Discovering Assam and Nagaland 2025 (page 3 of 6)

Thursday, April 3 I leave the homestay at 9:30 AM and return to Khonoma by taxi. Upon arrival, a shared taxi is about to leave, so it takes my bag, puts it on the roof, I get in the car, and we set off. This driver goes slower than the one on the way there.

We arrive in Dimapur, and the stop is in the station parking lot, which is close to the hotel I walk back to. The staff welcomes me warmly with big smiles and puts me in a room next to the one I had last time.

Once settled, I head to the station to check the train schedule for the next morning. It’s indeed at 9:10 AM and doesn’t require a reservation.

Today, the city is livelier, and I take the opportunity to browse the local craft shops. The temptation is strong, but the trip is still long, and my bag is heavy, so I stay wise.

As I continue my walk, I spot a covered market, and I can’t resist taking a look. So many surprises await me, but not knowing what they are, I head in confidently.

Vegetables sit alongside more or less large toads—now I’m "used to it"—and slugs are also well represented.



This market spans three rows. I’m at one end and head to the third row, where I see fruit stalls. I pick a few mandarins and two mangoes.



I see and hear chickens and roosters in the middle aisle. I walk past a red meat stand without paying attention and head straight to see the chickens. Before I get there, I stop short—my heart races, and I can’t believe my eyes. With a mix of surprise, disgust, and fear, I approach the cages slowly. It’s not a vision; they’re really white mice in cages above guinea pigs.





The vendor looks amused. I step back nervously—yes, I have a panic fear of mice—and ask if they eat them. With a big smile, he nods, says it’s very good, and tries to sell me some. No thanks, but I’m still in shock. Disgusted, I take the exit, skirting that aisle.

I come back to the red meat and this time, I pay attention, wondering what animal it could be. I think it’s a sheep, but no, that’s not it. I see legs sticking out of a basin and ask the vendor.



"Dog," sorry, I ask again, "dog?" Yes, dog. Oh no, really? Mice now dogs—where am I? I look at all the basins, and in the last one, there’s even a head.



In burlap sacks, tied up, I see dogs waiting for the slaughterhouse.



I leave with my hands on my head. Never, never would I have imagined that people eat like this in India. In Vietnam, I knew they ate dog, but in India? It seems unreal. This country will always surprise me.

On my way out, I come across a basket-weaving shop. They’re beautiful, but a bit bulky to bring back to France.

Another amazing trip and a fantastic travel journal! You were so lucky to see a tiger that close... ... And I was also really surprised to see all those animals at the market—mice and dogs! Even in Vietnam, where you see tons of animals of all kinds in markets, I’ve never seen dog heads displayed like that or dogs waiting to be killed... Poor things, it’s awful. I didn’t think that happened in India. Last winter, in Varkala, Kerala, we often had lunch at a restaurant run by people who looked really Vietnamese, but they told me they were from Nagaland... (They didn’t serve dog, thank goodness!) So they were definitely Indian... but really had that Southeast Asian look. Did you notice that too? Anyway, thanks, Marie Jo, for this story...

"Last winter, in Varkala, Kerala, we often had lunch at a restaurant run by people who looked really Vietnamese but told me they were from Nagaland... (They didn’t serve dog, by the way!!!). So they were indeed Indian... but really had that Southeast Asian look. Have you noticed that too?"

Hi Anne, Thanks for joining us! I was surprised no one reacted to that market and all the food they eat in that part of Nagaland. It’s only around Dimapur and Kohima-Khonoma. Indeed, in Nagaland, they have a Southeast Asian appearance. Later, when you visit Mon, Myanmar isn’t far, and you won’t feel like you’re in India anymore. Nagaland is so unique and fascinating to visit—the hospitality in Assam, Nagaland, and Meghalaya is incredible.... I’ll post more soon; I don’t have much Wi-Fi right now, so I’m not making much progress... hopefully tomorrow! 🌍😊

Friday, April 4 The train is on time, and it’s already quite crowded inside. Still, I manage to find a seat easily—doors and windows are open, so we’re nicely ventilated. We pass by tea plantations dotted with shade trees, and it’s always beautiful seeing all those greens blending together in nature. This train stops often, and the smells from the latrines spread through the carriage. I can’t wait to get moving again—once we’re rolling, the odors disappear. My fellow travelers are friendly. We make a stop that lasts a good hour, and the long delays continue until Bhoji, where I get off with a two-hour delay. I’m exhausted. I take a rickshaw to the Majestic Hotel in Sonari. The hotel is run by a very welcoming young couple. A small room (1400 rs) will do for the night. The restaurant is open, and I go to grab a bite since breakfast feels like ages ago, and I’m starting to get hungry. I’m so tired that I go to bed at 9 PM and fall asleep quickly.

Saturday, April 5 After a good breakfast, I leave the hotel in a tuk-tuk that takes me to where the sumo is supposed to depart. Today, it’s not running because there’s a festival in Mon. I have to go to Tiznit, a few kilometers away. The tuk-tuk, with its electric car, can’t make the trip, so the driver takes me to one of his colleagues. We pass by tea plantations again—it’s always impressive to see all these vast stretches. Along the road, I see people dressed in traditional attire.

We arrive in Tiznit at 9:20 AM, and there I learn that because of the festival in Mon, there’s only one car leaving at 11:30 AM. Oh no, I’m so disappointed—it’s the last day of the festival, and I won’t be able to attend. I tried to book a room at the homestay before Christmas, but it was already fully booked until today. I couldn’t find any other accommodation, and now I don’t have transportation.

In the end, there are a lot of us waiting for the car, and the driver decides to leave at 10:30 AM. There are 10 adults plus the driver and 3 kids on their moms’ laps. Safety standards here are very different from France. The driver stops often during the trip to add water to the radiator. Will we make it safely? That’s the question I ask myself at every stop. Tiznit is 35 km from Mon, and it takes us an hour and a half to get there. When I get out of the car, I find a taxi that takes me to Aihan Homestay. The owners are away for the week, but the staff member who welcomes me is very kind and does his best to help. The festival is over 4 km away, and I have to take a tuk-tuk to get there. The caretaker accompanies me to the village center to find a taxi. On the main road, a car with a young couple stops next to me and offers me a ride to the festival. I’m thrilled, and we speed off, but there are so many people heading to the same place that we waste a lot of time finding a parking spot. Time is flying, and with the traffic jams, the woman suggests I get out and walk to the festival—and she’s absolutely right. I never saw them again.

The first performance of the afternoon is already over. Two groups of women in different outfits are sitting under the tent.





Here too, there are morungs—they’re different from those in Khonoma, and today they’re full of people. I can take photos, and with the festival atmosphere, everyone is happy to pose with a smile. A small group of men is gathered around a fire.





Some younger men are playing wooden drums.



Outside, I can’t resist photographing these men in their unique outfits and jewelry.





There aren’t many tourists here—I counted about ten under the open-air tent. Once again on this trip, I’m experiencing an extraordinary and unique moment. I see different troupes parading, and they go to set up under the tent.



The show is about to start again, so I follow the crowd and look for a spot with a good view. Each tribe has different outfits, and it’s amazing to be part of this event.



The women dance barefoot, some carry rifles and aren’t afraid to use them—they fire toward the ground while jumping. I hope they’re using blanks—it makes a lot of noise and kicks up dust.

A storm hits us around 4 PM and lasts for quite a while. Most of the spectators head back to their vehicles, but I take shelter in a morung and hesitate to leave. Once the rain stops, I go back outside, and a man in a car steps out with a bottle of water and a carton of fruit juice to offer me. He tells me to stay because the festival will resume, and if I can’t find a ride back after the show, he’ll take me to Mon. What an incredible welcome—I head back to the tent with peace of mind. Several people are photographing the seated troupes, so I grab my camera and do the same.



Men begin with rifles in hand





Several dances happen at the same time. A group of men takes the stage and lets out cries like New Zealand’s haka—it’s impressive.

Women are also present



The tattooed men let themselves be photographed today without charging.



After the show, I head back to the car, but the driver is gone. A woman nearby spots me and calls me over—she wants selfies. We take several photos, and she offers to drive me back to Mon, where they live. I ask if the festival will happen tomorrow, Sunday, but no—it’s over because Sunday is a sacred day, so everything is closed. People go to church and stay home. Back in my room, I message the owner to ask if I can get a guide and a car to explore the region tomorrow. Well, since no one works on Sundays, I’m stuck in Mon. Sunday evening, a guide will come by the house, and we’ll plan Monday’s day. Tonight, the power goes out, making the evening feel long, even though a bulb runs on battery power.

Incredible Nagaland! Thanks and congratulations for the quality of this trip report.

Back home, I’m sending a message to the owner asking what I can do tomorrow, Sunday

You’re insatiable but selective (no dog, no mouse )

Hi there, I’m still following your story with interest... When we went to Myanmar, in the mountains to the west near the border with India, we saw women with their faces fully tattooed... Not the men, and on the Nagaland side, it’s apparently the men who are tattooed. Good luck with the rest of your trip...

You're insatiable but selective (neither dog nor mouse )

That's exactly it—I don't travel to stay cooped up in a room no way

"We had seen women with their faces completely tattooed... Not the men, and on the Nagaland side, it seems the men are the ones who are tattooed."

Hi Anne, Yes, indeed, I only saw tattooed men. The younger ones no longer have tattoos.

Sunday, April 6 I had a good night’s sleep but woke up super early. The power still hasn’t come back on, and my phone’s dead.

Akai, the housekeeper, brings me a thermos of hot water and shows me the terrace. A little later, he returns with my breakfast—two fried eggs, milk tea, and three bananas. I ask for toast, but he’s out, and since it’s Sunday, all the shops are closed. I start eating, and soon he comes back, beaming—he managed to find me two slices of toast. Better than nothing!

A bit later, Akai returns with a special multi-socket adapter for charging batteries. I’m saved—I can finally recharge my phone!

Since everything’s closed today, I decide to visit the church. I leave around 9:30 AM, and I’m not the only one—there are *so* many people. The courtyard is packed with cars, and the underground parking beneath the church is full too.



Everyone’s dressed in their Sunday best. At the entrance, churchgoers hand envelopes to two people sitting behind a table. I squeeze in and stay at the back, but soon, people sitting nearby wave me forward so I can see better. The church is even bigger than the one in Kohima—same rounded style with a second floor. It slowly fills up, and the crowd is impressive.



I came just to visit, but now I’m stuck—everyone’s seated and praying. A man steps up to a podium and starts listing donors’ names and amounts. It goes on *forever* since almost everyone arrived with an envelope. Several people take turns at the podium. Then, a choir and musicians perform three pieces. After that, the men go back to listing donors—it never ends.



Finally, the mass begins. Everyone has a missal and sings along with the choir and musicians. Prayers follow one after another, and for me, it’s *so* long. The service is broadcast on a big screen for those upstairs. Next to me, people are following along on their phones. I might’ve dozed off a little, but at 12:30 PM, the first people start leaving, and I follow them—I can’t take any more. Outside, locals head home in a quiet line, no chitchat, no bars open for an apéritif like I remember from childhood. I don’t even know how it is back home now.

I desperately look for an open restaurant or grocery store, but everything’s shut. Nagaland is *so* different from the rest of India—I feel like I’ve stepped into another country since arriving here.

I go back to the house to grab my now-charged phone (still no power, though). I head out again, searching for something to snack on—I’m starving. I walk to the market and find a man waiting on the sidewalk. I ask where I can get lunch, but the answer’s the same: today’s Sunday, everything’s closed. He thinks for a moment and takes me to a shop. We go behind the counter, and I manage to buy water, chips, and biscuits. Better than nothing.

In the evening, the guide comes by as planned, and we plan the next two days’ visits. I won’t be able to see all the villages I’d noted—the distances are too far, and the roads aren’t great. The guide tells me that photos of tattooed men cost 100 Rs per person, and in the village, as soon as they spot a tourist, they gather in groups of four or five to pose. 500 Rs for photos is *way* too much. Neither the guide nor I like the idea, so we decide to skip that village.

The guide needs to check about booking my next sumo to Mokokchung, and it doesn’t sound easy.

Dinner’s another story—still no power or Wi-Fi, and the day’s been *long*. Tonight’s menu: tough pork, cauliflower, and rice. Finally, a vegetable that’s not potatoes!

No electricity, so bedtime at 9 PM.

How can you recharge your phone if there’s no electricity? Is there a generator in the hotel? That must’ve been pretty rough, that never-ending mass—good call taking the chance to catch a quick nap!!! 🙂😉 The people in Nagaland seem really Catholic. The waitress from the Varkala restaurant I told you about showed me photos of her region on her phone: nothing but churches! I thought that was so funny!!!

How can you recharge your phone if there’s no electricity? Is there a generator at the hotel?

Yeah, there was a generator at the homestay.

The people in Nagaland seem to be very Catholic. They used to be animist and became Baptist after the British passed through, and religion is very important, just like everywhere else in India. Assam is Hindu, Nagaland Baptist, Meghalaya Catholic, and I noticed differences in their way of life, their food, and the welcome—it’s amazing in all three states. You’ll see the rest soon. Have a great day

I’m not chiming in anymore, but I’ve picked up reading again. All this is so surprising...

Hi Marie Jo,

I’m joining in on the praise coming your way— This travel journal is one of a kind. It’s going to be a landmark! 🙂

"This travel journal is unprecedented. It’ll be a landmark!" Oh, that’s for sure—unprecedented is an understatement! 😏 I’ll keep going then 😎😉

Monday, April 7th The guide arrives at 8:30 AM with the driver. We start by going to the police station to register me—it’s free here, though I had to pay a small fee to enter the village of Kohima. From there, we try to book my ticket to Mokokchung. On Wednesday morning, there’s only one sumo, and it’s already full. I’m really annoyed, but what can I do? It’s fully booked. I’m thinking about leaving on Thursday instead, keeping in mind that I’m expected in Naharkatia on April 12th. We take the road to Longwa, and along the way, the guide shares his Wi-Fi, which lets me send updates back to France. I take the chance to message Nirupam, who confirms he’s expecting me at his place on the 12th. I have to cancel my entire stay in Mokokchung—it’s too complicated—as well as one night in Sivasagar. I’m figuring out what to do from April 9th to 12th. The simplest option would be to stay an extra day in Mon and then head to Dibrugarh. On April 10th, the guide and taxi are available, but the rate is pretty steep. I’ll need to think it over before making a final decision. The road to Longwa looks more like a rough track than a winding road. The sky is still hazy, but the mountainous landscapes are stunning and different from those around Kohima.



We’re getting closer to the border with Myanmar, and I’m excited. I would’ve loved to visit that country—it was on my "countries to visit in retirement" list.

We stop to visit an old morung. Right at the entrance, the decorations and wooden carvings are amazing.





A beautifully carved wooden drum with a tiger’s head is under the shelter.



Inside, it takes me a moment to adjust to the dim light. The beams are carved, and animal heads are hung on them.



People are gathered around the fire, which the woman stokes by blowing through a bamboo tube.



At the exit, a man is taking care of his grandchildren.



At the village entrance, we get out of the car. A woman is weaving in front of her house.



We take a path that runs along the forest.

Hello,

We’re getting close to the border with Myanmar, and I’m so excited. I would’ve loved to visit that country, which was on my “countries to visit in retirement” list.

The Naga people live on both sides of this border. This part of Myanmar (Nagaland) had attracted me a few years ago. The India-Myanmar border was permeable back then. Now, at my age, it’s too late...

Before you go, I suggest reading about Patrice Franceschi’s incredible adventure with the Naga people in Myanmar, just beyond this India/Myanmar border:

https://www.babelio.com/livres/Franceschi-Avant-la-derniere-ligne-droite/373596/critiques

"Before you go, I suggest reading Patrice Franceschi’s wild adventure with the Naga people in Myanmar, just beyond the India/Myanmar border.

Thanks, I’ll check it out—a wild adventure sounds right up my alley! I don’t think I’ll make it there, unfortunately.

Thanks, I’ll check out *A Rollicking Adventure*—that sounds right up my alley!

Well, same here, so I clicked the link but there’s nothing except book reviews...

This was just to share the book reference: *Before the Final Stretch*, where you can find this adventure in Myanmar along with others in different countries...