My First Disco (24th)

Macloed Ganj resturant (on the corner on the second level) that we ate at last night

Macloed Ganj is where the Tibetans live. They drive nice cars, are relatively clean, and seem to have an air of prosperity about them, while minutes down the road is a ramshackle group of tents where a group of 20 or so Indian families live in poverty. It’s very strange, I have lost much of the sympathy I had for the Tibetans although their monks are wonderfuly warm and kind people. Anyways, last night was crazy but most of it is a haze. A group of the younger volunteers and I went to a nice restaurant on an upper floor of building in Macloed Ganj where we were dropped off by the taxis. It was about 6pm when we arrived and proceeded to gorge ourselves on plate after plate of Indian and Tibetan food and & Day Apple Wine. From that time on the night seems like a dream. We went to a disco club next door and danced for a few hours. The only women there were us but that did not stop the 40 or so men that were there from enjoying themselves. We were supposed to have bodyguards but they came a little late. It was the best time I have had in my life. I never knew how much I love to dance. I love the dark heat of it and the upbeat, energizing music. I love the closeness of other people; it’s all so fun if only people didn’t add drugs, alcohol and sex into it. It was a mass of humanity. It was a kaleidoscope of hands, hips, sweat, pulsating, smells, colored lights, salt, turbans, and Punjabi music combined with Brittany Spears blasting from the speakers. I was completely oblivious to anything until I was dragged out onto the roof with the rest of the group. I swear they made me drink about 2 gallons of water that made me sick. My stomach felt like it was going to rupture. A guy came up and asked Michael if he could dance with his wife (me)…. he shushed him away…god bless Michael and every one of them…every one. When I returned to the dance floor the bodyguards had come and we left soon after that and hunkered down in a Yogi studio at the top of the floor. The cold cement and hard mats did not make for the best I have ever slept but, as all the hotels were fool of Dhali Lama followers, there wasn’t much of an option.