We were in Jammu and wanted to get away from the heat, up to the old British hill station of Dalhousie. According to the Lonely Planet there was one bus a day; our hotel manager told us that it left at 8.00 a.m.. Just to be on the safe side we got to the bus station at 6.30 a.m., and were confronted by a hellish scene of total chaos. Hundreds of people milling about in all directions, ankle deep in rubbish, struggling with all kinds of oversized and bizarre luggage. Vendors, touts, hustlers, and beggars, all plying their various trades. Here and there a large pile of rags, which turned out, on closer inspection, to be a person asleep on the floor, surrounded by their worldly possessions. Dozens of buses of all kinds, colours, and states
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