And is there Honey, Lemon and Ginger Still for Tea?

We have not said much about the Grand Raj Hotel, Opp. Bus Stand, Kangra. It has a bar called the Himalayan View and on Thursday evening we got a view of them through a small window in said bar. The view from our room is less romantic as our window opens onto a balcony over the main street which has been partly glazed in. This partial box seems to act as an amplifier as we can hear every conversation on the street below as well as all of the traffic noise and the racket from the bus stand. When D booked it he spotted the bit about the view of the mountains and somehow failed to note the address. It is not a bad hotel and looks rather nice on the non street side but they do need to work on their noise problem.  Earplugs get us through the night and we have no need for an early alarm.

Today's plan is to take a hire car about 15km south to where the railway crosses the Binar Khad on a high curving viaduct. Research on the internet has failed to provide a name for this location.  We need to be there for 10.15 and over the next 30 minutes or so there should be two trains, one in each direction,  across the viaduct providing a great photo op. Last year D waited there for 2 hours in the rain without a result. Today is light cloud but no rain forecast. After R's experience in the restaurant at breakfast yesterday we order room service breakfast. This arrives promptly but one of the dishes, R's parantha, is missing.  This is rectified.  We get down to reception in good time to check out before our car is due. At the counter is a young Indian woman carrying a tiny baby, with a mountain of luggage blocking the counter and she is arguing about every line on her bill as well as refusing to believe the house calculator when it comes to adding up.

 This goes on for an age, past the time when our car is due. Eventually D is invited to check the slips from the restaurant and room service. This morning's breakfast bill is missing and D points this out. At first nobody seems to believe there is an omission but then a minion is sent to the kitchen and comes back with a bill for one breakfast.  If these people are that inefficient sod them. The clerk adds the slip totals on a calculator, taking longer than D did in his head, adds an amount for the room and presents the total. D is exasperated by now and pays, thinking it odd that no final bill is presented. By now the car has arrived and we need to jildi a bit so we just get going.

Tenzin Gurung drove D last year on the rainy day trip on the Kangra Valley line and shared the wait in the rain at the viaduct. When D phoned him he seemed happy to take it on again and knew exactly where to head for. We arrive as planned at 10.15 which gives us few minutes to find a good spot for photography.  R has brought her binos in case there are birds to watch. Then we wait. D's phone rings. It is the Grand Raj who seem to think that they have only charged for one night's accommodation.  A quick calculation suggests that they may be right and D tells them we will call back on our way up to McLeodganj to sort it out. "Where are you now sir?" "Standing by a railway viaduct waiting for trains". "I don't understand,  sir". What's not to understand? We continue waiting.  Every now and then we think that we hear a train hooter but it is brakes squeeling on a truck. Then the unmistakable blast booms out, quite close. We ready ourselves and get some good shots before the train vanishes into the cutting beyond. There should be about a twenty minute wait until the train in the opposite direction goes by.

We fill the time by watching various small birds in the undergrowth and one of the priests of the temple below the viaduct mowing the lawn. Behind us a policeman has appeared and is standing watching us. The second train makes its appearance and we get the shots. The policeman wishes us good morning as we depart. We stop off at the hotel where D's appearance triggers smiles worthy of the return of the Prodigal Son. A more senior receptionist has actually printed off an itemised bill that makes it all clear. To atone for the error 15% has been knocked of the room charges and D stumps up the difference.  They still haven't spotted that we got a free breakfast and D is not to going to point it out again.

We hit the road again and make good time apart from being stopped at a police check point on the outskirts of Dharamshala. This is manned by a bunch of coppers, all in shiny new uniforms,  one of who asks to see inside the taxi's boot. Our bags are lifted out and then replaced without being opened. Perhaps he could smell a week and more's washing. Tenzin thinks that the check is due to the forthcoming T20 cricket match between Ireland and the UAE which takes place a Dharamshala on Wednesday. Is Dharamshala ready for the O'Barmy Army? He also mentions that there has been no snow this winter and that there will be water shortages in months to come. Our abiding memory of last year's trip to McLeodganj is of going up and up and up and nothing has changed apart from a few improvements to the road surface. 

Tenzin drops us at the Green Hotel and we are soon unpacking in the room next door to last year's.  After a pot of wonderful honey, lemon, ginger tea with chocolate walnut cake we attend to the afore mentioned washing mountain. The road surface on the street between the hotel and the centre of town, which was a bit of a morass, has been totally relaid in concrete. We walk along to the laundry where we are remembered from last year. A total of 39 pieces will cost Rs 505, ready tomorrow same time. R wants to look at what is on offer at the Tibetan Workers Coop and we spend half an hour browsing. The carpet weaving ladies are in good humour and the shop manager tells us that they have been notified about their bonus payment today, which was a good one.   In the short walk down the street we have already seen as many pink people as we did on Kalka Station. There are a lot of quite elderly women. R rather unkindly points out that most of them are probably younger than us.

The sun is trying to break through the cloud and we continue our stroll down towards the main Buddhist Temple. The shop manager has also told us that there will be a big memorial ceremony tomorrow at the temple for a 16 year old boy who self immolated near Delhi as a protest against Chinese occupation of Tibet. We keep an eye out for the lady who sells the earrings that R really likes but she appears to be having a day off. When we get to the temple R decides to head up a side street. By her own admission she is geographically challenged, with no sense of direction, so this should be interesting. The street winds upwards,  getting narrower as we go, but at least it is traffic free. Then it ends, but not before we have the chance to watch a group of Buddhist monks skateboarding in a playground below. There are steps up to the left and down to the right so we opt for down. We are soon in a warren of stairs and passages, not all of them picturesque. Eventually we work our way through to the main road near a cafe that we recognise and take honey, lemon, ginger tea to aid recovery. 

We stroll around a bit longer in the sun before returning to the hotel. D's data is not working too well so we have to sit downstairs where the wifi works to catch up on emails etc. We discuss plans for the evening and decide on a beer at Mcllo's followed by Tibetan food at the Tibet Kitchen. Mcllo's is usually a good place to watch the traffic chaos in the main square but it is rather tame tonight, despite the best efforts of two policemen to create gridlock. The Tibet Kitchen is much quieter than last year, even though there seem to be at least as many visitors on the streets. We had forgotten how big the portions are and it is lucky that one dish that we thought we had ordered had somehow got missed off the list. D orders lemon beer which tastes and looks suspiciously like Coca Cola. Without the sun it is much cooler although nothing like as chilly as last year.