Home on the Range

So I'm hibernating in the small mountain town of McLeod Ganj for a month, teaching English to Tibetans.


It's a place that really tapers in tourists this time of year, resulting in some sort of pseduo-isolationist experience outside the classroom. On top of that, I'm staying on a little terrace landing upwards of a rocky hill.


The sun sets early this time of year, which means getting home before the dogs. In a nutshell, they are tortured souls destined to bark at each other all night in defense of getting attacked by their co-patriots as they all collectively reign the streets by night. It really tests your will when you find yourself awake and regergitating at 1:30 in the morning. This means a smooth, stealhly operation from bedroom to bathroom, out in the night through the world of (prospectively) rabid dogs and monkeys.

But by day, it's merely a quaint, benevolent animal farm:



Also, the family is inquiring. I offer a photographic update on living standards:



Potentially erronenous regergitation reflections: I realized that the take-out bag of my Tibetan brown bread was some wax-foil packaging of veterinary medicine for sick farm animals. One potential clue in the puzzle to why I woke up three hours later dispersing of stomach bile. This was also the night after I decided to essentially fast in order to equivacate my budget and still give money to the lepers. Convoluted logic - oh it's me.

Yar.