Off in a cloud of dust

Ciao Mahi <3

Each spin of the rusty blade relieves my body a little bit more, the sleeves on my white Siddhi Yoga T-shirt are brown with dirt from having had my face hanging out a bus window for 4 hours & wiping the sweat off my forehead so often. Eesh... my tummy just made an uneasy sound, it gets to a point where you have to stop wondering what multitude of things it could be from and just accept the gurgles...

Silent baba & I

I'm trying to get a hang of 'organized travel' that seems somewhat ironic given that I'm in the country of chaos; which is exactly why you've got to give yourself that extra hour's space in case a herd of cows is causing a road block, or the heat sends you to sleep and you miss your stop. I have exactly 1 hour before my train to Jaipur is due to arrive...

Honey and apples

I'm flying solo! Having parted ways with my fellow yogi's, milked 'Om Star Cafe' for all it's worth and finally made a trip up to the elusive mountain village 'Dharamkot': in which we got completely lost, ended up surrounded my mountain goats in some village out of the 1920's and eventually found our way out as the stones beneath our feet began disappearing with the darkness (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P0ZjOLJyL9k). 

Our beautiful group of yogi's

Mmm ladies fingers..

It was a glorious few relaxing days post-teacher training; biding time in Bhagsu with M, S and C - an eclectic bunch with a shared naughty streak. But it was time for a change - I picked up my laundry, packed up and heaved on my backpack that felt a ton heavier. Wandering through the mist, down the hill as we'd watched so many others do before us. I waved farewell to the others who I could vaguely see behind the ropey dream catcher of Om Star. I paid my dues to the Bhagsu cake man (still confused as to which of his crossed eyes to look into) and parted with my notorious yellow umbrella, passing it on to the smiley shoe walla.

K, the monk I'd had lunch with the day before, had sweetly organized for his friend to take me to the bus stop. So I hopped into the back of the taxi labelled '501' with a slightly over-eager taxi driver and took a deep breath, muttering the safety mantra to myself as the play station game began along the bumpy and terrifying drive down the mountain to Dharamshala.

Lunch with K.

The driver lead me to the bus with a big white 'KUMAR' sign on its side, I shoved my backpack into the dusty trunk and sat down, noticing the difference in temperature in comparison to the cool climate of Bhagsu. The blurry waves of heat made my upper lip sweat as I sat stagnant on an almost empty bus. Oh how glorious that empty bus was before the masses crowded on and off over the next 4 hours. At each stop, men carrying fresh coconut, dried dhal, bananas or bowls of onion sambal would weave through the mid-line of the bus, singing the songs of their product.

I'd saved a last piece of peanut butter Bhagsu cake for the journey, opening the little gold box that it came in and tasting that amazing reeses-like chunk of indulgence, that was rapidly melting as we descended further down the mountain. I was weary of not drinking my water too fast as I usually did, due to the absence of toilet facilities on the bus and having uncomfortable flashbacks of the last traumatic bus/ toilet experience in Cambodia with J years ago...

I'd bought '11 minutes' by Paolo Coelho as a snap-purchase before leaving. The book rental hut had done me well over the last month... I'd managed to get through 'The White Tiger' and '1000 Splendid Suns' - grateful to have ended on a more heart warming note with the latter.
I got through 100 pages and sighed with boredom, placing the book on my lap and looking out the window at my surroundings. Green rice paddies, a flowing river, a bleary eyed man with his gut hanging out of a sweaty tank top, selling dried fish. I looked anxiously at the shop billboards as we zoomed past them, waiting for the word 'Pathankot' to show up and give me some sort of reassuring sign. The girl behind me, sensing my distress tapped me on the shoulder and told me in broken English that I had 2 more stops... phew :)
It was the last stop so everyone got off the bus and I followed their unconventional trail across the railway tracks; stepping around the cow nibbling on a black banana skin. I took off my luggage and threw it over the platform that I scrambled up after. Caw Blimey! If I thought I was hot on the bus, I was wrong. A delusional wave passed over my body and I felt my clothes getting damper, gazing at the long strip of chairs with peoples eyes gazing right back at the only caucasian in the station. Everyone was sat aroun
d, waiting; It's definitely something I've noticed here... the acceptance of individuals, the comfort in which they wait. We call it Confucian dynamism in Psychology, different concepts of time; here there's almost an unspoken understanding that the goal will be reached regardless of when it happens.
A few long bearded babas were lying on the ground, contentedly watching the ceiling, surrounded by bags & wearing only loin cloths. I smiled at them and quickened my pace at the sight of a moving fan in the station cafe. Walking into the little room where warm air was being circulated, I dropped my bags, took a cold carton of 'buttermilk' out of the fridge and placed my luggage on a chair. Mmm, something refreshing, I took a sip of the new and unusual drink, EUGH... Salty, sour milk filled my mouth, I put the carton back on the table. No more buttermilk for me. I ordered a hot, sweet tea instead (ya know, hot drinks actually cool you down) and a Veg Thali (a metal dish in which each indent contains a yummy curry, chapatti & rice). I paid the hefty bill that came to about 40p and stood outside to wait for the train. There were only a few arriving on the opposite side of the tracks, but when they did, passengers would jump off, luggage in hand, run across the railway tracks and chuck their luggage over the platform, just as I had done. It almost looked like a dodgy border crossing with so many figures scurrying in the dark.

The sleeper bus :)

8:10, the train was 10 minutes late... with the amount of baggage I had, I couldnt be bothered to heave it on and off so I stood still, holding everything, feeling the weight of my bag grow by the minute as the deafening sound of hundreds of sparrows echoes around the metal roof. The train arrived and the mad rush began, I shuttled along behind a couple onto the second class sleeper carriage, showing my ticket to as many people as necassary until I was guided to my bed for the night. There was a pillow & blanket, a mesh holder for water, a slightly larger one for books/ snacks and a brown paper package (tied up with a manky piece of celotape) full of fresh sheets and a towel. It was almost better than a hostel! Within 10 minutes, men had passed through the carriages offering chai, soup and other snacks. There were 2 men in the bunks below me and a woman opposite; I smiled after a failed attempt at conversing, allowing the curious, befuddles looks as to why a foreign woman on her own was sleeping above them. 

Off to Jaipur we gooo

Sitting crossed legged on my top bunk I closed my eyes and took everything in, amazed that it had all gone to plan (so far). I made my bed, awkwardly washed myself in the 'Western toilet' and heaved the smelly blanket over my body to try and block out the unnecessarily freezing AC that was blasting down on me. My handbag was tucked safely behind my head and my alarm was set for 10am the next morning, when I'd open my eyes for the next heated adventure in Jaipur...

Recipe of the day: Shahi Paneer (Paneer in cashew curry)
http://showmethecurry.com/curries/shahipaneer.html