Yamaunotri

The tin shell of a car bounces, jumps, and shudders over the unpaved rocky road, kicking up dust to be inhaled by the passengers of the vehicle behind us. Our teeth feel rough to the tongue because of the particulate they've caught after 45 minutes of what feels like the Indiana Jones ride at disneyland. We reach paved road again, which means that the driver can go faster - careening around the switchbacked roads, but it's ok, because he usually honks before going around a blind corner to warn oncoming traffic. When there is a car coming the opposite way, he drives to the edge of the road (cliff) to allow a few inches to squeeze by. The mountains surrounding are a vibrant lush-green, and are rigidly terraced due tot he abundance of past and present rice-patties. A river runs at the crux of these high ridges, turning an increasingly ice-blue color as we go further down the road towards our destination, Yamunotri.

We are 43 in all, with 4 to a cab. 11 cabs thick, the estimate 4 hour trip turns into a 9 hour drive with the help of 2 flat tires, people getting car sick, unpaved roads, and the occasional donkey or cow in the way. This weekend trip is led by one of our Hindi teachers, a man named Dinkar. His leadership style can best be described as minimalist, considering his absence throughout the entire ride - which simultaneously creates confusion about where, what, when and why we are, and a sense of independence. At one of our stops (which we thought was lunch), we were very close to a large stream where, due to the heat, my friend noah, in true santa cruz style, stripped down and waded in. A few of us followed suit, to the apparent delight of the crowd of indian men gathering at the top of the ridge. Soon we discovered that our stop was meant to be brief, and we made haste back to the cab. 2 kilometers later we stopped for lunch near the main river, where we feasted on PB&J's, bananas, naan, and potato curry.

There, at the bottom of the so-called "foothills of the himalayas" (I don't care what they call them, those things are mountains), i was overcome by a sudden case of serenity, which continues to stay with me. A few hours later. we pull into a motel parking lot, which, because of the absence of our leader, many people mistake for our destination. A few minutes later the confusion is cleared up, and we are told that our hotel is a 10 minute walk of the town's only road. By this time, a light rtain has come, a foreshadowing of the monsoon to come. The town is made up of small shacks that line the 6-foot wide path-road, leading steadily up.

People walk by leading donkeys, the main form of transportation up here. However, there are more stylish ways to get around. For a few more rupees, you can sit in a canoe-like frame, and be carried around by 4 people. But if you really want to get around with fliar, you can sit in a small basket, and be carried the 6 km up the mountain on somebodies back! It's like a piggy-back ride business. Our hotel is nothing special, and after getting our rooms, I venture out in the rain to explore. I don't get far, because a shop/tent attracts my attention with the delicious smell of Momos. For those of you who haven't been blessed by eating momos, they are tibetan potstickers, and the they are crazy about them in India. I am not ashamed to say that i, too, have the Momo fever. For about 10 rupees (about 20 cents), i get 5 momos, plus a cup of chai for 6 rupees, and a bowl of maggie (Indian ramen) for another 10 rs. Total, for about 50 cents, i get a delicious snack, shelter from the rain, a few Indian friends, and the time to think and write.