Too hot too cold, too wet too dry

Tibetan butter lamps

At 3am today I woke up to the sound of monsoon rain. It had not stopped raining since yesterday; just when it seemed as if the clouds were running out of water, they would squeeze out even more with the sound growing louder and harder. The town had completely disappeared as thick mist made it look as though somebody had lined my windows with cotton wool. I wondered about Simita, who was further down the Yong Ling steps in a much colder room. Last night I lent her my baby-sized hot water bottle (thank you Graeme!), which today she said was an absolute life-saver when she woke up with her back paining from a hard bed and cold.

I had also been feeling like an ancient crock. While I had managed to drag myself out of my bed yesterday, I now had a sharp pain in my hip from the hard bed, which bothered me when I stood, sat or walked, and I was still weak from being ill. As the rain hammered down both of us were completely fed up, and I felt incredibly sorry for Simita because she had not been able to see anything of the place. So we started looking at our options.

Too wet - too dry, too hot - too cold; that was our problem. While we were freezing in McLeod Ganj, a check on the weather report showed that our next destination (Amritsar) was baking hot. Oh to be in England! At least that was the thought that crossed our minds more than once - especially with news that Blighty was enjoying pleasant weather right now. But we finally decided to leave McLeod on the 13th for Amritsar, or earlier if the weather did not improve - before rheumatism set in.

At 3am it looked as if we would have to leave. But eventually, after the mist lifted, dropped, lifted, dropped, and lifted for a final time, bringing or taking the rain with it, the weather cleared. Grabbing the chance we headed up the steps and into town.

So this afternoon, Simita finally got to see something as accompanied by Tsewang we plodded down the long, long flight of steps to a monastery where Tibetan butter sculptures are on permanent display and where monks learn the art of making sand mandalas. Of course this meant we had to walk back up the long, long flight of steps - something which took me much longer than usual (which would always be a long time) as queasiness and low blood sugar slowed me down.

As Sim enjoyed a ‘Goan chicken curry’ and I picked on baby baked potatoes, we discussed our options for Amritsar. Apparently the best way to get there is the 5am bus from Lower Dharamsala. On this we are in complete agreement - it doesn’t matter how convenient or direct it is, neither of us is getting out of bed at 3.30am for anything. The next option is a local bus to Pathankot and then train or bus to Amritsar. Having done the ‘local’ bus to Pathankot, I favour taking a taxi to Pathankot. Simita, never having done it before, understandably wants the adventure and to take the local bus, despite my attempts to put her off it. In the end she may take the bus while I take a taxi and meet her there. So there is always a compromise. In the meantime, we are hoping for sunshine so that until then we can enjoy this wonderful place. I suspect this could be my last trip to McLeod so I don’t want to go without saying goodbye properly.