Saturday, February 13, 2010


Hi folks, I’m back in the UK now. I live with my Mum and I don’t have a job. I left the house the other day. I went to Tesco Express where I bought a pint of milk for just 49p.

I haven’t updated this blog for ages. It’s because I downloaded this computer game called Eufloria. And when it comes down to the choice between updating this blog and playing Eufloria, Eufloria is always more attractive. Sadly, I’ve completed Eufloria now.

In time I’ll describe all the insane stuff that happened to be in India. But to summarise, the Tibetan language course became ridiculously difficult. As if it had been purposely engineered to be twenty times more difficult that it needs to be. In October, we had the end-of-year exam. I failed by 4% and got kicked off the course. I was delighted, but a week later the euphoria wore off and I felt a bit... anti-climactic.

But no-one goes home empty handed! That’s right! Because I, Adam Buckley, have won a Tibetan girlfriend! Her name’s Lhamo, she’s 30 and enjoys cooking and singing. Right now she’s in Delhi finishing off her travel paperwork. But by March she’ll be here. She’ll also live with my Mum and not have a job. Hmmm... I wonder if Eufloria has a multiplayer option?

Sunday, June 7, 2009


Hi Folks, a few people have been asking me to update my blog. Yeah, well I'm overloaded with work. Sorry. By the time I've finished my homework, the only thing I want to do is play Battlezone or try to drum up a bit of inspiration by watching Captain Picard being charismatic and getting things done.

Check back in... a year...

Monday, January 26, 2009


Today I rescued a dog which was stuck up a tree. Yes, up a tree. I'm not entirely sure how he got there, but he was stood on branch quivering and whimpering. I inched my way along the branch to where he was and took hold of him. But this was all very dangerous. If I lost balance, me and the dog would fall.

Luckily I have a cold and I was wearing a scarf which someone had bought me for my birthday. So I tied one end around the dog and the other end around my neck.

At that point, a monk walked past, laughed at me and then walked away. Similarly, an old Tibetan man walked past, laughed at me and then walked away. Finally a Tibetan boy walked past. I told him to help me and I lowered the dog down to him.

On the ground, I told the dog he was now free and he should run away. He didn't. He just stood there quivering, presumably having a panic attack.

Saturday, January 24, 2009


Dharamsala is run by cows. They give orders to the dogs who control the streets. The dogs assert their authority by barking all night. All f-----g night.

The humans are the workers and required to produce food and luxury items for the cows.

The monkeys aren't happy with this and they're trying to subvert this system. They are therefore terrorists. The cow below is 'censoring' radical material placed there by the monkeys.


Not long ago, I was walking down into Dharamsala and I passed a spice mill. My nutty Hare Krishna brother had previously introduced me to vegetarian Indian cooking, so I decided to have a buy-in of all the funky spices.

The shop was staffed by a sweet old Indian gentleman who presumably remembers the days when India was ruled by the British Raj.

I had a lot of fun trying to express which spices I wanted to buy. I would identify spices by pointing or smelling, and he also suggested unknown and exciting spices that I may like to try. Every time I would indicate that I only want a small amount of the spice, and he would load a bag with a whole kilo. But that was OK - he was old and slightly doolally. And it wasn't going to cost *that* much, was it?

I eventually left the spice mill with my backpack and two carrier bags loaded with spices. The total price was one-thousand one-hundred and eighty-three rupees.

In reterospect, the shopkeeper wasn't sweet and quaint at all. He was a capitalist vulture and saw me coming a mile away. I eventually gave 90% of the spices away to my classmates, as they would have gone mouldy in my kitchen.


I walk past this extractor fan every day on my way home. I think it's enough to put anyone off smoking.


On Sunday mornings, I am an "conversation partner" for monks who are learning English in the local monestary. The monks are new to English pronunciation, so the lessons mainly consist of the following:

Adam: Hand
Student: Hant
Adam: No, 'Hand'
Student: Hant
Adam: No, not 'Hant', 'Hand'
Student: Hant
Adam: No, look at my mouth, 'Hand'
Student: Hant
Adam: No, you're still saying 'Hant', I want you to say 'Hand'
Student: Hant
Adam: Can anyone else say Hand?
Another student: Hand
Adam: Exactly, now say Hand again
Student: Hant
Adam: No, you said 'Hant', I want you to say 'Hand'
Student: Hant
Adam: Can anyone explain how to say Hand?
Another student: (in Tibetan) Imagine that you're spitting a piece of spinach at a passing yak, but you get hit in the face with a prayer wheel that was spinning too fast.
Student: Hand
Adam: Exactly! Now say 'this'
Student: Jis
Adam: No, not 'jis', 'this'

And so on and so forth...