New Day Himalayan Happy Time

Most Indian beds are designed for a man no larger than 5'10". I am 5'11".
Should I ever go back to India I'm going to make sure the Himalayas are my primary destination. The town we're in is basically built on the side of a cliff, with hotel balconies hanging over the edge. Mussorrie is the town's name. It was built by the Brits 150 years ago as a refuge from the summer heat. It is so temperate here that people are wearing down jackets and mittens. Though because I have just come from Iowa in November, I am wearing shorts and am quite pleased about it. The bus trip was insane. Switchbacks so tight, taken at such speed that you could spit, come around the switchback, and have it hit you. On almost every turn our three-ton fully loaded city bus tripoded when a wheel lifted off the ground with the lean of the bus. Opposing traffic came within inches of our bus and judging from the scars on the side panels there have been a few side-swipes; a scary thought considering there are no guard rails on this pot-holed, two meter wide car trail on the edge of a mile high cliff.
The town before Mussorrie, at the foot of the Himilayas, was called Haridwar, or Hadiwar, or Hadwar, or however you want to spell it, each of the previous examples was taken from a local sign. It is the Holiest village in India due to its proximity to both the Ganges and the train lines. Tori and I ducked down an alley and touched the Ganges, garnering us some dirty looks from the locals. Hadiwar is an unfriendly, noisy, expensive town with two redeeming features: nobody on the street bothered me or tried to sell me shit, and our hotel room was the "honeymoon suite" complete with framed baby pictures on the walls. Man alive, you should see the size of the rats around here. They shake the walls when they run by. Hasn't anybody ever heard of a cat?