It is raining in McLeod Ganj like from a Hollywood disaster movie. The clouds are a menacing shade of gunpowder and frequent thunders threaten with more promise of rain. The water flows down the narrow streets like small rivers. And I have no umbrella.
Yesterday I visited a Tibetan doctor in the hope of finding an alternative way to battle some of my chronic health problems. The doctor however gave me a speech on the austerity of healthy living, and sent me on my way with some herbal pills of unknown origin. Later on I decided to get a second opinion, not realising that I was visiting an Indian government doctor, who gave me a cocktail of antibiotics and decongestants for my cold, which is now so severe that I have problems breathing and can neither smell or taste anything. I'm pretty sure that he overcharged me for his troubles, as I doubt that a normal Indian person can afford a consultation fee of 500 rps. I therefore do not feel guilty in the slightest that I paid him with a defaulty 500-note, which I had accidentally ripped earlier that day. I guess that my karma is never gonna recover.
I very rarely take antibiotics, the last time I did was when I had been bitten in the face by a chow-chow, and even then I did it reluctantly. The only reason I'm doing it now is because I've booked a seat on tomorrows night bus to Shimla, and I really can't travel for 10 hours feeling like this. I've also stocked up on some Vicks vaporiser cream, which brings back unpleasant memories of dissecting sheep, the menthol smell always forever associated with the stench of half-rotten intestines.
Because of my poor state, I've allowed myself the luxury of checking in to a REAL hotel, for the extortionate price of $25 a night. I might even splash out on a heater, as 3 blankets don't seem to do the trick. I'm now off to snuggle up in my bed again, reading the fascinating autobiography of Dalai Lama, whilst listening to the gentle thud of the raindrops on the roof, occasionally interrupted by the heavy thud of a monkey landing.
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