THE GRAND HOTEL

I arrived in Srinagar without the name of a hotel, let alone a reservation. All I knew was it ought to cost 350 rupees (it did) for a taxi to the TRC (Tourist Reception Center) located in town, so I did that after clearing customs. This got me into nearly the center of Srinagar, which is much, much farther from the airport than I supposed. Don’t attempt to take a two-stroke or a bus for this trip. You will never get your gear into either of those vehicle types, and it would not be the happy ending you’d want after a long plane ride.

The TRC was devoid of tourists when I arrived, but is probably busier in the summer tourist season. In any case, the gentleman there was welcoming: he immediately beckoned me to a seat closest to the heat source in the room. Quite near the TRC was the Government Block Hotel (450 rupees/night), which appeared gloomy in the bad weather, but again the host was friendly. I turned it down because I did not see a lobby or other social areas. I wanted to meet other travelers if there was any chance.

I succumbed at this point to a man who had spotted me arriving, and was singing praises of his own guesthouse. I was only interested in a hotel on or near Residency Road, but followed him over the Zero Bridge, and past the private hospital (this was a factor later). It was nowhere near the area I wanted, and it was not really a guesthouse, and maybe it was not really his place. In any case, it was not really finished, so I scurried off to suss out hotels with the remaining half-hour of daylight.

I have a tactic I employ when traveling, to arrive in daylight, and never be seeking a hotel after dark. A new town is more ominous in the dark, and your bargaining power vanishes - reception have you by the short & curlys, and know it well.

At this point I was thinking about the experience that drove this lesson home 17 years earlier. Arriving from Buddhist Thailand to Islamic Malaysia an hour after sunset, I took a bed in a fifth-floor, dormitory-room “guesthouse”. At 5:00AM an earth-shatteringly loud wailing startled me 12 inches off my mattress. Was I dreaming? I pinched my eyes, I felt the glass – it was vibrating. Twenty feet away a gaping loudspeaker was pointed directly at my window and the muezzin was calling the faithful to morning prayers. From that point on I knew to locate a hotel far from any mosque or masjid. No offense . . . . . . .Peace!
Photo credit: MHIP