I packed the bowl (or should I say chillum) pretty tight these past weeks. So much has come and gone, to reflect on all of it would take way too much time (I'm racing against the next black out).
The mountains were unreal. I stayed in a village called Pulga along Parvati Valley where the gods grow their hash (charras), and it really is divine stuff. All those nutty eccentric characters you've ever drummed up exist - I've met them. The French ex-pat artist named Marrie who makes the most delicious hot chocolate and French bread, the Swedish architect who's gone fuckery, the spacey Israeli father trying to read the stars... they're all here man, and they're just as insane and beautiful as you imagined them to be. The best part is they're all just doing their own thing. Not for any other reason. Not to go back home and jive about how they chilled in some cave and shat themselves for 2 days while they talked to god or arm wrestled sadhu's for bananas. These cats are the real deal - hulkamaniacs to the end.
I could go on forever about all the cheesy, charming, and magical things India has to offer but you wouldn't get it unless you're actually here with dal stains on you shirt smelling like a bus full of sweaty Indians. So I'm going to stop.
Like that crappy slogan we got on our Ontario license plates... India is yours to discover.
Catch you on the flip side.
[I've got a stupid amount of pics to throw up, I'll do what I can.]
