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Travel Blogs from Chandigarh
... it is dye" and then he said, pointing to his heart, "But here it is black!"
Bahaha! I got what he meant, but funny that he would say that he had a black heart!
My night rides have been magical. I mean I am simply coming home to my hostel from shopping for gear or from watching a movie. Yet I am always carrying a sense of well being on these rides! Enthralled by the night life, the bustle of people and animals. One time late late, it was simply me and an ...
... alongside it and jump on while it was still moving. We had no idea what we were supposed to do.
Hayley asked the most smartly dressed man that we could find if he knew where the bus station was. The smarter you look, the more chance you might speak English and have some clue as to how this town works. He kindly directed us around the corner to the bus station, he said that we should be able to catch a bus to Rishikesh from there.
The bus station was horrible; ...
... wearing a thong the wrong way round! I'm sure that boozed up Brits abroad are probably even worse...in fact I'm sure of it but that doesn't make the Indian tourists any less annoying. They are the ones who chase us down the road literally begging for a photo of a white, blond girl and her hairy white boyfriend! They are also the ones who drop the most litter! I understand that some of them have come from really small little villages and ...
... indeed broken and asked another guy from Joga Motors (where I was renting the bike) to bring a battery. After 2.5 hours I could finally come back to the hostel, but I had to be back in the city centre at 11 the next morning. There was yet another fault - leaking clutch cover gasket. I left Delhi on Wednesday afternoon after a lunch with Oded, the Israeli guy, who was forced to return here after a 3 hour journey because he lost and hasn't recovered one of ...
... a roundabout at every junction and a curious system of numbered "sectors" rather than streets, which makes it almost impossible to find anything. Once I'd checked into my hotel, I called Sukhmani, a Chandigarh native and professional singer I'd met at Ruchika's house in Delhi. She promptly invited me to her gig that night at a local bar. I have a terrible cold, but wasn't going to stay in on my birthday! Sukhmani and her younger ...