Woke up the day we were to leave Mussoorie with the remains of a chest cold, and my best friend, Mr. Runs. With an hour long taxi ride and 6 hour bus ride to Chandigarh, I wasn't going to take any chances, so on top of the Mefloquine, I added some stoppers and crossed my fingers for the winding 2000 metre drop in altitude that would take us to Dehra Dun. Already feeling the effects of strange chemicals in my system I was wary of popping Gravol into the mix, but I was feeling queasy by the third switchback and swallowed them down. It was too late--at the bottom of the mountain we had to make the driver pull over. So, in this condition, coughing, heaving, sweating, and sore, we arrived crumpled at the bus stand and boarded the bus for the next leg of the journey. Luckily, the drowsiness set in and I was comatose for most of the ride, barely noticing that the bus was merely "semi-deluxe," and the one luxury this afforded us, our personal electric fan, was broken.
We arrived in Chandigarh, the town designed by Le Corbusier, the capital of two states built when the old capital of Punjab was lost to Pakistan in the Partition. Our troubles were just beginning. We tried hotel after hotel but all were booked (damn lonely planet!), and as the stoppers were threatening to wear off we were forced to fork out a ridiculous 1000 rupees for the night. The hotel, for those who need to be forwarned, was the Hotel Akash Deep. We settled into our room, after bartering them down to 900, to find rat dung in the bathroom and hair in the bed. They moved us upstairs. The maid-boy changed our sheets. It was a bigger room but next to the kitchen and every time the door opened, a swarm of flies flew in. I made a fly-swatter with an old Hindustani Times and whacked away. Meanwhile, Brandon discovered that the toilet seat was covered with old urine and poo stains. He got the maid-boy to clean it, thoroughly, after which I sanitized it with our hand gel. Then, returning to the room, I found a swarm of ants had discovered one of the dead flies and were trying to carry it away. I lost it, and stamped them all dead, completely exausting myself and insulting a few Jains who might have heard. Brandon decided to have a hot shower. The one thing that could make the day worth living. He turns on the tap and out comes a trickle of water. Nothing from the shower head. No hot water. He's livid. He goes down to the front desk, complains, says that this is the most we've paid for a room in the 5 months we've been travelling, AND it's the dirtiest. He gets 200 rupees back and a promise to be moved into a better room tomorrow. It was something anyway. At least we had HBO to soothe our wounds, and we would save money skipping dinner, since we lost our appetite looking at the kitchen.
The bed was soft and the sleep sound. We woke freshened by the new day and set off to organize a taxi to Dharamsala (we deserved to treat ourselves), and visit some museums. It all worked out. The City Museum, Art Gallery (particularly the surreal details of the mystical Indian miniature paintings--amazing!) and relaxing stroll through the Rose Garden made the stop worthwhile. In the midst of all the chaos, I'm ashamed to say that considered abandoning Brandon for home, but now that we're settled in McLeod Ganj and plan to stay for a good two weeks, I am determined to regain my health in order to stick out the remaining two months. We have a tentative plan to be in London by the beginning of the first week of October and Toronto by the 15th or so. We'll contact everyone soon to sort out details. If anyone has leads on an apartment for November do let us know! I promise the next entry will be more optomistic...
