My first morning in Mcleod Ganj was spent moving guesthouses - I switched to the Loseling Guesthouse, which was lacking the views, but was cheaper, more central, and donated its profits to the Loseling Monestary. In the afternoon I walked to Bhagsu, and on the way in I was accosted by an Indian man who asked me why, whenever he tried to start up a conversation with Westerners, they ignored him and walked on. I couldn't very well do the same, and so we got chatting over a cup of chai. He showed me around Bhagsu that afternoon - we talked about the differences in culture between Indians and English, redistribution of wealth, and he taught me some Hindi. He seemed like a genuinely nice man, but with my overly paranoid nature I couldn't help but
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