Mussoorie

While walking through the bazaar in Dehra Dun, a guy ran into my elbow with his motorcycle. He was smiling and I was pretty upset. Then, still looking at me, he ran right into another motorcycle. "See, you're not looking!" I screamed and pointed. He wasn't smiling anymore.

Mussoorie is a hill station 6,500 feet above sea level. Higher than Denver. The ride from Dehra Dun, at about 2,200 feet, takes about an hour up the mountain. The rapid rise was fine. That it was in an Indian bus was fine. But that and the combination of repeated hairpin turns forced me to within inches of throwing up. The warm saliva filled my mouthand I repeatedly swallowed it down. At one point, I gave a violent and noisy dry heave. Fortunately, I didn'thave anything in my system and we had arrived at that precise moment.

But for the ride up (and later down), Mussourie is the perfect spot to spend the day. It's cool (or cold to most). You can see the mountains rolling for miles. I even snuck a peak at the Himilayas, way off in the distance. The closer mountains and clouds conspired to cover most of the snow drenched mountain, so I only got a taste, but it was a drop that I won't soon forget. The rest of Mussoorie is a hilly walk through curious stalls, restaurants, and hotels. At one point, my elbow got hit by the passenger-side mirror of a car.

The Danish guy, a tall blonde hair affable fellow, and I walked around the entire mountain on Camel Back Road. Through our journey from Dehra Dun to Musoorie and back, we learned that we have different strengths and weaknesses when it comes to India. I can cross a street with far more eaze than he can. He can eat anything here and not get sick (pizza is my downfall). I was hardly cold, while he was battling it despite his layers. That bus ride, some how, was no problem for him, while I spent the trip in the fetal position practicing my mother's techniques of focusing on my abdominal breathing. It worked for a while, but there wasa guy standing next to my seat with his ass in my face, making it tough to breathe, let alone focus on it.

We went back to Dehra Dun in a shared taxi. The elevation change was the problem this time. We had walked so much in that high elevation without taking the time to get adjusted. Even the Danish guy struggled with the journey back down. But we both seemed to recover quickly afterward.