Anyway, the next day was a good day, though it began with a decidedly average breakfast at the YMCA, at which the Indian chap gave me the details of him and his Palampur Uni professor friend (as promised). We then went off on a tour of the surrounding area by coach. The way this all worked was as follows: we went to the HPTDC (Himachal Pradesh Tourist Development Commission, or something like that) office for twenty to eleven (as instructed), went inside and asked (good thing we did too, instead of waiting there for something to happen), were then directed to a man outside, who gave us directions (quite quickly too, I should add) to the bus stand, and the number plate of the bus. We then make our way (stopping for many directions) to the bus stand, to find loads of buses, but, typically, not ours. At 11 o'clock (when it was meant to leave), it staggered part of the way up the road, stopped for a few minutes, came a little further up (we did consider going down to it, but were censured quickly for this), stopped, and eventually made it to where we were to board and get going.
The trip itself was quite good, and decent VFM (Rs 190). We first made a few stops around the village of Kufri. First was a decrepit looking HPTDC run hotel or restaurant of sorts, where we stopped for the views of the valley. Next we went to a bus stop in the middle of nowhere to be greeted by, lo and behold, people with activities for tourists. We got a Rs250 horse ride up to the top of the hill on fairly emaciated horses who seemed in constant fear of their master's fists and forceful encouragement. We reached the top to find a totally contrived tourist trap of a place. Yak rides and photos, saffron sellers, an apple garden, a temple and a bunch of cheap roadside eatery places were crammed onto this hilltop. We, being tourists after all, got photos sitting on yaks (owned by a crazy lady who was a cross between an American cowgirl and an exuberant Asian woman, who called us brother a lot – which is, I should mention, used as a term of endearment and friendship, as well as meaning brother). We went up to the temple (that looked fairly rubbish) and someone asked us for Rs100 to go in. It goes without saying that we turned and walked. He dropped to Rs10 in no time at all, but it really didn't even look worth that much. There was a good view up there (our time in Shimla was full of good views), which was free. We hopped back on our horses and were lead back down. The ride was actually quite fun, though the route was rocky and steep, as well as very muddy in places. Our steeds did seem constantly on the verge of slipping over, but we survived unscathed.
Back down the hill, we went past a (closed) nature park that claimed to have snow leopards. I should probably point out that in India, a lot of things are closed on Mondays. The next stop was a place called Naldehra which is the site of an historic golf course (yes, that's right, historic), a school (with kids in three totally different uniforms), a half-completed, totally empty restaurant (where we had a cheese pakora that was alright), and, of course, some very good views. From here the views reminded me of French/Italian countryside, except with added drama, steeper valleys, and all the dotted vineyards and châteaux replaced by clusters of Indian houses. The bus dropped us off at Sanjauli (a town near Shimla, maybe classed as a suburb thereof?) where we had arranged to meet John.
He took us up to his monastery, which was a nastily steep climb up the valley, which really takes it out of you. His monastery is smaller and a bit shabbier looking than Tashi Jong, and is not part of a larger Tibetan community. Despite this, it's still a really nice monastery, and the monks are really cool (of course!). Many of them are Mongolian orphans who have been sent to the monastery (where they, I'm sure, have a much better life than in an orphanage). John's monastery does have one thing TJ doesn't – wind operated prayer wheels! When we arrived, the monks were all out in front of the monastery's main building, playing various games (including badminton). John introduced us, and took us (with a couple of monks tagging along) on a quick tour of the place. There is also a Hindu temple up there, in addition to the Buddhist monastery and some more outstanding views (as there often are at 2500m). It was hard not to like Sanjauli monastery, though I prefer Tashi Jong (as you might expect).
John has bonded really well with his monks, in a way that we haven't really had either the time or opportunity to do so. For example, during their free time, the monks play in the area in front of the main monastery building, which is just outside his room (more on which in a second), whereas the TJ monks sometimes seem to evaporate when not in class or at meals. I think, however, that the main reason is that our stay at TJ has been interrupted by this long puja so that (at the time of posting) we have spent almost as much time in Shimla as at TJ.
That evening was spent firstly in his room, which is less of a room and more of a flat (apparently it's not part of the monastery, but is rented for him – a fairly important monk lives along from him, called Namja, who was very friendly and very welcoming). He has three rooms (each, by themselves, is smaller than our room), and has set about decorating them a little with photos and drawings done by the monks (some of whom are very talented, it seems). We then engaged in that most English of pastimes – tea and biscuits! Just to exemplify what I've been saying about monks, the tea was brought over by Namja, without us asking, without him expecting anything, or even staying to have it with us, and merely a gesture of friendliness. We were joined by a few monks, who were, John told us, a bit shy about speaking much English with us newcomers there. We did, however, discover that they love rap music and Shakira (as well as, for some reason, wrestling, more on which later).
We then made the trek down to Sanjauli for dinner, stopping at the first restaurant we saw – a tiny place with three tables squeezed in, the chef at the front, and totally open at the front to the street. The owner and John had already met before, as he had been down (though he hadn't eaten) with some monks. We chatted with Bobby the owner's brother for a bit, who was a tour and trek operator in Shimla. The meal was fantastic. We three ate very well for just Rs220 (= less than £1 each), and when we tried to leave an extra Rs20 as a tip, Bobby wouldn't take it, saying it was a family restaurant that didn't take any extra money.
After leaving John and the restaurant, we walked back to Shimla and the YMCA (about twenty minutes) to find the New Zealander in the lobby with a new Indian friend, and a pair of hapless Germans. She soon turned the conversation to her experiences at a Buddhist monastery in Darjeeling, telling us of the horrendous beatings she had to treat among the young lamas (she was a nurse), administered by a couple of the older teachers. With that in mind, we headed off to bed. We had been offered a room the night before by Namja at Sanjauli, so this was our last night at the YMCA – 3 nights, 2 people, 1 room, Rs1200 (=£15).
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