Apartmentality.

It was about this time that the cracks really started to show between Doug and I. In all honesty there had been problems for a while but things were reaching a head at this point. We had decided that we would ride together to Shimla where Doug would meet his friends then we would go our separate ways. There were many contributing factors and I know it had become stressful for us both. I am telling you this just because I believe in being honest and its a part of my journey but I would prefer to not talk about this too much. It is between Doug and I and really not for general discussion. I’m sure you all understand.

Doug decided to leave early in the morning each day as his bike was slower and I would meet him at our final stop each evening. This was the pattern that we continued in until we reached Shimla.

There was one interesting point, I had picked up some samosas and gulab jammun before I left town that morning and was looking for an idyllic spot to enjoy a bit of lunch. I reached the top of one of the hills and  found a temple sitting on top, commanding a beautiful view of the valley below. I stopped, removed my shoes and asked for permission from the sadhus , holy men, looking after the temple to sit on the grounds., which was duly granted. It was all very peaceful and relaxing and when I had finished I was invited by the holy men to come and smoke Charras with them. To the unitiated this is weed.  Now normally this is not really my thing,  if you enjoy this thing responsibly then more power to you,  my views have changed considerably over the past few years regarding this and there are much worse things in life to be dealing with but its just not my bag. This time though the setting just seemed to fit, a perfect Indian experience, but it wasnt meant to be, I had to be somewhere and there was no I was going to smoke and then try to ride my bike . So I regretfully bid farewell, maybe next time.

When we reached Shimla, we stayed one night then went our separate ways. Doug would continue on to meet his friends and head north whereas I would stay in Shimla a few days to get my head together and decide what I would do next. So I had to find a hotel, I was starting to hunt around when became aware of some internal discomfort, I had woken up not feeling so good but had thought nothing of it but something was starting to intrude on my conciousness. We had eaten at a crappy Indian place the night before which was a forced choice because at the time nothing else was open. I had ordered fried rice which tasted exactly like dirt, yes dirt. It was inedible, how do you mess up rice in India? Im sure it was a couple days old and the agent of my intestinal distress. I registered my disatisfaction with the waiter who at first pretended he didnt speak English but when I asked some other Indians to translate they told me he had been speaking perfect English with them. Very soon after I was told I would not be charged for the rice.
Back to the next day, I had started detoriating rapidly and just didnt have the energy to find a hotel. It had been fortunate that the day before Doug had picked up a hitchiker by the name of Vik, a local Indian guy who had seemed very friendly, I took a stab and gave him a call. I asked if him or his friends had a room I could rent just for a few days. Now in the past I might have been hesitant to ask someone for help like this but really who cares, they can always say no. Thankfully he said no problem and that I could stay at a friends of his, Keddy. At this point I was still thinking I could at least be sociable, so I rode my bike over to meet them. By the time I got there i was just about to throw up and my guts were being torn apart, I just asked if i could go back and crash. I always feel bad when your completely reliant on your host, I feel like I’m not doing my part but they were more than helpful. So for the next two days I just recovered and thought about things. I got to learn a lot about Indian culture from Vik, Keddy and their friends. I was, I think, inducted into their club called the Royal Peak Masters (RPM). I now have stickers on my bike to prove it, courtesy of Vik, including flames on my fuel tank. That was basically Shimla, just getting ready for the next part of my journey.

One of the other things I wanted to talk about but it doesn’t really fit anywhere into the post was something thats been happening along especially in the north. I have been meeting a lot of Russians,  i never thought I would say this but they have managed to worm their way into my heart and I find myself having a certain affection for them. There is, i think, an appreciation for any culture that comes from having lived amongst it for any extended period of time the offshoot of that is that I find myself wishing I spoke Russian much better as I have a genuine desire to want to communicate with the Russians i meet.  Somehow Russia has become a part of my life.

Next stop Mcleod Gunj, the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan government in Exile. Time to get some inner peace.