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| Spring
2003 |
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The past two weeks
have been quite a trip! I ended up solo on a last minute (13 hour)
bus ride up to the area of Dharamshala (in the Western Himalayas -
to leave the Delhi heat)...the home of the Dali Lama and so many Tibetan
refugees. I remained for two nights in the home of a wonderful Tibetan
family, eating vegetarian momos and trekking around in the beautiful
hills. After a few days with a friend and his family in the town of
Dera Dun, I headed, again by bus, up to the wonderful mountain town
of Kausani. I met a guy and took a four-hour trek to his family's
mud hut in the mountains. The view and atmosphere were something special,
but the walk...I think it was up hill both ways. We both shared the
burden of my pack, ok, so maybe he carried it a bit more, but who's
counting? Later today I'll be heading back to the U.S. I wanted to
leave you with a small list of India's senses through me:
Smells
- Indian spices
in the food
- A bunch of
sweating Indians jammed into a bus so full that they are sticking
out of the windows and doors.
- White jasmine
flowers in women's hair
- Pooja (prayer)
incense
- Delhi pollution
- Walking past
a spice market and inhaling chili powder dust from the air
Sounds
- The sing
song languages of India
- Honking horns
- Hindi music
Tastes
- Amazing foods
with outstanding spices - sweets: gulab jammon, keer; paneer cooked
just right; south Indian masala dosai
Touch/feelings
- Being on
the back of a total stranger's motor bike with the wind hitting
me from all directions
- Hotter than
hell - 42.5 deg Celsius = 107 deg Fahrenheit in Nagpur
- Being alone,
at the same time feeling an overwhelming amount of people around
me
- Finding it
too easy to look away from the unappealing sights (and fighting
the urge)
- Feeling the
extremes of life: being as tired and drained as I've ever felt,
and on the other side, having my whole body tingle with happiness,
love, life.
Sights
- Life as I've
never seen it lived before
- Men placing
their arm around a perfect stranger (also male) before they lay
a hand on their wives
- Indian clothes
- bright, flowing saris; wedding attire, all the way to naked
people
- Seeing into
someone's soul through their eyes and smile - no words, and knowing
that I will never in my life see them again.
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| Barb
Smith |
| Spring
2003 |
| Multidisciplinary
Studies in New Dehli - India |
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