Chalo Manali!

It's chalo Manali time! Yeah! Vashisht is the name of the place we are heading, yet another location infamous for its hot springs. Fake babas with their chillums, long beards and dreadlocks abound. It's chillum city. Chillum, chai, chapatti, yeah! Hot springs, shopping, hiring bikes, going on mountain runs, smoking, chilling, eating, sleeping, waking, hot springs again. It's a nice life and Eri, Yifang, Raechel and I were looking forwards to another kind of chill out time after the experience of Leh and the Nubra Valley. It was time to head for another kind of civilization.

Splitting with David... boohoo!
David surprised me earlier this year when he announced on email that he is to leave Spain and join me out here in India. I was over the moon of course because I could imagine the two of us getting up to all kinds of mischief in India and embarking on a number of adventures that only lunatics would consider “normal”. We've been traveling together for the last six months and have been through the mill together. He's picked me up when I've been down, given me the odd reality check, thrown a few harsh words my way, dragged me through the Himalayas, kicked my arse when it needed kicking. I can say I've done more or less the same for him. We haven't had so many arguments, but we have been able to tell each other to piss off whenever required. There's no need to take things personally when it comes to speaking the mind in our friendship, and to me, that's what good friendships are all about.

The freak that he is, David found kinship with two other mountain-goats and decided to jump on a bus with them to Lamayuru before taking on the nine 5000 metre passes to Padum. He was going to trek back to Zanskar, the nutter! From Padum, he was to split with the guys, Gregorio, a Columbian traveler who had spent a year as a monk in Thailand living on alms and who intrinsically crossed the Himalayan range in his flipflops, and Nicola, a French mountain fanatic. The guys were to go on to Srinagar in Kashmir, while David had decided to follow in the footsteps of Lauren and her nun-brigade and cross the range from Padum to Darcha, which is about two or three hours by bus from Vashisht.

David was basically trekking from Leh to Manali and his estimated time to get there was 15 days. There was no way I could wait for him in Vashisht so we said our goodbyes in Leh. Although we had planned to link up somewhere, I had a feeling that this was going to be the last time I would see him for quite some time. I felt sad and teary after he left, the oot (camel). I'm going to miss the bitch.

Vashisht!
We are here! I love going to the hotsprings every morning. The place is a literal hot tub of smiling women from around the world, all bathing together. A beautiful energy! I spoke to Udeni from Sri Lanka, a stunning woman who has been traveling around India for many years and who regularly returns to Vashisht. I met Marci, from Madrid, who has known Udeni for some years now and who cannot help but return to India time and time again; and I met a number of women from many different parts of India, some of them proudly adorning amazing tribal jewellery, including huge nose and lip rings, and multiple silver hoops in their ears. Wise old women, wonderful mothers with their adorable babies, energetic teenagers, traveling hippy girls from across the four corners of the world - everyone was smiling, everyone happy to see each other and loving just to simply be. No questions, no hassles; no one cares how long you have been traveling, where you come from or what you do for a living. The hot springs are there to wash away the mundane of life and this was an opportunity that everyone was making making the most of.

Full moon - full power!
Trouble
Troubles began in the run-up to the full moon. We're talking full power action in the neighbourhood here. Feelings were running high, people were running riot, unsavoury characters were on full charge around us, and at the time, it felt like there was very little we could do about it.

Raechel
Raechel, a smitten kitten, has just learnt to ride a bike. Inspired by her oh-so sweet amor, she became a biker chick overnight. I met Raechel for the very first time in Dharamasala where she balanced my chakras with her healing powers and crystals. A true healer and practitioner of Reiki, we lovingly refer to Racheal as Earth Mother. She was the third person to tell me that my heart chakra was blocked and her sweet healing powers put me on the mend again. A special chica with special powers, she's reminds me of a good witch, a woman that I am privileged to have met. I bumped into Racheal again, this time in Leh. Seeing as she had the same plan as Yifan, Eri and I, we all decided to head down to Manali together.

Boys and Bikes
Full power to Raechel for learning how to ride a bike and having the confidence to do it on her own in Manali! We thought we'd take some inspiration from her, however, our plans to hire bikes, learn how to ride them and to drive off into the sunset through the pristine pine forest valleys of Manali – didn't exactly pay off.

We spent most of the day faffing about in the garage with Ilan (he's Ladakhi, but has been given an Israeli name by his rather sweet and innocent Israeli girlfriend) and a bunch of mechanics. Ilan is a bad boy. We should have sussed this out from the word go. As we sat around drinking coffee that morning, he decided to join us, tapping in on our conversation to hire a bunch of bikes. We'd met Ilan the night before at Aya and Bombaya's place. Bombaya is a baba, or so he says. He's never worked a day in his life, laughs like a silly child and smokes chillum for breakfast, lunch and dinner. He's also the beloved of Aya. She'd met him walking down the street in Kasol some months back. With his dreadlocks and childish charm, he won her heart. So much so that they are now visiting his parents in Bihar.

You meet someone once, spend an evening talking, eating, drinking and smoking with them, and they become a familiar face. Such was the case with Ilan. He decided he could help us with our little bike mission and took us down to his friend's garage. They fix Enfields, of course. I was expecting scooters, but was in for a shock when we discovered the metal monstrosities that lay before us. Raechel went off on her own mission to find a bike while Eri, Yifang and I tried our luck with getting started. I felt a little shakey, and if I was to be brutally honest, hungover from the night before. Eri managed to straddle her bike and figure out the balance and gears. Ilan pushing the back of the bike, ran like a lunatic after her as she took off for the road, driving on the wrong side. It looked like the scene of a dad teaching his daughter to ride a bicycle for the very first time. Yifang decided that this was not for her, and as for me... Well, I thought it might be better if we managed to get ourselves a few chauffeurs. As it happened, we'd taken up the time of the mechanics as well as the bikes, despite the fact we hadn't actually gone anywhere yet and it was already three o'clock in the afternoon.

Ilan suggested we find some boys to go with the bikes, so we went on a mission to find some. First stop was Eric the Norwegian. He and his friend have known Ilan and co for some time. Unfortunately, they cannot ride bikes. We accepted the kind offer of a smoke instead before making our way back to the garage. By this time, it was decided that Ilan would be joined by two others – Tinku from Punjab (who works as a mechanic in the garage) and Sidhi from Nepal (a tuk-tuk driver and good friend of the guys). Sidhi was the most decent of the three. We'd hired bikes and the boys came with them as complimentary accessories. The Manali mountain countryside whizzed past us and I felt the air cut across my face; felt exhilarated at the back of the bike as the wind nearly deafened my ears and the cold numbed my hands. I was on the back of Ilan's bike. He drove like a lunatic and refused to slow down, cutting tight corners at white knuckle speed. I managed to keep it together.

Earlier this year I went on a two month motorcycle adventure on the back of an Enfield with my friend, Wayne. He was exceptionally considerate, drove like a responsible adult and not once did I feel the fear. On this occasion however, I did. In my experience, I have learnt that it is better to trust your instincts about a driver when you are on the back. I did not trust Ilan. Eri, meanwhile, was in much safer hands with Sidhi, a gentle soul who appeared to have a little more respect in general, if you know what I mean.

Troubles begins.
Night begins to fall and Ilan begins to get restless. It's cold, but I am not going to put my hands around his waist. He's starting to piss me off. He decides it's time to stop for a drink so comes to a halt outside a tiny shop and picks up a bottle of rum. He takes a long swig. Raechel passes us by. Probably better for her that she did. We stop another 10 minutes later and go sit inside a dhaba serving local fare and alcohol. By this time, Ilan has convinced Yifang that he will take her on a trek the following day. He wants to take her with him to meet others and discuss the details and uses this as a pretext to swap passengers. I felt a lot safer on the back of Tinku's bike. He confided that he would never sit on the back of Ilan's bike and that he found his friend to be a dangerous rider. A bad feeling began to brew in the pit of my stomach as I thought of Yifang on the back of the bike with this bafoon; with this pathetic excuse of a man.

Where is Yifang?
It's 9pm and there is still no sign of Yifang. We get word an hour or so later that she is in some bar-come-restaurant, sitting with Ilan. As we enter the bar, a look of relief crosses Yifang's face. She looks tired and drunk and is sitting next to the wall, cornered in by Ilan, whose face drops as we walk in. He tries to offer us a drink but we refuse, asking Yifang if she is okay, helping her up and walking out with her. I let Ilan know that his “wife” has been looking for him the entire day and had even sent a search party out after him. He runs out of the bar with his tail between his legs as we leave the joint.

As soon as we get home, Yifang reveals that Ilan had other intentions. No shit. He'd given her something to drink and had kept trying to put his hands and arms all over her. I felt a volcanic surge of anger rising through me. I wanted to throttle the little shit and began putting on my boots so that I could go out, find him and stick at least one foot smack bang into his rear end. She was evidently not comfortable with the situation that she had found herself in, however, had found it difficult to just get up and walk out of the bar. She wasn't sure how to handle the situation plainly because she had never been in a situation like this. In other words, a rather vulnerable young lady who has not seen this scummy side of life before. Yifang comes from Taiwan and is also a stunningly beautiful young woman. Her experience of traveling and people outside her own country has been limited, but growing each day, as it seems, by the minute. She has taken on board how she should deal with a situation like this if it was to ever arise again. I felt guilty about leaving her with Ilan. We should have known better. Still, I explained that there is nothing rude, bad or wrong about telling someone politely that you would now like to go and that you will see them another time. It seems however, that Ilan had seen a vulnerable situation here and was hard pushed if he was to let it go. He had made Yifang extremely uncomfortable and had made it difficult for her to leave.

Hold your ears and apologise you piece of shit
In India, when someone is made to hold their ears, it is a clear sign that they are deeply ashamed and embarrassed. It displays their idiocy and the shame they have brought onto themselves. It is something that children are often made to do when they have done something wrong.

As I sit with my morning coffee the following day, I spot Ilan with Sidhi and Tinku. I summon them to join me. Ilan is looking sheepish. “So did you get a beating from your wife last night?”, I begin. They laugh. “It's no laughing matter.” I try to maintain a sternness in my voice. I am older than him. In India, elders are meant to be respected and I try to throw some authority into my approach. “What do you think you were doing with my friend last night? She tells me that she wasn't very comfortable with the situation. That you tried to put your arms around her, hold on to her.” He tries to defend, “But I hugged you yesterday!” It was a joke. We all knew it. All I wanted him to do was admit that he was wrong and say sorry. He begins apologising to me. “No.” I retort. “You come with me to the house and you apologise to the girl. You hold your ears and you apologise.”

We walk up to the house and Yifang tries to close the door the second she realises he is there. Ilan apologises half heartedly and then tries to shake her hand. “I don't want to shake your hand”, Yifang tells him. I tell them to leave.

That was idiot number one.

Troubles continue
I am looking for shampoo and conditioner on the shelves of the shop. I have been there for the last 10 minutes and have placed a number of items on the shop counter. As I try to find the conditioner for dry hair, I begin to move around some of the bottles on the shelf. He's a skinny runt. Short, skinny, dark with a moustache. He begins to shout at me. Yet his voice does not come to a halt any time soon and I realise that he has not stopped abusing me for moving the bottles around on his shelf. I am staring at him in disbelief and without thinking, throw the bottle of shampoo that I have in my hand, at him. It lands on the floor. He begins to swear at me. “Behan chaudh!” - which basically means, sister fucker. I have a bunch of conditioner sachets in my hand and throw them at him as well. I turn to leave and discover he is right behind me and that he is holding a shoe. According to mi amor, “since Bush has been attacked, shoes became weapons and you have to take care of any Indians not wearing chapals.” I guess you have to laugh about the situation, however, I wasn't quite laughing at the time.

Hold your ears! Take two!
I call the police. The response of the officer? “Why did you throw the shampoo?” - I don't think I need to go into a rant about this, or into the details. It's a waste of energy and another insight into the screwed up bureaucracy of the Indian justice system. I can however, reveal, that Mr ShopKeeper, became the second person in two consecutive days to hold his ears and apologise, this time in front of a crowd of people and the police. The following day he was summoned, as pressured to by me, to the police station, where I made him get down on his knees, hold his ears and then touch my feet. I did tell him that a dog was more worthy. Courts, convictions, investigations – screw the lot of them. I cannot tarnish my time in India with this kind of shit. I did what I could. End of story. Moral of the story? Control your temper. He's an ass, but you don't have to be one too.

Hold your ears – Take Three!
Chotu, the 19 year old village boy works in Little Tibet, our favourite local restaurant in Vashisht. As a result of poor health and safety regulations, he burnt his face and arms when opening the pizza oven door outside. The door of the pizza oven needs to remain open, especially to avoid incidents of hot air blasting out at inexperienced little village boys like Chotu. We sympathised with Chotu and gave him some attention, made conversation and tried to make him feel better. I noticed that he would watch us strangely from a distance and that he began to make frequent visits to our guesthouse, which was situated just a stone's throw from the restaurant in which he worked.

We were out at the waterfall. Yifang had decided to stay home. On our return, we were greeted by a freaked out Yifang. “He came into the room, he close the curtains and went and stood by the bed! Then he try to close the door! I scared! I ran outside! I tell him to leave!” That was it. I had had enough.

Raj, the restaurant manager had become a respectable friend in the time that we had been in Vashisht. We spent many a night hanging out with Raj after hours, when he'd tell us of his past and of his perspectives on life. He's a solemn and intelligent young man much older than his years. He earned our respect to the point that we even made him a friendship band of colourful threads for his wrist. “This is worth more than all the clothes and money I can think of, because it's going to last at least three or four years. I will never take it off!” he exclaimed in happiness when Eri, Yifang, Rachael and I presented it to him.

Raj appeared at our door to say hello. I explained what happened with Chotu. His immediate response was that we inform the chef of the restaurant, Chotu's older brother. He also explained that Chotu was inexperienced when it came to dealing with foreigners and that he comes from a small village, hence his small-town mentality. Throughout villages in India, it is not normal for a guy and girl to even speak to each other. Not unless there is something more going on between them. This is the kind of background from which Chotu has come.

Half an hour later...
Chotu appears at our guesthouse. Raj has evidently warned him that we will be speaking to his brother about his behaviour. I ask him what he wants. He pleads with me not to say anything about the situation to his older brother. I am a lot more lenient with him than I should have been. Yifang suddenly arrives and she re-enacts his behaviour, tracing his exact movements. I stare at him in disbelief. “You did this?” He lowers his head and begins to touch my feet, begging me not to tell his brother. I realise that he is young and inexperienced. “Sauch samaj kar rehana. Izat se rehana: Be mature. Be wise, have respect for others and behave like an adult.” “Ladkhi aap se baath karti, iska mathlab yeh nahin bhi wo aap ko pasand karti: Just because a girl speaks to you, it does not mean she wants to jump into bed with you.” I tell him that he needs to grow up and grow out of his small-minded village mentality because he will not survive another day working in places like this. “Don't do it again.” He holds his ears, apologises to Yifang and I tell him to leave.

All of these events took place over the period of the full moon. We had hoped to get to Kasol for the full moon party, but decided against it. Perhaps something worse could have taken place had we gone there. Overall, we did not want to leave Vashisht with a bad feeling in our hearts, so we lived it out a few more days. Rachael eventually left to join her amor in Dharamsala. We made her a friendship band and took her to the bus station. A few days later, we were on the bus to Delhi. I will be back in Vashisht. It's a very special place. I will never forget the Japanese baba who sits outside the temple that is situated right outside the hot springs. Everyday I would go to see him and he would bless me with a tikka (a saffron based liquid that is thumbed onto the forehead); and every morning he would say, “sookh aur shanti” - meaning happiness and peace, or, “kush raho”, stay happy. It was time to move on now. Rajasthan was calling...