Peace in the Himalayan Foothills

One exceedingly sweaty, nine-hour bus ride through the winding steep roads of the Himalayas later, Ty and I finally arrived and settled into our new "home" in Mcleodganj of Himachel Pradesh in northern India. Thanks to my copious amounts of Eddie Vedder, Tracy Chapman, and Dave Matthews on my Ipod, I was unphased by the lack of food, restrooms, and any semblance of safety the bus trip had to offer. Ty, on the other hand, was PISSED. After several relatively unsuccessful attempts to crack a joke about him being a "cranky pants" in hopes of lightening the mood, we disembarked from our hellish carrier into the night of Mcleodganj expecting mayhem rivaling that of Delhi. Thankfully, we anticipated wrong. Instead it was peaceful. It was chilly. It was rainy. We had found our refuge.

Since then, Ty and I have been living our most longed for fantasy: leading a writer's lifestyle. We spend our spare time--which amounts to several hours a day--simply reading, writing in journals, blogging, and essentially indulging our individual intellectualisms.The rest of our day is spent eating, drinking tea, eating, walking a bit, and more eating. Mmmmm. My desire to use India as my personal slimming spa may be out of the question... the food here is just too dang good! They even have the only certified Baskin Robbins in the entire country a mere two minute walk from our hostel, so I obviously have had to get me some o' that. (Verdict: pretty dang good, despite the haunting "100% Veg" sign posted over the ice cream.*) To add insult to injury, twice now we have taken Tibetan cooking classes so if we discover a clean, public kitchen (perhaps an anamoly here) we now have the ability to cook ourselves MORE food. (If anyone's interested, I can make you a mean meal of momos, which are tastier and healthier versions of potstickers, of Tibetan soup once I get home!)

I would be slightly worried about our caloric binging-fest if we hadn't just signed up for a 10-day long Buddhist meditation retreat in which we only eat vegetarian meals. Oh yeah, and the retreat is held in complete silence. For 10-days. Complete silence. It's either going to be torture or the most amazing, enlightening experience I have ever had. Needless to say, I can't wait!

In the meantime, I am trying to convince Ty to do a month long 200 hour yoga instructor certification course with me here--how cool would that be?

Looks like the coffee shop I'm sitting in--which is currently playing Miley Cyrus' "Party in the USA over its speakers-- is attempting to close, so that's all for now!



*By haunting, I mean that this Baskin Robbins business has even permeated my dreams. Last night I had a nightmare that I was in an ice cream shop attempting to choose the tastiest flavor, but just when I was about to order I saw it: the "100% Veg" sign. Resigning myself to eating the less-creamy cousin of my lactose-laden favorite, I looked back down at the ice cream bins and realized that they were not filled with ice cream. They were filled with morbidly obese cats. All meowing at an eardrum-piercing decibal. I'm not sure I want to know what that dream means. Perhaps my malaria pills are messing with me. Yeah, that's it.