hello Himalaya

Flying in over the Himalayas was something out of the ordinary, glistening white peaks conquering the clouds in the far corners of the Tibetean plateu, fronted by the soft hills of the Kullu Valley. The small propeller plane landed gracefully on an airstrip the size of a football field, and a serious looking soldier with a big machine gun quickly deterred me from taking any pictures of the cute little plane.

At 8.30 am I was already crammed in on a wooden bench on the local bus to Mandi, with an Indian man sound asleep on my shoulder. The road snaked it's way through the mountains like a lethal viper, with the driver pivoting on 2 wheels and schreeching tires through sharp curves, as a pro from Grand Theft Auto 4.

Within seconds of descending the bus in Mandi, I was firmly but politely shoved onto another bus, with the destination of Kangra Valley. It took almost 4 hours to reach Baijnath, 70 kms away, but considering the road was mostly single lane and the bus had to either stop or reverse for every larger oncoming vehicle, I'm surprised it didn't take even longer.

As the bus conductor had chucked my backpack into the locker compartment, I instincively reached into my pocket for the customary rupees. He pushed the note back into my hand, shook his head and laughed. If I had been sitting on a chair I would have fallen off. I love the mountains.