Moments.

I am constantly having moments where I forget where I am. Where I am somewhere between feeling lost and completely at home. Overwhelmed and surrounded by familiarity. Shocked at how strange things seem and seeing similarities between states of being, ways of doing. Amazed. Terrified. Uncomfortable with my being rather than everyone else's.

That's probably just due to the stares and being surrounded by fifty men, attracting what feels like equal attention as the parade of camels and play-fighting masses behind us. Wandering around, it was impossible to not stumble on the mass procession through town - the Gujjar caste celebrating the birthday of their god, people from over thirty villages in the district in town today to celebrate through the market streets.

Bundi's markets burst with scent and colours. Women haggle over bangles, cloth - a street lined with dozens of sacks of dried chilis soak the air to the point where, just breathing, you can taste them. But it is Krishna's chai shop I am constantly drawn back to. Sitting in front if a slate, rock, propane burner and a few pots, he makes the best chai I have has yet, and what he shamelessly believes to be the best in India. "Shanti shanti" he says, and you at and wait. And then, in your hands, is something that must be magical.

I have the recipe now, but I'm thinking buffalo milk might be hard to find back in Canada.

(written in Bundi February 1st. Please bare with the infrequent posts and backlog. I'll try to catch up while here in Mumbai!)