Wwoofing (World wide organisation of organic farming.)

                I stayed in Old Manali too long. The problem is that although the day starts early there’s simply too much to do. The white water rafting was fun. And I spent a day in a silversmiths making an Om symbole for Kate’s 13^th birthday. However days such as these are the exceptions to the rule of casual dilies and dalies around the town. The day always seems to start around half seven when the permanent residents of the guest house begin to shake of the nights hold and embracing the day with a clatter of pans and the gurgle and splash of water, they also rouse me to embrace it to. For the last few days I’ve been doing Yoga from 8 till 9, and then I go down to my favourite German Bakery for a veg pattie, a nutella cuasont and a hot cup of tea. They tend to have a large variety of tea, and I’ve progressed beyond English tea and Chai and am currently favouring lemon and mint tea. It’s a nice contrast to the sweet goodness of nutella of freshly made crosont. The day then seems to slip past me in a casual manner. You meet a lot of people here. Harry, the jolly old man who has been the only other proper resident at the guest house is a wealth of information. I have the feeling he’s past his seventieth year. His days here are spent pouring over old field notes and pictures of his years in Cambodia and Lous, where he worked as a journalist for twelve years, and two years respectively. He was in the RAF before that and this humorous glint in his eyes that shouts of satisfaction found. One of his stories ends with him walking out of Cambodia with nothing but the cloths on his back. He made his way to a friend’s house and, taking of his shoes walked to the kitchen. At this point his firends wife comes in from another room and lets loose a piercing scream. Harry hadn’t realised how decrepid he looked. Malnurished in torn old clothes, bordering on starvation at 7 stone he’d walked through the pain of the blisters on his feet, which had consequently burst and slowly filled his shoes with blood. Upon taking them of, an automatic action, he didn’t realise that he was painting bloody footprints in a trail across his friend’s floor. This was almost a year after a political shift in Cambodia had resulted in most of the western journalists being evicted. He forfeited all his belongings, baring a few note books that he secreted around his person. However when even the dogs have been consumed and there is literally no food to be had, material objects, he informed me, suddenly seem to carry a lot less value. It’s deliciously intreting who you can meet over coffee. Let’s leave Harry be and snatch once again at the main thread.

                I lost my ring. We rode back from white water rafting on the roof of the bus and still shivering from the cold (I always regret not jumping in the Ganges with Jack and Oli last time, so avoid said emotion this time i suffered the freezing river.) my fingers must have contracted tremendously. It probably didn’t help that I’ve lost a little weight. Anyway i didn’t even feel it slip of. It brings a wry smile to my lips because I’d watched the Lord of the Rings a few days previously and remember thinking to myself that rings truly did seem to have a life of their own. Apparently Terrry Pratchet was at Liverpool airport when he was a overweight scouser dragging a shoddy bag in a manner that seemed to give it a life of it’s own. I wonder if something similar happened to Tolkien when he was thinking of rings of power.

                Now, I’m far from having turned into a hippy or any such malarkey, but I have made a few conscious choices out here. It’s simple common sense to avoid meat in India and though there’s a much bigger story behind why I can currently define myself as a vegetarian, but that happened a few months ago and it’s hard enough getting the present pinned down on err, whatever the electronical equivalent of paper is. Suffice to say that baring the occasional trout I haven’t eaten meat since Varanasi. I’ve also drifted away from recreational intoxicants. Although I’m really digging the coffee here, that’s about as hard core as I’m taking it these days. There just isn’t world enough and time, and having a fogy mind does feel like a crime. The last thing I had was a glass of white wine with a marvellous meal the other day which seemed to consume the afternoon. Me and a few choice friends nibbled on olives and fresh bread, devoured Vietnamese spring rolls, sampled cold the local hot and sour soup, marched on through some delicious hot dal mahkni with freesh chapaties along a large Korean dish called something like Bimbap (?) a hot stone pot with rice, mixed veg, sauce and a raw egg which cooks as you watch. You stir it all together and have it with a portion of spicy pickles on the side. So I have lost a little weight, but not enough to worry anyone. There be some good eatin’ up in these here hills.

                The exercise continues, though with less regularity, and as I said I’m also doing a few hours of yoga per day. So whilst i’m feeling guilty about not keeping up the press ups, I’m purging the guilt but finding muscles on my body whose existence, until very recently, I was completely ignorant of. And stretching and employing them feels like a much more challenging obstacle than the mere repetition of press-ups and stomach crunches.

                Hmm. Unfortunalty i’m running out of time. It’s only been forty min but I’ve got a lot in front of me today. So, the realllly speedy update. Yoga’s fun and im going to carry it on a lot. I didn’t get to go skiing but the choice was there at least, and it feels to me that this is what really mattered. There’s better things to do with my time and money here. I planned to leave Manali yesterday to go to either Daramsala or Leh. However I’m now sat with my bags beside me in a wwoofing institute. Think of an old English farmhouse, give it a splash of India and tone down the degree to which everything is in good nick (i.e. there’s work to be done, but it’s assuredly inhabitable.) and you have a very sketchy image of where i’m living for the next two weeks. The day starts at 5.30/6 for yoga or meditation. You eat breakfast and then help out till around1ish, then stop for lunch. The afternoon is your own and the owner, a marvellous small Hindi lady called Anmol, will help you in conducting any creative activity you’d care to try your hand at, from sculpting to carving to farming. It’s free bed and board and you can stay indefinitely. I’ll take some pictures.

                The ruff plan for my time here, and it gets even sketcher the further into the future it stretches, is to stay here for a while and really pick up Yoga. Head to daramsala and McLoud Ganj, check out the Golden temple and the border parade ect. Then take the bus to Leh (it takes two days, so maybe I stop over in Kashmere for a few days) see Leh and make my way back to Manali for one night. Trek from Manali into Spiti over the course of 8 or 9 days (those mountains be big!) and see the girls in Kalpa very briefly. Hopefully Oli will be in the country by this point, so i’ll kick it with him for a while. Then, presuming everything’s shinny i’ll head to Delhi to pick up Lib’s from the airport on the 3^rd of July.

Right, foods ready and i’m being rude carrying on writing so enough for now. Sorry this is short,

                With Love to the Moon and back,

Paul XxX

PS. I have a veritable mane.