Bratty drivers, crappy music, with my face covered in dirt...

Alicia and I made the journey from Mcleod Ganj to Solan yesterday. We did it in opulent style (for India) by chartering taxis. In local terms, this is absurdly expensive (around $80 door to door), but comfort and speed wise, it is amazing.

Alicia has not been feeling well (though on the mend via medical advice via our #1 commenter and super Auntie Vix!) and so we thought the taxi would be much more comfortable and allow for more sleep than the bus. We had a great experience chartering a cab from the Manali Taxi Union to McLeod Ganj, so I went and spoke with the taxi union in McLeod Ganj and set everything up.

Our driver showed up a bit late, which was not a huge worry since time here is relative. He was what we call the "Cool Guy", aka a guy in his 20s who is way, overly macho. He had a shirt on that said "Sorry, I only date models." There was a stereo in the car and he had lots of CDs and when he asked if music was ok we told him 'fine' and to be the DJ... big mistake.

After the long drive down the mountain from McLeod Ganj and the driver (Ravi) looking out the window at the front tire all the time he asked if we could stop for 'five minutes' at the car repair place. What are you going to do, tell him no?

Long story short after 10-15 minutes we head out, I think, to another repair shop. Some mumbling about 'brake disc'. Great.

After 20 minutes on the slowest country road ever we show up in a town called Gaggal and we stop at a dumpy mechanics. 'Only five minutes.' To change a brake disc? Right.

In a miracle of time, sacrificing safety, the front-left brake pad is changed in about 20-30 minutes. Mind you, when changing brake pads they need to be changed in pairs - very important. You also need to bleed the brake system for air after you are done to keep air bubbles out of the brake lines as the bubbles can take away force from your foot to the brakes. Only one pad changed, no bleeding (also the horn was fixed as it was not working right, which is a BIG problem here, no joke), I'm pissed at paying this guy who clearly knew his car was broken to get his car fixed while we wait and Alicia gets stared at by sleezy men.

We finally get going and then get to listen to the same CD for hours which has great music from the likes of Avril Lavinge, some sappy British guy singer who has a 'your beautiful' song that makes me want to vomit, some really bad Jay-Z (of whom I don't like anyway, sorry Laura). The CD thankfully had one Pink Floyd track, and a current Bollywood hit from the movie 'Singh is King'.

Ravi, the driver, keeps stopping to talk on the phone (as he loses his signal). I eventually lose my cool and tell him, 'Ravi! Che lo' (spelled wrong I'm sure, but Lets Go! in Hindi). He holds up his finger in a 'wait' motion, and I snap back that I'm the one paying him, not the person on the other end of the phone. We start moving again, slowly as he is shifting and driving with one hand. I want to throw the phone out the window.

Our lunch stop was nice, in the middle of nowhere and the two brothers who run the dhaba are happy to see us and take our picture.

As we near Shimla (the stop of the first taxi) Ravi's phone is ringing off the hook. He pulls over, talks for a bit, and then says that we are going to 'rest for a moment, 10kms from Shimla'. We both inform him that this will not be happening, and we will continue to Shimla. Alicia's voice brooks no opposition from bratty Ravi. We realize at this point my face is covered in dirt from the dust and diesel exhaust.

We arrive, get dropped at the teeming bus station and have a horrific finding-a-bathroom-experience. I'm accosted by the very same porter who bothered us to no end when we were on our way to Manali (the one Alicia yelled at). Not good.

We decide to forgo the bus and get a cab from the nice folks at the Shimla taxi union. They let us sit and watch a sexist Indian TV show about a girl with huge boobs screaming about some giant scary Indian men attacking her. The men at the taxi stand all laugh at the TV. Alicia is pissed.

Our taxi to Solan is driven at, I think, about 25 mph. We arrive behind the bus. We are of course, supposed to go faster than the bus... but no worries. The driver is nice and drops us at our weird, overpriced Solan hotel.

We went down the main road here for dinner and found a spot I used to come to with our group in 2000. We had some great veggie burgers and enjoyed ourselves.

Fast forward to AM, we have a super crappy buffet breakfast (consisting of lukewarm instant coffee and bread, not toast, just bread). There was an option of corn flakes and warm milk. Mmmm! Instant mush! Mind you this hotel (Hotel Himani) is not any better than anywhere else we've stayed, just far more expensive.

We are now, after all this drama, off to see my old host family. I'm very excited and Alicia looks amazing in her beautiful kurta that she bought in Chandigargh.

Wish us luck!