The third (and possibly final) part of this super-post

I'm sitting at the moment in an internet café in Paprola - a small town about an hour's walk from Tashi Jong. It's a slightly surreal situation: I'm typing this with a giant pack of Spanish Tomato flavoured crisps and a bottle of water, whilst just to my left is a massive group of kids surrounding a PS2, playing a WWE game of some sort.

Anyway, that's more than two days away from where we left the story last. So, the four of us (Me, Hugh, Patrick and Mike) got on the bus to find that the "A/C" was a handful of fans of varying functionality. The one next to my seat didn't work at all (surprise, surprise), so instead I had the window open for pretty much the whole journey. We left Delhi, going through some much poorer areas (think corrugated iron shacks, etc.). This is the other side of world's second largest economy. But that doesn't mean the Indian people here aren't enterprising - God no! Despite the fact we were in a coach in the middle of a busy road, everytime we stopped on the way out of Delhi (including at red lights, etc.), swarms of sellers came out with water (Hindi: paani), crisps, coconut slices and tacky toys that (I would have thought) no one in their right minds would have bought. Don't forget the beggars too. And when we stopped at a bus stop to pick up the rest of the passengers (mainly ethnic Tibetans), the water and crisp sellers boarded the bus and went up and down the aisle trying to sell, sell, sell. If Brits put this sort of dedication into their jobs, we would probably be the world's second largest economy instead!

The journey itself was OK really; I watched India from my window. I should mention the way life works here: things open lateish (around 9 or 10) and go on until late in the night (literally midnight, in Delhi at least). There were lots of trucks emblazoned with "use dippers at night" and "horn please" - the Indians don't use their wing mirrors (some cars have them turned inwards so they don't get knocked off), instead you have to honk everytime you overtake (and every other time too it seems). We went through a couple of toll booths, including one where I was looking out and the toll officer chap (in a smart uniform - they go for those in India) smiled and waved. I'm sure toll people in the UK would be surly bastards. At half nine or so, we stopped at the Indian equivalent of a Welcome Break. I hardly need to tell you that it was totally different. There were a handful of outdoor, slightly scummy looking, restaurants from each of which a man came up with a menu to hassle tired tourists into buying some food. I got a palak paneer (not knowing what it was), which turned out to be a browny-grey curry with cubes of cheese in it. It was alright really, probably better and certainly cheaper than the crap you get at Little Chef and the like. I bought some overpriced sweet (melted Fruit-ella for Rs20). We also met (at this service station) the guys off to the Manali area (Loz, Troi and Nadine) - despite the fact that their fully A/Ced, leather-seated, TV-equipped, fully-reclining chaired bus left an hour after ours. We all had a second goodbye with them, and hoped back on the bus. I had a mixed sleep really (unlike Mike who was basically unconcious from Delhi to Dharamsala). We arrived in McLeod Ganj at about 7 in the morning. For those of you who, like me a few days ago, don't know the difference between Dharamsala and McLeod Ganj, have a look on the wiki; but basically they are close, but not really the same place, whilst the Tibetan-in-Exile government is found about half-way between the two (McLeod Ganj is higher up than Dharamsala).

So, we find ourselves in McLeod Ganj. This is where His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama Jetsun Jamphel Ngawang Lobsang Yeshe Tenzin Gyatso (to give him his full name) has his gompa (monastery/temple). We were met off the bus by Nyima, the GAP rep in McLeod. She is a lovely Tibetan lady with good English, who seems a little bit shy but is very willing to help. She took us for breakfast, which was an omlette with onions, tomatoes, etc. and I got a hot chocolate (very different tasting to UK/Cadbury's). We spoke on the phone to Lekshey, the general secretary at Tashi Jong (who we will all come across again later in this post - the suspense is exciting, yes?). McLeod is a welcome change from Delhi, it is cooler and quieter. The streets are fairly thin, and are lined with restaurants and shops, not to mention a large selection of spiritual healing and well-being places, offering Reiki, Yoga, Ayurvedic massages, etc. McLeod, needless to say, is a popular haunt for tourists with that hippy/spiritual bent to them. The real hippy centre of H.P. (Himachal Pradesh) is Manali, but I'll tell you about that if and when I go there. We sorted out money and SIM cards in McLeod, then me and Mike left the other two to go to Tashi Jong (we had the option of a couple of days in McLeod, but we were eager to get to the placement).