Julley! : Part 1

I first went to the Himalayas when I was 16. It was the first time I was in the mountains, the first time I saw hail and snow, slept in a sleeping bag, and the first time I went ten days trekking from campsite to campsite. I have been dreaming of the day that I could return to the mountains, and it finally happened this year, higher and further up north. In September, the boss, C and I made our way to Ladakh (On work. Booyaaah), in conditions much less "campsite" than my last trip.

The most spectacular 360° landscape ever, sun on my back, a decent stash of pens and TWO moleskine notebooks (gifts from the niece)...definitely the most I have drawn on a ten day trip.

Essential accessory to intrepidity: Ray Ban stolen from dad.
The moleskines were the perfect ones for this trip. Blue and brown. Sky and Mountain. 

An unexpected start to the journey – Delhi airport throws a profound one our way

Barely 20 minutes out of Delhi and we were over mountains, with no sign of anything else in sight

Advaita love goes to a new level (quite literally). I swear Suspended was on loop in my head the whole time we flew over the mountains.

Making the most of an opportune window seat flight. 

I stole an apple from this tree on our last day at Leh :P

A restaurant we found with great food and the most amazing view. We went there everyday for lunch and chocolate momos.
Yes, that's a thing.

Testament to low levels of oxygen in the air, all the apples I ate stayed white. 

We got to Leh in time for the Ladakh Festival, an annual end-of-tourist-season event showcasing traditional arts and culture from the different regions of Ladakh. In a span of half an hour spent under a severely scorching sun, we got to see a few dances performed by people of Leh, Zanskar, Nubra and Tibet. 

Did I expect to see a mosque bang in the middle of the Leh market? No.
Goes to show how little we actually know about a place till we get there.

Old men and women in shades, hats and gonchas, walking around with a mane and prayer beads, resolutely circumambulating the monastery only to stop and turn the line of larger prayer wheels

At the start of the trip, I thought carrying two notebooks – even if they were small and smaller ones – was ambitious. But by the end of my second day (day 1 - 1.5 was spent in room acclimating), I actually began to wonder if they would be enough. Book 2 in the next post >>

drip drip drip

Written on a wet, dark, rainy day.
Left quite unfinished as thoughts flit between Bangalore, Milan and elsewheres in time.

***

It pours.

It beats on the roof and down on the swelling puddles. The noise is so much, I can't hear over the rain. I put down my headphones and pause iTunes.

Pangaea Rising
Be the Change

Reminds me of the Great Deluge. Apt.

Clouds roll ahead, like surf hitting the beach. Fluid. They glide. The rain slows down to a simmer, it sounds like static. Little grains of blue, black, grey and white dance in a frenzy. Hypnotising. Numbing. A single drop jumps into an empty bucket, the moment of collision echoes through the room. It jumps, echoes; again and again and again until it exhausts itself.

Silence.

Cold cold silence. It hangs around me, moist, damp, heavy. There are no ceiling fans here. I stare at the flat white ceiling. The snow continues to float outside in the streetlights. There must be a wind too, the snow isn't falling straight.

I sleep.

The wind makes it seem colder. I put on my yellow raincoat as we step outside. It smells strange, a mix of cold rain and new plastic. My shoes are drenched, they squelch with every step, from the water inside and the slush outside. We trek back to Bison Valley Lodge; I hope the leeches stay clear of me.

***