Shimla, or is it Simla?

I don't know the official spelling (I've seen both), nor the real pronounciation. I've heard Tibetans and Indians saying it "Shimla" and some Indians saying "Simla". Like everything in India, everyone is very adamant that their version is right, but no one is able to agree with each other.

Anyway, here we are in the YMCA in Simla. It's clean, comfortable enough and cheap. But anyway, after posting that last missive, we hung around McLeod for a little bit; a beggar attempted the "I want to be your friend" trick on us. He talked with us all nice and what not, and when we asked what he was up to in McLeod (he was, he said, from Varanasi) he said - in an oh so off-hand manner - "oh, just begging". Well, he didn't get any of our precious money, but he did give us some good (and true) information about the bus to Dharamsala. Which was our next adventure. For Rs7, and half an hour of your valuable time, the bus goes from McLeod Ganj (nice place, full of Tibetans and tourists) to Dharamsala bus station (seedy and scummy, though apparently less of a hole than Delhi train station, I am reliably informed).

On the bus down to the bus station, we spoke with a lovely cheerful Tibetan lady of about 25 called Tsering. She is a baker at the Hotel Tibet, so we promised to come see her before my birthday to get a cake. She told us she was born in Kham, Tibet, which is where the 8th Khamtrul Rinpoche had his monastery before fleeing to India in 1965, in 1969, setting up Tashi Jong monastery. Where, if you hadn't already realised, I am teaching now. Tsering gave us her email address and insisted we email her at some point. The Tibetan people genuinely seem to want to just be your friend (in general), without wanting anything from you, which is such a nice change from a lot of the people you meet. Not to say that you don't meet helpful and friendly Indians, which we most certainly have, it's just that this sort of openness seems more intrinsic in the Tibetans. I should also note her English was very good, which helps.

At the bus station in Dharamsala, we went to a fairly seedy place called "Canteen", where we had thali (not knowing what it was) for Rs20. It turned out to be flat bread with various sauces to dip it into (with free refills of sauce and bread). It was fine really, as these things go. We were stared at relentlessly during the whole time we were in the restaurant (and really the bus station in general), us being the only whites - pretty much - in the whole of Dharamsala (unlike McLeod Ganj, Dharamsala is not a touristy area). We met a handful of Tibetan monks at the bus station who helped us find the right bus (the sign said to go to stand 7, which, of course this being India and all, didn't exist). We were, again, stared at by the rest of the bus station. After a little wait there, we boarded the bus - me feeling a tad on the squiffy side, but that died down eventually. The bus itself (semi-deluxe) was a bit crap, no air-con, the door was open at least half the time, frequent stops, etc., etc., but it was made bearable by Patrick Wolf, Final Fantasy and Beirut.

We arrived in Simla some time after 6am but before 7am (I think) and, before we even got off the bus, were assaulted by touts and taxi drivers ("room, sir?", "taxi, sir?", "good price", etc.). We ignored them as best we could, but had to ask for a little bit of help with walking up to the main area of Simla. Somewhere along the line we went East instead of West, and found ourselves in a complex of housing blocks of a slightly (only slightly) dubious nature. We eventually (after some time) rectified our mistake and made our way into Simla proper. It was fairly surreal, none of the shops were open, and the streets were vacant but for a small army of street cleaners sweeping and tidying. The streets of Simla really are very clean - spitting and smoking are banned, though I've seen some people ignoring the former. I should mention Indian spitting habits; they chew something red, then snort up as much mucus as is humanly possible, then spit the whole lot out. Pretty vile.

We found the YMCA alright in the end, checked in and showered and dressed in clean clothes (hurray!). I believe I mentioned earlier that a Nepalese friend of the main nurse at Tashi Jong washed our clothes for us. It cost Rs40 to wash almost all of my clothes, which is stupidly cheap. I then went out to a restaurant the LP (Lonely Planet - how backpacker am I?) recommended for breakfast, called Balijee's. I was tempted by masala dosa (see one of the earlier posts to find out what that is), but I thought I'd go Western again, so I ordered sausages, chips and egg (and a nice cuppa). It was exactly what I needed - fairly greasy and tasty (and cheap)! After that, I came back here to type all this. My impression of Simla is very positive so far (since I've had breakfast and a shower and feel a whole lot better than when I got off the bus). We are going to try and meet up with John who is a Sanjula Monastery (very close) and maybe Bo (one of the Aussie girls) who is a whopping ten hours away in Dhera Dhun (middle of nowhere, not even in Himachal Pradesh!) but who has a week long holiday now as well. So that should all be fun.

I wanted to mention a couple of other random things. Firstly, the touchy-feely nature of Indian men. It is not uncommon at all in India to see men holding hands (including interlocked fingers and just holding pinkies), but we were assured by Rekha when in Delhi that it doesn't make them gay, just friends. They also often walk with hands on each others shoulders too. Coming from England, this is slightly weird to get used to. The other, far more important, thing I wanted to mention is that the hot water revolution seems to have bypassed Himachal Pradesh. At TJ we have cold showers. Here at the YMCA in Simla, we have cold showers. I hear too that those in the NE have cold showers too. So be thankful you lot in England with your excessive luxury!

Anyway, that's all I have to say, but more on the adventures of Simla as and when they happen!