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Down Hill

I survived what has got to be the worst nicest bus ride in the world. You see the bus was actually quite nice - cushy seats, not too crowded (but never enough room for my knees) but the ride down from McLeod Ganj was nauseating. I had to hold my stomach at times and pray fervently not to, as the Australians say, chunder (which they claim comes from a shortened version of, "Watch out down under!" a frequent enough call at sea to warrant slang).

It didn't help that this devilish decent was in the dark.

Finally we got down to the warm moist semi-level ground and I was confronted with more torture. Most of the time the road was tolerable and I did something slightly resembling sleep, however, just often enough to be really annoying we would hit a bad patch and suddenly be bumped all over the place. As if that wasn't bad enough the overhead compartments didn't latch shut completely and at least once I got beamed in the head by shifting luggage. After that I woke up whenever we hit a seriously bumpy spot and watched the overhead compartment vigilantly.

Oh isn't it marvelous to be traveling! Despite the horror of the twelve hour ride, I am in good spirits (a nap and shower do wonders). I believe the worst part is over - at least on the train I will be able to walk around and lay down in my bunk. I can also, miraculously, read on the train without getting sick. Then there are the hours of watching the fields fly by. I only hope it is half as good as I imagine.

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