Returned from a long weekend in Dharamsala, up in the hills of Himachal Pradesh. We stayed at a charming, somewhat rundown tea plantation just outside of town. The area was lush and green and rain fell periodically, but did not interrupt our sightseeing excursions. We caught occasional glimpses of the massive Himalayan peaks that rise very steeply behind the town. They seemed impossibly close, but despite this apparent proximity, remain elusive to the eye. Dharamsala was shrouded in mist for most of the weekend and the snow-capped peaks were mostly hidden.

We stayed at Whitehaven Tea estate, a typically inconsistent Indian hotel. There was plenty of old colonial charm and attentive service in the dining room, yet, somehow, despite the near $200 per night price tag, our room was not cleaned for the three days we were there. No matter. Kierahn was happy. He especially enjoyed the hair-raising car rides along the steep, narrow roads. Our driver was pretty solid, although he slumped over the wheel as he drove, giving the alarming appearance that he was falling asleep at the wheel. He was not - seems he just had poor posture.

Mcleod Ganj is the seat of the Tibetan government in exile and a popular backpacker town about 20 minutes from Dharamsala. Lots of scruffy westerners of all ages in "Save Tibet" tee shirts, sporting dreadlocks as well as shaved heads, some looking serene, others just bored. We couldn't enter the Dalai Lama's temple as a sermon was taking place. All around a courtyard in the temple complex, disciples and tourists listened to a sermon over a loudspeaker and on small transistor radios. It was a pleasant scene, and people appeared relaxed and engaged in the words of the speaker. The town is a peculiar mix of people: the afore-mentioned backpackers; genuine exiles from Tibet, some who have likely been settled in Mcleod Ganj for years , if not decades; and Indian holidaymakers, who don't quite seem to know what to make of it all, looking like strangers in their own country. Women sell momo's by the side of the road beside backpacker cafes serving lattes and grilled eggplant sandwiches. The roads are narrow and crowded, but all is laid back compared to most of the rest of India, which is why people come here.

On our last day in the area,we drove to Dharamkot, about 3km past McCleod Ganj. It initially appeared to consist solely of a tea stall/rickshaw stand, but our driver directed us down a small road that lead to a decrepit and downright dangerous children's playground perched on a precarious platform at least 3 meters above the road. Without proper supervision, my guess is that it would take about 30 seconds for the average 2 year old to launch himself off the edge of the platform onto the crumbling road below. Kierahn avoided this fate, but did earn a nasty bruise by running head first into the rusting teeter-totter. We didn't stay at the playground long.

Continuing our walk we ended up in a small, rather unique backpacker village, the temporary home of dozens of Israelis. Signs were in Hebrew, falafal a featured item on at least one restaurant menu. The village offered pretty views, a cheap bed, tranquility and little else, including cleanliness. We had a nice walk, saw some cows and donkeys and then turned back.

The Indian Himalayas are my favorite part of the country. The steep hills are breathtaking, the snow-capped peaks, awe-inspiring. It's worth braving the treacherous roads for the views, to mingle pleasantly with the locals and breathe some cool, fresh air, free of choking exhaust fumes and thick humidity. I hope to return again.