The Dalai Lama and Cake

For the first time since we came away we have managed to stay in one place more than three nights! We are in McLeod Ganj, home of the exiled Dalai Lama (I have been trying convince Andy that "Dalai" is NOT Tibetan for "resembles") and a lovely spot in the Himalayan foothills. We are perched on the side of green mountains surrounded by snowy peaks, and the best thing is that the weather is sunny, fresh and gloriously cold at night. Such a treat after the endless sweatiness we have suffered in the rest of India. Andy spent the whole of yesterday climbing up to the snow line; 1000m and about 24 km altogether to take in some stunning views and clear air. We estimated that this was the minimum necessary height to escape the sound of vehicle horns and bronchial passages being cleaned, although he only found out about the local bear and panther population when he got down...
The village is very well equipped for travellers (some would say it was spoiled but I challenge those people to live for two months without cake or booze) and we are having a great time browsing for souvenirs, eating Tibetan noodles and even MEAT and spending every afternoon stuffing our faces with cake and hot chocolate. Bliss. I have even managed to be ill by just the right amount - enough to lose a few pounds but not enough to seriously impinge on the cake eating...
I'd better get to the religious stuff... The Dalai Lama has lived here since 1959 and there is a big Buddhist temple complex a few hundred yards down the mountain from the village. He does sometimes give public audiences but we've struggled to find out exactly when these are as they seem pretty last minute. We're presuming that if something is about to happen, we will hear about it. There are lots of Buddhist monks here, as you would expect (bizarrely, we saw one climbing a tree this morning at the holy lake. I got a picture, of course), floating serenely about in their dark red robes with shaved heads.
Naturally, and tragically, the western contingent feels it necessary to emulate these monks. We have seen one or two shaved heads (on the girls!), LOTS of revolting crusty dreadlocks, and the current vogue is to purchase a large Tibetan blanket (think picnic rug in grim colours) and to swathe yourself in it in an attempt to look like a large, white, Tibetan yak farmer. I wonder what people would think were a small Tibetan to take the opportunity whilst in our capital city to see the sights dressed as a miniature Beefeater?
So, we leave on an overnight bus tomorrow for Delhi, where we have one more day of cows, beggars, hawkers and filth before flying to Hong Kong... I'd love to write some more about McLeod Ganj but I'm too busy drooling over the Kowloon Hotel's gorgeous looking website. Mmmm luxury!