Northern Tracks

Making our way north, trying to balance the desire to be present, stay relaxed and follow the natural flow, with the desire to make it to our northern-most destination before cold weather becomes overpowering (Dharamsala, Himalaya territory). A small selection again here from Champaner, a "nearly-forgotten" city (village rather) sort of set back in time. It's main attraction is the neighboring mountain, small, on which stands a very holy temple for which people make pilgrimages from many miles away. A tiny village sits halfway up the mountain as a starting point. I thought this would be another tourist attraction, but not true. We were the only westerners around for the 3 days we stayed. It was the perfect antidote for our budding cynicism that had sprouted in Mumbai, city of packed, jaded, money-hungry Indians who are more than used to the hundreds and hundreds of white people who fuel their money hunger with their itch to consume.

In Mumbai, I had started to not trust anyone native, always assuming that a seemingly innocent act of kindness was being driven by the desire to be paid (as it was). Leave Mumbai however, and the genuine curiousity and good in people flows freely. Along the path up to the temple, little shops, housed in tarps, are manned by people who do not throw their products in your face and nag you to buy something. They smile, and ask politely if you're interested, and when you reply no thanks, they say thank you, and have a nice evening, Namaste, and perhaps may you take a picture with me? Bizarre to be celebrities, but it's respectful and warm.

Our temple experience will be one of the more memorable moments here. Evening, so visitor numbers were dwindling. The guru and temple "keepers" were enamored with us, gave us fruit, special treatment, brought us inside the worshipping section which was gated to keep people out. He performed a ritual on us, wrapped us in a scarf, which he gifted me, painted our forheads, cracked coconuts to pour juice in our mouths and over our faces. I only wish I knew what any of it meant, but it was still amazing. Language barriers are toughest in the coolest places, as it happens, which makes sense.

Now making our way through Udaipur, a beautiful city in the desert-esque state of Rajasthan, bordering Pakistan. Always at least one stop behind with the photos...



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