It started with a sleep in. Then a breakfast of melba toast n' veg. When we went outside to tighten up the bikes and fill up for our long trip to Rampur we found that Jon's bike, Golden Macenzie had been tampered with, and not at the same level as the previous village kid stupidity. No, no. This was a full blown attempted theft that would have been successful if the front wheel hadn't been locked. The bastards had got the bike started and left it on when they abandoned it because of the lock. The battery was plum-rot dead, which gave us a bit more to do with our morning. The blossoming village of Kaza was more like a really small town. They had a new monastery with a fresh and colorful paint job and so it was decided that Buddha's birthday would be celebrated there. We got a formal invite from our buddy Jamaica, who we pinned as the unofficial mayor of Kaza, and then we learned more from Dorje in Kibber, that all neighbouring villages in the Lahaul / Spiti region would be making the trip to celebrate in Kaza. By noon it was nearly filled to the brim with people. Jon and I walked up the only street in the town, through the white-washed houses, across the river to the new monastery where every able-bodied Buddhist and/or Hindu had flocked to wish the big guy a happy one. We had missed the song n' dance so we walked around the spacious grounds and scoped out a lot of happiness. We entered the main prayer hall of the monastery and were floored by the paint job and the skill that went into the wall art. We paid birthday respect by giving the traditional three bows to the giant gold Buddha statue and within a matter of minutes later, we were rewarded with free a lunch that was incredible. In search of a place to sit down and eat we found Eli the Israeli fiddler and Agee the intellectual Indian, with two more Israelis and a 50 year old Hungarian dude who swore constantly, as if he just learned the F-word. We sat around and ate in a circle, talking about travelling (what else) and where the best food was in every village or stop along Highway 22. We all walked back to the heart of the town looking for Jamaica for different reasons. I just wanted a bottle of apple whiskey. My plan was to catch a buzz while playing chess n' watching cricket at Jamaica's restaurant. But when I stopped in at our guest house I was hit with a huge wave of lethargy, so heavy that I had to lie down. An hour later I was fighting world war three in the bathroom that didn't have running water. My night was pretty much over, but I still had things to do. I had to settle a bill with Jamaica and deliver a bottle of apple whiskey to the Hungarian who had tossed me some cash. I drank some electrolytes (a traveller's saviour) and went out into the chilly night. I got everything accomplished, with one brief intermission of puking my guts out, which made me feel good enough to hang around and watch some criket at the restaurant. Then I yakked up a litre of water on the walk home and went to bed trying to figure out the lesson of the day. I couldn't come up with anything.
Read Day 32
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