Over the last two days we:

1. Were overjoyed to find the Himalayan Indians (most are Tibetans and Nepali anyway, to tell the truth) quieter, much less insistent and pushy than elsewhere in the country so far.
2. Realized the word "refugee" makes for an excellent sales pitch in Leh. As in "Tibetan refugee bazaar" of which there are at least three in town. All making a killing selling handicrafts and tawdry souvenirs.
3. Were thrilled to learn that a feisty "julley!" means both hello, goodbye AND thank you - depending on context - in the local Ladakhi language (akin to Tibetan). Can't wait till lesson 2!
4. Were relieved to find that despite less honking, driving here - on a smaller scale - is no less eccentric than elsewhere on the subcontinent. A case in point: I was honked at by a lady driver, who was driving the car while holding an infant baby in her lap. And she still managed to reach the horn!
5. Were furious when woken up the first night at precisely 4:15 from a not so deep slumber (remember: altitude) by a pesky imam singing his prayers, after which our discontent grew further when another one from the next mosque pitched in 5 minutes later, his wailing even more off key than the first one's.
6. Couldn't find a Campingaz gas cartridge in local trekking stores, which meant we would have to rely on local villages for food and tea (!) during our trek,
7. Visited remnants of the old village that was once Leh and with some moderate panting climbed the palace hill (100m) to visit the palace and then trudged on another 70m to the top of the fort. Neither monument was worth the entrance fee - they're old musty, empty sheds inside - but view from their terraces was unforgettable.
8. K added another injury to our mutual list banging her head on a low doorframe in the palace, the new bump on her head serving as a stark reminder that it's personal between us and India.