Ah, Amritsar, the city of temples, they say, just like every other city.
Ma, I know you'll like this picture, but not just the picture, but the entire temple is made from mosaics. It is so colorful and enchanting, especially the life size deities dressed in mosaics. Lots of places, most of all temples, forbid the use of cameras, so I had to sneak my camera in to get some good shots. There was another temple in Amritsar I visited which required you to walk through a small cave, head hung low, and feet sloshing through water. I don't think any synagogues or even churches would have you walk through a maze like compound dragging your feet through chilled water in the name of God, but India is a special place.
This is classic India. We spent the evening at the border closing show. Amritsar is a city in Northern India which borders Pakistan. Each night, citizens from both India and Pakistan gather to celebrate the closing of the border. Th
is is actually a crazy Indian and Pakistani party. Before the
event commences, music is blasted through the
air and people on both sides of the fences mosh in the middle of the street dancing their hearts out with intense pride. And it sure was intense. Situated within the masses, I had to inhale each breathe with careful precision, otherwise being enmeshed with the fierce gathering, there was no guarantee for air. Many people held the Indian flag and ran up and down the street while the rest continued to prove their love for their country b
y dancing wildly.
You can see the other side of the border with the Pakistani flags. This event is really quite humorous; some say it intended to mock or simulate the movie Holy Grail. The soldiers on both sides would march towards each other in a satirical manner, legs and arms pumped high to show the exaggerated pulsing the army typically requires of its troops. After an hour of dancing and an hour of marching, the flags on both sides are finally lowered, and everyone cheers and heads home. With this exchange of fun for the two countries, one would never guess that deep down, near the root of theirs beings, they really hate each other. Well, there is some peace here in crazy land!
Oh right, the Red Handed Pick-Pocketing Rickshaw Driver. I almost forgot. After the show, my friends and I needed to catch a rickshaw or Indian-taxi back to our hotel. At this point it was dark, maybe 9 or 10 o'clock and of course, still much traffic. Our rickshaw driver motioned for me to come to the front seat, as the three of us were pondering around in the back reminiscing with a gentle smile about the night we just experienced. With a calm attitude, I agreed, besides, I had never been up front in a rickshaw. These seats are usually reserved for people from India as it's a small and not the safest of seats - driving in rickshaw in the first place is not the safest of things to do, but we do anyways. Well, in the front seat now, witnessing the barrage of rickshaws, cars, trucks, bikes, and other, the driver leans over to me and asks if I would like any hash or drugs. I giggle and softly reply "No, no. No need, but thanks." My chuckle subsides, and I remain in the front seat.
I then feel a poke on my right leg where my cargo pocket is located. I notice the flap is now open. I find this odd, shut it, and go about gazing at the chaos of the street. Again, I feel a poke on my right leg where my cargo pocket is located. At this point, I know what the driver is up to. Luckily I have a zipper under the flap to make is extra difficult for people like him to get in. I close the flap. But this time, I pretend to look the other way while gazing down at my cargo, so he wouldn't notice. Sure enough, with one hand on the steering wheel, the other slowly makes its way down to my cargo pocket. I lurch my left arm down with such might and precision to grasp his hand, and I do not release, but instead clench tighter. I begin to yell at him, "Nay Teek, nay teek - No Good, no good," while pointing my right finger at him. Blood has rushed to my face that I'm surprised it didn't explode all over him. I motion for my two friends in the back seat to get out and we will get another ride. Ya, this was smart. It's nearing 10 o'clock, dark in the middle of a machine infested street in the middle of nowhere, and I decide to hop out and into it. Somehow we survived. I told them what happened, we got into another rickshaw, and made our way back to our hotel with all the money remaining in our pockets!
This is Kamala; she is the owner of the guest house I stayed at in Marpha. She is an amazing cook, known for her Nepali Enchilada, which I am holding, and soon thereafter devoured. Equal Delicious!
Marpha is known as the Apple Capital, but here I am picking locally grown appricots - and my god are they so so sweet. They have apple and apricot trees all over Marpha. I would walk down the street and pick a new kind of apple or apricot. My stomach was surely satisfied here!
My extended stay at the guest house granted me kitchen privileges. I would often cook my own food, and sometimes cook food for the other guests as well. Maybe this picture is Chow Mien or Fried Rice.
3 am hike to Yak Karaka. To say the very least, this day was quite an experience. Where do I even begin. 3 am walking up in the dark coated by clouds making it near impossible to see the narrow and rocky path, but we (myself, two Germans, and a woman from France) made it. We hiked to Yak Karaka to see some Yaks, but not only to see the yaks. Well, one nice thing about this hike was the sun rise view of Mt. Nilgiri at 22,796 feet. 
And of course, the famous and mystical Yak. What a creature.
I even got to pet a baby Yak, so cute!
And, oh ya, the locals believe that drinking Yak blood is good for digestion, so, many locals come to Yak Karaka once a year for two weeks, camp out each night, and wake up to cut the jugular vein of the yak, which makes way for the blood to shoot out and land in cups. One jugular vein cut will fill up nearly 20 cuts of blood for the people. And how red the blood is - pure blood.
A local during imbibing the medicine.
And her colorful smile immediately following. Happy People.
But not so happy Yak. They do live, however, if that is what your wondering. Well, at least the ones used for just the blood and not for their meat.
One of my favorite pictures. The eye of "get your hands and cups out of my neck and leave me alone to roam the hills, Dammit!"
Not only did the prayer flags welcome us, but we sat at the top for a light picnic, looked up to the left and noticed the clouds were clearing. Once cleared, those long breathes that were previously hard to take were now gone at the sight of the towering glaciers that made their appearance. We were awe-struck.
Only smiles at this point - oh ya, and a sore body, the whole body. This is Sofie; we kept each other company on the way up and down. 
This is also Sofie. We were walking through clouds on the way down, and again, words simply cannot describe the views and feelings and thoughts rolling in and out of my mind, just like one cannot describe the clouds rolling in and out of the mountain pass. What was one of the toughest days on the trek also became one of the most rewarding days. 
Same day, and the day kept granting us views with exploding mountain peaks. This peak is Dhaulagiri at 26,794 feet, the seventh largest peak on this crazy and wondrous planet. 
This is the next day after reaching the pass. This is Tony, and from 
This is 
This is Upper Mustang and the horizon is a Tibet. This is the closest we were able to get to Tibet as it is very costly to travel to due to the Chinese occupation.
I met my hero's on the first few days of the trek. While we were hiking, we sat under a tree to have a rest get some shade. Apparently, this tree is a common rest place, and after just a few minutes of relaxing and letting our sweat subside, four women approached for a rest, too. I call them women, even though three were young girls - maybe aged 6, 8, and 10, and the eldest was their mother. After five minutes, their grandmother came along as well. In the picture below, you can see these women carrying heavy tree logs and baskets over their backs. With a small rope, the women hoist their load upon their backs and leash the rope over their foreheads. I attempted to lift loads like this over my forehead and nearly broke my neck. I don't know how they do it, but from an early age they hike up steep mountains probably everyday with them. My Hero's!
So many waterfalls, and each one so so beautiful. This picture was taken from the hotel room we stayed at. Waking up at 6 am only to peer out the window and see clouds hovering above is a great start to any day.
Each time I crossed a bridge, I would always stop in the middle to gather the fresh air the roaring river never ceases to grace one with. There is an everlasting energy flowing through the rivers and standing atop a bridge over the river is a sure way to feel it.
This picture is taken on the path in the middle of the mountain with views below and above that would make anyone tremble with frieght. It made me realize just how small we as humans really are in this crazy world we live in. These mountains simply laugh at us. Silly humans they think - so silly!
But the mountains are anything but silly. They are a beauty of a thing to view, but a monster of a thing to trek through. This is Tony in the next two shots, and this is the nearly unpathed mountain trail we had to traverse in order to get to the highest lake in the world. This skree, or loose gravel, was unpaved, and fortunately Tony found a walking stick earlier to scratch out a quasi way, which enabled us to keep on moving.
And that's just what we did. We just kept on moving.
In the evening, the people of 
The Hindus pray to a multitude of Gods, so if you are ever in any sort of trouble, you can pick a God, any God, for your issues to dissolve. The favorite I have found, and also a favorite of mine, is 
Oh, this guy! Just one of the characters that catches your attention and just want to stare at. Well, this is just what I did. At first, I stood at a distance and secretly shot photos of him, maybe because I was afraid he would pull some Shiva mystical powers out and strike me down - Shiva is the God of destruction. It turned out, after slyly snapping some shots, he glanced over my way and invited me over. I learned he not only is a Shiva follower, but also the head of a local orphanage. What an outfit though! This may be my next Halloween costume.
