rickshaw,jeep,bus,train,plane,coach,walk,home

so here I am, sat in work, thinking that 48 hours ago I was in India. Happy days.
My journey home was a bit of a mission. Before I got on the train I went to a chemist to get some valium for the trip. It works wonders. They didn't have any, but they gave me something they said was 'even better - you sleep long time'. I boshed two when I got on the train and was still very much awake five hours later, at 3am. We were meant to get in at eight. I did another couple and still no effect - until 7am when I started feeling violentally unwell, and had to go to be sick in the toilet. I could barely walk, they were obviously sleeping pills, god knows why I couldn't get to sleep - and I had to cling to everything on the way to stay upright and fight to even keep my eyes open. I got back to my bed and collapsed. On the platform I was throwing up, in the rickshaw I was doing the same. Got some funny looks. I eventually made it to tasky's house and passed out for a couple of hours.
I had such a dodgy stomach - I hadn't eaten or really slept in 24 hours - that my last supper in India, shamefully - was a Subway. I spent my last rupees on a shite, fake, chemical-filled, pillar of consumerism of a sandwich. I am a bastard.
Anyway, the rest of my trip was nothing to write home about. Got home and went immediately to the pub with lukey - Youngers in Henry J's is £1.65 a pint. Fuckin ay! Spent my last £20 in the world on ale. it was bloody well worth it.
And here I am, back in the real world.
The End. x

done and dusted

At long, long last, I just set Vegas to render what will hopefully be the final edit. I've been stressing mostly about the title the last few days, but had an idea this morning - it sounds a little cheesy, but its 'Lhamo Tso: Behind the Sea' - a few reasons behind it, firstly, her husband's film was called Leaving Fear Behind, so there is a link to that, and secondly, her name 'Tso' means sea (or big water - there aren't any seas in Tibet). Anyway, everyone seemed happy with it so its done now. Cheers to Ando for the Port Bandanas track 'Behind the Sun', which I was listening to when it came to me. Good work, son.
I had lunch with the President of the TWA (Tibetan Woman's Association), who I am doing this project for - she is the loveliest woman in the world - and she was so thankful, she gave me a Free Tibet T-Shirt and a Tibetan scarf as a gift, and invited me to their next Board meeting - with none other than His Holiness the Dalai Lama. She said she'd introduce me and I'd be able to ask him some questions. I kid you not. I'd fly all the way to India for that alone.
The finished thing is about 14 minutes long, and like I have said, its okay, good in parts but average on the whole. I'm not just saying that to be modest or whatever, it is genuinely not that good, it looks reasonably professional though, and I'm happy with it. The President told me that they have hired the TIPA school (Tibetan Institute for Performing Arts) in Mcleod Ganj on the 10th of September where they'll show the film - I went to see a show there a few weeks back, its bloody huge, around a 500 seater theatre. It's part of their 25th anniversary celebrations of their founding in exile. Kinda glad I'm not going to be able to be there, kinda gutted.
My India trip is just about at its end now, I'm on a bus then train back to Delhi tomorrow afternoon. I apologise for how miserable I might seem for the first few weeks after I get back, just the way it goes I'm afraid.
x

too much work not enough play makes listy a miserable bastard.

The films is coming together - pretty much all the editing is done now, I just need to record a voiceover, and tidy a few bits up here and there. Its ok - good in parts but ok on the whole. Miss Tibet 2009 came back earlier than expected so I've had to move into a different room in the building - its basically a box with a bed in the corner. And it stinks. I'm a little fed up with working so fricking much - I moved down to the main town from Bhagsu, a smaller village just up the road, which I had totally fallen in love with and felt very much at home in. I got to know loads of the locals and a good bunch of travellers before I moved down - what makes me feel most at home, wherever I go, is bumping into people I know, walking down the street. It happens every 10 seconds in Bhagsu. I miss the place. I'm really hoping I can get this film finished tomorrow or Thursday, which will give me one or two nights for myself to just chill before I go home - I'm on a train to Delhi on Saturday night, I fly home on Sunday night. Work on Monday. Happy days. There are plenty of things to look forward to when I get home, but I'm going to be utterly broke. Being broke in India is one thing, broke in England is another thing entirely. Not looking forward to it. I'm off to bed in my smelly box room. Tashi Dalek x

sleeping in Miss Tibet 2009's bed...

the film is finally starting to take shape - I've edited the first three minutes, provisionally anyway. It has become clear that this is going to be a massive job. So much so that the people I am working for have let me move into one of their staff member's flats (Miss Tibet 2009 apparently), while she is away in Delhi. I'll be sleeping downstairs from the editing room, so I can work through the night. Looks like my last week in India is going to be spent in darkness huddled over a computer! Not that I mind, I love doing this - its stressful and challenging and it would be nice to have some time off before I go home, but at least I'll have something to show for this trip, hopefully. I'm leaving next Saturday morning, so I have 6 days to get this done. Better get back to it. Thanks for everyone's nice comments and support, I really appreciate it. Much love x

xnay on the lightningbay

Having reviewed the footage from Wednesday, the most disappointing - no, devastating, thing, is that the lightning that I hoped and preyed had been picked up by the camera had indeed not been. Still, there are some decent shots, although there are some serious issues that are becoming apparent that will definitely effect the film, but the shots are good enough for the overall thing to be ok...not great. But ok. Anyway. Met a sound American dude and played a few games of pool tonight, met an old English bloke from lancashire who owns a hotel up the mountain, who scared the shite out of me - he came onto me big time, when no one else was watching - at one point he looked at me, blew me a kiss and winked, and at another point he invited me back to his apparently insanely amazing hotel. Me and Matt beat him and his playing partner (Rajo, who is actually sound as a pound), and we had a couple of beers after - so I'm actually pretty pissed, in fact it has taken me frickin ages to write this message so far. Anyway. I've got to be in the office editing at 9am so I have to go to bed.
Tashi dalek, too chee cheh, and nameste...x

a long old day.

Today has been an amazing experience from start to finish. I'll give the short version because I can barely keep my eyes open. I stayed in a guest house very close to Lhamo Tso's house last night, so I'd be able to roll out of bed to start filming at half-four in the morning. My guest house turned out to be a shit hole but I got a decent night's sleep and we started on time. The shots of her in her flat weren't great but there should be enough usable ones to look reasonably pro. Then we followed her up to the market to shoot her selling bread. Then it started raining; and in Mcleod, it don't rain - it fucking pours. I got soaked, but I may have got the best shot I have ever filmed in my life - I set the camera up in the middle of the square on a tripod - cars, bikes, tuc-tuc etc driving around me, holding an umbrella, pointing straight down a long road which Lhamo Tso was sat on the side of, under an umbrella. Just as I pressed the record button a massive bolt of lightning shot down in the middle of the road a couple of miles up - to the naked eye it looked unreal; I can only hope the camera picked it up.
The Tibetan Women's Association (whom I am producing the documentary for) have to be the best people to work for in the world; even though we were being charged to use the camera by the hour, after the market shots they insisted on going for breakfast...followed by a sleep. Ideal. After a bit of a kip we went to the kids school where we had all manner of problems, mainly revolving around electricity, which, when it was actually working (about 50% of the time), seemed to be only working at 10-15 volts. Needless to say the local power supply didn't have any of our 1000watt studio lamp, so all the interviews were done not only in a very noisy school, but also in natural light. I had absolutely no idea what anyone actually said (my Tibetan is still improving), so I don't know if the interviews were much kop, but they looked ok on screen. I'll be transferring all the footage to PC tomorrow to start editing, which is going to be a massive job. They told me today that as well as organising a public screening of the film, they are sending copies to every TWA group in the world to do the same, and sending copies to Bill Clinton (who apparently has taken it on himself to try and release political prisoners of late), and His Holiness the Daily Lama...so no pressure then. I also realised that as a result of the film, I will never be able to go to Tibet (China doesn't allow publically pro-Tibetans in Tibet), and quite possibly China either. If it even helps the Tibet situation, or indeed Lhamo Tso's husband's, it is 100% worth it. I urge you to do a little research into Tibet and specifically China's policies and treatment of Tibetans and prisoners, and spread the word. Every little helps.
Ps. If anyone has any good ideas for a name for this documentary, throw ideas my way (jonlisty@yahoo.co.uk); I'm absolutely stuck.
I'm off to bed for some seriously good sleep. Night x

excited, terrified

So tomorrow is the 'big day'; I'm getting up at 3.45am to begin shooting at Lhamo Tso's house at 4.30am. Today I put together a shooting schedule and a draft script for the documentary, which, at the moment, is looking rather thin on the ground, seeing as we can't interview Dhondup's parents or the kid's teachers or 'foster parents' (a couple who look after around 40 kids in a dorm on-site at their school). I'm just hoping the kids are going to say something amazing. Tomorrow is going to be long; we start at half-four, film Lhamo Tso baking bread, then follow her to the market, stay with her until 9, then rush back to our office to set up a interview set (with no lighting or microphones...), interview Lhamo Tso and her niece, then mission to the kids schools to film them in class, playing, in their dorm etc and of course interview the eldest daughter (she's 12). I can't wait for tomorrow, but I'm also bricking it. Please cross all of your fingers and toes for me...x

yesterday...

had a bit of an experience yesterday, in fact from start to finish it was a fairly eventful one.
In the morning I got up really early to shoot screentests of Lhamo Tso selling bread on the street. It wasn't quite what I had expected - I thought she would have a market stall in a busy market, but actually she just had a small box and sat by the side of the road, selling big loaves for 20p, small ones for 4p. It was actually really nice - it was the first time I had spoken to her properly, she actually speaks ok English.
Then I interviewed her niece, who is fifteen and like a fifth child to her, before going to the school that three of her children were at (in boarding). Jesus Christ, I was totally unprepared. I had all the questions and all my equipment ready to go, but what I hadn't really thought about was the prospect of asking three young children (one is nine, one is twelve and one is thirteen) how they felt about their Dad being held in prison by China, most probably being tortured daily, and the prospect that he might never come back. As soon as I saw the nine year old girl I was just like "what the fuck am I doing here." I felt miles out of my depth. Fortunately they were very talkative and relaxed and even spoke and read pretty good English.
The school was an experience in itself - its massive, housing over 2500 kids from 5-18. They all live in dormitories on the site. One thing really stuck with me; a massive sign on one of the wall's reads: "GET READY TO SERVE..."
I asked one of the girls what it meant, thinking it was some kind of communist slogan, and she said 'it means when we finish school we should be ready to serve the community' Just like England, then. Ha. Yeah right.

I met a sound American bloke called Matt the other night and we've been playing snooker a fair bit. We played last night and lost against some old local bastard who cheated right through the game. We had a couple of Kingfisher Strong's to console ourselves then I took a taxi back up to Bhagsu - another town just up the road. The reason I'm saying all this is because when I got to Bhagsu, I didn't have a single rupee left on me, so I went to change a travellers cheque. It was gone 1am so they were closed, but I bumped into a guy who runs one of the exchange shops. He just gave me 1000 rupees (15 quid) and said, 'just come back tomorrow.' I love the people here. Their society has such a beautiful cohesion that ours totally lacks. We are actively encouraged to be indivualist, competitive and even spy on our neighbours. There is no trust amongst strangers - something we completely take for granted because it has been like it for so long. Our society is totally fucked. There is no going back. Our world revolves around power and money too much for anything to ever change.
Anyway. Sorry about that rant but had to get it out. At least we won the cricket!
x

knowing what day it is

One of my favourite things about travelling is the not knowing what day it is - and the not caring. I was pretty chuffed when the girls in the office I am volunteering in said that they aren't working the whole weekend - two whole days off. Fuckin ay. I've put together a schedule for the recording and editing - we have to be fairly professional and efficient about it because its costing us rs500 (seven quid) per hour to hire the camera - might not sound like a lot but it is in India, and we are going to need it for a fair few hours.
I'm going to go to Lhamo's house on Monday morning to film a screentest to get an idea of what shots look good, and hopefully to let her get used to being filmed a little too. I'm going to go to her kid's school as well, and hopefully interview her niece, who has been very close to her throughout the whole thing. Then we're going to review the footage on Tuesday, and film properly on Wednesday. Might get the editing done by next weekend. They told me yesterday that they are organising a public screening(!) in the middle of the town the day after I have to leave... I don't know whether to be terrified or excited. I am kinda gutted that I won't be able to be there (playing a festy on the 12th), but also kind of relieved.
Anyway, it's a good friend's birthday today and we are officially on it for the duration. I've introduced a whole bunch of Israelis to heavy day-time drinking. They seriously can't drink like we do. Feels like a weekend at home!
muchos lovos x

we've got it too easy.

I interviewed Lhamo Tso today, well, I prepared questions then sat there while someone else asked her the questions in Tibetan. Blimey. What a life she has had, and how hard her life is now. Her husband is in prison, being tortured most probably daily, her kids have been forced to move to boarding schools because she can't look after them alone, she cares for her husbands elderly parents, and gets up at 2am every day to bake bread to sell in the market. The saddest thing she said, was while she bakes the bread, she can hear other bread makers in nearby houses, talking to their partners; all of the local bread-sellers work in pairs. She said it makes her feel more alone than ever. Whats more, she had liver failure a few years ago and now has very minimal liver function. She isn't meant to undertake any physical activity, yet works tirelessly to provide for her family. And all because the Chinese government have arrested her husband for 'inciting separatism' - which is fundamentally against all human rights laws, as it criminalizes free speech and violates the right to freedom of expression. She isn't the only woman in her position; the Chinese have illegally imprisoned over 1000 Tibetans. They are subjected to horrendous treatment, including torture. I can't believe I am only learning about Tibet now; everyone should be aware of the unbelievable and unjustifiable actions of the Chinese.
Anyway, before I really start ranting, I'm going to call it a day. Its been fairly harrowing to be honest, and I'm rather looking forward to bed. Did have a nice evening though, bought some ciders (very ropey) and found a hotel who let me watch the cricket. Happy days x

Lhamo Tso...

I e-mailed the Tibetan Woman's Association before I came to India and they were interested in using me for a couple of projects. I went down to their office yesterday and am somehow now the cameraman, writer and producer for a short documentary about Lhamo Tso, the wife of a Tibetan film-maker who was arrested last March for making a documentary about the opinions of Tibetan people on the Beijing Olympics (see the film here - its very interesting, and gives a very rare insight into what Tibetan people actually think) (some more information about him is here too). He was imprisoned without charge, beaten and tortured. As a result of his injuries, he contracted Hepatitis-B and has been refused medical treatment.
His wife, Lhamo, has not been allowed to talk to him and the Chinese government have assigned a state lawyer, refusing to allow the family to assign their own (this is all-too common in Tibet; most trials go on behind closed doors and are staged by the government). Dhondup faces anything from 5-years to the death penalty when he is eventually sentenced.
His wife, meanwhile, has been left to care four their four children, Dhondup's elderly parents, and the family's bread-making business. My job is to make a film about her life, the problems she faces and the determination, spirit and resilience she has shown throughout the ordeal.
I'm meeting with her tomorrow, with a translator, to get as much info as possible, then hopefully the following day I will be living with her for 24 hours, filming everything she does. I'm also going to interview Dhondup's parents, their kid's teachers and hopefully the kids themselves.
They've managed to get a film-quality camera for me to use, which is pretty scary - I've never used a professional camera before, hopefully I'll be able to blag it...
...Wish me luck...

the road to Leh...(continued)

We hitched a lift down to the nearest village, which was basically a collection of small tents for people stopping-off on the way to Leh. We stayed there the night then got the local bus in the morning to Leh. As I said a while back, local buses are fairly notorious for lunatic drivers and the Manali-Leh 'highway' is the second highest in the world, rising to 5325m. I'm usually OK with India bus drivers - most of them seem nuts by our tame Western standards - and I was, until two hours into the journey. I was sat over the rear-right wheel, looking down at a 3000m+ drop below. The road would barely be called a two lane road in England, yet our driver, at 5000m, tried to overtake a petrol tanker. I was like, 'no way. this is not going to happen'. Just as we were along side the tanker, our back-right wheel slipped off the road and the bus teetered on three wheels. I swear my heart stopped. Our driver floored it and clawed his way back onto the road. I nearly shat myself. The rest of the way I simply couldn't trust our driver. Looking down over the edge, every km you can see a burnt-out wreck of a bus, car or tanker. No wander. I have never been so happy to get anywhere in my life. We checked ourselves into a very nice place, had a hot shower - the first in over a week - and got a good night's sleep. A very good night's sleep.

The next morning I awoke early, still with a headache, and went to use the internet - I had sorted out a few bits of rather interesting voluntary work including helping teach a music class and record an album of Buddhist Monk Chants(!). One minute I was writing the very first part of this blog entry, the netx minute I awoke on the floor, unable to remember my name, where I was or what on earth I was doing. I thought I was in bed at first, and wondered why people were watching me, but I couldn't even remember how to talk for the first minute or two. It is easily the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me. A nice Russian couple helped me up and explained that I had seemed to have had an epileptic fit, and had been fitting for over ten-minutes. Apparently I was extremely lucky; fits over five minutes can be extremely dangerous, often resulting in a coma or even death. Needless to say when I was able to walk, I went to the hospital and after getting some VERY basic treatment, got the next flight back to Delhi, where I would be able to see a specialist.

Back in Delhi, I did various tests, which all came back fine. So, after a few more days in Delhi, I left once more in search of voluntary work, this time in Mcleod Ganj (in the mountains but at a much safer altitude). Splashed out on a good train ticket from Delhi to Pattankot but decided to do the rest by local transport. I'm so glad I did; I was on my own for 8 hours; well, I say one my own, I mean with no other westerners, and I had a great time - I got a 5-hour 'toy-train' to Kangra, which was a hell-of-an-experience. The train had 30 seats and perhaps room for ten more. I counted 115 people in the carriage at one point..! I then got a local bus up the rest of the way. The 7-hour journey (which could have taken me 4 in a private taxi, costing rs400), cost me 62 rupees - less than a pound. I spoke to so many people on the way, learnt a load of Hindi and most importantly, felt more immersed than I have yet. My favourite part of my trip so far (trek excluded, perhaps).

So here I am; staying in a wicked, chillllllled out place called Bhagsu just up the road from Mcleod. I'm thinking of learning the tabla (Indian drum) and Hindi while I'm here, especially if I can't work out voluntary work. I'm staying in a wicked place - rs150 (2 quid) for a double room with a balcony overlooking the mountains, my own bathroom with hot shower...at last I can chill out. This trip has been bloody stressful! Reckon I'm due a few days off.

Pictures are online here

to the jeep...

One the third night we camped beside a beautiful blue lake, in a small valley flanked by snowy mountains. We had our first wash in a few days in the 'sacred' lake. Thank Christ; the tent had picked up a rather peculiar smell by that point.
We arrived at an our second river crossing at around lunchtime on the 5th day. Our guide told us the river was too strong and we weren't about to argue; it looked ridiculous. That days walking had been almost entirely across broken rocks and we were chuffed to get somewhere, set up the tent and chill. The best thing about our trek was the incredible diversity we had encountered; from desert to red rock to an incredibly blue lake to snow-capped mountains to river crossings to miles of broken rock...every day had been a completely different experience, a new trek in itself. We had to be at the pick-up point Baralacha La by 10.30 at the VERY latest, or our jeep we had arranged would leave without us (but with our luggage we had left for it back at the guest house in Manali). Assuming we could get across the river pretty quickly, the walk to Baralacha would take 4 or 5 hours. We decided to get up at 4 to leave by 5 at the latest - which meant although we would hopefully get to the jeep, the river water would be at its absolute coldest.
In the morning, the river was just as big. We tried to cross it where it had split in two, and Jamie went first, a rope tied around his waist that we all held on to. He got within half-a-yard of the opposite shore before the river took him; he went in up to his neck before we pulled him back to the rocks on the near-side of the shore. When we pulled him out he could barely move, he was so cold. Me and Mike looked at each other and I could tell we were both worried for J - it was still 5am and the weather was poor; it would be at least two hours until we saw any sunlight and it was freezing cold. Our guide said we had three options; try up the river, go back, or camp for 2-3 or more days until the river subsided a bit. We f***ed off options b) and c) fairly urgently and started up the river. 3km up, the cliff face met the water and we had to scramble up the rocks. It was bloody terrifying and my fear of heights (that I thought I had conquered) was suddenly re-ignited. Literally one slip, or one falling rock, would result in pretty instant death. After god-only-knows how long, we saw an 'ice-bridge'; basically a section of the river where the top had frozen, making it (apparently) walkable on. We scrambled down the rocks and got across the river safely, without getting a tiny bit wet. Our guide reckoned that from where we were, it would take at least 5 hours to get to Baralacha. And it was already 8am. We were pretty much definitely done-for. But we decided to go for it - hopefully, if our jeep left late, it got delayed and it decided to wait around for a bit longer, we might stand a chance. We missioned.
At midday we spotted the road. And a white jeep, waiting where ours said it would. We shouted, whistled, screamed. But we were still at least 3km away - maybe 5. Me and J legged it (as much as you can 5000m-up, anyway). 1km away, the jeep drove off. It was devastating. I had a shocking headache, blisters, sunburn, sunstroke, I was bloody knackered, and our fricking jeep, our easy-ride to Leh, had just disappeared. With all my clean clothes. Happy days.
When we got to the road, toursists told us it had indeed been our jeep, looking for us. Our guides left us, sitting on the side of the road in the middle of the Himalaya at 1pm, thinking 'what the f*** do we do now?'

to be continued...

A Journey to Ladakh...(and back again)

The last week has been quite possibly the most eventful and rewarding week of my life. While in Manali I met up with Mike and Jamie, and we enquired about booking a trek through the Himalayas. We spoke to a local bloke called Yogu, who told us of three good local treks we could do. Two sounded OK, but when he spoke of the third one, his eyes lit up and a wry grin spread across his face. "This one, this one exciting sir." We were sold. It was six-days and would take us to Baralacha La, at 4950m, which rather conveniently was half-way to Leh, where we all wanted to head next. Our rs2000 (£25) per day would include a guide, a chef, a horse-boy, four-horses to carry everything (including tents for us to stay in) and all the food and drink we would need. Bargain.

The journey to Leh from Manali by road is no mean-feat; it is the second-highest road in the road, and arguably the scariest. Indian drivers are notorious and the road is likewise. Although it is said to be the most beautiful road in the world, we were happy to trim off 12 hours of the 24-hour trip from Manali. Yogu said we could leave our main bags at the guest house and a jeep would pick us up, with our bags, from Baralacha La six-days later, as long as we could get there by 10am - which, he said, was perfectly doable.

How easy it may have seemed. How wrong we were.

The first day of the trek was easy; we drove to 3000m and camped in a field to acclimatise ourselves.
*at this point my travel blog came to a dramatic halt as I had an 'epileptic' fit in the internet cafe I was in. I am now sat back in Delhi, will continue where I left off and get to this point in a moment...

Acclimatising was not easy. As soon as we hit 3000m, I had terrible headaches, which felt like my head was in a vice. I kept taking paracetamols and ignored the signs my body gave me, rather stupidly and at my extreme cost...
The second day of the trek was the hardest for me. I had several blisters and my lips became very sore. It became apparent we were getting a rather good service for our money; our chef was excellent and we had so much food we could barely move after meals.

On the third day, whilst walking across a baren rocky part of the Himalayas, Jamie suddenly shouted 'WATCH OUT!' as large jagged rock hurtled down the mountain and missed me by a matter of inches. Mike said it was less than 6 inches from hitting my leg, which it would have taken clean off. It wouldn't be our last scrape with death.

sorry this post is long, I have been too scared to use the net since my 'fit' last week, I'll try and get up-to-date over the next few days...
pics from the trek are at http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=97341&id=515404564&l=66294a577a

the bus journey from fricking hell.

Delhi was a bit of an experience; I stayed with my friend Tasker in the ghetto of Delhi - actually its not tat bad, its perfectly safe - and I loved it, it has a great atmosphere, less stressful, less people hassling you, more of an auethentic indian feel.  Then I went to the tourist 'zone' to get my bus ticket to manali in the himalayas.  Para Ganj, its called; what a fricking shit-hole.  Supposedly Delhi's answer to the Khoa Sahn Road.  Now I see why everyone comes to Delhi and absolutely hates it.  I would, if I hadn't seen the true side of Delhi myself.   Anyway, I got on a bus, meant to be 16 hours.  Obviously all the usual Indian stuff happened -  we left three hours late, we were marched off one bus, onto another, then after ten minutes taken back to the original one again - for no apparent reason - then at three in the morning we had to change buses, a fight broke out amongst two indian's for god-only-knows what reason.  And then the woman sitting directly behind me started puking.  Every five minutes.  With 8 hours still to go.  Those who know me know I have a bit of a history of travel sickness, which I only overcame by taking bus rides in India and the like.  I did well, until... Two hours from Manali EVERYONE started puking.  I mean, everyone.  It was ridiuculous.  The bus stank, and constantly the sound of vomiting could not be avoided.  I lasted an hour before I gave in and joined them.  Not a happy last two hours of an already pretty shocking journey.   Nevertheless, I got there in the end, found an amazing guest-house, randomly met an old friend I travelled briefly with four years ago, and had a good night on the piss.  Met some cool people, hada good night.  Our guesthouse is wicked; about a pound a night for a room that overlooks the himalayan foothills, and although Manali is a touristy place, it still has that unmistakeable Indian charm.  I love India.  I've already e-mailed a recording studio in Delhi asking for work.   Tomorrow me and a couple of friends are going on a 5-day trek into the Himalayas, staying in tents, going with horses, eating in the wilderness, eventually going up to 5200m...can't wait.

1st Post: Plane Food

Its probably a little ridiculous that I genuinely looked forward to the plane food than actually getting to India. And f*ck me was I right to. Plane food is amazing; not only does it break up the journey but its actually pretty bloody good, and whats more you never know what you're to get, so its also quite exciting. I knew I was in India the moment the plane hit the ground. Everyone applauded, cheered and sang a song. It was like a mini-festival. Then, contrary to the several firm demands from the cabin crew, everyone proceeded to switch on their phones, get out of their seats, take their bags down and have piss. Literally the second the plane touched down. Indian people just don't have he same kind of inner fear drummed into them like us westerners have; if you're on a plane and you see the person sitting next to you on the phone, you'll most likely ask him what the bloody hell he thinks he is doing - he is possibly (but almost definitely not) putting everybody's life in danger. That person might as well be satan. Not the same in India. It was the same in the taxi on the way to Tasker's flat; a car parked in the middle (and I mean, the middle) of a dual-carriageway. Two lanes of traffic on either side narrowly swerve to avoid him. He seems to be taking a piss by the side of the road. No one cares. India smells like India, I've been trying to put my finger on it but I just can't. I think it mainly a mixture of rubbish, shit and car-fumes, but with some spice thrown in. Whatever it is, I bloody love it. Inevitably, getting a taxi to Tasky's house was a nightmare, but I found it in the end. Tasker lives in the ghetto but it feels perfectly safe. He pays around 100 quid for a room in a decent appartment in Delhi, all bills included. It makes me want to live here.