Woke from intense dreams of uncertainty. I need to release my nervous energy, and Jim and I have opposite means of doing this. He likes to get drunk and talk to people, I like to stay sober, exercise, and do weird alienating performance art. He enjoys conformity and I'm ethically opposed to it. We're still a good match because we both have very little desire for external input. Zorbing today will probably be a good release for me.
We ate breakfast at a decent-looking restaurant which had this beautiful image on one of the tables:
Notice the upper right corner.
Halfway to the breakfast place I realized I've finally got traveller's diarrhea. I knew I shouldn't have eaten the pakoras with raw cabbage shavings on top yesterday. That's the kind of detail you have to watch out for here. Westerners can't handle the water, and anything washed with the water is therefore poison, and the pakoras, even though I picked off the cabbage shavings, were indirectly touched by the water. So I've had diarrhea 3 times today. This is a good day to be sick though because I don't have to travel much. I hope this gets better soon, I don't want to shit myself while zorbing. It's still nothing like the 2 times I've had food poisoning in the US.
Jim and I got in a rickshaw to the bus station so I could go zorbing, but the traffic on the only road into downtown was too thick and we missed the last bus. Probably for the best since my stomach still hurts even after 4 Pepto-Bismol.
We eventually got to town and bought our bus tickets to Keylong - 5 a.m., $4 each. The guy who runs our guest house volunteered to find us a cheap cab or rickshaw to town in the morning. He also gave us a list of guest houses in Keylong that he knows and likes. Indians are very helpful even if there are many who are con artists/beggars.
A great example of this is the guy who ran the river crossing business. I went alone, because Jim wanted to stay in the room and play some game on his iPhone. I dressed for the occasion, just a swimsuit, sandals, and a shirt I don't care about, but I still had to bring my wallet to pay him, and I didn't want to lose it in the water, so I took it off before I got strapped in, but right as I put it down the guy running the business said "No!" and picked it up, strapped it around his neck, and put it down the front of his shirt so no one would steal it while I was river crossing.
I strapped in and zipped to the middle of the river and started bouncing, fist-pumping and cheering really loudly. The people on the shore were staring with appreciation. It was a lot like how I behave when trying to win a rollercoaster - I compete with everyone to have the most fun. I always win. Here is a picture of me winning 2 years ago on a ride meant for 4 year olds:
I'm pretty sure I was screaming Bane when that picture was taken.
After a few minutes, I got tired and came back. I paid him the $3 or whatever (with a tip for not stealing any of my money), then walked back to the guest house, feeling totally invigorated and no longer sick, sopping wet. This was such a good choice. I'm sad I couldn't go zorbing, though I suppose I could've ended up like this guy:
When I got back to the room, I danced to The Bee Gees on the balcony in my underwear, right over the Beas river. Then I meditated for a bit but I still haven't figured out how to do that without falling asleep sitting up. Jim later suggested that, during the inhale, I think of opening myself to the goodness of the world, and then focus entirely on the exhale, instead of trying to stop thinking entirely.
On the way to dinner, Jim and I went out of the main city area, past beautiful country houses, one of which had a sign that just said "I live here." This gave me an idea for a sign to put up on my lawn (if I ever have one): "Drive faster, I have no children."
When we got back to town we tried a delicious and cheap place called Moon Dance, which interpreted their name literally in paintings on the wall:
Speaking of Moondance, It's funny how Manali is so in love with the America of the 1960's: Dylan's Coffee House (slogan: "You Gotta Serve Somebody."), Cafe 1947 (theoretically named after the year India gained independence from Britain, but stylistically too similar to Club 47 to be a coincidence). Doors shirts with an Indianized Jim Morrison painted on the front are everywhere, too.
I'm glad we're leaving Manali and its tourist traps tomorrow.
We ate breakfast at a decent-looking restaurant which had this beautiful image on one of the tables:
Notice the upper right corner.
Halfway to the breakfast place I realized I've finally got traveller's diarrhea. I knew I shouldn't have eaten the pakoras with raw cabbage shavings on top yesterday. That's the kind of detail you have to watch out for here. Westerners can't handle the water, and anything washed with the water is therefore poison, and the pakoras, even though I picked off the cabbage shavings, were indirectly touched by the water. So I've had diarrhea 3 times today. This is a good day to be sick though because I don't have to travel much. I hope this gets better soon, I don't want to shit myself while zorbing. It's still nothing like the 2 times I've had food poisoning in the US.
Jim and I got in a rickshaw to the bus station so I could go zorbing, but the traffic on the only road into downtown was too thick and we missed the last bus. Probably for the best since my stomach still hurts even after 4 Pepto-Bismol.
We eventually got to town and bought our bus tickets to Keylong - 5 a.m., $4 each. The guy who runs our guest house volunteered to find us a cheap cab or rickshaw to town in the morning. He also gave us a list of guest houses in Keylong that he knows and likes. Indians are very helpful even if there are many who are con artists/beggars.
A great example of this is the guy who ran the river crossing business. I went alone, because Jim wanted to stay in the room and play some game on his iPhone. I dressed for the occasion, just a swimsuit, sandals, and a shirt I don't care about, but I still had to bring my wallet to pay him, and I didn't want to lose it in the water, so I took it off before I got strapped in, but right as I put it down the guy running the business said "No!" and picked it up, strapped it around his neck, and put it down the front of his shirt so no one would steal it while I was river crossing.
I strapped in and zipped to the middle of the river and started bouncing, fist-pumping and cheering really loudly. The people on the shore were staring with appreciation. It was a lot like how I behave when trying to win a rollercoaster - I compete with everyone to have the most fun. I always win. Here is a picture of me winning 2 years ago on a ride meant for 4 year olds:
I'm pretty sure I was screaming Bane when that picture was taken.
After a few minutes, I got tired and came back. I paid him the $3 or whatever (with a tip for not stealing any of my money), then walked back to the guest house, feeling totally invigorated and no longer sick, sopping wet. This was such a good choice. I'm sad I couldn't go zorbing, though I suppose I could've ended up like this guy:
When I got back to the room, I danced to The Bee Gees on the balcony in my underwear, right over the Beas river. Then I meditated for a bit but I still haven't figured out how to do that without falling asleep sitting up. Jim later suggested that, during the inhale, I think of opening myself to the goodness of the world, and then focus entirely on the exhale, instead of trying to stop thinking entirely.
On the way to dinner, Jim and I went out of the main city area, past beautiful country houses, one of which had a sign that just said "I live here." This gave me an idea for a sign to put up on my lawn (if I ever have one): "Drive faster, I have no children."
When we got back to town we tried a delicious and cheap place called Moon Dance, which interpreted their name literally in paintings on the wall:
Speaking of Moondance, It's funny how Manali is so in love with the America of the 1960's: Dylan's Coffee House (slogan: "You Gotta Serve Somebody."), Cafe 1947 (theoretically named after the year India gained independence from Britain, but stylistically too similar to Club 47 to be a coincidence). Doors shirts with an Indianized Jim Morrison painted on the front are everywhere, too.
I'm glad we're leaving Manali and its tourist traps tomorrow.
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