MADE IN NIRVANA
Always carry your torch
When they arrived in Mcleodganj it was raining and, just like the guidebook said, the village was literally in the clouds. The bus trip from Mandi had taken five hours exactly, no landslides, no accidents, no changes. Climbing up the perpendicular ladder to put the backpack on the roof and once more to take it down. A little vertigo, a smattering of rain, a doddle! .............
She pushed the restaurant's padded door and was immediately hit by the music, while a few playful notes sneaked out through the open crack and floated away, dispersing freely in the road's cool damp air. Maria stepped inside and closed the door behind her, returning the road to its previous peace. She found herself in a place that reminded her of a disco in the sixties, with red lights, a pop song blaring from the sporadically placed speakers, tables full of young western travellers who ate and spoke loudly to be heard over the music. She could make out different languages: English, German, French. She looked around, all the tables were occupied.....
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