Oh, Mussoorie… my Indian home.
If I could, I would ask you all to visit this place once in your life.
You don’t know India without meeting its Himalayan mountains.
And you don’t know the mountains until you visit the Himalayas.

I spent one week tucked at the foothills of the 22,000 ft peaks. After a few chance circumstances, Eric were able to return for the same two weeks in India. He and I both served the same year long term in the eMi India office and it only seemed appropiate that we both be there to complete the return visit experience. Friends there feel like Indian family and there was much to catch up on after a year away. Talking and walking, eating and laughing. I shared from my life in San Francisco and they caught me up on what’s happened in theirs since I left. The Pinkstaff girls are taller and many new babies now fill the Friends of Garhwal church. Trash cans have been added around the mountain chakar and Anil’s has a new fancy menu. The bedroom’s been painted and new flowers have been planted.

But for the most part, the hill station of Mussoorie remains virtually the same. There is almost timeless character of this place, as if 10 years of technology and development could pass and the little city would remain immune to its effects. Yes, we still hope for high speed internet and electricity that is constant… but the familiar feel as you walk down to sister’s bazaar, run by chardukan in the morning and grab a chai at the local daba will remain in an indian time capsule.

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