[bdefore]

As an American, I traveled in northern India for three months in 2004, two of them sedentary in Mcleod Ganj. It still resonates both from the contrast of India itself, but also in how I was able to happily fill my days without screens and fill them with friendly people. I'd amble around with my legs not unlike the way I amble around the Internet today. I'd 'waste' a half hour hanging out with strangers over metal cups of chai.

At the time, I had a Palm Tungsten and a foldup portable keyboard and would every day or so write a blog post on it. I'd send it out by putting its card (SD?) onto a USB adapter, dragging that to a slooooow Internet cafe where I'd hope I could connect to my Movable Type (Gatsby before there was reasonable JavaScript). If it didn't connect, no bigs.

It might have been the peak happiness of my relationship with the Internet. Just enough.

I got my invite to Facebook a year later.

[crucialfelix]

I was up there for a month or two and did Vipassana there in 2003. It was wonderful. I met many very interesting people.

The town was already overpopulated for its size, but these days I hear it's really extreme. I talked to somebody who was born and grew up there. He said that now there are so many hotels and concrete developments all over the hills. It's just a mess.

[bdefore]

I can only imagine. As if _where we are_ is a living thing as well.

I remember at the time there was a bend in the road where you'd face the beautiful Himalaya across the valley, but if you looked down the near embankment you'd see where all the bajillions of plastic water bottles were disposed of for a town that didn't (yet?) have a plan for them. Only tourists such as myself drank them.

[hrishios]

Was there and in nearby places a year ago, and it's the same story that happened to Manali and now Kasol. The interesting culture and crowd move somewhere, it becomes a hub, it becomes overly crowded, and people move again.