Our early morning arrival had us headed straight for the Indian coffee house. It felt like a boys club inside; men in business shirts, biros in their breast pockets, sipping coffee and black tea, chatting loudly, hardly a breath between words, smiling all the time. Chocolate leather chairs, wooden skirting boards and a blackboard menu gave away its turn of the century beginnings. Morning sunlight lit up the crest of peacock waiters, dressed to play the role of a time long past. Nice and full and our backpacks in tow, we ventured out into the blue sky morning, walking the length of 'The Mall' before literally running and jumping on the local bus (found only by a helpful police man flagging down the speeding bus - all signs were written in Hindi). Our home stay was located about 12kms out of the main town, where we were greeted at the front door by Shivi, a friendly guy wearing a black printed lion tee shirt from Thailand. He took us into the lounge room, all the wall space taken with couches of every shape and size, Shiva looking down from every corner. Cookies and tea were shared, before we headed down to our room to spend the day sleeping off the bus ride, sketching in the garden and playing with the family dogs.

We all know travelling isn't always about the places you go and the wonders you tick off the list. It's also about the people you meet and the conversations you share - no cliche intended. Introducing another legend we were fortunate enough to bump into, Amit. Easily enticed by waffles and crepes, we headed to Wake and Bake, a little yellow terrace building overlooking the police headquarters and the Gaiety theatre. Within seconds of sitting down, the young Delhi local, did something that so many people have lost the confidence to try - he asked if he could sit with us over breakfast. Such a simple gesture (perhaps even simpler for a political science graduate) turned into a 4 hour feast of spirited conversation, quiz questions, shared global concerns and Indian political education. I mean, it's easy to befriend someone who openly states that he finds true happiness in a quest for knowledge and understanding. We had stayed so long, that we ended up ordering lunch, and happened to bump into Ben and June - an English couple we met in the whirlwind of the night bus at Deradun (on the way to Rishikesh). Here our conversation took a pop culture twist, the fruits of which lead me to proudly present Amit's top 5 Hindi films to watch.
1. Guzaarish
2. Lunchbox
3. Maraan
4. Taare Rameen Par
5. Lootera

Ironically, we departed with a selfie, and a promise to catch up in Delhi next month.

The day had almost vanished, but we managed to squeeze a little cultural fix in, joining a rapid tour of the Gaiety theatre, built in 1887 and one of only a few surviving examples of the Victorian gothic architectural style. Saved from planned demolition in 1912, it was revamped in non-heritage colours and made structurally sound once again. All of this info was unloaded to us by the incredibly passionate, proud and professional Mr R Gautam. I am actually surprised I remember anything he said - I have never heard anyone talk so quickly, pausing only for dramatic effect.

After that whirlwind, ice cream was needed to push our butts up to Jakhoo temple and the giant statue of Hanuman, the monkey deity. A steep walk past a few British estates and castles, we arrived at the top, greeted by a classic crotch shot of the God himself. Hanuman makes sure he keeps his family close at all times, the place is riddled with badly behaved monkey families, working in cahoots with the local biscuit seller - their arrangement works something like this: monkey steals shoe/glasses/camera, biscuit seller sells biscuits to upset traveller/pilgrim, throws it to the monkey, monkey drops the shoe/glasses/camera, scouting the crowd for its next victim while stuffing it's hairy mouth with the sweet prize, biscuit seller stuffs his pocket with a few new rupees. It's extremely entertaining, and Daniel got right in there with his camera to capture their devious faces.  

Feeling a little weary, I don't think I was completely prepared for the local bus home. Squashed in and way over capacity, the bums, armpits, legs and bellies shoved in every corner of my body was very unwelcome - Daniel somehow managed to stay positive and enjoy the ride. A cheap and cheerful dinner at Taste Buds left us feeling full to the brim, encouraging us to walk home under the stars for one last night in the mountain town.

The next morning, colourful Shivi drove us to the bus station in his newly unwrapped Honda. It was here that a pleasant morning turned weird. Breakfast was shared with a guy in trackies and trainers high as hell and offering us smack at 9am - cackling away at his own hilarity and basically forcing us to take a photo. I hated every minute and couldn't wait for the safety of the bus. I'm not sure what was worse. Perhaps that breakfast table would have been better than the 9 hour torture chamber. Uncomfortable ‘ergonomically designed’ chairs covered in glad wrap, no air-con, ‘rest stops’ every 20min and a rally-driving bus driver - it was a bad combination, and lucky for me, I happened to be on the wrong side of the bus - in 33 degree unrelenting sun. Every crevice and surface was covered in sweat and the whole situation manifested into an inescapable bad mood that I couldn't shake - not even with Daniel's surprise appearances bearing sweet treats and a boyish smile - seemingly amused by the state I had worked myself into. Looking back, it could have been worse, at least we arrived without delay! Dharamsala welcomed us with a beautiful sunset, and I scurried away into the darkness of a cool room, a bed and a blanket.