baijnath

Baijnath really is a shithole: two streets littered with ramshackle houses, colourful vegetable stands and a couple of thousand inhabitants. It's only purpose of existence is as a home to a popular Shiva-temple, which I coincidentally managed to stumble upon without even looking for it. It was old and ...pretty.
I've checked into a fairly decent, but expensive (10 dollars!) hotel, as I need to catch up on the sleep I missed last night, I can never relax properly when I have to get up at 4 am, dreaming nightmares and waking up numerous times thinking I've overslept.

I also have to call Paan and let him know that I've arrived, but I don't want him to get upset that I'm staying in "town" tonight. Since Paan's English is limited, and very few people in this place seem to be able to interpret, I don't really know how to explain this to him. So as the coward I am, I'm waiting until it gets dark, hoping that my little white lie of being tired will be sufficient cover.

My cold has now moved on down into my lungs, I have a soft muted, expectorant cough, with slight pain on exhalation deep down from within the alveoli. My top differential diagnosis is a viral bronchitis with a secondary bacterial infection, possibly turning into some funky asian form of pneumonia. Or hey, why not tuberculosis?! Several wheal tests have shown that I have no natural immunity against TB, and as this is India, everything is possible. Treatment: time.