Seasick (1/4)

The editor of this blog is delighted to announce that there will be a new feature given the author has had more time to, well, author and wants to share something that became a short story instead of a short blog post. Since it will still be published on the blog the editor wishes to a) make it manageable and b) create suspense by publishing the story Seasick in several installments.

The only apology that must first be made is that the pictures are not yet available to load but do check back and maybe by the end of the week they'll be up too! Oh and the author notes the "spell check" isn't functioning and repents spelling sins in advance.

Seasick (part 1 of 4)

Although I am currently in a land-locked location I am feeling a bit seasick. I've been Going With The Flow a lot lately and haven't quite got my sea legs... this relinquishing control does not come without rolling waves of confusion. At first I wasn't going to disclose all the details but after a resounding two-day sail, I changed my mind (for good reason, you'll soon see).

I arrived in Mcleod Ganj yesterday (April 8th) as noted in my travel blog. Before I came I did a bit of research (and infinitesimal amount compared to my usual standard) and read that one could "easily find accommodations near the bus depot." I was soon disheartened and sorely disappointed (emphasis on the sore) to find out both easily and near were relative in this case. Trekking up the first hill from the bus stand and into the main bazaar I found myself at a triple fork in the road. I could not choose. Mostly this was due to my ridiculously low capacity for decision-making as 99.729% of my bodily energy was consumed by standing, breathing, holding my second piece of luggage and fighting for my life... against gravity with my arch nemesis Forty-Liter-Backpack weighing me down like a small planet (slightly bigger than Pluto, of course, which is sadly no longer of planet-status). Before my demise I swayed forward and picked straight. Walk. Straight. My teetering course also managed to stay within a rough estimation of "the left side of the road" as is technically appropriate. That's two for two.

Down this road I passed so many tourist-apparel shops, coffee/Internet cafes and wooden-metal-jade trinket stands I nearly blacked out... no, that was the backpack again. But there WAS an extraordinary amount of these spots to spend money. Sadly I only noted two SIGNS for hotels but with no discernible doors... one more that looked 5-star swanky and I nearly inquired but had enough coherence to assess the risk: the shock of their potential room rates and my current physical strain could be enough for a fatal heart attack. I walked further. WAY FURTHER before I saw the Happy Home Room Available sign AND an arrow pointing to door. I refrained from weeping with joy and made my approach. I was first greeted menacingly by a narrow flight of stairs. Halting I turned back assuming I would neither FIT or SURVIVE said stairwell. But... I did it anyway. Reception Office? SECOND floor. ugh! At least the walls and stairs were an energizing, encouraging florescent orange?

I smiled weakly at the man at the desk on the other side of the glass Reception door, feebly pushing it open. Then in the most friendly pant I could muster I spurted, "Rooms available? ... for me? One. Can... you. Show. I see?... Ijustneedtoputmybagdownfirst!" And would have smothered an Adorable Animal Parade with the massive thing if need be, but luckily for the cute creatures they were not in the office but a sturdy bench was. Unsnap. Unclasp. Thud! GASP!

"It's on the second floor," was the first thing I remember the accommodating and understanding manager saying once I was free. In this case it meant the third floor but who's counting? That set of steps was like floating up clouds of whipped cream and angel dust - no bag? No problem!

And it was a lovely room: bed, TV, private bathroom, big sunny window with a view of the street and some hills. Done. For one night the necessities were here. I needed to clean and I needed to rest. Happy Home delivered. Back in the Office we talked costs - the charge was decent but a bit high at 550 rupees/night. Though I had enough foresight to negotiate a 50 rupee/night discount should I stay the whole week (if the meditation course fell through). He agreed and also suggested I take a rest, relax and have lunch before we sorted out all the details. I informed him I'd be out to use the Internet and we could finalize everything after that. Done and done.

I "ran" back up to room #204 and washed my hands and typically stained the sink grey with the grime of travel. After the dirt display of my hands that were NOT affixed to bus seats for 7 hours I knew that a wardrobe change would be required as well. The revoltingly dirty pants were thrown in the wash bucket for soaking and I noted the drain was more of a suggestion and noted that for the future washing process. I was excited: clean pants, checking email and rest!

As an aside I can't believe how simple it is to feel refreshed after a hard day of travel in India. Scrape off the dirt of the hands/feet/face (literally), go from pants rating 10 out of 10 on the grime-o-meter to ones that are a 6 on the same scale and breath in some fresh air from a sunny window: KAPOW! I'm brand new baby! Bring on the adventure. Well, not yet - let's just saunter to the nearest Internet cafe first. Result? Within six "doors" I found a place with a price breakdown that was reasonable and more prominent than the actual name of the place.

Most notable: 0-10 mins = 10 rupees and

60 mins = 50 rupees.

Sold! and directed to Computer #6.

Some catch-up with Facebook which informed me of some 'suspicious activity' on my account from the other side of India...ugh! And long-awaited email! Annnnd? No spot in the meditation course. Shoot! It (they... there was two emails) said if I hadn't paid by (first email) 4pm yesterday it wouldn't be held for me and (second email) 10am today they'd give it away as there were people 'in-person' to take it. That's fair. I wouldn't wait for me either if someone was there to pay immediately.

So I somewhat disappointedly updated my blog and emailed an apology email saying for polite-ness and without hope that I'd be in the next morning for the drop-in class and check back then but that I assumed it wasn't meant-to-be. (Look at that! Now I'm imposing my message of Go-With-The-Flow on other people!) Now course-less and backpack-less I decided to ACTUALLY look around a bit before going back to Happy Home. Basic exploration to get the lay of the tourist-land, scope out other accommodations (see if I was getting hosed), buy a juice - y'know. I went back to walking down Tourist Road and found Book-A-Bus-to-Delhi shops, Better-than-that-last-One Buddhist book stores, my juice (apparently 5-star as the price indicated, maybe because it included that delicacy 'apple') and a triple turn down-hill road. I took it for adventure's sake; past a Shiva temple (Hindu), a trail of prayer flags (Buddhist) and a breath-taking view of the snow-capped Himalayas (Mother Nature wins)! I realized THIS was what was missing from my current accommodations and since I was now 90% certain of needing a place for a seven-night-stay the phenomenal-ness of the view would be essential. Because if I go around the world to stay in a Shangrila setting... I wanna see the main attraction 3 times a day from the comfort of my own bed. Seriously! Or, at least, from the common rooftop patio or something.

Down the hill were a few selections:

the first was too snazzy (like valet parking)

the second was too-many stairs (like 40, really!)

the third was (potentially) juuuuust right!

to be continued...

by LyndiaP April 2011 (part 1 of 4).