Dinner

I texted my Mum to ask her how things are going with Guy, as I heard he'd had his big operation. A minute later, the phone rang and I could see it was my Mum. Oh no, I thought, she's phoning me because it's serious. "Hello Adam", she said, "I'm just passing the phone to Guy".

"Hello."
"Hello Guy... wow... er... how's it going?"
"I'm just having some dinner. And I had my head cut open."

Then my Mum said the time was up because she's just about to run out of credit. When I called back, Guy was asleep again. My Mum told me that he'd had a big operation to remove the mass from his skull. The surgeons said they were amazed at how much stuff they'd removed, and they'd also blocked up the hole to his sinus, so that the problem won't happen again. He's got a big scar across the top of his head and down behind his ear, but HE'S ALIVE! And having a spot of dinner.

So thanks everyone for your support and good wishes and positive vibes, they might just have saved him! And thanks also to the doctors. Although this was terrible news from the start, I think an incredibly fortunate series of events has taken place.

Surgery

So the latest on Guy is that it's likely the polyp which started in his nose a couple of years ago. It's spread into his sinus, face and skull. It is operable, which is good news. He will be operated on either today or tomorrow hopefully, by 2 or 3 separate teams of specialists! It looks like our prayers might actually have worked!

Guy

Today my Mum phoned me, in tears, to tell me that my brother Guy has been rushed to hospital. An initial scan shows that he has a growth in his brain which is either a benign polyp or a tumour. Either way, he'll require major surgery.

So this is a big shock for me and my whole family. In the afternoon, I went to the temple of HH Dalai Lama and made an offering in his private office. I understand that HH Dalai Lama will personally pray for my brother's health! I also prayed in front of statues of Guru Rinpoche, Chenrezig, Green Tara and Palden Lhamo. I was told that the statues in this particular temple are especially powerful. When I got home, I emailed two Buddhist masters who I have a connection with. I guess I'm kind of 'cashing in' on my previous good karma.

I also eventually managed to get hold of my Hare Krishna brother in Venezuala. He will orchestrate his own set of prayers for Guy related to Dhanvantari, the god of Ayurvedic medicine.

So in light of this, I might not be writing any 'funny posts' for a bit. Bear with me on this.

Monkeys

Today I moved from the guest house in Gangyi up into Mcleod proper. My new apartment is fabulous and I've properly landed on my feet. I haven't kitted out the kitchen yet, so at lunchtime I went to Mcllo Restaurant to eat Chilli Panir and memorise 11 new Tibetan words.

On the way back, as I approached my apartment, I could hear animal noises, like dogs fighting. When I arrived, I looked from the balcony and the trees and rooftops were full of monkeys. About 30 or 40, and at least half of them were baby monkeys. I think that two separate troops had coincided and were fighting over territory. Fighting meant biting each other into submission. Biting each other into submission whilst being suspended in the middle of a telegraph wire or on the branch of a tree.

While the big monkeys were fighting, the other monkeys were opening dustbins and throwing the contents around, knocking bricks off roofs, shaking trees to see if anything would fall out or terrifying the local Buddhist monks.

In the UK we had a problem with 'hoodies', which were gangs of bored trouble-making teenagers that loitered on streets letting down car tyres, putting windows through and attacking the occasional old person or French-exchange student. This gang of monkeys was basically the same, except they had more hair. I don't think I want them to be my friends any more.

Studying

Three-quarters of my classmates already have some experience of Tibetan. I have none. Absolutely none. So in all my free time I'm studying. Just all the time. Memorising new words, learning how to read Tibetan, how to write Tibetan, how to pronounce the vowels.

Fortunately, I'm somewhat social, so I'll go and sit in a street-cafe and rope locals into helping me with pronunciation. Now, this is the thing - I can only receive help from Tibetans who speak Lhasa dialect. Tibetans from any other part of Tibet have their own unique accent and that will just throw me. Think about all the stupid accent's we've got in England.

I carry my notepad with me everywhere, so if I'm not shopping or trying to extend my visa, I'm studying. I went to the pub on Friday and spent the whole time writing the Tibetan alphabet in Uchen script. And drinking Cobra premium.

Shar

Tuesday was out first 'official' school day, and our wonderful new Tibetan teacher introduced us to the Tibetan alphabet. The Tibetan alphabet consists of 30 letters half, of which, are pronounced "shar". So today's lesson mainly consisted of the following:

Teacher: Shar
Student: Shar
Teacher: No, 'shar'
Student: Shar
Teacher: No, not 'shar', 'shar'
Student: Shar
Teacher: No, look at my mouth, 'shar'
Student: Shar
Teacher: No, you're still saying 'shar', I want you to say 'shar'
Student: Shar
Teacher: Can anyone else say shar
Another student: Shar
Teacher: Exactly, now say shar again
Student: Shar
Teacher: No, you said 'shar', I want you to say 'shar'
Student: Shar
Teacher: Can anyone explain how to say shar?
Another student: Imagine you're lifting a 35kg suitcase whilst balancing a par-boiled new potato on your tongue
Student: Shar
Teacher: Exactly! Now say 'char'
Student: Char
Teacher: No, not 'char', 'char'

And so on and so forth...

Mcleod Ganj

I'm staying in a guest house opposite the school until I find more permanent accommodation. The school is half-way up the hill between Dharamsala and Mcleod Ganj, a place called 'Gangyi'. If anyone's ever been to Manchester, Gangyi is a miniature equivalent of Levenshulme - a noisy main road, with a few houses and shops clustered around it.

Monday was the first day at school. I met my new classmates - 6 boys and 15 girls. 3 of the boys are married and another is a monk. Oh yeah! Today was an informal school-day and after lunch I got a taxi up the hill into Mcleod Ganj. I went with my new classmate, venerable Drolkar, who is an Australian nun. She gave me a tongue-in-cheek tour of Mcleod Ganj and then we spent ages in Mcllo Restaurant drinking tea.

Mcleod Ganj, I understand, was nothing more than a hill station set up by the British during their occupation of India. After the Chinese entered Tibet in the 1950's, many Tibetans fled the country by hiking over the Himalayas into India or Nepal. Those who entered India, including HH Dalai Lama, chose to settle in Mcleod Ganj.

Nowadays, Mcleod Ganj has become a backpacking hippy hotspot, and consequently, it has been overtaken by Indians cashing in on gullible, spiritual middle-class white tourists. Talking to veterans, only 5 or 10 years ago, "it was all just forest here". Now it's a circus of shabbily-erected concrete buildings, jeeps, internet cafes, insanely-driven vans, restaurants, motorbikes, convenience stores and Indian women begging for money by showing off their mutated limbs and week-old babies.

Dharamsala

My train journey from Old Delhi to Chakki Bank was worryingly uneventful. When I arrived, I got a taxi to Mcleod Ganj which took 3 hours, and was through the spectacularly mountainous Kangra valley. On the way I saw monkeys. Lots of monkeys. Like, big troops of monkeys. I'm so excited! I wonder if they'll be my friends? (Apart from the rabid ones, that is.)

The taxi arrived in Dharamsala which is a regular Indian town up in the mountains of Himachal Pradesh. The 'town centre' of Dharamsala is an intimidating intersection of narrow and dangerously overcrowded roads. At this junction, the driver curiously choose to drive up an extremely steep and narrow side-track which looked like the driveway to someone's house.

Unfortunately, it wasn't anybody's driveway, it's the main road to Mcleod Ganj. This 'main road' is a crumbling farm track with a set of extremely sharp inclines and cliff edges. Despite this, it's full of motorbikes, jeeps and taxi-vans, all arrogantly hurrying its rapid decay (see photo left).

Half way up the track the traffic became intensely congested and degenerated into a gridlock of horn-blowing. It was at this point that the taxi driver stopped the car and told me I was at my new home.

Delhi

This morning I got my flight to New Delhi and then a taxi across to Old Delhi train station.

When I arrived at the train station, a 'porter' offered to help me with my luggage. See, I've got my laptop backpack which contains my valuables and which stays on my back or within arms reach. And then I've got my suitcase which is big, purple and weighs 37kg.

I explained to the porter that I wanted to go and find a quiet cafe or restaurant and sit there with my luggage for 6 hours, so I can get some work done. I presume he didn't understand so I just said 'restaurant' which he agreed to. Instead of pulling the wheeled suitcase along, the porter insisted on picking it up and balancing it on his head. Which made me somewhat concerned for the safety of the porter's skeleton as well as the safety of the suitcase's contents.

I followed him up a flight of stairs, his movements becoming slower and slower as we neared the top. I stayed right behind him the whole time, ready to hold him if he lost his balance. At the top, sweaty and exhausted he finally offloaded the suitcase. He took me to the "Upper Class Waiting Room" and cleared off when I gave him the RS30 he demanded (which is about 40 pence).

So where was the restaurant? Well there wasn't one. I asked the folk there and they told me that the restaurant is downstairs. Hmmm. So I pointed at the suitcase and made the facial expression "how the hell am I going to get this back down the stairs?" They pointed to the elevator and told me to use that like everyone else does. Hmmm #2.

So now I'm sat in the 'restaurant' which is actually a filthy cafe. But compared to the rest of the station it's quiet, and it's got a power outlet for my laptop. I've got 5 hours to kill before I get the overnight train to Himachal Pradesh.