After leaving Jalandhar, I was so excited to see the Himalayas for the first time. While on the buses, I kept texting my host in Palampur, Vishal, to let him know of my progress. I didn’t quite know how to get there, but I was enjoying the adventure of getting lost, taking the wrong connecting bus, still floating on a nostalgic cloud after leaving my Punjabi family. But I eventually still ended up where I needed to be. (August retrospect edit: And oh man did I ever! :D) I chose Palampur because, along with needing some company after two difficult goodbyes, I thought that knowing someone there would offer better insight about this new state, Himachal Pradesh, and about Kashmir also. I thought it would be best to get informed before heading to the touristy places like Dharamsala and Manali, of which I knew nothing.
What drove me to do this, even though Palampur didn’t sound that appealing initially, was my experience last summer in Northern Norway. I had insisted on getting to Nordkapp on the first day I arrived in the area, before going to stay at my host’s place in another town some distance away. And it was a mistake. It turned out my host had valuable information about Nordkapp, which would have saved me a lot of money and trouble and would have made the journey oodles more fun. So I told myself: next time, I will spend time with the locals first and not rush to the final destination so much. Well, with a few months’ retrospect, going to Palampur was one of the best decisions I’ve made as a traveller, I think.
So. Getting there. I thought to myself that if I get the wrong bus, I would spend one night at the wrong destination, and if I liked it, it would become the right destination. And I could continue on to Palampur the following day. Either way, I was excited. I was appreciating having some freedom after staying with my incredibly sweet but very protective family.
While on the bus, I witnessed rain. It put such a huge smile on my face. I hadn’t seen rain in months! Since Pondicherry! And then they popped up… Looming snowy peaks, silent and immortal, beckoning in the background with the setting sun. I could not take my eyes off them. I knew I was meant to be there then (or rather, for the less esoterically inclined, I knew I wanted to be there at that time). I needed to spend the next months in the mountains.
What drove me to do this, even though Palampur didn’t sound that appealing initially, was my experience last summer in Northern Norway. I had insisted on getting to Nordkapp on the first day I arrived in the area, before going to stay at my host’s place in another town some distance away. And it was a mistake. It turned out my host had valuable information about Nordkapp, which would have saved me a lot of money and trouble and would have made the journey oodles more fun. So I told myself: next time, I will spend time with the locals first and not rush to the final destination so much. Well, with a few months’ retrospect, going to Palampur was one of the best decisions I’ve made as a traveller, I think.
So. Getting there. I thought to myself that if I get the wrong bus, I would spend one night at the wrong destination, and if I liked it, it would become the right destination. And I could continue on to Palampur the following day. Either way, I was excited. I was appreciating having some freedom after staying with my incredibly sweet but very protective family.
While on the bus, I witnessed rain. It put such a huge smile on my face. I hadn’t seen rain in months! Since Pondicherry! And then they popped up… Looming snowy peaks, silent and immortal, beckoning in the background with the setting sun. I could not take my eyes off them. I knew I was meant to be there then (or rather, for the less esoterically inclined, I knew I wanted to be there at that time). I needed to spend the next months in the mountains.
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