A friend once said that there’s no diet as efficient as spending a few months in a developing country. However, it is a method of weight-loss that may well come with some unhealthy side effects.

Still, my experience so far is that the statement holds true
. And it doesn’t necessarily have that much to do with the level of development
. Travelling in the tropics has tended to wonders for my figure. Though no less flabby than when i set out, I have tended to come home looking and feeling more slender.
To me, the biggest contributor is the climate; hot and humid weather doesn’t trigger much of an appetite and as long as I keep the liquids flowing, I sometimes simply forget to eat. Plus, no fridge and no cupboards mean a lot less snacking along the way.

So, I guess I’ve just given away my biggest dietary sin at home, but this time around, it seems that going away isn’t having the desired effect
. I feel roughly the same bulky self as when I started out. That convenient pre-Christmas weight loss I was hoping for – leaving more room for all that gorgeous food of the festive season, and possible leaving some spare room to look dapper in a suit for the office party – just doesn’t seem to materialise.

Looking around me, I’m hardly surprised. Having taken refuge in the hills of Dharamsala, there really isn’t much heat to speak of. At nearly 1,800 metres (a tad under 6,000 feet), the thermometer tops out in the lower 20s rather than the mid 30s.
A much bigger “worry” is the abundance of delicious-looking – and tasting, it’s not like I’ve been able to resist completely – cakes on offer. One of the most enduring memories of Darjeeling 15 years ago were the amazing rum balls at Glenary’s Bakery. So rich it was hard to finish one, let alone contemplate having a second. And those of you who know – that is, anyone likely to ever read this – will know that had a go.

Like Darjeeling, Dharamsala is very much a Tibetan town, but I have a feeling that the coffee and cakes culture owes more to the myriad trekkers and other travellers of all nationalities that flock to these hill stations. Now the Indians love their sweets just as much as the next people, probably even more so, but some of their concoctions are just too sugary. And again, on the plains in the heat, a fried ball dripping of syrup holds very little temptation. The terrifically calorific cakes of the mountains are another matter altogether. Unless I leave here soon, any weight-loss progress made following the Ganges westward will be undone in a few days.

So it’s probably just as well that I’m on the first bus out of here in the morning. And that is a more literal statement than you might think
. The one daily direct bus to Amritsar, home to the Sikhs’ Golden Temple, leaves lower Dharamsala at 5 in the morning, so I’ll be on the 4 o’clock local from the Mcleodganj bus stand.

PS. There is of course one thing that could drop me two full sizes in the remaining weeks. A “diet” so harsh I dare barely speak its name: Delhi belly. But if that’s the only option left, I’d rather miss out and just show up at the Christmas party in a suit that fits just a tad too snuggly.