One thing that is mostly missing from people today is the courage to dream, and to fix your sight on these dreams and make them a goal to achieve. Sometimes, some people still gather the courage for this. That is t be respected. Bot alone, it’s not enough.
Dreams are first present in a very rudimentary form, and as time goes they become cleaner, they develop, and – if we let them – they grow. They grow up. And we have to grow up to them as well. Continue reading »
25th June 2011, Saturday, 10:45 at night
India, day 2, a small village near Manali, called Vashist
I just woke up recently. I feel much better now. I’m still a bit dizzy, but I don’t know if it’s caused by the exhaustion and overloading yesterday, the insufficient eating or the altitude. I’m sitting on the top of the guest house again, ordered another banana porridge because it was very good yesterday, but this time I ordered masala chai with it, which, if I’m right, is spiced black tea with butter [Edit: with milk].
This time, at night, the village is even more calm and peaceful than at daytime. The roaring of the rapids of the nearby river completely fills the valley, disturbed only now and then by the horns of the cars traveling the road on the other side of the valley. Now I feel I could just be here for long time, it’s so peaceful and nice here. I’m roughly at 2080 meters [6820 feet] altitude. Towering above both sides of the valley are the peaks of the Himalayas, submerging in the clouds.
A gray cat is rubbing against my legs while I’m writing and sipping my tea. Masala chai is indeed spiced black tea, its smell and taste reminds me a bit to mulled wine.
I’m listening to the roaring of the river, and I feel like I’m home – not at this place, but in the traveling, in the adventure, in the mountains dressed in clouds, in the sound of the rapids. I’m glad that finally, after 25 years I started walking on a road where I found myself. I was always just talking and writing about this, that I’m an adventurer, that the distance calls me. But this now is reality. This is really India, these are really the peaks and slopes of the Himalayas, this is really the rapid Beas river deep down in the valley, this is real travel, real adventure. Real FREEDOM! I want to describe it with a hundred and thousand words how wonderful this is. But it is simply impossible to describe this with words. This simply must be felt, lived, one who only reads about it and watches photos will never grasp it even slightly. I remember, before I started the journey, I was reading about India on the Internet, and somebody wrote this: “You can take a man out of India, but you can’t take India out of a man.” Now, and only now, I understand that.
- my private journal
As I was sitting there, wiring my journal, enjoying the banana porridge and the masala chai, and watching what I could still see of the mountains… it was all so strange, so special. It was the very first time in my life, that I felt like I’m doing what I really want to do. And it was only the second day of my 50 days in India. Even now, as I think back, a strange feeling overcomes me… oh, how much I would give now, if I could sit there on that roof again, even if for just a few minutes…
I realized, that when I boarded the airplane in Hungary, something ended. My life as I did know it, ended that day. Then the struggle through the first day in India, all the hardship and suffering was nothing, but the pain of being born again, the pain of taking the first breath. And while I sat on that roof, I was watching the world around me with the eyes of a newborn. A new life started, and everything was new, strange, interesting. Everything changed, once and for all.
It’s probably midnight already. It’s only me on the roof, and four men looking like locals, who just finished dinner. The sky couldn’t be seen all day from the clouds which are probably only a few hundred meters above our head, and silent, calm rain started to fall a while ago. I sat for a while cross-legged on a part of the roof where there is no cover above it, and just enjoyed the rain. And now it’s time to sleep once again, so that tomorrow I can start exploring this place refreshed. I hope I will wake up before sunrise.
- my private journal
Arriving to Manali
The bus slowly rolled into the busy bus station of Manali. As I looked out the window, what I saw was something completely different than what I expected: instead of a small, calm town, I saw a crowded, crazy, dirty city. It was just like Delhi, except the temperature was pretty comfortable. And it smelled like Delhi… I didn’t like it, and had no idea what to do, or where to go now. Fortunately, Hannah said she knows a nice place: instead of staying in Manali, she always stays in a small village about two kilometers far from here, called Vashist. She suggested I stay there too, offering to lead the way. So once we got off the bus, collected our bags – and the blood circulation finally restored in my poor legs – we headed to get a rickshaw.
I was still very tired and tortured after the bus journey, feeling bad in probably all ways physically possible, but in the other hand, I felt great relief and happiness that finally I reached my first destination. The first challenge was completed: I got out of Delhi, and arrived to my first stop before the Rohtang La.
It was still only the first day of my 50 days in India, but already so many things happened, that I couldn’t keep up with my own thoughts and emotions. The day was close to its end, and the sun was setting down somewhere above the great city of Delhi. The bus was still in the huge city, but the first part of my journey ended, and I was on my way to start the next part. I don’t know what time it was or since how long I was on the bus, all my memories are chaotic and mixed with images I saw in my strange state of consciousness halfway between sleep and wake. And even though my body still suffered from the lack of sleep and food – I had but a single naan I packed when I was in the restaurant, waiting for the time to meet the ticket broker, and eating it was hardly enough to end hunger – somehow, inside I was happy and excited about the journey. I think I had some sleep, maybe an hour or two on the bus, because I gathered a bit of strength back, enough to take a few photos through the window. Continue reading »
My journey to India and Ladakh was the best thing that ever happened in my life. Not only some of my greatest dreams came true, but it opened up a whole new World for me, both physically and metaphorically. In travel, I was home – and I was free. Very often I remember it, and wish I could be there once again, traveling around , limited by nothing but my imagination.
After coming home, I had to realize that I was right: I’ve born to be a traveler. And this also means, I just cannot stay in the same place for too long without losing my freedom and happiness. I have to travel, again and again. Sometimes the journey is only within, but sooner or later I have to leave behind the lands I know for another adventure. So I decided to go on a very special journey once again. I decided to walk the El Camino de Santiago, the most famous pilgrimage route of the World. Continue reading »
I was in India since only a half day yet, but already my whole life was turned upside down. From the safe and very boring, stressing, colorless ordinary life I suddenly jumped into the unknown, and had more amazing experiences then ever before. If after this half day I had to go home, it would already have been a life changing experience. Yes, just a half day in adventure, at a crazy, faraway land already changed my life. But this was only the beginning. Continue reading »
After a tormented half day, visiting Raj Ghat was somewhat refreshing. Gandhi always inspired me much, and visiting his memorial reminded me how lucky I am to be here, in this magical country. Chloé, Adam and me sat down on a bench to talk and decide where to go. There was a public water fountain nearby, but I didn’t dare to try and drink from it, even though some locals did. Everyone strongly suggested to not do it unless I want to catch some very nasty illness. Even most of the locals did buy bottled drinking water, and so did we.
I decided to leave my heavy backpack behind for a while, and wash my arms, chest and face, and wet my hat. The heat was unbearable, and I was technically breathing hot steam which felt like it burns my throat and lungs, and I couldn’t escape anywhere from it, but the cold water gave me a few minutes of refreshment. Continue reading »
It’s still hard to believe, in 10 days from now I will be in the faraway India already. Exciting and frightening in the same time. But I know that Denmark was only a preparation, a first stretching of my wings, to say so. But this, this will be real flight now! The first one. The first great gate on the way towards my dreams, my destiny, and myself. This begins everything.
- my private journal, 13 June 2011, at home.
I was standing at the airport, waiting for the check-in for my flight to begin. It was about a year earlier that I decided I go to West-Tibet. After so many struggling, I was so close, just few steps away from starting to live a dream. But I wasn’t there yet – until I step out the airport in Delhi, I can still fail. I must stay calm and prepare for whatever last obstacles I need to fight. I looked up, and saw the check in just began, so I grabbed my backpack and headed there, feeling that as I walk, each step takes me closer to my destiny.
Already as a small kid, I was greatly inspired by adventurers such as Indiana Jones. He was one of my first idols. Later others joined, like Flash Gordon, Lara Croft, MacGyver, or Captain Nemo and other characters from the books of Joules Verne. I always dreamed about living a life like them: to venture into the unknown, see amazing places and do amazing things and fighting for some noble cause. Soon I also discovered other forms of freedom, such as artistic creation. Then as I grew up, new people joined my pantheon of inspirational people, but this time real people instead of fictional characters, such as Marco Polo, Lawrence of Arabia, Heinrich Harrer, Paulo Coelho, Che Guevara, Kőrösi Csoma Sándor (Alexander Csoma de Kőrös). Also I got inspired by eastern philosophy and religions, like Buddhism, Taoism, Bushido, and books like The Little Prince from Exupéry, A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula K. Le Guin or Coelhos books, and all these books and teachings seemed to agree in that dreams can be made true. Continue reading »