FAST IN THE DUST

I’m sitting on the floor in a crumbling room, I see my abundant cotton trousers dancing to the rhythm of a wobbly wall fan, in front of me are large metal bowls, inside white rice and chicken masala. The other five Indians present start eating, rigorously with their hands, dipping the sticky rice in the blood-colored sauce. It’s very hot and the humidity that permeates the dirty walls doesn’t help. I hear a familiar noise that catapults me out of the haze that surrounds me and I realize in an instant that I am indeed in the Khasmiri Mountains in India. Several months traveling solo across the Himalayan mountains, Indian and Nepali megacities.
No booking, only local transportation, no comfort.