MY LIFE (After the Navy) IN A CONCH SHELL - Diplomatist.com

250 MY LIFE (After the Navy) IN A CONCH SHELL
the open air, I noticed Linda looking up at the falling snow and stretching
her hand out to examine the snowflakes. I said, “I suppose this is the first
time you’ve seen snow.”
She said, “Yes, this is a first for me.” As we approached a steep incline in
the footpath she added, “Make yourself useful. Give me your hand. I’m
not used to walking on the stuff yet.” I took her hand and we inched our
way down the path until we intercepted the paved roadway, where the
snowflakes were melting upon touching down. We stuck to the roadway
even though it was the long route. The last thing we wanted was to slip
and break a leg.
Manali is a bustling little town with a river flanked by a pine forest running
along its border. It was obvious that tourism is the main industry due to
the number of tour operator storefronts and signs. In fact, the town could
be quite quaint, but instead, such signage causes visual pollution.
Another annoying factor is that young men offering cheap hotels,
specialized tours, money exchange and tacky souvenirs constantly harass
foreign tourists. This is a plague that infects all major tourism attractions
in India. We found that the best way to make them disappear was to
pretend that they were invisible. In other words, if we just ignored them,
they soon gave up and moved on to another victim. We purchased a
travelers’ guide to the town and while sitting in a restaurant having a
snack, we read about a bathing house fed by a natural hot sulphur spring.
Then we remembered that Michelle had mentioned the Vashist Hot Water
Springs and recommended that we pay a visit.
We left the restaurant and hailed an autorickshaw that took us to the
springs located about three kilometres outside town. This was a place
that could have been done up into a luxury spa, but instead we encountered
a cracked concrete building halfway up the mountainside. Two scruffy
looking characters sat at a booth at the start of a path that led from the
parking lot to the building. We paid Rs 100 ($4.00) each and made our way
to the bathing house along a rackety old wood-planked path. Once inside
the reception area, two young fellows offered us towels and opened
valves to fill up the bath in a private room. About ten minutes later, one
fellow opened up the door to our private bathroom and let us in. The
room was basically a large square concrete pool surrounded by two feet
of walking space. There was an underwater ledge at one end of the pool
for sitting. Once they closed the door and locked it, we stripped naked
and slipped into the hot water. Despite the fact that I could see daylight
between the cracks in the walls of the building, the experience was quite
pleasing. We relaxed in the water for about half an hour and emerged fully
invigorated.