We are all travelers
The soft sound of a pin dropping on a rug. Even the whimper of thoughts as I gently scratch my head as I think. Or the thunderous buildup of musical notes as someone unknown somewhere strange walks in or rushes out or does whatever has to be done. There are no rules of any of...
The wrong sort of traveler
A few years back we were trying to fall in love with the treacherous landscape of Spiti and had our bookings in home-stays in the villages around Kaza. Places like Dhankar, Tabo, Hikkim, Demul, Kibber, Langza, and Komik are well about 4000 metres, the air is rarefied and breathing isn’t easy, and the houses are...
