She'll be vomiting round the mountain when she comes...

Well, Amelia and Ed have popped off net door to see the Big Lebowskii - they have a cinema here, which is amazing! Not surprising though, considering it is one of the Dalai ama's great passions. I'm snuggled up in bed (happily so) because my stomach is still a little tender

We're in Dharamsala/McLeod Ganj in the Himalayas, but more about that later.

On my last night in Amritsar I stayed up and watched the world cup finals with a group of frenchies and the Punjabi guys that run our guest house. It was ace..we shouted
"PUTAIN!"
"VAS-Y!"
at the TV lots.

Benjamin, one of the french guys, made me nearly wet myself telling me the story of a guy from Newcastle that he met in Nepal (have a good luagh at the Brits):

Ben: "Every ozher word was "f*ckeeeng" "

Me: "Ah oui, les anglais, ils connaissent pas des adjectivs."

Benjamin: I zheenk so, so everytime I saw 'im after I just call 'im "F*ckman".

F*ckman. Yep, that's the Brits. We have lots of F*ckmans.

I am starting to see more what Emma means about travelling. You meet some really interesting, maazing and funny people. Everyone has the same kind of mindset, you have to really, travelling in a place like this. And you meet some amazingly cool people that you just totally connect with, but you know realistically that you can't stay in touch with everyone, its sad, but just a fact of life.

I attracted quite alot of attention in Amritsar for my ip piercing. Groups of men would point at me and then at their chins, chatting away in Hindi, before waving and smiling. Yep, its the piercing.

Likewise, in the State Bank of India, one man sat next to me smiling, pointed and asked:
"Is fashion in England?"
Errrrrrr.
I tried to explain: "My mother, see this and not happy." (I mime a raving monster - sorry mum! You're really not that bad...I love you!)
They all tutted - rebelling against her mother.
But smiled - crazy Westerner.

DHARAMSALA....

Gah wel, after smug talk of getting better my stomach is still sore. I am lucky though, we got a taxi from Pathankot to Dharamsala but Amelia's friend that we bumped intowas telling us that she knows a girl who was ill like me and got a bus. It seems you're persona non grata if you're vomiting over the other passengers, so, she said, they "stripped her, wrapped her up in a blanket and strapped her to roof." My god.

Currently, I'm sat on Amelia and Ed's balcony, looking out at the Himalayas. The Himalayas. Even the thought that I am here fills me with excitement and happiness. In the background, a man is labouriously hammering away at a copper pot. The constant "tchink! tchink!" is grating away at my nerves, but hey, it must be worse for him, he's the one having to hammer.

Even though I've barely been out because of sickness (NB.... written a good 3 days ago... dont worry!!) I'm in love with Daramsala and Mcleod Ganj already. To be honest, I realy only came to Dharamsala to see a slice of Tibetan ife. Its just the chance to see the closest thing to Tibet, what is more Tibetan than Tibet now, according to lots of people, since the Chinese government engulfed Lhasa, suffocating it with concrete and turning the Potala Palace into a maze of surveillance cameras and bug microphones.

I could never go to Lhasa now, it would make me so depressed and angry. hasa now, according to Amelia, is full of chinese businessmanand prostitues -usualy desperate Tibetan women wo have no other option. How such a beautiful and spiritual place has been so completely ad utterly desecrated, broken apart and ruined is beyond me.

In the reception of our guest house (run by a sturdy and hardworking Tibetan women and her husband) behind the wooden desk, are faded stickers emblazoned with "FREE TIBET" and "Peace In Tibet"; unfortunately, that goal seems more like a dream now, as the Chinese build the first overland railway line linking mainland China and Tibet - strengthening their strangulating grip on the country.