Better late than never?

Hello world! It has been a long time! Sorry for my lack of communication… but I promise, it was me not you! So basically I’ve been spending the last 6 weeks in a rural village in the foothills of the Himalayas, with incredibly limited internet connection (and I also lacked the motivation to devote 4 hours of waiting per blog post). Anyways, I have finally found a signal, so here goes an incredibly late post from early september! 

Into the Mountains

After three bustling days in Delhi, we awoke at 4 AM to begin our journey to Kumaon (a region in the hills of Uttarakhand), desperately shoving a last minute kurta or dupatta into our bulging packs as we fought the dim haze of sleep. Then we were off to the train station, quickly running through security, monopolizing the luggage racks with our bags, and then finally breathing a sigh of relief as the train began to move. Nose pressed against the glass, staring through the rain spotted and dirt dyed window, I passed by mountains of plastic wrappers that nestled the houses and cried in excitement as I finally spotted my first cow wandering the streets, (not realizing that this would be the first of hundreds that I would see within the week).

Stretching my legs (and looking for the dreaded and infamous squat toilet), I discovered that the open doors of the train are the social hubs. As the wind whips their faces, travelers trade stories and cigarettes as they stare out at the blur of trees in the distance. At this portal of sorts, I met some incredibly talkative and remarkable travelers who were kind enough to put up with my constant “can you repeat that?” and tentative Hindi. They eagerly asked what a seventeen-year-old American girl was doing in India, impressed that I was going to spend seven months in the holy city Benares, gave tips about places to travel and unabashedly probed whether I was married. 

Eventually I wandered to an empty door of the train, at first maintaining a safe distance, then slowly drifting towards the entrance until I was hanging from the train, shaking my hair and dupatta in the wind. Dangling from the step, I became part of the grassy plains with swampy avocado rivers and joined women in billowing saris who wandered through the trees. I breathed in a deep, sweet, deliciously indescribable smell that matched the intoxicating ecstasy I felt within. Oh, it was a feeling of complete freedom and bliss.

After five hours of running down the aisles and endless picture snapping, we pulled into the station, stopping at a nearby town for a quick dosa, (a savory Indian crepe of sorts). Our stomachs stuffed with masala-paneer-aloo goodness, we began part two of our journey into the foothills of the Himalayas. Almost immediately I drifted to sleep, and awoke an hour later stunned into silence. Somehow within that brief time I had ventured into a purer, cleaner universe. All around me were the bright verdant green of the mountains, their hills carved with step farms, winding sandy paths and bright white homes, their tops melding into the foggy mist. In the distance, they faded into blue silhouettes against the bright sky. Then, reaching the end of the Jeep navigable roads, we strapped on our packs and began the hike to our new home for the next week, Sona-Pani.