The Life of a Backpacker

Backpacking is full of highs and lows. So many people always tell me “I’m so jealous- you’re so lucky” and yes I’m fortunate but its not all exotic locations and interesting people. Lot’s of days are spent dirty, exhausted and frustrated. Here is glimpse into that side of my life in the tale of my journey from Dharamsala to Delhi.

After a few days soaking up the calm mountain settings mingling with peaceful Tibetan monks and refugees in the Dalai Lama’s home it was time to be moving on. I bought a ticket for the overnight bus back to Delhi and had been warned that the twelve-hour bus ride was pretty brutal. However, as I boarded the bus and saw it was only half full- leaving me with a seat all to myself- I thought this couldn’t be too bad.

A mere 15 minutes later we made an unexpected stop and the members of a very large, extended Indian family consisting of grandmothers, aunts, uncles and about 7 screaming children boarded, filling up the remaining seats and packing the rest of us in like sardines.

As we came down through the mountains the road resembled a rollercoaster with hairpins turns and steep inclines. It took about 2 hours before the first person got carsick and after he lost his lunch it was like a virus that quickly spread through the bus. Sounds of retching filled the air and one of the sick passengers happened to be the man sitting directly in front of me. Thankfully I was quick enough to close my window just in the nick of time as he bolted for the open air and splattered the side of the bus with vomit. I wasn’t feeling too great myself and the sounds of everybody puking was almost enough to make me join them. Especially the guy in front of me who after a few minutes was joined by his female companion who shoved him aside as they both fought for window space. Our bus driver continued to careen around the turns like a madman completely unfazed by the effect his driving was having on his helpless passengers.

Meanwhile the nice Chinese man sitting next to me has fallen into a coma and has lost all control of his head which keeps slamming into me like a runaway watermelon. No matter what position I wriggled myself into I couldn’t avoid his bobbing melon and even when I physically picked up his head and placed it leaning the other way the man didn’t budge. Eventually I had to give up and having a stranger lying on me all night made sleep impossible.

We crept into Delhi as the sun came up and I was immensely grateful to get off the bus. As I grabbed my pack I notice that one side of my shirt looked all wet and after some pondering it hit me- it was a grease stain from the China man’s excessive use of hair gel. Sleep deprived, hungry and now stained I decided I have two options- laugh or cry. I opt for laughing and fall into such a fit of delirious giggles my rickshaw driver kept giving me sideways glances all the way to my hotel- where if I’m lucky the fan will work, the toilet will have a seat and I won’t have to share my room with a family of cockroaches.

And this, my friends, is only 12 hours out of my 6-month journey.

This- is my life.