Manali feels weird. There's an undercurrent of hippie traveller, or time traveller, since its a long time since we've seen anyone close to being a hippie. But whatever they are, there are lots of almost young people wandering semi-aimlessly up and down the road that passes the hotel. To describe this as the main road would be ambitious as it could just fit a car on it, if all the people were pushed into the storm drain at the side.
Multitudes of shops spill into the road, ready to harvest tourists. Bags and leather and t-shirts, bongs and restaurants and multitudes of Israelis.
We had arrived early afternoon so Michael and I asked about a massage and Alex kindly checked with the hotel. We had to hang around for a while as the team van drove off with Michael's bag.
But we gave up waiting and I found some clothes that sort of fit him so we could have a shower and a change. After a frustrating attempt at getting an internet signal and not getting Michael's bag we set off for our massage.
In a dimly lit basement just up from the hotel, they asked for a bit more than we were quoted at the hotel, but in European money it was very little, so we said nothing. Passing through what felt like someone's kitchen, we were shown into curtained cubicles and our young male masseurs set to work. Mine was wearing a wife beater (a tiny vest really) and stood a little closer to my prone almost naked body than was entirely comfortable. But he worked some insistently forceful magic kneading my tired and battered back muscles. The yoga music and dim lights made it feel like a 60's film, but luckily nothing weirder happened. We both tipped our masseurs as they were good.
A massage after a lot of bike battering brought floods of strange endomorphins into the bloodstream and I felt a bit stoned for the rest of the evening, not that eager for a beer, more a cup of tea. On the way back into the hotel I started chatting blindly away to some Israeli guests trying to understand why the whole area was full of them. It seemed that after compulsory military service, people wanted to get as far away as possible from deserts and hassle. This would be the place for that!
That evening we all met up at a restaurant very close to the hotel, officially called the Lazy Dog, nicknamed Blackie after a poor animal of Alex's acquaintance, but the story is for him to tell.
The view over the rushing river was really good, as was the food. We drank strange things like wine and Vidhya had a cocktail. Weird.
The menu was western and we indulged ourselves. Doc and Abhi arrived. Abhi had a curiously happy happy look, which led to suspicions of him meeting up again with the lady who had stayed with us in Kalpa. And the evening was a great chance to kick back and hang out as there was no riding the next day.
The place was filled with people happily smoking. Some of it was tobacco. So we relaxed in our own way!
A young guy started up some live music which was pretty good. It made conversation difficult so we spent time listening to that. The entertainment really started when a young woman got deeply into the music, or musician we weren't sure which. She was clapping at every opportunity and shouting encouragement. Her sense of rhythm did not match the singer's but her eagerness did. Short of taking off her clothes it was hard to see how much more involved she could get. People in the restaurant were nudging each other and tutting and having fun at her expense. After a while the singer told her she was ruining the enjoyment for everyone else and asked her to shut up or leave. She soon went to the loo and was not allowed back in again.
After that entertainment we went for a wander through the town. What we expected to find we had no idea, but the place was alive with lit up shops and lit up people.
Having failed to find anything inspiring after our trudge up the hill, except maybe somewhere we could probably visit for breakfast, we wandered back, only to see the enthusiastic young lady, unable to walk, being put on the back of a scooter by her escort, who was unable to lift her. It was a recipe for a disaster and we watched amazed as they set off into the night.
And we retired to bed. I don't even remember if we had any nightcaps, must have been the smoky atmosphere of the Lazy Dog but it is all a blur.
I was up with the dawn trying to get internet. The transmitter was in reception where the reception guy and the porter were sleeping on the floor. So I left them in peace and tried to get a signal sitting outside, which sort of worked, but looked strange, perched on a window sill humped over an iPhone.
There was no restaurant at the hotel so breakfast was a fend for yourself affair. When Michael was up we set off into town, meeting up with Paul and Andy as we left.
Alex and Vidhya joined us a little later. I have no idea if we'd said this is where we were going, or they just heard us from the main road, or the Indian bush telegraph told them about a bunch of wayward English guys and they set off before we could cause any trouble.
So we set off, Andy was ready with his camera and Paul was probably thinking that if Michael and I were there then something strange and fun was likely to happen.
We had a definite plan to hire a tuc-tuc but decided to look at the shops near the hotel first. By the time we'd stopped and gazed and hummed and ha'ed we were out of the main part of the old town and decided to carry on walking and taking photos. At least it was all downhill.
We checked out shops selling pictures and scarves and knick-knacks and all sorts of stuff that was tempting but most of which would be absolutely useless to our lives back in reality.
There is definitely an Alpine feel to Manali, being high up and green.
Whether this house was built by a wandering Alpinist or was conjured up independently, who knows. But there it was between the old town and the new. Quietly nestling away amidst the hustle and bustle of rapidly growing India.
Deep down in the old town we quickly found a place that could do our washing by the afternoon,
We refused their kind offer of 'excellent quality Manali Cream' (dope) and set to work wandering the smaller alleys in search of the unexpected.
We found a phone shop and Michael and I impulsed odd items like a sports bag and a wicking shirt and I found more underpants. Then we went in search of some proper coffee. After asking a few random people we ended up in a respectable looking place on the main drag, where we met the guide from Vintage Rides, who invited us to the roof terrace where his guests were hanging out.
He pumped us for information and we pumped up Nomadic Knights as being mustard. It was interesting to see our adventure as a business, and a competitive one, but we were very happy with being Knights rather than Vintage.
The coffee was good reviver and we quickly found tuc-tucs to take us back, stopping on the way for Michael and Andy to get some Kasmiri scarves made from the best wool in the world. Paul quietly waited until the hullabaloo died down before impulsing elegant hand-embroidered cushion covers.
The tuc-tucs took us almost to the hotel but we were too big for their motors on the steep slope. So we stopped in the middle of the road, outside a fun looking restaurant.
That was too tempting, so in we went, which was an excellent decision. They did really good, fresh, mountain stream trout, even in the form of fish and chips. My grilled trout was excellent, as it should be, since it took about two beers to arrive! But we had the time and the beer so it didn't really matter.
You can see the type of place from the local advertising and the other diners!
After a siesta I wandered out looking for a possible second massage, but did not find anywhere appealing, though I did manage to get a couple of what felt like cool t-shirts for my boys and came across Andy with a snake on his head.
It all seemed perfectly normal!
Back at the hotel Alex refunded Michael and I the difference between what we'd been quoted for the massage and what we'd been charged. That was a very pleasant surprise. He is very conscious of the good name of places he recommends and will not tolerate dodgy dealing. It gives a really good sense of security.
I snuck off for a haircut. Although the idea was to finish as hairy bikers the opportunity was too good to miss. It was the best haircut of my life. The hair bit was fine but the barber asked if I wanted a neck massage afterwards. That was an immediate yes. The neck massage extended from slapping the top of my head to cracking my fingers. It was ridiculously good. Incredibly at the end the large bags under my eyes had gone as well. Miracle cure. For €5.
Nobody had plans for the evening so we ended up back in the restaurant where we'd had lunch.
That was a misty evening of good eating and jossing. The tables around us were happily lighting up non-tobacco products. A big table of Israelis were having fun, then they started providing the live music for the evening. It was all good, man.
Setting us up for the last day of biking tomorrow, dude.
Multitudes of shops spill into the road, ready to harvest tourists. Bags and leather and t-shirts, bongs and restaurants and multitudes of Israelis.
We had arrived early afternoon so Michael and I asked about a massage and Alex kindly checked with the hotel. We had to hang around for a while as the team van drove off with Michael's bag.
But we gave up waiting and I found some clothes that sort of fit him so we could have a shower and a change. After a frustrating attempt at getting an internet signal and not getting Michael's bag we set off for our massage.
In a dimly lit basement just up from the hotel, they asked for a bit more than we were quoted at the hotel, but in European money it was very little, so we said nothing. Passing through what felt like someone's kitchen, we were shown into curtained cubicles and our young male masseurs set to work. Mine was wearing a wife beater (a tiny vest really) and stood a little closer to my prone almost naked body than was entirely comfortable. But he worked some insistently forceful magic kneading my tired and battered back muscles. The yoga music and dim lights made it feel like a 60's film, but luckily nothing weirder happened. We both tipped our masseurs as they were good.
A massage after a lot of bike battering brought floods of strange endomorphins into the bloodstream and I felt a bit stoned for the rest of the evening, not that eager for a beer, more a cup of tea. On the way back into the hotel I started chatting blindly away to some Israeli guests trying to understand why the whole area was full of them. It seemed that after compulsory military service, people wanted to get as far away as possible from deserts and hassle. This would be the place for that!
That evening we all met up at a restaurant very close to the hotel, officially called the Lazy Dog, nicknamed Blackie after a poor animal of Alex's acquaintance, but the story is for him to tell.
The view over the rushing river was really good, as was the food. We drank strange things like wine and Vidhya had a cocktail. Weird.
The menu was western and we indulged ourselves. Doc and Abhi arrived. Abhi had a curiously happy happy look, which led to suspicions of him meeting up again with the lady who had stayed with us in Kalpa. And the evening was a great chance to kick back and hang out as there was no riding the next day.The place was filled with people happily smoking. Some of it was tobacco. So we relaxed in our own way!
A young guy started up some live music which was pretty good. It made conversation difficult so we spent time listening to that. The entertainment really started when a young woman got deeply into the music, or musician we weren't sure which. She was clapping at every opportunity and shouting encouragement. Her sense of rhythm did not match the singer's but her eagerness did. Short of taking off her clothes it was hard to see how much more involved she could get. People in the restaurant were nudging each other and tutting and having fun at her expense. After a while the singer told her she was ruining the enjoyment for everyone else and asked her to shut up or leave. She soon went to the loo and was not allowed back in again.
After that entertainment we went for a wander through the town. What we expected to find we had no idea, but the place was alive with lit up shops and lit up people.
Having failed to find anything inspiring after our trudge up the hill, except maybe somewhere we could probably visit for breakfast, we wandered back, only to see the enthusiastic young lady, unable to walk, being put on the back of a scooter by her escort, who was unable to lift her. It was a recipe for a disaster and we watched amazed as they set off into the night.
And we retired to bed. I don't even remember if we had any nightcaps, must have been the smoky atmosphere of the Lazy Dog but it is all a blur.
I was up with the dawn trying to get internet. The transmitter was in reception where the reception guy and the porter were sleeping on the floor. So I left them in peace and tried to get a signal sitting outside, which sort of worked, but looked strange, perched on a window sill humped over an iPhone.
There was no restaurant at the hotel so breakfast was a fend for yourself affair. When Michael was up we set off into town, meeting up with Paul and Andy as we left.
Alex was having something healthy at a place over the road from the hotel but we had spotted the English Coffee Shop the night before and were hoping for a cup of decent coffee and an English-ish breakfast.
The road is quite steep so by the time we had slogged the couple of hundred yards we were more than ready for coffee and toast. But coffee was the fine powdered stuff so I had tea. Most of the food was cakes and sweet things, which were absolutely fine. The boy who looked after us when we first got there had to go to school and was replaced by his slightly older brother.
Alex and Vidhya joined us a little later. I have no idea if we'd said this is where we were going, or they just heard us from the main road, or the Indian bush telegraph told them about a bunch of wayward English guys and they set off before we could cause any trouble.
Whichever way we could tell Vidhya about the millionaires shortbread (shortbread with caramel and chocolate topping). which put us in her good books.
Paul was always in her good books as he had brought her jelly beans from the UK, for Alex he'd brought a bottle of very good whisky. Michael and I had got no further than the whisky part.
We concocted a plan to go into the main part of town, the new part, to do important things. A phone top-up and some impulse shopping for Michael. I was on the lookout for underpants, and completely unrelated to that Michael and I had some washing we wanted doing since we were running low on clean enough stuff.So we set off, Andy was ready with his camera and Paul was probably thinking that if Michael and I were there then something strange and fun was likely to happen.
We had a definite plan to hire a tuc-tuc but decided to look at the shops near the hotel first. By the time we'd stopped and gazed and hummed and ha'ed we were out of the main part of the old town and decided to carry on walking and taking photos. At least it was all downhill.We checked out shops selling pictures and scarves and knick-knacks and all sorts of stuff that was tempting but most of which would be absolutely useless to our lives back in reality.
There is definitely an Alpine feel to Manali, being high up and green.Whether this house was built by a wandering Alpinist or was conjured up independently, who knows. But there it was between the old town and the new. Quietly nestling away amidst the hustle and bustle of rapidly growing India.
Deep down in the old town we quickly found a place that could do our washing by the afternoon,
We refused their kind offer of 'excellent quality Manali Cream' (dope) and set to work wandering the smaller alleys in search of the unexpected.
We found a phone shop and Michael and I impulsed odd items like a sports bag and a wicking shirt and I found more underpants. Then we went in search of some proper coffee. After asking a few random people we ended up in a respectable looking place on the main drag, where we met the guide from Vintage Rides, who invited us to the roof terrace where his guests were hanging out.He pumped us for information and we pumped up Nomadic Knights as being mustard. It was interesting to see our adventure as a business, and a competitive one, but we were very happy with being Knights rather than Vintage.
The coffee was good reviver and we quickly found tuc-tucs to take us back, stopping on the way for Michael and Andy to get some Kasmiri scarves made from the best wool in the world. Paul quietly waited until the hullabaloo died down before impulsing elegant hand-embroidered cushion covers.
The tuc-tucs took us almost to the hotel but we were too big for their motors on the steep slope. So we stopped in the middle of the road, outside a fun looking restaurant.
That was too tempting, so in we went, which was an excellent decision. They did really good, fresh, mountain stream trout, even in the form of fish and chips. My grilled trout was excellent, as it should be, since it took about two beers to arrive! But we had the time and the beer so it didn't really matter.You can see the type of place from the local advertising and the other diners!
After a siesta I wandered out looking for a possible second massage, but did not find anywhere appealing, though I did manage to get a couple of what felt like cool t-shirts for my boys and came across Andy with a snake on his head.It all seemed perfectly normal!
Back at the hotel Alex refunded Michael and I the difference between what we'd been quoted for the massage and what we'd been charged. That was a very pleasant surprise. He is very conscious of the good name of places he recommends and will not tolerate dodgy dealing. It gives a really good sense of security.
I snuck off for a haircut. Although the idea was to finish as hairy bikers the opportunity was too good to miss. It was the best haircut of my life. The hair bit was fine but the barber asked if I wanted a neck massage afterwards. That was an immediate yes. The neck massage extended from slapping the top of my head to cracking my fingers. It was ridiculously good. Incredibly at the end the large bags under my eyes had gone as well. Miracle cure. For €5.
Nobody had plans for the evening so we ended up back in the restaurant where we'd had lunch.
That was a misty evening of good eating and jossing. The tables around us were happily lighting up non-tobacco products. A big table of Israelis were having fun, then they started providing the live music for the evening. It was all good, man.
Setting us up for the last day of biking tomorrow, dude.
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