Plum Wine

Such is the languid state of Vashisht, it seems as if the cows deliberate whether the exertion to tail-swat an annoying fly justifies the effort. Personally, my greatest decisions for the day generally revolve around my choices of food, or if I am to wear my shirt into its fifth day of service. Vanessa hasn't pooed for four days and although I suspect this particular lack of movement due to lomitil rather than any laziness on her part, I'm not convinced.Yes, Himichal Pradesh is certainly conducive to some serious rest and..., well, rest.

Our tranquil routine most days is interupted only by a few hours in the morning where I will wander to nearby villages such as Bang, a short hike up and over the river Beas. Ness, on the other hand will seek out a large flat rock or grassy knoll in which to search for her Chakra. I suggested she look behind the curtains, this idea being greeted with a pair of smelly socks thrown firmly in my direction. Regardless, both our morning pursuits require some serious hammock time in the afternoon in which to recover, and from our position overlooking the Kullu Valley we decide..., well, nothing, except I should replace my oderous shirt and we shall have a bottle of localy produced plum wine before dinner. The wine is of an interesting constitution seemingly of plums and paint stripper. It does,however, contribute speedily to our relaxed state so we have requested another box be delivered, ASAP.

Our quaint little mountain oasis of Vashisht is quickly changing though. With temperatures rising to twenty five degrees and beyond, the snows line is receeding up the surrounding mountain slopes daily, and it can only be a matter of a week or two I believe before snow can be glimpsed on the highest of peaks alone. This change of weather in Himichal Pradesh brings with it an influx of travellers from the increasingly hot Indian plains in in search of cooler climes and adventures further into the Himalaya.There has been somewhat of a foreign tourist explosion in recent days and we are a little miffed at having to share our little piece of eden, but it no doubt brings relief to local businesses who have been in financial hibernation throughout the winter and we will just have to share.*sigh*

It is very peaceful on my balcony where I write this mid afternoon. Jumpa my landlady sits cross legged below, knitting a pair of socks I have requested, humming softly as she does so, and a bird of prey circles higher and higher without the beating of a wing as it is carried further skyward on a collumn of warm air. All that is heard is Jumpa humming,the quiet rush of snow melt as it courses its way over the river bed on the valley floor, the occasional "caw" of a crow, and if I'm not mistaken I hear the "Beep Beep Beep" of jockeying rickshaw drivers as they deliver even more visitors to my mountain hideaway in Vashisht.

I can see I shall want for the hasty delivery of my box of plum wine.

Cheers
Hammockman