Are You Experienced?

Greetings from India! It’s really hot here, but I’m having an amazing time. Haven’t been here long, but I can already tell what an amazing country it is. The roads are really bad, though. Hope you’re well.

love,

Dave

I could tell that Liz was as miserable as me, but neither of us wanted to talk about it, so we soldiered on, trying to enjoy Simla. After a few days, we’d seen all the main things and felt that we had recovered enough from the previous bus journey to embark on another one, this time taking us further up into the mountains to the small town of Manali. Everyone we met told us that Manali was the place to be – apparently, it was a kind of Goa-in-the- hills. This would be a perfect place to relax and to give ourselves a little breathing space. So far, everything had just been too hectic.

The mountains on the way to Manali were spectacular, but the town itself looked grim at first sight. Still, we had Jeremy’s recommendation for a peaceful out-of-town hotel called the Rainbow Lodge and headed there on foot, following an impossible-to-follow map in The Book.

We were accompanied most of the way by touts from various hotels who tried to drag us off in different directions and refused to direct us to the one we wanted, insisting that the Rainbow Lodge was overpriced and dirty, and begging us to take a quick look at their hotel. They were so insistent that you had to hate them, while at the same time feeling guilty because they all looked piss-poor, and their hotels probably weren’t any worse than the Rainbow Lodge, and it wouldn’t have been very difficult to go five minutes out of our way to at least have a glance. Still, if you went around caving in to all the pressure you’d go mad. You have to stand firm and do what you want. If you show any weakness or sympathy, they’ll fuck you over.

By the time we found the hotel, we were both feeling stressed and knackered. Still, at least we’d seen the town, which meant we’d got all the tourism done in advance, and could settle in for some serious puffing. By all accounts, this was

the best

hotel in Manali for dope, and having taken a room, we installed ourselves excitedly on the veranda. Within seconds, a joint had found its way into our hands.

I sucked the smoke deeply into my lungs and held my breath, exhaling slowly through my nose at the last possible moment. After a few drags, I felt my anxiety begin to fade.

Now this was more like it. A peaceful place, surrounded by fields, with mountains to look at, and drugs to smoke.

This

made sense. At last we had found a place where you could chill out and concentrate on enjoying yourself. Passing a joint between us, for the first time since we had landed Liz and I smiled at each other.

I didn’t want to scrounge too much dope, so I asked the guy next to me where I could buy some.

‘Yeah,’ he smiled, ‘that’s right.’ Then he nodded wisely. A few seconds later, he realized that he hadn’t answered me yet and nodded towards the reception desk. ‘Ronnie’s your main man,’ he said, then he slapped me on the shoulder affectionately and fell off his chair.

At reception I asked if Ronnie was around. The receptionist reached under the desk and pulled out a large lunch-box with the name Ronnie and a happy face painted on it, in dribbly yellow paint.

He opened the box and passed me a cling-film wrapper full of grass.

‘One hundred and fifty rupees,’ he said, and I paid him.

This was fantastic! A bag of real grass, worth about fifty quid in England, had set me back less than a fiver. India, all of a sudden, seemed like the most civilized country on earth.

I went and got some Rizlas from my backpack. (The Book says you can’t get Rizlas in India, so we’d brought an industrial-sized family mega-pack of them.) Joining Liz again on the veranda, I skinned up.

Now we were really smiling at each other. It struck me, for the first time since leaving England, that I was in possession of a penis. I felt the beginnings of a rekindling libido, and decided to embark on a few strategic apologies.

‘Liz – I’m sorry, you know.’

‘About what?’

‘Just… everything.’

She smiled at me.

‘I’ve been – you know – behaving like a bit of an arsehole. Everything’s just freaked me out,’ I said.

‘It’s OK.’

‘Now we’re here, I think things can calm down a bit.’

‘I hope so.’

‘Let’s try and get on, yeah?’

‘OK.’

‘Both of us,’ I said, pointedly. I’d only really apologized in the hope that it would make

her

apologize. After all, she was the one really acting the arsehole, not me.

‘All right. We’ll both try and be a bit nicer to each other, then.’

That didn’t really qualify as an apology in my book, but at least it came with a genuine smile, so after a brief consultation with my ever-swelling dick, I decided to accept it as a peace-offering.

I reached out my hand and smiled back.

‘Bygones?’ I said.

‘Bygones.’

She took my hand.

‘We’re stuck with each other now, so we might as well make an effort,’ I said, giving her hand a little squeeze.

‘I think we can get on,’ she said, squeezing back.

The joint went backwards and forwards between us a few times, with our hands remaining interlocked. Veins in my drought-stricken groin started singing joyous blood-worshipping anthems.

While she sucked out the last of the smoke, I reached over and stroked the back of her hand. We remained like this for a good while, staring in amicable silence at the staggeringly beautiful view of the Himalayas: lush foothills, with every curve shaped into a paddy-field, topped by enormous snowy peaks. I had never seen anything so impressive.

Yes – at last – I was pleased to be in India. I could feel the knot of tension in my stomach beginning to loosen. Paul and James had been right about travel, after all. This was an amazing experience. And the dope really was cheap.

‘Shall I roll another?’ I said, eventually.

‘Why not?’

She blinked at me, slowly.

‘Shall we have a smoke in the room?’

‘OK.’

Still hand in hand, we shuffled inside.

She sat on the bed, while I locked the door and drew the curtains. I slid on to the bed next to her, and we stared at each other, half-smirks playing on our mouths.

‘Can’t just sit here all day,’ I said. ‘I’ve got work to do.’

She raised an eyebrow at me, and I answered her by plucking out a few Rizlas. I licked and stuck them together, while Liz settled back against the headboard. With the joint completed, I sat next to her, placed it in her hand and extended the lighter.

‘Would Madame care to commence?’

She grinned, and planted the joint droopily into the corner of her mouth. I lit it for her, enjoying the way her eyes narrowed when she inhaled. In a silence broken only by the crackling weed, we passed the joint between us. I felt the world outside gradually recede away to nothing, as I concentrated on her face, her fingers and the smoke swirling out of her lips.

When the tiny stub burned my fingers, I tossed it on to the floor, placed my arm around Liz’s neck and kissed her deeply on the mouth. I could taste every crease in her lips, every twitch of her tongue. The difference between