Chandigarh and Nainital: rubbish-creations and nylon tights
The road from Dharamsala to Chandigarh was flooded in 3 different places. Not actually flooded really, more that the local river had just decided on a more practical route, as rivers do. Adam rode through them, fast. I strode through purposefully, up to my thighs in murky brown water. I held my chin high and avoided all eye-contact. It was embarrassing. By the evening I had nappy rash from the wet jeans. Chandigarh, it transpired, was very far away. Not in terms of kilometres, which was a mere 270kms. But in terms of sheer effort, and the time those little metres would take, it was far. We arrived in the dark. It was an unpleasant journey on massively congested roads. India's consumption of cars has increased dramatically over the past 5 years, but funnily enough, all the money set aside for public use like roadbuilding gets diverted to politician's pockets to, say, buy more cars. It was a Sunday, and apparently some...