Trip to Ankit's house

This time I'm writing, I'm sitting in my in Kullu. Our journey to Kullu wasn't that easy easy though.

On the morning of August 31st I left mymother crying alone and left for the airport. Driving with my father felt awkward, at thosemoments silence suits us the best.

Listen, he calmly waited for meto check in at Riga airport and just before the security check burt into tears as well. I wish we had spent more time and we less afraid of each other. Fear.

I had to change flights in Munchen. Why would th rest of the world have to follow British "Munich" instead?! Bravarian capital was ludacris, luxerious and well on its feet. One could smell self confidence and power in the air, see it in the archtecure or BMW's design. This city though only for 7 hours made my feel small.

Delhi, on the other hand, shined a limeligh upon me. I flew there with Lufthansa AirBus 360 - one of the biggest planes on earth. The flight itself was beautiful: comfy seats, free dinner, breakfast, wine and Jegger meister (as if it was real bargain). then at 7 local Delhi time which is GMT+5.30 I met Anine in the airport. She was dressed in a red cllege sweater, a red riding hood, I thought. Wedrank tea and decided how to spend the rest of our day until the bus to Kullu arrives.

firstly, we took a cab for 300 rupees from the airport to Delhi. The cab lacked everything :) Driver told us its been 35 years old, which made me feel confindent abuot this british car - if it had 35 years to break apart and didn't do so, then it should last forever! Driving. It was different. Every truck and some cars in Delhi hav an inviting message on their trunks "Blow the horn". Unsurprisingly everyone does so. It seems that's the way traffic worksin India. One has to make shure that a carin front of him is aware of his presence. Hence you blow the horn and make a fast manouvre. No traffic accidents of injured people - a controlled chaos, surely it is!

the city is preparing for the Commonwealth games. It's dirty, rough and scary. No one should expect to find India's miracles there. We trusted our luggage to a guy on the street, he said he would keep an eye on it for 8 hours. After a few minutes we realized it wasn't such a good idea even though he worked for our bus company. but pulling the luggage on robust streets and agressive traffic would make our life radiculous, so we got a rickshaw. usually there would barely be enough space for two people on the back seat, but we managed to bring our heavy backpacks and 50kg of luggage as well. My left leg was sticking out and I would get adrenaline kicks every time a car or motorcycle overtook us :)

People persistently wanted to make friends with us :) Firstly, by bringing us to a "fine India restaurant, which make you stomach very very happi". So we went to one of them with a red furniture and walls and mcdonald's typeof Indian food pictures. Food was tasty and had to many flavours for my tongue to distinguish of. We stayed there for 6 hours. The guys didn'd like that and tried to cook us up, literally, by turning of the AC. We struggled at 35C but stayed there until more guest came and the magic air conditioning was on again.

After the last monsoon shower (people told us that the monsoon was leving the country), we went towards the bus station. did i just say a bus station? What I meant is a simple street side. We knew our bus company name and adress and even more, yet the bus got delayed by 2 hours and we'd been storing our luggage in 4 diffrenet buses until the driver (after a few minutes call to his boss) would kick us out and ask to go to the other side of the street. So we went. And on and on.

Then we finally got seated and had to pay extra for a luggage boy, who would kindly take an eye on our stuff for 40 rupees :) Apparently these extras apply only to the tourists! Besides, the trip is long enough for someone to borrow our stuff.

By the time we reached Kullu, I'd been seated for 14 hours:) We certainly had a few stops to get flame-cooked corns. The roadsides do not sleep in India. This country doesnt sleep at all. Once the bus comes to a halt, salesmen with chips, coke and corns rush in. They give You extra attention for a fair skin.

We met an interesting German woman. She is famousback home for her sculptures and her husband Sebastian is a leading mahematician. She is really proud of herself and herchildren. German proud :)Every european visiting India has its own expectations. Young gangs of rich British kids look for pot or hashish, Germans take pictures and behave. Everyone is fascinated by the country.

Soon we'll reach Kullu, but first we drive on a narrow road alongside the kullu Valley. It subjects us to the most astonishing panorama I have ever seen: decidous trees, humangus slopes and whitewater bustling Kullu river. Due to its geographical exclusion, the valley has preserved the most diverse and unique Indian culture one could expect to find. I'm anxious to experience it!

Listen, on the road sides a gang of monkeys greeted us. I have never seen so many monkeys in my whole life :)

We have finally reached Kullu. at least that's what the luggage boy told us. We stepped outside - a rush of warm, humid, almost suffocating air hit our throats. This is it, we've left the comfort shell of a fine Volvo bus and had to fin our way to Ankit's house. He is our coordinator and should introduce us to the schools and orphanages. The rest will be upn our shoulders.

I had lots of ideas in my head at the moment, but all of a sudden we found ourselves surrounded by those cute little children from Kullu. they we tuching our clothes and playing with the luggage handle :) They were pure beauties and smileys. A taxi driver asked us where shall we go and we called Ankit. He started bargaining for us. Apparently the bus has dropped us 15 km short of our final destination. So we went with a taxi. The city of a 100 thousand seemed really stretched out alongside the road. The traffic intensed, we knew it wasthe centre and after a left hand turn we got to Ankit's gates.

A cow crossed our way and I touched its head. What a local beautie, these Indain cows are a way more couragious and agile compared to Lithuanian comrades which I happen to see every day.