John, Lucy and the Seven Sisters: Photo bomber

We are off to Kohima today. It’s a 7 hour drive interspersed with some diversions interesting and otherwise.

After passing through a couple of dusty towns we come to a small eco park with hot springs. There’s no-one here which isn’t a surprise as just about every activity is banned – no bathing, no picnics, no entry! I can assure you that the water was warm.

Everything was strictly prohibited - maybe why it was empty

John headed over the hanging bridge but I am a bit of a coward and I watched from the bank as the bridge bounced up and down.

John tests the bridge

and the hot water

After a quick chai break we are off again. There isn’t anything remarkable on the journey until we suddenly turn off the almost deserted main road and head down a small side road. We are shocked to find lots of people colourfully dressed and walking towards a large Hindu temple. The road is filled with cars and lined with colourful red, gold and yellow stalls selling offerings. The stalls are numerous but to us, they all sell the same items.

Suddenly the dusty road was transformed by colourful stalls

Lucy's new friend and the Wild Man of Wongo

Where's Wongo?

Everyone is in their finery

We park up and enter the temple. Removing our shoes we need to keep a wary eye to avoid the goat and cow poo which is scattered like Cambodian landmines. We head to a sacred tree where pilgrims have hung red scarfs and brass bells. At this point we realise we have picked up the local holy man ( aka wild man of wongo). Other visitors ask for our photos and pose happily with us. On checking our photos our holy man seems to be a Hindu version of Where’s Wally and pops up on half a dozen shots. We decline his kind offer to come and see a goat slaughtered.

....... here he is!

On our way back to the car john collects a rather good looking goat and while posing with some older ladies is kissed by two of them whilst his hand is licked by a holy cow. Surely, good luck will follow.

Crestfallen Holy cow is jilted in favour of a shaggy goat

After Dimapur we start the steep climb into the Naga Hills. It is hard going as major road works are again in evidence. Mr Kamal handles the pot holes is his normal calm way as huge lorries overtake us in clouds of dust that are so thick that on a few occasions we have to stop for the dust to die down before proceeding. We eventually arrive at Kohima which stretches along a mountain ridge where the houses defy gravity in hanging on to the steep hillside.

Buildings seemingly defying gravity

Another rocky road

The main reasons for our visit to Kohima is to visit the war cemetery managed by the CWWG however on arriving in Kohima we’re told that the cemetery will be closed and we rejig our itinerary to compensate.

In 1944, a fierce battle was fought here over 64 days between the Anglo/Indian troops and the Japanese. Famous as the Battle of the Tennis Court more than 4,000 allies and 5,000 Japanese were killed, wounded or missing. The rapid expansion of Kohima has hidden the pattern of war and there is little evidence now of the dreadful conditions endured by the fighting soldiers.

Plumbing appears to have struggled with the rapid expansion

Our re-arranged visit to the Angami-Naga village of Khonoma is fantastic. We head up the mountain to this small village with a population of about 3,000 that is completely self-contained. We park outside a large Baptist church and the sounds of the congregation singing hymns is wonderful. Nagaland is 99% Christian and there are churches of all denominations dotted around.

Khonoma village

Terraced paddy fields stretch out below

Monument to the British who fought the Nagas twice

Why did the chickens cross the road? Because this man had them in his basket

One of the village meeting areas

The village is built upon a high, steep rocky ridge and entry into the village is through one of five Karu gates. Stone arched and with stout wooden doors with intricate carved panels, the gates would traditionally have been locked if the village was under attack from other tribes.

Example of a Naga door

We have an excellent local guide to show us around the village and he points out the important sites and explains to us how the village functions. We climb narrow stairs and paths that weave between houses with gardens that are brimming with fruit and vegetables whilst below, the terraced paddy fields roll down the mountain slope in graceful terraces.

People are very friendly and welcoming. Our guide tells us that people here are very relaxed and that average life expectancy is in the nineties – looking around at the surroundings I can well understand why.

On the way back from Khonoma we stop at the ‘closed’ war cemetery – it is open and we spend a couple of ours here paying our respects. In all there are 917 cremation memorials for Indian troops and 1,421 graves of British servicemen.

Immaculate terraced grounds

The cemetery is immaculate and sited on Garrison Hill where some of the fiercest fighting took place. Arranged over a series of terraces that were previously part of the District Commissioners residence, the tennis court where the Japanese and allies stood toe to toe for 7 days is still marked out.

Tennis court marked out amongst the graves

One of two VCs won at Kohima

We would do well to remember the sacrifice of Indians of all faiths fighting alongside the British

Here lie the remains of common soldiers alongside divisional and brigade commanders – the Japanese were very good at sniping British Officers and the losses of significant numbers of senior officers is apparent.

Sniped when he went forward to rescue his colleague

This British tank was left were it was disabled in the attack on Garrison Hill

We’re planning a quiet New Year’s Eve and as there are only three guests in the hotel we figure this should happen. But a knock on our door and the receptionist asks if we would mind taking an early dinner as the staff are having a party tonight.

We don’t mind and agree to dine with our fellow guest, a Canadian with an even bigger wander-lust than ourselves. He’s ridden his motorcycle here from Myanmar via Imphal and is now planning to continue down into India before eventually heading for Istanbul.

We swap travel experiences although ours pale in comparison but we enjoy a good night in his company. Toward the end of the meal there is an interesting turn of events. The hotel staff who are mainly young and excited are insistent that we join them at their staff party. We decide that it would be rude to refuse and head to the party which is in full swing on our arrival. Until now, we had believed Nagaland to be a dry state but we now realise that this state is not quite as dry as we believed it to be.

John is in there somewhere

The party also celebrates the owner’s birthday party and is in full swing. The staff make us very welcome and insist we dance and drink and as their enthusiasm is infectious John immediately joins in to howls of appreciation.

Miss Groovey knows how to get the big guy grooving

Under my watchful eye!

Spreading the love - a spot of low level, dad dancing

Unfortunately, we cannot keep up and after a couple of hours we make our excuses and leave. It’s probably just as well as this party continued on until the very early hours. The next morning only one member of staff surfaced and he became receptionist, waiter, cook waiter and housekeeping. The rest of the staff surfaced in dribs and drabs as the day progressed.

Our intrepid fellow guest sets off

We missed the Horn Bill Festival held at the beginning of December but visit the Naga Heritage Village, site of the festival and see all the different tribal huts – they are closed and the Naga Tourist Board is missing a trick because lots of Indians come here to picnic.

Long drum in the tribal hut

Waiting for the park to open - been here long?

Before leaving we visit the Post office to send some bits and bobs home. What a palaver - all parcels have to be sewn into fabric, these are wax sealed before they can be addressed. It takes over an hour to post the parcel but once done we head down the road for a last night in NE India. The way down isn’t as bad and we stop and eat pineapple which is so fresh and juicy and was probably pinched from the adjoining field.