dharamsala, mcleod ganj, bhagsu.

as optimistic as bryndia had been about their first overnight trip on an indian public bus, after an hour into the twelve hour journey, the pair was forgetting why it was they had decided not to wait for the private bus that would have left the next night. the public bus was oversold and overcrowded. men squatted in the aisle, pushing their shoulders against each others backs. the lack of air conditioning forced every window wide open, spilling huge amounts of sand and dust into every passengers face. (the experienced ones had brought bandanas, which they wore tied around their face as they slept.) the seats were small, sticky, and made of stiff plastic. and because the bus rode so low to the ground, the bags were hooked onto a bar on the top of the bus. at each stop throughout the night, bryn would cross his fingers and climb the metal ladder attached to the back of the bus to make sure his backpack hadn't been flung off during a sharp curve. as the sun rose in oranges and pinks, the bus chugged slowly up the edges of the kangra valley, the air cooled and filled with a familiar scent of coniferous trees, and at eight o clock in the morning, bryn & india stepped off the bus and into the mountain city of dharamsala.

they quietly followed a buddhist monk, whom they had been taking their cues from since delhi, and boarded a second, smaller bus that headed a few more miles up the mountain to the tiny community of bhagsu.

the town of bhagsu is built on a sharp incline. each sidewalk - and that's all there is, as cars are not allowed past the main square at the base of the town - is a direct upwards slant, so much that your calves ache after five minutes of walking straight. luckily, there are enough reasons to stop along the way. tiny stores selling tie dye tee shirts, handmade leather purses, spices and incense. there are dozens of cafes smelling of chai and charras, each boasting 'the original bhagsu cake' or 'delicious indian pastries', each filled with long haired expats from countries around the globe, coaxing you in with scratchy voices, dirty hands, gap toothed smiles. the town continues like this for a half mile upwards before you reach a fork in the road. a giant ravine in the mountain cuts the town quickly in half. climbing the stairs on the left side will lead you to bright guest houses and hidden garden terraces. ascending the hill on the right will take you to more dingy guest houses and hard floored cafes beside dense forests, each one piled with pillows to crumple up on casually.

and right in the center of the main strip stands the most elaborately gaudy hindu temple that bryn or india had ever seen. walking into the small open air building, your senses are attacked by smokey incense burning and towering brightly colored statues of snakes baring their fangs and two animals, a crocodile and a lion, with their mouths opened wide to reveal sets of staircases. stooping, you enter one of the animals mouths to be brought into a theme park like tunnel, of which you have to crawl through, to find caves holding electronic idols that sing and dance. when the maze ends, you are spit onto the roof of the temple where more colorful, larger-than-life statues join you in gazing down at the main street of bhagsu. 

bryn & india chose a guest house with a restaurant filled with israelis on the main stretch of road and set off in search of their friends from rishikesh, randy & avi. when they found them, strolling down the hill on their way to get lunch, they were accompanied by a tall, dark and handsome colombian named jose. and thus, the fearsome foursome became a fivesome.

bryn & india's first night in the mountains of india was spent sipping lemon ginger honey teas in a treehouse cafe built out of bamboo with randy, avi, jose, and an assortment of other international travelers.

the next morning, the five met at an open air restaurant which randy and avi claimed to have the best homemade yogurt and muesli in all of india. the place was packed with young israelis and a few south americans gathered around a table stacked with dirty dishes, banging on bongo drums and guitars and hand carved bamboo flutes. the five sat down and randy instructed bryn & india how to place their order. 'sansu!' he called back into the tiny kitchen. a squat, jolly indian man in a greasy white tank top stuck his head out from behind the curtain and smiled so broadly that his eyes squinted up into two small lines. 'yes, my friend,' he called back. 'can we have five fresh fruit mueslis please? and five chais too?' 'of course, my friend!' sansu called back loudly. and he ducked back into the kitchen. thirty minutes later, the group was digging into huge bowls piled with large cubes of curd, sweet almonds and shaved coconut, and juicy pomegranate seeds, bright slices of pineapple and plum, and crunchy apples.

the rest of the morning was spent idly being educated on the rules of backgammon as sansu ducked in and out of the kitchen, shouting friendly encouragement at whoever was losing that game.

that afternoon, the five friends walked the two kilometers down hill to the more major city of mcleod ganj, the headquarters and home for his holiness the dalai lama and his fellow tibetan buddhist refuge followers. in mcleod, the friends walked down the busy streets lined with tibetan women selling shiny silver and turquoise jewelry, each sitting modestly, quietly, on stools next to their husband, friends, or children. here was the first noticeable difference between tibetan and indian culture. every other market that bryn & india had been to in india was filled with people hawking their goods loudly. 'please, sir, come look here, at my scaves, my silver, my spices. no, no, please, beautiful lady, you must look here, best quality around, in my shop, now.' the tibetans barely breathed as bryn looked at their tables, smiled shyly and silently as india picked up their bracelets and earrings. the shopping experience was slower and easier than even one in america would feel.

when the group walked into the huge buddhist temple, the official home of the tibetan government in exile, in mcleod ganj, the sight flushed them with an unshakeable happy feeling. hundreds and hundreds of tibetans of every age all kneeled facing a platform of maroon robed monks, singing their prayers loudly. dozens of temple attendants weaved their way throughout the crowd, pouring sweet smelling tea and savory broth into chipped cups in the hands of the tibetans who smiled and bowed their heads in thanks before taking small sips of each. the alters that dotted the edges of the temple were stacked high with gifts for buddha. cookies, cakes, sweet juices, were offered to their gods in piles five feet tall. and behind all this was the breathtaking view of the deep valley covered with thousands of tall green cedars leading up to the staggering peaks of snow covered mountain tops.

after wandering for hours, the group was just about to leave, when a massive rain cloud covered the mountain and unloaded sheets of hard rain on them. with the rain pounding in time with the monks singing, the moment seemed perfect.

the following day, and every day after that, the group would meet in the morning at sansu's place for breakfast and backgammon, and spend the afternoons wandering throughout the towns, the deserted sides of the forests, and the loud but relaxed cafes.

after a few days of this pattern, and in need of a change, the five decided to tackle the steep hike up to the top of the mountain to visit the tiny community of tents at the summit called triund. setting off early one morning with light backpacks filled with heavy sweatshirts and socks, randy, avi, jose, bryn & india ascended the mountain slowly, stopping frequently to wander off the trail, discover hidden, breathtaking views, and share a chillum and cookie break sitting in a circle on the grass. tiny tarps would cover ancient looking fireplaces along the way, where a quiet sherpa would offer them chai or chips to fuel their energy and promise them, 'not too far more.' after five hours of tree climbing and trekking, the group reached the summit, sweaty but happy.

the view... well... it speaks for itself.

after only minutes of sitting on the chilly ground did the group of them realize how cold it was up there! therefore, the couldn't disguise their worry when they discovered that the tents being offered to them were either expensive or full. piling on their extra clothing, the five mountain climbers set off through an endless herd of mountain goats and fuzzy sheep to find a cabin on the edge of the summit that they rented for a few hundred rupees. with no bathroom, no electricity, but a plethora of blankets, the group played cards by candle light before randy, avi & jose curled up together on the bed while bryn & india cuddled close in a corner on the floor.

the sunrise woke them early, and the group set off in the light rain, through the herd of baaing and bleeting, for a breakfast of toast and tea at one of the two roofed stoves on the mountain. as they climbed down the mountain, the rain stopped, the heat returned, and the group arrived back in bhagsu feeling like conquering kings.

the next day was a return to the routine. only with a stealth mission run by avi to secure surprise whiskey for the following day's party, and a lazy afternoon learning how to poi from a group of sweet british girls on a shaded grassy terrace.

the next morning bryn woke up to a pile of presents. black linen shorts! a hand stitched fanny pack in lakers colors! jack daniels whiskey! happy golden birthday, boy. twenty four never looked so good.

breakfast at sansu's was accompanied by off key celebratory singing and hugs from everyone. the rain set in on the mountain early, and the group, joined by israelis who (of course, of course) shared mutual friends with india in new york, set up camp around the hammocks on the roofed platform balcony at their guest house. tea was drank. backgammon was taught. music was played. books were read. card games were learned. chillums were passed. and the rain poured down around them, creating a wall of water. that night, the group took their new friend guy up on his invitation to a mysterious concert he had heard of in town. braced with umbrellas, the group headed down the hill and followed a small crowd to a large carpeted hall. the group clustered themselves against the back wall and watched in awe as a tiny portuguese girl performed original interpretative dances to two african drummers and a guitarist slash dj. the music was international, thumping, beat banging. by the last song, the crowd was up and shaking along next to the performers.

it was the next morning that the group decided it was time to move on. randy, avi, jose, bryn & india had decided to rent a car to drive them the eight hours across himachel pradesh to the village of kasol in the parvati valley. but first, there were things to take care of. the group headed back to mcleod ganj, where jose had met an indian teen running a shop of godly statues and detailed textiles. taking a liking to him, and his products, jose had proceeded to buy out half his stock for his friends and family in colombia. the group joined jose at the store and sat while the fifteen year old boy told them the story of how he was single handedly supporting his family and wrapped jose's gifts to be shipped to south america. bryn & india, after traveling for so many months, had also accumulated a large amount of goodies, and so the three of them were taken to a dhl by the young boy and helped in the difficult and nerve racking task of sending a package home to oregon from india.

while the others remained in town, bryn & india headed back up the road to bhagsu. but before they were past mcleods boarder, they were stopped by a thick crowd of children rushing across the street shouting. intrigued, the two turned around to see a gorgeous pink and grey elephant lumbering down the road towards them. sadus were walking around his large legs, shaking their tin cups filled with coins, offering a picture with the elephant for a donation. bryn swapped stories with a sadu as the two joined the slow crowd around the elephant for a while before tiring of the countless kids stepping on their heels and picked up their pace to hit bhagsu before a similar chaos would erupt.

that night, the group met with their big backpacks, bryn & india's both considerably lighter, and ate their final sweet slice of bhagsu cake while watching world cup matches. at midnight, their old suv showed up at the front of the cafe, and the fearsome fivesome braced themselves for the dark and bumpy ride to the parvati valley.