SHAWNA - CEO
"SCREEEEAAACH!" My eyes instinctively flew open to witness the madness Indian's call driving. In the middle of the night, in the middle of the mountains, we were approaching a bridge. And by that, I mean we were drifting around the sharp corner onto the bridge, with cliffs on either side of the narrow dirt road. Giggling to myself, I closed my eyes and thought "Oh India, always keeping the mundane thrilling."
A couple of hours later, when I was finally falling into a deep sleep, we reached our destination - Manali. 3:00 am. Damn it. Anyone who knows me well, knows that if I am only an hour or two into deep sleep for the night, waking me up is not a successful event. It's not that I'm grumpy, I'm just a nauseous zombie. Next thing you know, I'm attempting to climb up a mountain in woollen socks and flip-flops, half asleep, rubbing my angry stomach and stumbling on rocks in the pitch black. Lucky for me, Eland was, of course, still on his A-Game. He managed to befriend a local who happened to own the most lovely of guest-houses. Apparently they carried my bag and led me up the hill and straight to my new bed. Thanks boys :).
When I woke up the following morning, feeling far more chipper and human-like, I was so pleasantly surprised to see where we had ended up. Just check this out:
I know, right!?! Imagine falling asleep on a bus and then next thing you know this is what you wake up to! After a wonderful morning of yoga, coffee and a "Oh. My. Gosh." view, I felt ready to take on the world. I headed down the "main road", chatting up every local who smiled at me (and being pretty much the only white female here, that means chatting up everyone I passed). As I pleasantly skipped down the steep hillside, I spotted a gem. That gem had the name of "One Stop Music Shop". I popped in, and instantly my 8 year old self was in a dream land. It was a small room filled with all sorts of hand-made musical instruments - African drums, Indian drums, flutes, harmonicas, shakers, guitars... Amazing. The owner of the shop, Johnny, started handing me instrument after instrument, each time teaching me a little bit and cheering on my butchered attempts at making a melody or rhythm. We enthusiastically discussed details about having jam sessions/drum lessons around campfires for the Let Live Travel tour groups. He brought me tea; we laughed; we played; we were jolly. I soon discovered that my 8-year-old self's dream land was the same as my 24-year-old self's dream land. Visualizing a future of kick-ass drum circles, I bought two Indian drums, called Doluks, and literally ran back-up the vertical hill to our guesthouse. I spotted Eland as I ran up and excitedly started yelling "I HAVE A SURPRISE FOR YOU!!! A SURPRISE!!!". Finally reaching him, I started rambling out the story of my last hour, and thrust his new drum into his hands. It was drum circle time.
Well, writing this has got me inspired. So I'm cutting this short to practice my wrist-flicking-stiff-finger-beating drumming skill.
Later gaters.
Shawna
"SCREEEEAAACH!" My eyes instinctively flew open to witness the madness Indian's call driving. In the middle of the night, in the middle of the mountains, we were approaching a bridge. And by that, I mean we were drifting around the sharp corner onto the bridge, with cliffs on either side of the narrow dirt road. Giggling to myself, I closed my eyes and thought "Oh India, always keeping the mundane thrilling."
A couple of hours later, when I was finally falling into a deep sleep, we reached our destination - Manali. 3:00 am. Damn it. Anyone who knows me well, knows that if I am only an hour or two into deep sleep for the night, waking me up is not a successful event. It's not that I'm grumpy, I'm just a nauseous zombie. Next thing you know, I'm attempting to climb up a mountain in woollen socks and flip-flops, half asleep, rubbing my angry stomach and stumbling on rocks in the pitch black. Lucky for me, Eland was, of course, still on his A-Game. He managed to befriend a local who happened to own the most lovely of guest-houses. Apparently they carried my bag and led me up the hill and straight to my new bed. Thanks boys :).
When I woke up the following morning, feeling far more chipper and human-like, I was so pleasantly surprised to see where we had ended up. Just check this out:
I know, right!?! Imagine falling asleep on a bus and then next thing you know this is what you wake up to! After a wonderful morning of yoga, coffee and a "Oh. My. Gosh." view, I felt ready to take on the world. I headed down the "main road", chatting up every local who smiled at me (and being pretty much the only white female here, that means chatting up everyone I passed). As I pleasantly skipped down the steep hillside, I spotted a gem. That gem had the name of "One Stop Music Shop". I popped in, and instantly my 8 year old self was in a dream land. It was a small room filled with all sorts of hand-made musical instruments - African drums, Indian drums, flutes, harmonicas, shakers, guitars... Amazing. The owner of the shop, Johnny, started handing me instrument after instrument, each time teaching me a little bit and cheering on my butchered attempts at making a melody or rhythm. We enthusiastically discussed details about having jam sessions/drum lessons around campfires for the Let Live Travel tour groups. He brought me tea; we laughed; we played; we were jolly. I soon discovered that my 8-year-old self's dream land was the same as my 24-year-old self's dream land. Visualizing a future of kick-ass drum circles, I bought two Indian drums, called Doluks, and literally ran back-up the vertical hill to our guesthouse. I spotted Eland as I ran up and excitedly started yelling "I HAVE A SURPRISE FOR YOU!!! A SURPRISE!!!". Finally reaching him, I started rambling out the story of my last hour, and thrust his new drum into his hands. It was drum circle time.
Well, writing this has got me inspired. So I'm cutting this short to practice my wrist-flicking-stiff-finger-beating drumming skill.
Later gaters.
Shawna
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