El Corazone de España...

As soon as I set foot on the grounds of Spain, I felt a connection with modern times and historic tradition. The laid back persona of all the people plus the simple beauty of the land and buildings creates an aura like no other. You feel warmly welcomed to the place they call home. 

Sevilla, most renowned for the Flamenco is smack in the middle of its annual festival, Fería. Luckily, I met these two amazing French girls who were more than delighted to spend the day wandering the tents, eating, drinking and trying to dance along to the music. All of the dresses were colorful beyond belief. Reds were as rich as blood, Blues were as deep as the oceans and yellows were as warm as the sun. In simple terms, they were breathtaking. And the best part about it all was that everyone of every age was dressed to the T in the same manner. 'Twas absolutely incredible to see. 

Even with all of this whirring around us, there was still time for food and markets. We just so happened to find el mercado de Triana, one of the happiest markets o have ever been to. We met this man who must have been at least 70 years young still standing behind his fruit counter. This incredible gentleman, Antonio, started to poem up fruits for us to try from boto fruit to plantanos. And everything he gave us was beyond incredible. I had no choice but to bring some of these incredible fruits back to the hostel for breakfast. Such a unique and warm experience after being yelled at in the markets of Paris. 

And then, of course, there is the Jamón Iberico; the prized tradition of España. There really are no words to fully capture the amount of passion, thought and history that goes into this unreal product. Based out of the region Extremadura, the Iberico pigs walk around in search of the perfect acorns to eat. In doing this, the fat becomes incorporated into the meat creating a silky smooth bite of nutty/salty pork leg. With more than 2000 years of history going into this, it makes sense why it is so perfect and fantastical. I wish for you all to come to Spain and taste age old tradition. 

España is a magical place. The people are lovely, the food is world class and the streets of the cities are clean. Yet, the traditions of food culture never died. It is imperative for countries like the US to start learning from food cultures similar or better than Spain. Traditions that were born of 1000's of years of farming should be introduced into our agri-conomy. This is the path I have been led to and I will do everything in my power to educate people about food culture and to increase the popularity of healthy and clean food. It won't happen in my life time, but I do hope that America can begin to grow culinary traditions of our own. 

Omelette du Fromage...

3 days is never long enough to explore a city like Paris. You have to wake up early, run around like a chicken with its head cut off, and if you are in the right part of town, the chefs may snatch you up and cook you for their busy dinner service. It is so stressful that you don't end up truly enjoying the magic of place. So, I tried something different. Instead of running around like crazy, I would leisurely walk around as much as I could until my legs fell off. Lucky for me, I have long legs. 

Paris is a place where you have certain things that are a must see such as; the Eiffel Tower, Le arc de triomph, the louvre, Notre Dame, and the catacombs. They hold a certain part of history in the world that everyone is entitled to. It is up to us to sellout this knowledge and put t to good use in modern times. Although, even with all of the recorded history in France and even the rest of the world, we never seem to truly learn from it. 

What we do learn is tradition and of course, food. And what a history that is. 

Paris, along with most of the rest of France has one of the richest culinary history's in the world. Paris was the place to be if you wanted to be a top chef in the world. It was the pinnacle of technique and flavor with chefs using militarized systems to create the perfect meal. Fortunately, the world expanded and now we have access to many more cultures whose culinary traditions are just as strong and prominent. 

In these three days though, I have seen only a small bit of an amazing city. Everyday was filled with baguettes, foie gras, mustard, rillette, pot au veau, escargot, au poirve, palmier, cafe, fromage, oeufs, and as much food that I could fit into my belly. It reminded me of eating lunch and dinner during my culinary school days. Such a rich culture of culinary tradition, and I stuck my palate right in the middle of it. 

Of course, this was all just a teaser for me and without a doubt, I will return to France and gain close to 3 kilos from all the food, bread and butter I will eat. There are so many regions overflowing with beautifully crafted wines that have to be explored and drank. Each of these having their own expression of the land and the people. So when people say that Paris is the city of love, I am not so convinced. It may be romantic to sit under the lit up Eiffel Tower in the twilight of a summer French sky, but this disregards the love and passion that is put into the cheeses, cured meats and wines from the whole of France. If anything, I would say it is the country of love. And I must admit, I have fallen in love with it. 

Full Power Himachal Madness...

The tallest and most respected mountain range in the world, Himachal or Himalayas, carries a certain magical aura that is difficult to explain in words. I came here in hopes of solitude and I didn't have to trek far to bring that to fruition. To many, this is a place to come, get stoned and relax with a beautiful landscape spread before them. To others, it is a place of enlightenment and soul searching. As a solo traveler, the choice is yours. So, why not do both?

Starting in Bunthar, I took a local bus up to Kasol. This was beyond crammed like a can of sardines. The road through Parvati is long, narrow and winds like a snake. It doesn't matter where inThe bus you are, someone is always knocking I to you or is jammed against you. Quite an experience.

Once in Kasol, there a few directions you can go. I chose to take the two and a half hour trek to Grahan through the valley. This was a magnificent hike that led you towards these majestic snow capped mountains. As the valley twisted and turned, I kept heading up towards the mountain top village. As I arrived in Grahan, I am greeted by Thali and fields of yellow mustard flowers. Sitting there in silence eating the warm food really hit home with me. It was a great time to quiet my mind and prepare for Tosh and Khirganga. 

On the way to tosh, a lovely phenomenon occurred. Our bus broke down, leaving us half way between tosh and Kasol. So, me, 13 engineering students, and a mother and baby hop into a car and drive up. Talk about clown car huh? The best part about this whole thing was the music... Ace of Base. Hilarious. Once we got to Barsheni, the 13 students and I got out. Talk about clown cramped. 

Once I arrived in Tosh, I met a group of Israelis and we hung out most of the day. They come to India to decompress after their time in IDF and/or to take a sabbatical. Ether way, it was really cool to spend time with them. Eventually, it got to be too much and I needed to get some space. So, I took a beautiful walk into the mountains. No specific direction and no end game. The silence that nature offers here is beyond anything I have experienced before. You have the constant low flow of water running down the valley, cows mooing, birds soaring in the wind and dogs talking to each other. Aside from that, it is just you and the crisp mountain air. 

Making way to Khirganga was an experience unlike many others. Not only do you have to trek three hours up through the mountainous valley, you have to make way for donkeys, horses, cows and porters transporting goods up to the villages. There are no cars that go up to these tiny villages. Seeing and experiencing this culture is beyond inspirational. They are still using cows to till the land. Not only that, they let nature (mustard, clover, etc.)grow first before even turning the soil. This gives them a rich ground to support their livelihood. More than inspiring. 

Now, Khirganga is a magical place. Everyone who lives there works full power all day. From chopping wood to running goods up and down the valley, everyone from child to grandma is putting in work. It is not a profession, they are fully immersed in this lifestyle of survival. These villages seem to be some of the few that depend on each person in order to have a fully functioning community. These places are the true carnation of taking a community to raise a child. This is what we need in the states. The "culture" to our "agri" has been lost. 

Spending this time in the mountains has shown me a way of living fully functionally as a cohesive community. Something I knew was always possible, but bloody difficult to emulate in a culture as fast paced and progressive as ours. It has reminded me that we need to take care of the world immediately around us in order to have even the slightest positive influence on the people and cultures around us. That is my goal now; to bring back the sense of a functioning community in the smallest sense possible. From there, it is no longer up to me. I just need to have faith that the snowball will continue rolling and people's eyes will open to the true problems in our world. Namaste.