Dharamsala (truly McLeod Ganj), my favorite place in India to date. I have been here now for seven days, and I am forcing myself to leave tonight, simply because I feel determined to see a bit more of India before I return to Thailand in six days. This city is a trap, but not in a bad way. It's an easy-to-access escape from crowds, heat, flatness, and the general pushy unfriendliness that is found in the rest of the tourist destinations in India. The people here are exceptionally nice and friendly, likely because of the influence of the towering mountains and the ever peaceful Tibetan inhabitants, among whom is the Dalai Lama.
I call these days my eight days of winter. I actually had to buy a coat and hat to cope with the temperature, and in my hands and under my feet were the occasional compacted snow flakes. After a 9 km hike above the village, I stayed one night on the ridge of a mountain, a measly 2,900 meters above sea level compared to the 5,000+ meter peaks which rose above me. Fellow hiker, Jake--professional golfer from Hawaii, and I spent a raucous night on the mountain with a group of boisterous Indian fellows who welcomed us rather seriously--they actually stopped the conversation to discuss with the group the terms of our admittance--into their friendship circle.
Once in, we were given food and intoxicants and participated in friendship circle dances of joviality. They regaled us with songs and local customs, such as throwing water bottles off the side of the mountain. Though promises of homestays and joint hikes up the mountain were given--very seriously, I might add--for the following day, our new friends left the in the morning before Jake or I had stepped out from our cliffside tent. Oh well.
Tonight I travel onward to Manali, hoping for another perfect mountain town, but my expectations remain low so as to buffer any disappointment. Thailand is starting to sound good again. And as I count down the days to my return, I begin the intense mental preparation for the water fight of my life, Songkran.
Dharamsala (truly McLeod Ganj), my favorite place in India to date. I have been here now for seven days, and I am forcing myself to leave tonight, simply because I feel determined to see a bit more of India before I return to Thailand in six days. This city is a trap, but not in a bad way. It's an easy-to-access escape from crowds, heat, flatness, and the general pushy unfriendliness that is found in the rest of the tourist destinations in India. The people here are exceptionally nice and friendly, likely because of the influence of the towering mountains and the ever peaceful Tibetan inhabitants, among whom is the Dalai Lama.
I call these days my eight days of winter. I actually had to buy a coat and hat to cope with the temperature, and in my hands and under my feet were the occasional compacted snow flakes. After a 9 km hike above the village, I stayed one night on the ridge of a mountain, a measly 2,900 meters above sea level compared to the 5,000+ meter peaks which rose above me. Fellow hiker, Jake--professional golfer from Hawaii, and I spent a raucous night on the mountain with a group of boisterous Indian fellows who welcomed us rather seriously--they actually stopped the conversation to discuss with the group the terms of our admittance--into their friendship circle. 
Once in, we were given food and intoxicants and participated in friendship circle dances of joviality. They regaled us with songs and local customs, such as throwing water bottles off the side of the mountain. Though promises of homestays and joint hikes up the mountain were given--very seriously, I might add--for the following day, our new friends left the in the morning before Jake or I had stepped out from our cliffside tent. Oh well.
Tonight I travel onward to Manali, hoping for another perfect mountain town, but my expectations remain low so as to buffer any disappointment. Thailand is starting to sound good again. And as I count down the days to my return, I begin the intense mental preparation for the water fight of my life, Songkran.
Sounds phenomenal. Mountains = happy Brian.
ReplyDeleteI wish you were here this weekend. Happy 150 year birthday to Glee Club today.