, with none in Indian alphabets. We drove mostly along ridges on a new asphalt road, generally ascending, with good views. The sky was hazy. About halfway to Aizawl the road deteriorated, though it was still paved. We traveled more slowly. We saw few other cars all day. Besides Kolasib, where we stopped for lunch, there was only one other town on the way. Both were on hilltops. There weren't many villages, either.
We reached Aizawl, the state capital, strung along several hilltops and the valleys among them, about 3:30. My guidebooks give its elevation at 3700-4100 feet. My altimeter indicated 3300. All could be true. The sun was out and the air felt cool. Aizawl has 275,000 of Mizoram's 900,000 people, and is a modern town. The streets were clean. Though the traffic through the narrow streets was heavy, there was no honking of horns. Indians in the rest of the country have a lot to learn from this tiny state. People were well dressed in western clothing. I saw very few Indian looking people. After checking into a hotel on a narrow street, in fact more of an alley than a street, Ray and I walked around a bit, and then had dinner after dark. There were lots of good English speakers in town. At night in my hotel room I could hear hymns being sung.
I spent most of the next day walking around Aizawl, a hilly town, starting about 8, with many steep ascents and descents. One narrow path near my hotel had great views north over the building-covered hills of the city. I was surprised to see pig pens just off this path near the city center. I came across lots of friendly kids. Later I walked with Ray to a small museum with, among other things, head hunting weapons. A painting at the museum depicts severed heads hanging in trees at a village entrance. Just below the painting is a drawing of a man famous for composing hymns. I met another tourist in the museum, a Dutch guy who had lived in Calcutta for six years. He and Ray were the only other westerners I saw in Mizoram.
Next door to the museum is a sign proclaiming that it marks the site of the tent of the first missionaries in Mizoram They were, I think, Welsh and set up their tent in 1896. Nearby is the office and bungalow of Mizoram's Chief Minister (head of the state government) and a huge modern Presbyterian church with a terrace affording great views of the city. The hills are covered with buildings, some five and more stories high, many brightly painted. After lunch we spent some time looking for the state tourist office and finally found it at the south end of the city. We walked back along narrow streets through heavy late afternoon traffic to the center. There wasn't much to see in Aizawl other than views across the hills, but it was a clean and friendly place.
The next morning shortly after 9 I left on a sumo bound for the town of Champhai, 120 miles to the east, near the Burmese border. It took more than eight hours to get there, crossing five rivers and five ridges on the way. The sumo held only three passengers when we left, though we picked up three more as we slowly made our way through heavy traffic to the eastern end of the city, taking about an hour just for that. We had a great view back to the city as we left. The sumo stopped for a prayer at the outskirts of town. We all bowed our heads listening to the prayer, said "Amen," and then were off.
The trip from Aizawl to Champhai was comfortable and the hilly scenery interesting and often beautiful. We passed forest, with lots of bamboo, and slash and burn fields cut out of the forest. Some of the hillsides were black from having just been burned, and some were still smoking, with one still on fire. We saw some houses, usually with bamboo walls, but not many. The towns all had churches. The road was paved and there was little traffic. At spots people were working on the road, men women and children, maybe as young as eight years old, breaking rocks into gravel with hammers. Our jovial driver often talked and laughed with an older woman in the front seat. I was in the back.
From the outskirts of Aizawl the sumo, heading east, dropped 3000 feet to a river and then climbed to Seling, our first town, on a ridge further east. Two passengers got off there. The sumo continued east, or maybe southeast, down to another river and then up to another ridge and the town of Saitual (or maybe Keifung), then down to a third river and up to another ridge and the town of Kawlkuhl, where we stopped for lunch about 2. I ate fried rice with a little beef for lunch, and it was pretty good.
After lunch the sumo headed south, down to another river at about 2800 feet elevation and then up to another ridge and the town of Khawzawl, at about 4200 feet elevation. This is a very pretty area. The sumo then headed southeast, downhill once again, crossing our fifth river of the day and then northeast up to Champhai, arriving about 5:30. The orange-red sun had set over the hills not long before we reached Champhai. My altimeter showed Champhai at 5000 feet while a tourist brochure I had said it was at 5500 feet. Both could be correct. It is a hilly city, as are all towns in Mizoram. They are located on the sites of villages sited on hilltops for security reasons in the headhunting days.
I was let off in the city center and walked down to the tourist lodge, 300 or 400 feet lower, at the outskirts of town. I got a ride for the last part. I was lucky to get the last room in the somewhat run down, but friendly tourist lodge. A very friendly group of women in a self-help group from Saiha in the south of Mizoram were also staying there. I took about 15 photos with them, several group photos and then individual photos with each one, or nearly each one. I had a good dinner there and a hot water bucket bath.
Birds were chirping in the trees around the tourist lodge the next morning. I ate breakfast and just hung out at that pretty place, with red and white flowering trees, until 10. A guy staying at the lodge invited me to a prayer meeting some distance away, but I declined. He told me 3000 people would be there. The manager moved me into a much better room, an upstairs room with a Gideon Bible and windows affording pleasant views. There is a famous (at least in Mizoram and in Chin state across the border in Burma) lake five or ten miles to the southeast, right on the border, but it proved difficult or expensive to get there, so I gave that up. A guy from Aizawl and staying in a little bungalow on the grounds of the tourist lodge with his wife and child gave me a ride up to the town center, saving me the climb up. He told me he works for a subsidiary of the State Bank of India handling insurance and was in Champhai for business, but brought his wife and child along.
I bought a sumo ticket to Lunglei, at a cost of 700 rupees (about $11), for the next day and spent the day wandering around town. In the town center women sold their wares on the sidewalk, including fish, still alive, in pans of water, some sort of black shellfish, big pea pods and many other vegetables. Some of the friendly women vendors asked me to take photos of them. The stores and other buildings in the center were fairly modern. There wasn't much traffic and I saw several flowering trees in town.
I walked up to near the town's highest point (cell phone towers behind a fence occupied the highest point) and my altimeter registered 5500 feet. I headed west along the ridge to the edge of town, with flowering trees and good views further west. I met four little girls who spoke good English and disapproved of the behavior of some rambunctious little boys. One told me they were "naughty boys." She told me I was "very long," and when she asked and I told her how old I was, she said, "very old." When I left to head back to the center of town, she said, "Come back soon!"
I passed several churches and a bank with a sign saying "Will a toy airplane take your daughter to Stanford? This birthday, gift her a secure future as well." I stopped for lunch in a very friendly little restaurant, a family operation, with I was plied with jiaozu, noodles, and lots of green tea, while watching Miley Cyrus videos. After lunch I walked to the eastern end of town and sat at a church for a while, before making my way back to the center and then down to the tourist lodge. The sun set behind a hill about ten minutes after 5.
We drove up into the hills, forested but dry this time of year long after the monsoon. At first whole hillsides were covered with groves of slender betel nut trees. There weren't many houses. We made a half hour lunch stop about noon at Kolasib, the first town we reached. I ate chicken, rice, and vegetables in a wooden building. There are churches in town and people looked Tibetan or southeast Asian to me. Signs on the streets are all in the Roman alphabet, with none in Indian alphabets. We drove mostly along ridges on a new asphalt road, generally ascending, with good views. The sky was hazy. About halfway to Aizawl the road deteriorated, though it was still paved. We traveled more slowly. We saw few other cars all day. Besides Kolasib, where we stopped for lunch, there was only one other town on the way. Both were on hilltops. There weren't many villages, either.
We reached Aizawl, the state capital, strung along several hilltops and the valleys among them, about 3:30. My guidebooks give its elevation at 3700-4100 feet. My altimeter indicated 3300. All could be true. The sun was out and the air felt cool. Aizawl has 275,000 of Mizoram's 900,000 people, and is a modern town. The streets were clean. Though the traffic through the narrow streets was heavy, there was no honking of horns. Indians in the rest of the country have a lot to learn from this tiny state. People were well dressed in western clothing. I saw very few Indian looking people. After checking into a hotel on a narrow street, in fact more of an alley than a street, Ray and I walked around a bit, and then had dinner after dark. There were lots of good English speakers in town. At night in my hotel room I could hear hymns being sung.
I spent most of the next day walking around Aizawl, a hilly town, starting about 8, with many steep ascents and descents. One narrow path near my hotel had great views north over the building-covered hills of the city. I was surprised to see pig pens just off this path near the city center. I came across lots of friendly kids. Later I walked with Ray to a small museum with, among other things, head hunting weapons. A painting at the museum depicts severed heads hanging in trees at a village entrance. Just below the painting is a drawing of a man famous for composing hymns. I met another tourist in the museum, a Dutch guy who had lived in Calcutta for six years. He and Ray were the only other westerners I saw in Mizoram.
Next door to the museum is a sign proclaiming that it marks the site of the tent of the first missionaries in Mizoram They were, I think, Welsh and set up their tent in 1896. Nearby is the office and bungalow of Mizoram's Chief Minister (head of the state government) and a huge modern Presbyterian church with a terrace affording great views of the city. The hills are covered with buildings, some five and more stories high, many brightly painted. After lunch we spent some time looking for the state tourist office and finally found it at the south end of the city. We walked back along narrow streets through heavy late afternoon traffic to the center. There wasn't much to see in Aizawl other than views across the hills, but it was a clean and friendly place.
The next morning shortly after 9 I left on a sumo bound for the town of Champhai, 120 miles to the east, near the Burmese border. It took more than eight hours to get there, crossing five rivers and five ridges on the way. The sumo held only three passengers when we left, though we picked up three more as we slowly made our way through heavy traffic to the eastern end of the city, taking about an hour just for that. We had a great view back to the city as we left. The sumo stopped for a prayer at the outskirts of town. We all bowed our heads listening to the prayer, said "Amen," and then were off.
The trip from Aizawl to Champhai was comfortable and the hilly scenery interesting and often beautiful. We passed forest, with lots of bamboo, and slash and burn fields cut out of the forest. Some of the hillsides were black from having just been burned, and some were still smoking, with one still on fire. We saw some houses, usually with bamboo walls, but not many. The towns all had churches. The road was paved and there was little traffic. At spots people were working on the road, men women and children, maybe as young as eight years old, breaking rocks into gravel with hammers. Our jovial driver often talked and laughed with an older woman in the front seat. I was in the back.
From the outskirts of Aizawl the sumo, heading east, dropped 3000 feet to a river and then climbed to Seling, our first town, on a ridge further east. Two passengers got off there. The sumo continued east, or maybe southeast, down to another river and then up to another ridge and the town of Saitual (or maybe Keifung), then down to a third river and up to another ridge and the town of Kawlkuhl, where we stopped for lunch about 2. I ate fried rice with a little beef for lunch, and it was pretty good.
After lunch the sumo headed south, down to another river at about 2800 feet elevation and then up to another ridge and the town of Khawzawl, at about 4200 feet elevation. This is a very pretty area. The sumo then headed southeast, downhill once again, crossing our fifth river of the day and then northeast up to Champhai, arriving about 5:30. The orange-red sun had set over the hills not long before we reached Champhai. My altimeter showed Champhai at 5000 feet while a tourist brochure I had said it was at 5500 feet. Both could be correct. It is a hilly city, as are all towns in Mizoram. They are located on the sites of villages sited on hilltops for security reasons in the headhunting days.
I was let off in the city center and walked down to the tourist lodge, 300 or 400 feet lower, at the outskirts of town. I got a ride for the last part. I was lucky to get the last room in the somewhat run down, but friendly tourist lodge. A very friendly group of women in a self-help group from Saiha in the south of Mizoram were also staying there. I took about 15 photos with them, several group photos and then individual photos with each one, or nearly each one. I had a good dinner there and a hot water bucket bath.
Birds were chirping in the trees around the tourist lodge the next morning. I ate breakfast and just hung out at that pretty place, with red and white flowering trees, until 10. A guy staying at the lodge invited me to a prayer meeting some distance away, but I declined. He told me 3000 people would be there. The manager moved me into a much better room, an upstairs room with a Gideon Bible and windows affording pleasant views. There is a famous (at least in Mizoram and in Chin state across the border in Burma) lake five or ten miles to the southeast, right on the border, but it proved difficult or expensive to get there, so I gave that up. A guy from Aizawl and staying in a little bungalow on the grounds of the tourist lodge with his wife and child gave me a ride up to the town center, saving me the climb up. He told me he works for a subsidiary of the State Bank of India handling insurance and was in Champhai for business, but brought his wife and child along.
I bought a sumo ticket to Lunglei, at a cost of 700 rupees (about $11), for the next day and spent the day wandering around town. In the town center women sold their wares on the sidewalk, including fish, still alive, in pans of water, some sort of black shellfish, big pea pods and many other vegetables. Some of the friendly women vendors asked me to take photos of them. The stores and other buildings in the center were fairly modern. There wasn't much traffic and I saw several flowering trees in town.
I walked up to near the town's highest point (cell phone towers behind a fence occupied the highest point) and my altimeter registered 5500 feet. I headed west along the ridge to the edge of town, with flowering trees and good views further west. I met four little girls who spoke good English and disapproved of the behavior of some rambunctious little boys. One told me they were "naughty boys." She told me I was "very long," and when she asked and I told her how old I was, she said, "very old." When I left to head back to the center of town, she said, "Come back soon!"
I passed several churches and a bank with a sign saying "Will a toy airplane take your daughter to Stanford? This birthday, gift her a secure future as well." I stopped for lunch in a very friendly little restaurant, a family operation, with I was plied with jiaozu, noodles, and lots of green tea, while watching Miley Cyrus videos. After lunch I walked to the eastern end of town and sat at a church for a while, before making my way back to the center and then down to the tourist lodge. The sun set behind a hill about ten minutes after 5.
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