Kashmir

Squeezed between the Himalayas on one side and the Pir Panjal range on the other, dotted with terraced rice paddies, fruit orchards and rows of poplars, the Kashmir Valley is a picture of tranquility. Or at least it should be. Ever since Indian independence, the valley has been periodically marred by violence. The drive for independence, and three wars with Pakistan, have divided the population and nearly ruined the tourism industry. While visitors are now creeping back following the latest spate of violence in summer 2008, the situation is still tense, discouraging many.

The result of this is poignantly obvious in Srinagar, the region's summer capital. On Dal Lake, row upon row of colonial-style house boats - over a thousand of them - float forlornly at their moorings, bereft of visitors. House boats have been a feature of the lake ever since the Raj era, when the British were forbidden to own land. While most of the boats on the lake today are less than 40 years old, you wouldn't know it. Stepping aboard is like entering a time warp: poky rooms bedecked with chandeliers, carved walnut panels, chintzy curtains and frilly lamp shades. 

The struggling house boat owners, for whom tourism is their lifeblood, long for an end to conflict in the region. The visitors' book on Morning Glory, the floating palace of kitsch on which we spent a night, revealed only three or four groups had stayed in 2010. No wonder many boats have been abandoned, listing into the water lilies, their wooden hulls rotting as their owners seek an income elsewhere.

Waking before dawn and boarding a shikara (a gondola-like boat) to visit the floating vegetable market on the lake is a magical experience. As you drift through the canal-like passageways in the pre-dawn greyness, the eerie, wailing call to prayer from half a dozen different mosques echoes across the water and off the black shadows of waterside houses. By the time dawn breaks, the floating market is in full swing. Dozens of growers and buyers perch on shikara filled with vegetables, eyeing up each others' produce. Dressed in pheran (long woollen capes) and huddling over kangri (wicker baskets holding pottery bowls filled with hot coals) to keep warm, they weigh vegetables on rudimentary scales and transfer purchases from boat to boat.

Winter tourism is making a positive impact on the region's economy. The world-class backcountry skiing at Gulmarg, on the flanks of Mt Apharwat in the Pir Panjals west of Srinagar, has attracted crowds every winter since the gondola opened six years ago. Skiing here is a truly unique experience. Many of the creaky, old-fashioned hotels are heated with wood-fired stoves. Domestic tourists learn to ski using 1980s equipment on the snow-covered golf course. Sledge-wallahs tout for business and will drag your skis up the hill to your hotel for a few rupees. Soldiers from the nearby High Altitude Warfare School thunder through the village in giant trucks. Groups of pheran-clad locals, clutching kangri underneath for warmth, gawp at the skiers and boarders arriving at the bottom of the gondola.

Reflecting the region's geographical isolation, Kashmiri cuisine is deliciously unique. Elaborate spice combinations are used and sometimes meat is cooked in yoghurt or milk - resulting in pale-coloured but flavour-packed sauces. Popular dishes include goshtaba and rista (meatballs in spicy sauce); Kashmiri biryani (almost Chinese in its flavour combinations) and kanti; deep-fried diced chicken served in an oniony, sweet and spicy sauce. But let's not forget the Kashmiri dish that has travelled far beyond this small valley to become a favourite at your local curry house: the world-famous, fiery-rich, lamb rogan josh.