MANALI

Manali is a place where besotted couples glide hand in hand, staring sweetly into each others eyes, down a barely perceptible gradient ; where proud parents watch their doughed up prole take their first tentative falls on truncated skis. You will also see cliques of crusty, dreadlocked yuppies cutting a swathe between the two groups on their snowboards, with joints of Melana cream jutting defiantley from their gobs. But only if there is snow. At this time of the year, there should not be rows upon rows of 4x4 Subarus and stocky little porters, complete with ropes and pingly little dewdrops hanging off their himachali conks. In view of the impossibility of whacking off some decent Nikons, due to the lack of white stuff, I decided to do what I would normally do in these circumstances; send a packet home. I devoted Doffs birhday, which was a friday to steal a cardboard box( I think I mentioned previously the scarcity of such an item), I filled it with handmade, himachali woollies, a few Kullu shawls and a few pashmina shawls. I located a suitable tailor to wrap the whole thing up and went back to the hotel to pack my rucksack. The next morning I ambled down to the GPO and waited for it to open. And waited, and waited." What time does the post office open ? " I enquired
"At nine thirty sir. Anytime now " I had been there a whole hour with this package. When the postmaster had arrived he was so distressed at my prolongued wait that he bade me into his office and made me sit down. " Would I like a cup of tea ? '' I say old boy, thats awfully decent of you, "  I replied in my best Ian Carmichael. Anyway within twenty minutes I had my parcel expedited, several cups of chai later and of course having shaken hands with all five GPO staff I nimbly hopped onto the Mandi bus, town in which I was to pernoct before heading on to Chandigarth.

Manali es un sitio donde parejitas enamoradas se deslizan, mano en mano, mirandose dulcemente por un gradiente parecido al Holandes ; donde padres orgullosos observan su prole emplumados pegar sus primeras caidas sobre unos esquis enanos. Tambien verais a grupitos pijos con sus rastas  cortantando una zanja entre los dos grupos, con sus petas de crema de Malana colgandoles con chuleria de sus morros. Pero solo si hay nieve. En esta epoca, no debia de verse hileras de subrus 4x4 y pequnos porteros, completos con cuerdas y el pinganillo tipico colgando de su tocha himachli. En vista de no poder sacar unos Nikon decentes, por falta del polvo blanco, decidi hacer lo que suelo hacer en estas circunstancias: mandar un paquete a casa. Asi que el dia del cumple de Dorothy, que fue viernes, lo dedique a robar una caja de carton(creo que ya habia mencionado la escasez de dicho articulo). Lo llene de lanas artesanas himachalis, unos cuantos chales de Kullu, y unos cuantos de pashminas. Encontre un sastre competente para envolvermelo y al hotel a hacer la mochila. El dia siguiente camine hasta la oficina de correos y espere. Y espere "A que hora abre correos?', pregunte.
"A las nueve y media, caballero. En qualquier momento." Habia estado esperando una hora entera con el maldito paquete (6kg pesaba el cabron). Cuando aparecio el encargado, parecia estar tan disgustado a mi prolongada espera, que me invito a su depacho y me saco una silla. " Una taza de te?", me ofrecio.
"Pues muy amable, querido viejo", le replique en mi mejor accento Ian Carmichael( un actor ingles, de la vieja escuela) Dentro de unos veinte minutos,unas tazas de chai mas, y claro despues de darle la mano a los cinco funcionarios salte a un bus, camino de Mandi, donde iba a pernoctar antes de emprender viaje a Chandigarth, en la provincia del punjab.