After an 8 hour hair raising bus journey through the winding roads of the Himalayas, I arrived before sunset in the tiny Himalayan village of 'McLeod Ganj'.

The first half of the bus journey was one of the most testing journeys I have ever experienced. I thought (Wrongly) that getting the night bus, it would be less busy and I might be able to get some sleep en-route. How wrong could I have been? I should know by now that however remote the location, and at whatever un-godly hour the departure, Indian public transport is always heaving and dangerously overloaded. Fortunately in this instance I had pre-booked a seat which at least guaranteed that I wouldn’t have to stand, hang out the doors, or sit on the roof as many others were doing. Sitting squashed in my seat I was unprepared for the circus that would surround me for the next few hours.

First a scrawny gaunt little Indian man positioned himself on the seat next to me and as I looked over at him, for the first time in my life I became very jealous of short people. He looked so so comfortable and spread out, and I had my legs double bent and wedged in between my seat and the one in front. Next I noticed the guy sitting behind me as he hacked a mouthful of phlegm from the back of his throat and gobbed it out of the window. This coupled with coughing his tuberculosis germs over me, was to continue for the length of the journey.

As the bus got under way slowly struggling under the shear weight of people, a group of upper class Mumbai Brats decided that loud out of tune singing was the order of the day. Back home someone would have 'Had Words' at the least, or more likely asked them politely to 'Shut the F**k up". Here however the reaction of half the people on the bus was to join in with the noise (Indians love noise, any noise. In fact the louder and more out of tune the better!)

I now have half the bus singing, the guy behind me still coughing his gutts up and periodically gobbing out of the window, and scrawny man next to me has decided lean on me and start chatting to me in Hindi. It was rapidly becoming apparent that any hope I had of getting some sleep was miss guided.

As we rolled through the outlying villages of Shimla, more and more people started hopping on and the bus started resembling a sardine tin (only I’d of preferred to be in an actual sardine tin, it must be less dangerous and far more hygienic). This is where I noticed the Bus conductor who's job it is to continuously check peoples tickets (over and over again.. they should have employed someone with a memory.. I think he checked my ticket at least 10 times). Not satisfied with the current decibel levels on the bus he reached into his pocket and pulled out referees whistle. This he would use for the remainder of the journey each time he wanted the driver to stop or start. Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!! My head hurts just thinking about it.

Scrawny was now almost lying on my lap and the hacking, coughing, and gobbing behind me had intensified. An hour or so passed with the singing still echoing through the bus when the bus conductor came to my rescue. he blew his referees whistle and as the bus slowed to stop he grabbed the ring leader of the Brat Pack ad hurled him of the still moving bus before blowing his whistle again to indicate to the driver to proceed.

Eventually as the journey progressed and more people got off the journey became a little more sane. I even managed some sleep during the final stages.

McLeod Ganj is the home of the Tibetan Government in Exile and home of the Dalai Lama himself. As such it is well and truly established on the travelers circuit and a 'must stop' for all the spiritually enlightened, yoga bending, meditating, tie dye wearing, western 'Buddhist' hippies.

On my first day in McLeod Ganj I came across a crowd gathering in the village. I walked over and managed to meander my way to a vantage point near the front. The crowd was waiting for the Dalai Lama to drive past. After about 20 minutes or so the convoy emerged from the country roads and the excitement in the crowd intensified. This is where the ‘Western Buddhist Pilgrims’ stood out from the Genuine article 'The Tibetan folk’. The Tibetan people bowed slightly toward the car as it passed with their hands clasped together like a prayer symbol. The Western Converts represented more of a mass paparazzi crowd surging toward the car with their digital cameras, pushing people in a desperate attempt to get a snap.

That night I went to a bar where the beer was free flowing and for the first time on this trip I got a little 'pissed' not drunk as such but certainly light headed. It didn’t take much (4 bottles of Kingfisher beer). I had good reason though as I was watching Manchester United bring an End to Arsenal’s unbeaten run.. CMMON THE REDS!!!!!. The Mcleod bar is a rompus busy place full of 'Enlightened hippy folk' who after a hard days meditating gather in the bar to get hammered on expensive beer and brag about their 'Spirituality' to any one who can be bothered to listen. they drink large quantities of expensive beer, spend hundreds of rupees a night, and then stagger out stepping over the lepers and homeless people sleeping on the street outside. Now that’s what I call 'Enlightened'! I may sound a little over cynical but I couldn’t help finding the whole thing a little hypocritical. Real Buddhists don’t ‘Brag’ and certainly don’t get hammered..

All this aside McLeod Ganj does have a nice peaceful ambiance and I did stay for a few days. I went on some nice mountain walks to surrounding villages, getting caught in the rain every time (This is India’s wettest location). I also visited the 'Tsuglagkhang Complex' which houses the Dalai Lama's residence and the most important Buddhist temples.

From McLeod Ganj I will take another two bus journeys back down on to the plains and in to the state of Punjab, heading for the Sikh city of Amristsa.