Tales from a Sunday fun day in Rishikesh, India

What the hell is an Ashram?

I could not have answered this question before having read Eat. Pray. Love.  Honestly.  Ashram.  It sounds like a fungal disease you could pick up from living in the jungle or something.  Apparently, Rishikesh, our current home, has been the sought out destination since the ‘60s for foreigners looking to master meditation and spiritual equilibrium.  In fact, Rishikesh owes its initial popularity to The Beatles, who performed a concert at one of the ashrams here back in their heyday.  So, indirectly, we have The Beatles to thank for the heightened enthusiasm for seriously disturbing spiritual behavior.

This town is like an addiction.  After spending a single day here, Missy and I have decided to plant ourselves in Rishikesh for ten days.  Well, that and the fact that my backpack is currently housing an alarming amount of souvenirs and I am bored of carrying it.  Honestly, we have gotten so good at jerry-rigging contraptions to the straps of our backpacks that we look like walking Christmas trees.  Last time I tried to put it on, I had to grab Missy’s arm for stability.  When I topple over backwards I will send a shipment home.  Rishikesh, India is built for those individuals who literally want to put the real world on hold and practice yoga and meditation all day, while eating small vegetarian meals in between.  These are the kind of people I used to call "crazies" because they sit Indian style in a park, alone, contemplating the meaning of life, and making zero contribution to society whatsoever.  You can usually find the extreme ones wearing the same thing seven days in a row, with a full head of dreadlocks, and some sort of necklace-thing hanging down to their chests.  I realize that I am completely stereotyping right now, but this is my blog, so if this is at all offensive, just swallow it and move on.  

However, after spending four years in the real world, living in several cities, and meeting many different kinds of people, I now realize that these "crazies" are people too.  If they want to preach the good word about spiritual bliss, then who am I to stop them?  In fact, maybe they are onto something.  The entire reason I am in India is to be thrown outside my comfort bubble.  If I wanted to be comfortable for three months, I would have done an East Coast tour of the United States.  So, while I am in Rishikesh, my goal is to interact with as many "crazies" as possible, and maybe even mimic them.  This is why I have booked a one week stay at an ashram.  That's right people...Missy and I are staying in an ashram to meditate, practice yoga twice a day, and eat mush meals for seven days in a row.  While the rest of the world will be trick or treating at the end of the week, I will be making best friends with my soul.  It's like my own personal Eat. Pray. Love. experience.  So, this forum will be vacant for the next week as I dive into the world of spirituality.  Someone have a beer and a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos waiting for me on November 1.  Thanks.

Pampered Princess

Here is the schedule I followed on Sunday: 

8:30 – 10:00        Stretch Yoga

11:45 – 12:30      Israeli breakfast

1:00 – 2:00          Full body ayruvedic massage

2:00 – 3:00          Pedicure from the sweetest woman that exists.  Her two year old son painted my nails and   fingers purple for me.  What a gem.

3:30 – 4:00          Hummus and Pita lunch with old man Rod

5:00 – 6:30          Beach sunset

8:00 – 9:00          Carb overload dinner with Missy (Getting ready for the ashram)

Tomorrow I am taking a one hour drum lesson.  I am seriously excited about this since I bought my own drum in McLeod Ganj and have been carrying it around since then.  

Rod from England

Rod…what a character.  We met Rod immediately upon our arrival in Rishikesh.  He is English and I am guesstimating around the age of 60, with a full head of white hair, brown teeth, and a cigarette permanently attached to this hand at all times.  After interacting with him for 1.5 seconds, I decided he is the perfect hybrid of Austin Powers and Billy Mack from Love Actually.  He is seriously eccentric, which is why Missy and I are probably so drawn to him.  On our first run in with Rod, he gave us the “low down” on where to eat, what Ashrams to visit, and a bit of a historical lecture.  Rod used to teach yoga in the ‘70s in the ashram where the Beatles played and has been visiting India every year since.  He proudly announced that he spends about $9 a day on the act of living.  I wanted to say, “Well if you eat cigarettes for breakfast and lunch, then I could see how that is possible.”  But, Rod is the man, so I refrained.  

I was secretly hoping to run into Rod again.  And I did.  On Sunday, Missy and I took personal days to run around the town on our own and give each other some breathing room (like she really needed it).  I was lucky enough to run into Rod while I was eating lunch.  He looked high as a kite on something and didn’t seem to remember me, but I went with it.  Once he registered who I was, he asked all about our first day and if we heeded any of his advice.  I gave him a brief itinerary of what Indian cities we would be visiting during our last six weeks, and he regaled me with tales of his own travels to those cities.  My personal favorite was when I mentioned we would be visiting the town of Hampi.  Without a change of tone or facial expression, Rod replied: “Ahhh Hampi.  I spent one Diwali there with an Italian woman I met.  We took some very strong narcotics and all I remember is smashing eggs in her hair…hahaha.”  He then proceeded to casually sip his tea.  I left him in his reminiscent stage for a few minutes without interruption before I said, “Sounds fun Rod.”  He also told me that if Missy and I continue to do yoga and meditation for the next few days then we should be enlightened by Friday.  “How will I know if I am enlightened Rod?”  “Oh you’ll know!”  I guess I will take his word for it.  Rod also announced to me that he should have really been a pop star, but the combination of him being lazy and not knowing how to play any instruments has really held him back… Mom, can we please have Rod to Christmas dinner this year?

Israelis in India

This evening, Missy and I sat in a tree house, on cushions, munching on chips and guac, while we watched a large group of Israeli travelers pass around multiple joints to one another, chain smoke hand rolled cigarettes, and kick some hacky sacks around.  In Pushkar, every sign has Hebrew subtitles.  When we talk to Indians they ask if we are from Israel.  What is with the huge amounts of Israeli travelers all over India?  I will tell you...

From our brief conversations with what seems like hundreds of Israelis in their very early twenties, we have learned something new.  Upon completion of high school, at the age of 18, all Israeli boys and girls enter the army for three and two years respectively.  It's mandatory with very few excuses.  This way, they have explained, should any of Israel's hostile neighbors attack this very small country, their entire population knows how to defend itself.  This honestly blows my mind.  Requiring all citizens to spend time in the army would obviously never fly in the United States.  As I write this, I can automatically think of one hundred civil rights groups who would be throwing stones at the White House.  So, it is for this reason, that I find it fascinating that young Israelis are so complacent with the idea.  Many of the people we have spoken with just shrug their shoulders and say, "It's just how it is...".  

So, back to the initial point.  Why are there so many Israelis traveling India?  Because after they spend two to three years serving their country, they want to spend six months to a year prancing around cheap Asian countries, smoking as any cigarettes and as much hash as possible, with very few responsibilities. 

I guess that is one way to do it. To each his own...

Why on earth would you pick the cow to be sacred?

Have you ever doused your shoe in a huge pile of cow shit?  No…you probably haven’t.  The only real reason you would is if you spent a weekend on a dairy farm, and no one does that anymore.  (Did anyone EVER do that?)  Well, I have stepped in a huge pile of cow shit.  You wanna know why?  Because they are sacred animals in India; which means they are allowed to procreate in mass amounts, eat whatever their mouths can reach, and roam the streets as they please.  They halt traffic, their tails have left whiplash on my arms, and they take massive dumps EVERYWHERE.  Honestly, the creatures just leave their droppings wherever they please…and these droppings are the size of a small child.  I mean, they look like they could have come from something that lived during the dinosaur era.  The worst is when these creatures have upset stomachs.  In that case, you can find toddler size droppings, just spaced one foot apart, for about half of a mile.  It blows my mind that an animal so mistreated and abused in America can be so special on the other side of the world.  Let’s not beat around the bush; the American meat industry could singlehandedly be the most disgraceful, foul, revolting business in our great country.  These sacred creatures that have a better life than 50% of the human population in India, are stuffed with steroids and slaughtered to be slapped between white bread, slathered with packaged condiments, and delivered in frozen patty form to American food chains for $0.99.  On this side of the world, these animals are feasting on the day’s best produce remains and taking a snooze in the middle of a major interstate, not to be disturbed.  The most baffling thought of all is that if you exported Indian cows to America and American cows to India, they would not even notice a difference in lifestyle.  Cows have to be the most blatantly unintelligent, anticlimactic, big shitting animals to roam the earth.  What in the world would any religion, society, civilization find holy or sacred about these mammals?  

Fighting with India

Do not be alarmed by the title of this blog post.  We are safe, we are still blissfully happy, and we are still loving each other.  We did, however, for the first time in six weeks in India, experience an uncanny amount of setbacks and friction within our first two hours off of our overnight bus from McLeod Ganj.  Let me explain...

First of all, riding on a bus in India is like riding the spinning tea cups in Disney World.  Our driver took wide turns at 70 mph, while lighting a cigarette, and honking at oncoming traffic.  I literally felt nauseous and fearful for eight hours.  Not to mention, when the bus parked at a rest stop at 2am, Missy and I inquired as to where the toilet was located, and the shop owners kept pointing towards a dark and vacant parking lot.  About five minutes went by until we realized, "Ohhhh...the parking lot IS the toilet..."  I won't elaborate. 

Shimla is a hill station in Northern India.  It is a popular vacation destination for wealthy Indian families.  The Western influence in this town is extremely apparent.  I mean, you can get a hot dog here...enough said.  When we finally arrived to Shimla in the morning, with our backpacks covered in soot from being in the trunk of the bus, we announced our destination to our cab driver, and we were off.  Ten minutes later, we arrived at a five star resort and he put the cab in park.  "Ummmm no.  Sir.  Do we look like we would be staying here?"  He had heard us wrong and taken us in the complete opposite direction of our hotel.  He also wanted an additional 300 rupees to take us to the correct desination.  Not okay.  Usually I am generous with people since we are guests in their country, but after an 11 hour trip from hell, I was not amused.  Nor was Missy.  We argued on the side of the road for a good ten minutes.  "Why would we pay you more money to take us to our original requested destination?"  Finally, we reached a happy medium and went on our way.  When we got to the correct hotel, we were showed to our cell.  Yes, I say "our cell" because it contained a bed, a dirty blanket, and was entrapped by a barred gate.  We took one look at each other and walked right out of the place.  After some encouraging words to one another, we vowed to find somewhere else to stay that would be super. 

"You want place to sleep?"  Normally, we would ignore these hagglers trying to get us to stay in their hotel so they can collect their commission.  But, at this point, I was about to set up shop on the nearest bench.  "Sir...if you can you get us a nice room with hot water for 800 rupees...we will follow you".  "Yes yes...best views in town and 24 hours hot water...come come".  "Sir...for 800 rupees can you we get all that?"  "Yes...800...come come".  WRONG.  Upon arrival to said hotel, my shoulders were numb and Missy's calves were on fire.  We were showed two rooms not for 800 rupees.  Our options were a room without a view for 900 rupees or a room with a beautiful view for 1200 rupees.  "FINE we will take the 900 rupee room".  Of course, our haggler hung around while we filled out all the paperwork so that he could collect a tip from us.  I gave him my smallest note possible. 

In order not to drone on and on, basically what happened next was a lapse in morals.  One of the hotel workers took us to the 1200 rupee room with the view by mistake.  Missy and I did realize this, but felt it was our right to have this room, so we didn't say anything.  We started unpacking.  "I bet there is a knock on the door in two minutes telling us they took us to the wrong room".  Knock knock.  "Shit!"  "Mam...I am here to turn on your hot water".  "Oh...okay...thanks".  (Two minutes later)....knock knock.  "Here it is!"  "Mam...here are your towels and an extra blanket".  "Oh...okay...thanks".  (Five minutes later)...knock knock.  "AHHHHHHHHH".  "Mam...if you need anything dial 9; also, can I have one photo with you two?"  Are you serious dude?  No...no you cannot have a photo with us.  "Not right now sir...thank you bye".  At this point, Missy is in bed laughing at the situation and I am saying inappropriate things under my breathe.  So, we showered, washed some clothes in the sink and hung them to dry under the "absolutely no clothes washing in the rooms" sign, got dressed, and went out for a few hours.  Upon our return in the afternoon, we were caught.  Knock knock.  "Umm mam...this is not your room, please go to reception.  BUSTED. 

During our meandering around town the first day, we were approached by a gentleman and went through our usual dialogue.  "Excuse me...what country?"  "We're from the USA".  "Ohhh I have friends in Denver!"  That's like telling someone from Beijing that you know someone in Shanghai.  Congratulations.  Our friend told us that he is from Shimla and has been practicing yoga and astrology for 29 years.  In fact, says our friend, he has not taken medicine in 20 years.  Impressive.  Then he turned to Missy and said: "You need to drink water.  You have very low blood pressure.  If you should give blood, you will faint".  HAHAHAH...what?  Crazy man.  We humored him for five more minutes then slowly started backing away.  About 36 hours later, as I was walking around town alone, I heard from behind me: "Excuse me!  What country?"  It was him.  "USA".  "Ahhh I have friends in Denver!"  "Yes...I am aware".   Pause.  "You need water.  You have very low blood pressure.  If you were to give blood, you would faint".  Seeya buddy.

For six weeks now, Missy has been saying: "The thing I miss most in India is Mexican food.  I just want some chips and salsa".  So, you can imagine what sort of reaction she had when we crossed paths with a restaurant advertising "MEXICAN" in red lights.  I mean we pratically did cheerleading jumps and somersaults in the air.  "Let's not eat the rest of the day so that when we come back for chips and burritos, we are reallllly hungry".  So, what did we do to pass the time until we reached the appropriate hunger level to consume our Mexican meal?  We laid in out hotel room (the right one), put on mud masks, and watched The Firm and Ferris Bueller's Day Off on HBO.  If this town is allergic to us, then we will be as American as possible!!!  After two movies, our stomachs were growling.  We were so excited.  Honestly, we ran to the Mexican place.  We waited in anticipation after we ordered a helping of chips and salsa.  What happened next, would have made Don Pablo roll over in his grave.  The waiter brought us ten tortilla chips and a small cup of salsa.  Umm...sir.  We are Americans.  What do you want us to do with this?  Please just bring us the bag and noone will get hurt. 

For our monkey attack story, please see prior post.

The rest of our time in Shimla was spent watching Lindsay Lohan movies on HBO, reading books in a coffee shop, hiking to a waterfall, and eating ice cream.  I am actually looking forward to getting back to "normal India".  "Vacation spot India" does not bode well with us.  SEEYA SHIMLA.

I'm Just Sayin...

I can't find wifi in Shimla for the life of me, so I have not been able to publish my most recent post. Don't worry people...it is a doozy.  For a town with a Subway chain, United Colors of Benetton, and Dominos pizza, I am shocked with the lack of Wifi here in Shimla.  Someone contact the mayor.

I just wanted to announce that on our way home from dinner last night, Missy had a near death experience from what seemed to be a "rabid" monkey.  First of all, if you have not already gathered, I am a huge fan of monkeys...huge.  I am not, however, a fan of the red-eyed monkey creatures that roam around this town.  They are everywhere.  And they stare.  Just this morning, I took "the long way" to the internet cafe because a pack of batshit crazy monkeys were hogging the stairs to the road I needed.  Yesterday, a man warned us against visiting the local temple because there have been an alarming amount of monkey attacks on tourists.  We did not go to the temple.  I now find myself walking with eyes in the back of my head and a racing heart at all times.  It's absurd.

Now, back to my story...Missy and I had just enjoyed a nice Indian meal of Himachal Pulao and had picked up some dessert for the walk home...because, you know, we are on vacation and we do what we want.  As we are walking, I notice a big batshit crazy monkey walking alongside Missy, staring up at her.  I panicked.  Do I tell her?  Should I ignore it and hope it goes away?  Should I yell "go go gadget samurai sword" and try and kill it?  I was at a serious crossroads.  Well, I took too long to decide because Missy noticed it walking next to her, froze, and screamed, "AHHHHHHHHH HELPPPPP!"  I am ashamed at what happened next.  A nice Indian family came to her rescue and shooed the batshit crazy monkey away from our path.  I, on the other hand, could be found about 1/4 a mile away, panting and sweating from having run as fast as possible away from the scene.  What kind of friend am I?

A week in McLeod Ganj

The past week has been a whirlwind of spirituality, nature, and of course, hilarity.  McLeod Ganj is a small hill station in Northern India, at the foot of the Himalayan Mountains, home to the Dalai Lama and thousands of other Tibetan refugees.  The community here is hard to grasp.  Buddhist monks grace the streets with shaved heads and maroon robes.  Buddhist students can be found in meditation or lost in thought with their prayer beads all over town. Language teachers from the Western world rush around to get to their language classes and tutoring sessions.  Volunteers from anywhere and everywhere swarm guest houses to join young Tibetans in the plea for a "Free Tibet", boycotting Chinese goods and services, and encouraging young people to take action.  It is an extremely peculiar mix of people with one underlying theme: peace.  Missy and I did our best to dabble a bit in all that McLeod Ganj has to offer in such a short period of time.

The Spiritual Side:

Buddhism is an intriguing religion and way of life.  There are hundreds of people here who have literally denounced all material possessions and have moved their lives to McLeod Ganj to devote their lives to the teaching of Buddha.  (Don't worry mom...it ain't for me).  But, it is intriguing nonetheless.  One morning, Missy and I walked down the hill leading to Dharamshala, in order to attend a one hour lecture on Buddhist philosophy.  The class was led by a very old lama who whispered his wise words into a microphone in the beautiful Tibetan language.  Sitting on the floor next to him was an intelligent, female, British professor, well versed in the teachings, who was translating what the old lama was saying into English.  They were quite the dynamic duo, often playfully arguing over a discrepancy in translation, or cutting each other off for power of the microphone.  This ancient, almost mesmerizing lama, spent 60 minutes talking about (bare with me here as I am a Catholic and spent only a single hour trying to understand these two) distinguishing between what is reality and what is speculation.  I furiously took notes during the class, but as I read over them now, trying to pass on what I have learned to this forum, I am lost.  Really understanding the theories of karma, nirvana, and emptiness takes time and serious diligence...I have neither at the moment.  So, here you go:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buddhism.

The Educational Side:

During our first breakfast in McLeod Ganj, Missy and I met Heather from Maine.  Praise Jesus, Buddha, Allah, Shiva, Brahma, or whomever you believe in that we crossed paths with her.  As it turns out, Heather is in town for six months teaching English to students of all ages and backgrounds.  She encouraged us to attend one of her volunteer conversation classes, where we would have the opportunity to interact with students who want to learn English.  My group consisted of myself, Ngawang, and Toepak.  Ngawang is a 35 year old Buddhist monk from Bhutan who now lives in Southern India.  When he was ten, he left his family of 13 to move to India to dedicate his life to becoming a monk.  Toepak is a 19 year old girl from Darjeeling who is in town to take language classes.  She texted on her cell phone for most of the class, which amused me because that is exactly how I was when I was 19 years old.  The three of us discussed the size of our families, our occupations, Christianity, and various other topics.  When I announced I was American, Ngawang excitedly responded: "Ahhh Obama and big fat people!"  Ummm...yes?  When our hour session ended, both of them bowed and shook hands with me, so greatful that I gave up so much of my time to speak with them.  It is me who should be thanking them for the experience.  To be honest, I was tired and hoarse by the end of the class and felt like I had just played a round of Jeopardy, since our conversation topics were so all over the place.  "I'll take Towns in India for $500, Alex!"

The Environmental Side:

We stopped buying plastic water bottles and filled our same ones all week from filtered water stations around the city.  That's all I got.  I realize we won't win a Peace Prize for such an action, but we tried...

Embracing Nature:

Missy and I received some almost devastating news on our first day in McLeod Ganj.  India has recently passed a new restriction for people with any sort of tourist visa (aka...umm...us).  As it so happens to be, if you leave India with such a visa, you cannot reenter the country for two months.  In other words, our plans to go to Nepal for two weeks and then head to Southern India are no longer feasible.  At least there is so much of India to see that we are no longer upset by this news.  Our original plans to visit seven different countries was quickly cut to two, and now to one.  But, it's not the destination, it's the journey.  Right?

So, now that we won't be trekking the Himalayans as extensively as we had planned, we vowed to trek the foothills of the great Himalayan Mountain Range as much as possible in Northern India.  And...we did.  As I write this blog entry, I am sitting at an internet cafe, an ace bandage on my sprained ankle, a barrel of ibuprofen in my purse.   We are battered...we are bruised...we are mountain warriors.

We started off small, taking a short hike to the neighboring village of Bhagsu, to sit at the base of a waterfall and play with baby goats.  Then, our next feat, with the help of Heather from Maine, was a hike 9km up the Dhauladhar mountain range, to a spot called Triund.  Missy and I decided to spend the night on the top of the mountain (because we are mountain warriors), and we had a ball!  We quickly made friends with the people sharing our bonfire, who happened to be four Tibetan locals, around our age, who were having a reunion.  We shared stories from being raised in different cultures, we shared some laughs, we shared some wine and rum (to keep warm was their excuse for having it), and we played them some famous American campfire tunes from our ipods.  We returned to the village the next morning feeling like we really conquered the mountain.  Well...we didn't.  After dining one evening with Heather from Maine, we quickly learned that if you want to see the "real Himalayan Mountains", then you have to hike about seven hours past where we had camped.  That's seven more hours UP.  A challenge had been issued...and we accepted it.  

Two days later, we found ourselves hiking back up the same route, but this time with more supplies and a lot more motivation.  Also, we had Heather from Maine with us for the entire trek who encouraged us to camp about two hours past Triund, at a point called Snowline.  It is here where we watched one of the most beautiful sunsets of my life.  Truly miraculous.  The following morning, we woke at 5am, scarfed down some porridge and chai, and went off in search of the "real mountains", with Heather from Maine leading the way.  Please keep in mind that Heather from Maine is well versed in mountaineering and that Missy and I would have never accomplished this trek on our own.  

To make a long story short, we hiked for five hours before the clouds started rolling in behind us.  Missy and I made an executive decision to "take one for the team" and let Heather from Maine continue on up to the top of the mountain, while Missy and I had to throw in the towel.  It was not an easy decision, but, I mean, we still had eight hours of hiking to do back down to McLeod Ganj and we were already whining.  So although we did not get to see "the real mountains", we did see some beautiful ranges and get rid of some cellulite.  It's a win win.  The way down was an emotional time.  Missy was suffering from altitude sickness, my arthritic knees were acting up, and we really wanted a pizza.  Literally with one hour left on the downward trek, I stupidly missed a step, resulting in a badly twisted ankle.  I spent a few minutes cursing my jesus sandals for failing me, but put a smile on my face and limped down the mountain.  

I know I am sarcastic in this post, but I am extremely proud of our status as mountain warriors.  Nepal will have to wait, but we will be ready for it.  One day.

Tomorrow we are off to Shimla to relax and get massages.  Don't judge us.

For amazing pictures, see Missy's blog: http://heremethere.wordpress.com.

Special Mention

I want to wish a very special wife, mother, and great friend a Happy Birthday. Kate Larrabee is one of those people who makes your life a better place. Her daily blog is a staple in my morning, and she is currently working on an amazing project that is worth following. She and some friends are collecting stories from army wives all over the nation and are looking to publish the accounts into a book. Hopefully the novel will help to enlighten our country on the love, hope, and difficulties army families face, while also inspiring unity among women and men who's husbands and wives fight for our country. I am so proud of her :)

Also, her child is arguably the most attractive offspring that exists...so way to go Kate and Kev!

Her blogs:
http://daffoldilshope.blogspot.com/
http://threelittlearmywives.blogspot.com/

For the record...

Missy and I have offically arrived in McLeod Ganj, but again, it wasn't simple. When we showed up to the bus station in Manali, we were directed to "that one in the back". The vehicle was a cross between a short bus and an ice cream truck. I am not exaggerating. Also, we were the only two females out of 12 rowdy passengers. To make ourselves feel better, Missy and I bought 20 chocolate candies and played the game, "if you could be friends with any celebrity..." for a while. Thank god we stopped halfway through so I could buy an ice cream bar. We showed up to "our destination" at 3:00am. Said destination consisted of a dirt road, a street lamp, and one small, white car. "Uhhh sir where do we go!?". I felt panicked for a minute. But, apparently, the small, white car was waiting for us, to drive us the last 20km to McLeod Ganj. The seatbelts did not work and our driver wreaked of booze, but we are survivors, Missy and I. After passing out for the morning, we are up and at em'. I can't wait to meditate, camp in the mountains, and do yoga...woooooop!

The Manali mountains

Our 15 hour bus ride to Manali left little to be desired. My body still felt paralyzed from our camel "experience"; our bus driver was whipping around turns at the speed of lightning, on the edge of a cliff, as passengers were getting sick around us; and Missy was as close to tears as I have ever seen her. But...we made it...and I am damn glad we did. I loved every bit of our three weeks in the state of Rajasthan, but it feels so good to not sweat through everything I own and be bundled up in the mountains. Welcome to the state of Himachal Pradesh! Our plan is to spend the next five weeks wearing scarves and hats.

Manali is heartstoppingly beautiful; I don't know how else to describe the place. It is a small, hippy village nestled at the foothills of the Himalayan mountains. We chose a hostel in Old Manali, which is at the top of a very long hill, and in a much quieter section of town. We paid $4 each a night for hot water, cozy blankets, and a view that can't be beat...only in India. We have made the trek from Old Manali down to New Manali so often that have we memorized every shop selling wool items, each German bakery offering chocolate cake and lattes, and all the bridges and streams in town. Manali is a town for tourists, both Indian and foreign; and we have relished in every minute of it.

Highlights:

1) You can see from my previous post that Missy and I spent one evening in the company of a Bollywood movie star. He had spent the last 25 days in Manali filming a tv show and the poor guy thought we were the most entertaining people he has met all month. He practically begged us to hang around for dinner and drinks with the crew, but Missy and I responded with: "It's already 9:30pm and we have an early hike in the morning"...WE ARE OFFICIALLY OLD.

2) MOUNTAINS!!! I am learning on this trip that I have a serious love for the mountains and cool weather. It is making me think about relocating to Denver or Portland sometime in my life, but one thing at a time Alysa. On our last day in Manali, Missy and I hiked for four hours from our hostel to the Solang Valley. Along the way, we passed apple orchards, small villages, sheep herders, women carrying an unbelievable amount of objects on their backs, corn fields, and rock quarries. We did not, however, pass a single other tourist...per usual. The Himalayan mountains provided a perfect backdrop for the entire duration of our hike, and each time we took a picture we would proclaim: "OMG it looks like a postcard!". We stopped in one of the villages for a warm cup of chai and had a short bonding session with Marigold, one of the local women. When we approached her kitchen on the side of the road, she shooed away all the local men who were discussing politics, and made room for us at her table.

3) PUPPIES. Manali is a doglovers paradise. There are big, beautiful, mountain dogs just running around this town without owners; therefore, there are adorable puppies all over the place. These are the kinds of dogs that American families would pay hundreds of dollars to take home with them. On one of our walks, Missy and I stopped in the town of Vashisht for a while to hold some shivering little pups. It really was hard to tear ourselves away in the end. If only we could start an export business...

It is hard to believe that two days ago I was sleeping on a sand dune in the desert, and today I am sipping tea and staring at the Himalayans. I hate to keep repeating myself, but I AM SO LUCKY. Manali will be very hard to beat, but I am anxious to see more of Northern India over the next few weeks. Next stop...McLeod Ganj. We are going to see if the Dalai Lama is home...

p.s. - Pics and a video from the camel safari have been added in the post "The Desert". Enjoy.