This article was originally published in The Hindu. As a kid, I’ve often heard my grandmother talk about growing up in our native Punjab. I pictured little boys and girls running across big fields, plucking sour fruits and wild flowers, returning home at noon to the aroma of curries made with veggies fresh off the farm and paranthas laden with home-made white butter. I never imagined waking up to these images someday, given how they seemed only to be romanticized in the memories of people I knew.
We Indians are notorious when it comes to packing for a vacation. I remember all the family holidays that started with dragging heavy suitcases out of the house, bargaining with porters at the railway station, asking burly men for a hand to get the luggage up the luggage shelf of the train, and keeping track of all our many belongings. It didn’t matter whether the vacation lasted a weekend or a week; my mom had to pack what she had to pack. I’m glad I didn’t inherit her packing skills… [Read more on Women’s Web] This article was originally published on Women’s Web. Photo credit: Jhong Dizon.
Flipping through my travel archives of 2011, I am overcome with a strange sense of nostalgia. The world suddenly feels as small as that plastic globe you can buy off a children’s store. I’m strolling on the beaches of Southeast Asia one day, and hiking on the countryside of Europe the next. One minute, I’m warming myself with a gelato in Italy, the next I’m sampling momos in the Himalayan desert of India. I’m going solo, over land and on water, unearthing travel secrets that conceal themselves from a large part of the world.
This article was originally published on Offbeat Travel. I’m fascinated as Tenzing describes a mystery mountain close to his hometown in Spiti. He’s my first local friend, and the expert driver who we’ve entrusted with our lives, up the precarious mountain roads from Shimla to Spiti.