If I try to describe the incredible serendipitous weekend we had in Visakhapatnam and Araku Valley, I'm afraid the amount of injustice that verbal description would provide to the experience would be absolutely unbearable.
I'm not kidding.
Every time I've tried to convey the beauty of the last three days, I fall short.
So I think I'll just leave you with some vague descriptions, maybe a few anecdotes, and a few pictures.
But this is one of those things that neither a picture nor a thousand words will describe.
We left for Vizag with our round trip bus tickets from Hyderabad as our only solid plans. We left our hotel, our food, our transportation, everything to the swirling and powerful Indian winds of fate. Seriously, everything.
And OH, how magic the world can be.
We did touristy things:
and we met an endless stream of compassionate and wonderful people.
This included Sushmitha, who accompanied us to Rushikonda Beach:
Then we took a train to Araku the next morning...
...and met the most genuine and loving family.
No more than a few words were understood between us, but they still welcomed us with open hearts and lots of food. My eternal gratitude and love goes out to those beautiful women
Sami almost stole the kids, no worries.
Araku itself was beyond breathtaking.
Borra Caves and monkeys
insane roof-top jeep rides with Ganesh, friend-of-laughter-and-love-and-silliness-but-no-English, waterfalls,
loving Hyderabadis who made fun of our "aapka nam kya hai's,"
mini bananas,
Araku-grown spicy delicious coffee,
Rahul, friend-of-unbelievable-coincidence-and-serendipity,
beauty of landscape,
of people,
of children,
of isolation,
of tribal communities with three nose rings and balanced silver jugs,
of rain and mist,
of greenness,
of bonding,
of heart and third eye chakra connections,
of spirituality,
of India.
Every moment meant something different.
Every second was intricately connected to the next.
Every person left a lasting impact on our lives.
I say "our," because Sami and Molly both agree that this weekend was magic. Indian magic.
....And I can't say anymore. It'll ruin the beautiful, deeply moving memories in my head and my heart.
First rule of zen:
Things must be experienced, not taught.
I'm not kidding.
Every time I've tried to convey the beauty of the last three days, I fall short.
So I think I'll just leave you with some vague descriptions, maybe a few anecdotes, and a few pictures.
But this is one of those things that neither a picture nor a thousand words will describe.
We left for Vizag with our round trip bus tickets from Hyderabad as our only solid plans. We left our hotel, our food, our transportation, everything to the swirling and powerful Indian winds of fate. Seriously, everything.
And OH, how magic the world can be.
We did touristy things:
and we met an endless stream of compassionate and wonderful people.
This included Sushmitha, who accompanied us to Rushikonda Beach:
Then we took a train to Araku the next morning...
...and met the most genuine and loving family.
No more than a few words were understood between us, but they still welcomed us with open hearts and lots of food. My eternal gratitude and love goes out to those beautiful women
Sami almost stole the kids, no worries.
Araku itself was beyond breathtaking.
Borra Caves and monkeys
insane roof-top jeep rides with Ganesh, friend-of-laughter-and-love-and-silliness-but-no-English, waterfalls,
loving Hyderabadis who made fun of our "aapka nam kya hai's,"
mini bananas,
Araku-grown spicy delicious coffee,
Rahul, friend-of-unbelievable-coincidence-and-serendipity,
beauty of landscape,
of people,
of children,
of isolation,
of tribal communities with three nose rings and balanced silver jugs,
of rain and mist,
of greenness,
of bonding,
of heart and third eye chakra connections,
of spirituality,
of India.
Every moment meant something different.
Every second was intricately connected to the next.
Every person left a lasting impact on our lives.
I say "our," because Sami and Molly both agree that this weekend was magic. Indian magic.
....And I can't say anymore. It'll ruin the beautiful, deeply moving memories in my head and my heart.
First rule of zen:
Things must be experienced, not taught.
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