France was our last stop on our unbelievable summer vacation before heading back to the West Coast of North America. The French leg started with a bit of a panic when we learned that there was an Italian train strike on the day we were to travel, so we started extra early to make sure we were able to get on a train in Corniglia and could hopefully make our two connections to Nice. Thanks to our wonderful host Simona warning us, it all went without a hitch. We made it to Nice early in the afternoon, ready to explore this beautiful town.
As with so much of what we do, our time in Nice was centered around food. The night we arrived we started our very scientific research project: who has the best gelato in Nice. Our favorites were the chocolate sorbet at Fenocchio, the stracciatella at Roberto’s, and the mint chip at Glacier Rossetti. All of the gelato was delicious, but our favorite of the whole two months was still easily Alberto’s in Corniglia.
We spent much of our first full day on a food tour with Nadia of Nice Food and Wine Tours. We heard a little about where the celebrities who make Nice their playground go, and we tasted some amazing chocolates, olives and wines. We walked the charming public market where we tried a couple of tasty treats that we’re adding to the list of foods we want to learn to make when we get home: socca, a chickpea-based crepe that is fluffy like an omelette, and pissaladière, a caramelizedonion tart that usually has a sardine on top but Chez Theresa makes it without. We also had a delightful lunch in one of the many beautiful plazas in Vieux Nice (Old Town) along with the delightful folks we shared the tour with, two sisters and their daughters and a young woman travelling on her own from the US.
Our best meal was one we had on our tiny balcony of our Airbnb. We had a small view of the Mediterranean Sea as we dined above the tourists making their way through our little pedestrian street. We found sauce and fresh ravioli at Maison Barale, the ravioli made in the special Niçoise way with small dumplings not fully separated making them look like a chocolate bar. Add a tasty salad, and (once we went out for more gelato) it was exactly what we wanted.
We spent a couple of days exploring. One day we went to The Matisse and Chagall Museums. The Chagall definitely left us wanting to learn more about his work. Another day we climbed to the top of Castle Hill overlooking the city where there archaeologists are in the process of learning more about the fort that was there.
Nice was wonderful, but it was time to head off to the climax of the trip — Paris. Paris was everything we hoped it would be, and as with so many cities like it, the full two months of our vacation wouldn’t have been enough to fully experience everything it has to offer, much less the measly five days we had. Our time was kicked off with a surprise. After settling in to our Airbnb, we set off to explore some of the sights. Our way was blocked by what we quickly figured out was the final leg of the 2019 Tour de France. After dinner, we thought we’d check it out, assuming there would be too many people to see anything interesting. However, we found a little spot on a curve where we were able to get close enough to the route to see. About five minutes later, the peloton rode by very very quickly. It was fun!
The biggest chunk of our time in Paris was spent in the many incredible museums. The Louvre was of course incredible. We planned ahead enough to get 9:00 am tickets; we hightailed it to the Mona Lisa before the crowds became unmanageable. We spent time in the Islamic Art collection before finding our other must-see pieces — Liberty Leading the People, Winged Victory, and The Venus de Milo. Then we just wandered through the many galleries, getting distracted by whatever caught our eye, appreciating the many ways people experience the art, and being generally overwhelmed by the splendor of the building and its contents.
We also loved l’Orangerie with its stunning permanent installation of Monet’s Water Lilies, as well as the Orsay and its late 19th to early 20th century art, including of course the Impressionists. Rodin is one of our favorites, and of course Parisians love their own. Tom also took a spur-of-the-moment trip to a museum set up in Eugene Delacroix’s studio.
We also of course went to a few of the countless incredible cultural sites around Paris. Sainte Chapelle’s stained glass windows are incredible. We mourned the loss of post-fire Notre Dame. While Melissa took a shopping day, Tom saw the eerie Conciergerie where enemies of the revolution were condemned to the guillotine, and he also saw two Holocaust memorials — one specifically remembering the deportations from France and the Shoah Memorial. He also ducked into the Opera house to check out the Chagall ceiling we read about in Nice. Our favorite view of the city came from the top of Sacré-Cœur in Montmartre.
Speaking of Montmartre, we took an enjoyable food tour of the neighborhood with Secret Food Tours. We once again had great luck with tour partners, including a couple from Seattle, the woman from Mumbai (more on them later)! We went to the shop of a master chocolatier who was named Meilleur Ouvrier de France (MOF), the highest honor available to a number of crafts and a title one holds for life. We had amazing macrons, tasty crepes, and again finished with a fabulous lunch with wine tasting along with our fabulous tour partners.
One amusing side note: we heard an amusing story about the origin of the baguette (a little bit of research calls into question the story’s accuracy, but it’s an amusing story). According to our tour guide, when they were building the Paris Metro, many people from around the country converged to help. They brought their lunches with them, which invariably included bread which of course needed a knife to slice. The workers also found knives useful to help settle scores with coworkers with whom they might not see eye-to-eye. The resulting carnage inspired bakeries to bake bread that didn’t need a knife to enjoy, hence the very tear-able (but opposite of terrible) baguette.
As we settled in to lunch, our guide happened to mention that they were piloting a wine tour the next day and wondered . . . “YES PLEASE!” we and the couple from Seattle answered before the end of the question. The next day we went on another walking tour of Montmartre, this time hearing about the history of wine in the neighborhood. There is still a small vineyard on the shady side of the hill producing a truly terrible wine. We drank wine and ate cheese at a variety of outlets. It was delicious, and all we had to do was answer some reflection questions about the tour itself and be interviewed for a marketing video.
Part of the motivation behind the wine theme of our vacation is our anniversary, which we try to celebrate in a different wine region each year. We’ve been to Southern Oregon, Walla Walla, Willamette Valley, and La Rioja. We missed our sixth when we moved to Bangalore, and we thought it would be fun to make a blow-out of it for our move back home. Our plan put us in Paris for our anniversary for the romance of it all, knowing it isn’t actually a wine region, but has lots and lots of good wine. Melissa found a cute little restaurant in the Latin Quarter that had a number of tasty vegetarian dishes, and we just had a lovely night of it.
For sure, one of the many reasons we know we will be back to France is to visit some of the many wine regions available. Paris is just such a lovely city, and France is a wonderful country with, despite its reputation, fabulously warm and friendly people. It was the perfect way to end a truly once-in-a-lifetime vacation.
As mentioned previously, we had a couple of goals when planning this summer’s adventures: explore exciting but less-traveled and slightly risky places, and go to places we know we love. With some fabulous adventures in Armenia, Georgia, and Bulgaria under our belts, it was time to head back to Italy. We last visited Italy in 2012 to celebrate the birthday of our amazing friend Maya. Then, we did a whirlwind tour of Rome and spent a full week in Tuscany and fell in love with everything about the country. This time, we decided the whirlwind tour would be of Pisa and then we’d spend a serious chunk of time in the Cinque Terre.
Before any of that could happen, we had one quick stop. By a quirk of scheduling and the consequence of a bit of a brain fart, the best flight we could find from Sofia, Bulgaria to Pisa was through Rome . . . with a 13 hour layover. That gave us just enough time to spend the night in Fiumicino, the airport-centric town just outside of Rome. When in Rome, what better thing to do than to find great pizza. So we did. We had convinced ourselves that we had found great pizza in Bangalore. We suppose we did, given the context. Brik Oven Pizza and Bene both serve very good pizza that satisfied our frequent craving for chewy, traditional Neapolitan pizza. But Pizzeria Quarenta reminded us pretty quickly that really good pizza is very different from great pizza. We also were reminded that the Georgian and Bulgarian approach to dining, where all food comes to the table very quickly and at the same time, is not the norm around the world. Italy moves at a slower pace, and it was time to kick back and enjoy it.
We didn’t expect much out of Pisa. Melissa had visited for one day in 2004, and Tom had never been. Thanks to that scheduling quirk, we landed in Pisa early enough to wander and explore the city one day and do the Leaning Tower and surrounding piazza sights the next before getting the train to the Cinque Terre. We found Pisa to be charming. Tourist choked and centered around their main attraction, obviously, but charming. With a couple of self-guided walking tours on line to guide us, we set out to explore. We saw a huge Keith Haring mural, a funky and tiny old church right on the river, and an incredible old square with an impressive statue of Cosimo de Medici. We explored the 1575 botanical garden, a lovely oasis surrounded by the rush of tourists, clearly situated with the lovely view of the tower in mind. We also simply fell in love with the skinny, twisting alley ways that serve as streets in so many European cities like this one. We wrapped up the day with a beautiful meal at Ristorante Galileo, where the waiter said that he had worked in a Willamette Valley winery and that Oregon makes some of his favorite wines!
Leaning Tower of Pisa day was great. Tom felt very similar to how he felt at the Taj Mahal several months before. How can something with so much hype live up to it? Surely there must be an element of herd mentality propping up the excitement, right? In the case of the Taj Mahal, we all agreed that it completely surpassed the hype. So gorgeous, and every little bit of it planned and executed exquisitely. The Leaning Tower was close. It was beautiful and worth every bit of the hype it receives. It is funny, though, that a city whose second biggest claim to fame is the scientists and mathematicians that came from there, Galileo and Fibonacci chief among them, that Pisa is best known for a failure of engineering.
Our plans worked out perfectly. We reserved tickets for the tower for early in the day, so we had plenty of time to explore the cathedral, baptistery, cemetery, and museum there on the square. They are all stunning and beautiful, and it left us plenty of time to grab lunch at Pastamania (amazing and affordable!) before grabbing our train later that afternoon for the Cinque Terre.
Oh, the Cinque Terre. Oh, how we love the Cinque Terre. We decided to stay in Corniglia because we had read that it was the quietest of the five villages. It sits on the top of a cliff and visitors arrival by train at the bottom. The main route to the town from the train is a set of 382 stairs, but there is a small shuttle bus for those who need it – we happily took advantage of the shuttle with our luggage. Our lovely Airbnb host Simona met us and took us to our home for the next five nights. It was so perfect. The town is tiny and full of beautiful views and old buildings and delicious food. Our favorite grocer made tagliatelle for us even though, as a good Northern Italian, he was appalled that we were putting a homemade arrabiata on his fresh pasta instead of his pesto. We had a bit of fine dining at Mananan (reservations verrrrrry required — it’s a tiny place with a ton of demand, though we were able to get our reservation just a day before). We also had (at least three times though should have been more) the best gelato either of us have ever had at Alberto’s.
We were really in the Cinque Terre for the hiking, though, and it was lovely. Corniglia is in the middle of the five towns: Manarola and Riomaggiore to the south and Vernazza and Monterosso al Mare to the north. There are basically two trails — the popular trail that follows the coast line and the national park trail in the hills above — that link the cities. Because the coast line is almost entirely slate cliffs, landslides are common and cut off the lower trail. Throw in a little good old fashioned corruption, and those trails can stay closed for a good long time. While we were there, the trails between Corniglia, Manarola, and Riomaggiore were closed and apparently had been for some time. The train connects them all, too, as does a ferry that connects them all except Corniglia. Our plan was to combine all of those modes of transportation to take in all five towns while also doing a good amount of relaxing in our five days.
We started with the hardest of the hikes the first day — up and over the hills above and between Corniglia and Manarola. It was hard, comparable we agreed to our hardest hike in Tusheti, although less than half the length. It was also incredibly beautiful, comparable to anything we have ever seen anywhere. Views of the beautiful Mediterranean Sea at every turn, with the lovely villages perched on the cliffs, and lighter crowds than than the lower paths. It took us through vineyards and gardens, tiny villages and isolated forests. Just simply lovely. And hard work. The next day we decided to relax in town. Melissa did some writing and drawing; Tom swam in the sea. The third day we took the train to and from Monterosso for a beach day. We rented chairs at one of the resorts, basked and swam and generally relaxed. The last full day we took the shore hike to Vernazza, and Tom continued on to Monterosso while Melissa took the train. We met there and boarded the ferry which took us past all five of the towns to Riomaggiore, where we explored and took the train home. In each town, we were guided by the Rick Steves guidebook that Simona shared with us in our Airbnb, helping us to understand the unique flavor of each town and find the best restaurants.
We’ve been trying to note the wines and food we’ve had along the way. Being Italy, we knew we were in for great food with which we are intimately familiar. We had wonderful pastas and pizzas all along the way. We were reminded that we definitely need to up our pesto game. The only foods that were new to us were a delightful and apparently traditional walnut sauce (different from a pesto) that was delicious on ravioli, and a nice and popular vegetable tart with potatoes and vegetables.
The wine of the Cinque Terre is different than the wine in other parts of Italy. It’s mostly white wine, but they make a number of delicious reds as well. We never had what they are most famous for, sciacchetra, a super strong, super sweet wine.
Our last moments of this Italy trip were made a little manic when Simona knocked on the door late in the evening of our last night in Corniglia in order to let us know that there would be a train strike starting before our chosen train to Nice was scheduled to leave the next day, so we needed to be on a 7:20 train instead. She saved us. We got ourselves packed, to bed, and out the door to get to our next destination in plenty of time. It was a little sad to leave such a wonderful country so hurriedly, but this will not be the last we see of Italy.
Our route home from Bangalore this summer started in Armenia to see a friend, then Georgia because it was convenient from Armenia and sounded amazing. Our next stop was determined by Melissa’s desire to swim in the Black Sea, so Bulgaria it was! Our eight days in Bulgaria were less about doing and more about being, as we simply soaked up the charms of this ancient, fascinating culture.
We started with four days to relax in the Black Sea resort town of Varna. Our Airbnb was perfectly located on a quiet residential street just a short walk from the city center sights in one direction and the beautiful Sea Garden park and beach in the other direction. We explored the huge 2nd century Roman bath complex as well as the smaller 4th century one that replaced it. We marveled at the archaeology museum with relics back to the stone age and the well-told story of the successive cultures that have occupied the region. We loved the wine, enjoyed the shopska salad, and started each day with banitsa (a cheesy, flaky filo dough treat). And we spent one decadent afternoon in a shady cabana where we could sip our drinks while gazing at the beautiful sea.
From Varna we took the train through dozens of fields of sunflowers to Plovdiv, the current European Capital of Culture and a delightful place to explore. Its tangle of curving streets and hills made it confusing to navigate, but while lost we happened upon ancient excavations and stunning revival architecture so didn’t mind a bit. In retrospect, we wished we’d spent more time in Plovdiv, or, at the very least, arranged our trip to allow us to see a concert in the ancient Roman theatre that hosted an opera the night before we arrived and a jazz symphony the day we left. Plovdiv had better food, better wine tasting, and even more amazing Roman ruins than Varna.
We finished our time in Bulgaria with about 24 hours in Sofia – not nearly enough! We thought it would just feel like any other European city, but it definitely has its own character, with incredible parks and pedestrian streets, spectacular religious buildings (from one square you can see a mosque, a synagogue, a Catholic cathedral, and an Eastern Orthodox church – all of them architectural masterpieces), charming cafes, and Roman ruins everywhere. Add some wonderful wine tasting and we were smitten, fantasizing about moving there some day. Who knows what the future holds?
The food in Bulgaria is definitely not vegetarian-centric. On our way in to Varna, we asked our cab driver what traditional Bulgarian dishes we should eat, but when we told him we are vegetarian, he said, “Oh, that’s tough. There aren’t any.” While he wasn’t far off, the shopska salad, when done well, is delicious. It is basically the basic Indian green salad of cucumber, tomato, and onion, but with roasted bell pepper and a salty cow cheese, and usually with tomatoes oozing with flavor. Banitsa was delightful in all of its forms, including a very spanakopita-like version. Varna’s restaurants are meh. We went to one highly regarded restaurant, Di Wine, which was good enough, maybe better if you eat meat, but most of the restaurant scene is very much centered around the resort-ness of it all, not foodies. We went to two great restaurants in Plovdiv, Hemingway and Smokini.
Bulgaria was the third country of our trip to claim to be the first to make wine. The most amusing piece of this story came in one of the museums, where the story of wine in Bulgaria included a statement that while we all know wine has been made in Bulgaria for 7,000 years, the only hard evidence we have takes it back 6,000 years. That 6,000 year timeframe happens to be how far back wine has been made in Armenia and Georgia, as well. The history of wine in Bulgaria is checkered by the Soviet era, when Bulgarian wines supplied most of the Soviet Union (of which Bulgaria was not an official part despite two applications to become so), when quantity became more important than quality. At our tasting in Sofia, we asked about the transition back to quality, and our host insisted that they are still working on that transition. We tried to stick to Bulgarian wine in each restaurant, including a full-on tasting at The Sea Terrace in Varna. We also visited Dragomir winery in Plovidiv and a wine store that pours tastes in Sofia. We fell in love with several uniquely Bulgarian types: Melnik, Mavrud, and Rubin, a cross-breed between Nebbolio and Syrah. All in all, there is a lot of really high quality wines in Bulgaria.
Bulgaria felt like a bit of a risk in our planning, a little bit off the beaten path of the traditional tour. It is an amazing country. Now we’re off to Italy!
While planning for this opportunity to have a dream summer vacation, we wanted to include stops that were both life-lister sorts of places and regions that had intrigued us thanks to stories we heard from our well-travelled friends in Bangalore and other places. Armenia was a certainty, thanks to Melissa’s friend Madlene, so we looked for places that drew us and were convenient from Yerevan. We have friends who claim Georgia as their favorite place and hope to retire in Tbilisi, and several of our wine loving friends in Bangalore had insisted that Georgian wines are the best in the world. So Georgia it is.
Our time in Georgia was split into three different phases: first exploring Tbilisi, second trekking in Tusheti National Park, and finally relaxing in the heart of Kakheti wine country.
During our three days in Tbilisi, we went at a pace that was consistent with our desire to prioritize relaxation on this trip, so decided to focus our exploration on Old Tbilisi. This area is popular with tourists, and deservedly so. There is something charming on every corner, whether a beautiful building, a playful fountain, or a talented musician. We explored the 4th century Narikala Fort (although most of what is visible dates to 16th century fortifications) and the nearby botanical gardens; walked many times through whimsical Rike park and over the Peace Bridge; rode the giant ferris wheel high on the hill at Mtatsminda, an amusement park built around a Soviet television tower, accessible only by funicular; wandered the lanes of old town and saw the ancient thermal baths; visited a couple museums; and ate fabulous food.
From Tbilisi we were picked up and driven over the unpaved Abano Pass, which we now know is one of the most dangerous roads in the world (yikes! Maybe because of the landsldes? “Alcohol” was the answer of one of our new friends), arriving in Shenako, a Tusheti village. On the way, our driver stopped to introduce us to our guide, which was the first we learned of having a guide at all, and explained that our luggage would be carried on horseback. Irakli was a giant with a sweet smile and warm handshake, but no English at all. With our lack of Georgian, communication was pretty limited for the next few days.
Our planned trek was 79 kilometers over six days, most days involving climbs up and over mountains. When planning this trek, Melissa had the idea that planning a serious physical challenge in our summer vacation would leave us with no choice but to prioritize fitness during our final months in Bangalore. It turns out that there was a
choice after all, and our other Bangalorean desires won out. Between the altitude and lack of preparation, we were working hard in our first couple days. We are proud, though, that we could do it, maintaining a reasonable pace even on our second day of eight hours of hiking over two significant mountain ridges, the difficulty confirmed by most people’s response when they heard the path we took: “You went THAT way?” Ultimately, our conditioning wasn’t the problem. Melissa’s feet were. Finishing day two with six painful blisters, we bandaged them up and continued on to day three, a 14 kilometer hike on a timber road with a slow, steady incline. We arrived in a remote village, now with eight blisters. Running low on band-aids, and conscious of the very ambitious treks over the next two days, we were forced to reconsider the plan. Rather than going on, the next day we walked back to our previous guest house in the charming village of Dartlo to regroup, still hoping to reroute and trek the next day to a nearer village that would keep us on track for our finish in Omalo. Ultimately, the next morning we accepted a ride from a kind French filmmaker and photographer who took us to Telavi two days early, when it became clear that Melissa could not put shoes of any kind back on her feet without crying. We were sad not to complete our loop, but still proud of trekking 53 kilometers in four days, and delighted by the gorgeous, remote nature that we saw during that time.
Telavi is in the heart of one of Georgia’s famed wine regions. Happily, the guest house where we planned to stay was able to take us a couple days early so we had time to relax in a beautiful place while Melissa’s feet healed. We babied her feet surprisingly successfully. She stayed off of them almost completely on our first day in Telavi, thanks in part to our fabulous hosts‘ delicious breakfast and dinner, removing the need to go out for meals, then the second day we spent being driven between wineries, tasting wine, and touring ancient churches and monasteries (with Tom obsessively checking on Melissa’s feet). On the last day, with Melissa’s blisters completely manageable, we took a leisurely walk around the charming town of Telavi, checking out the market, old town, the 900 year old Giant Plane Tree, and the last king’s castle.
Georgian Food and Wine
One of the reasons we wanted to visit Georgia was for the food and wine that we’ve heard celebrated by many different people. We were not disappointed.
Khachapuri is a kind of stuffed cheese bread that varies from region to region, all of them delicious. Adjarian khachapuri is a boat-shaped yeasted bread filled with a cheese mixture, then topped with a soft egg yolk that is stirred into the cheese while eating (Melissa preferred hers eggless). Throughout Tusheti, Imeretian khachapuri looks kind of like a big round quesadilla stuffed with a mild sheep’s cheese and fried in lots of oil, and in Telavi it is similar to Imeretian khachapuri but is somehow less greasy and more cakey.
Walnut sauce is served with all kinds of vegetables and makes everything wildly delicious.
Salads of all kinds are served at every meal: carrot salad, cole slaw, egg salad, potato salad, and a basic tomato and cucumber salad.
Khinkali is a stuffed dumpling, mostly stuffed with meat (one fellow traveler described with ecstasy sucking the juices out of a mutton khinkali he had recently enjoyed) but we were able to find vegetarian versions almost everywhere we went. We have a theory, that one could write a pretty interesting book about flatbreads around the world, because flatbread seems to be found in every culture we have been exposed to. It is becoming increasingly clear that dumplings would make a pretty interesting book, too. Georgia’s version are large, plump, you eat them with your fingers, and they are delicious. As as added bonus, we were treated to a khinkali forming lesson in Shenako by our wonderful host Daro.
Lobio is a bean stew that can be cooked until nearly the consistency of refried beans, and is served with corn bread and pickled cucumbers, carrots, and herbs. Yum.
Churchkhela is described as a healthy candy made up of walnuts and thickened grape juice from the wine making process. The first two we tried were amazingly delicious, but we were warned to be careful about what we buy, that some producers use artificial coloring and lower quality ingredients. We thought we chose well, but the one we bought for travel food didn’t live up to the first two we tried.
There’s a lot going on with meat as well, but we ate very happily without it.
The wine is made differently here in qvevri which are large clay vessels lined with beeswax, generally underground with just the top of the vessel accessible. Our first tasting was a little alarming, when we didn’t particularly like any of the four wines we tried. We weren’t ready to give up, though, and visited a different place the next day where we enjoyed them all, and found one we really liked, called Mukuzani. It was a little telling when we learned that Mukuzani is made with the same grape, saperavi, as the more overwhelming wines, but aged for some time (different for each wine maker) in oak barrels, what they called the European method. Our favorite stop on our wine tour outside of Telavi was Shumi winery, partially because they make some very good wines, but it was also simply a beautiful and relaxing place to be. Georgia is famous for its amber wine (which we call orange wine in the US). Our favorite amber wine was made by our host at our guest house in Telavi. It was lovely.
Georgia has an amazing amount to offer. We now understand why our friends want to retire there one day. It is lovely and bustling and has every bit of culture one would want. With that, we were off to Bulgaria, richer for having experienced this beautiful place.
Leaving India was surreal, not knowing when or whether we’d return, and not really knowing what life will look like when we return to Portland. The transition was greatly eased by our arrival in Armenia, in part because we chose Armenia for the chance to start our dream summer vacation with a friendly face.
Madlene Minassian, Melissa’s friend in LA, had always spoken of her love for Armenia and her desire to return. When Madlene and her family moved to Armenia and Melissa moved to Portland, they remained connected through Facebook, and Madlene’s photos of her beautiful city and stories of the 2018 Velvet Revolution fueled our desire to visit.
Yerevan, the capitol of Armenia, is a relatively new city with proud ancient roots. It became the capital after WWI when Armenia was divided, with part of its land (the part with the previous capital) becoming part of Turkey and the rest becoming part of the Soviet Union (more on that later). The city’s roots go back to 8th century BC, but the modern city was designed in 1924 by a Russian Armenian. The layout is lovely with many public spaces nestled in the amphitheater shape of the city that rises up the hills surrounding the central core. It feels very European (although that may just be in comparison to India) with countless fountains where people congregate when they aren’t sitting in adorable sidewalk cafes or secret garden wine bars and restaurants. It’s a quiet city in the morning and an effervescent city at night. We loved wandering around, admiring the flowers everywhere, the ice cream shops on every corner, and the stunning buildings constructed from tufa, a colorful Armenian limestone. We also enjoyed the stories and tasty brandy at the Noy brandy factory.
We made a few very good choices, mostly thanks to Madlene and her family. They spent a day showing off the city they love, including Vernissage, an amazing market of everything from traditional crafts to Soviet-era antiques to rugs from every region surrounding Armenia. They even took us on our first Metro ride to the train station to buy our tickets for our trip to Tbilisi a few days later. While there, Madlene showed us around an old Soviet train union building a friend of hers is rehabbing into co-working space, a cafe, and a general gathering place. The bulk of the day was spent at their summer home in Garni, a village just outside of Yerevan, that had belonged to the family of her husband, Arthur Ispiryan, for many generations.
Wandering around the city with Arthur was a thing. He is a celebrity on many different levels. He is a renowned jazz vocalist but was blacklisted when he started speaking out against the Armenian government that had taken on the characteristics of the Soviet system that most of Armenia was pleased to shed. After the entirely peaceful revolution of 2018, Arthur was elected to the city council on the ticket of the new political alliance that is working hard to make the country more democratic, more transparent, and less corrupt. Wandering with him means some people murmur and point at the rock star while others approach to shake his hand and give him a “God bless you.” Most amusingly, Arthur is frequently besieged by constituents who want him to know about the people in their lives who still live by the old rules. This is where you can see the kind of person Arthur is. He listens patiently, empathizes with their plight, and speaks softly. For being such a celebrity, he is also humble to the point of being shy and soft spoken in a way that forces people to listen.
He and Madlene and Arthur’s mom are also incredible hosts. Two other families were visiting from LA, so they threw all of us a wonderful party at the summer house in Garni where Arthur’s mother lives full time during the summer. We ate apricots from nearby trees, three kinds of cherries from their trees and those next door, and drank rose juice that Arthur’s mom makes from the roses in the yard. After some time relaxing in the yard, we visited Geghard, a 4th century monastery carved from the cliffs. Being with Arthur meant an amazing treat – a quartet was there for another event, but wanted to sing for him in the cave room known for its amazing acoustics. It was impossible not to tear up while witnessing such beauty. After a return to the summer house for a fabulous dinner, we visited Garni, a 4000 year old Hellenistic temple. When Armenia became Christian in the 4th century, all of the old pagan temples were destroyed and churches were built in their place with the exception of this temple at Garni because the local princess asked to keep it as a summer residence. It was a powerful sight even visiting in the dark. The Armenians with us were all awe-struck and filled with pride for their heritage.
This connection that Armenians across the diaspora feel for Armenia is amazing. Of the 10 million Armenians in the world, only 3 million of them live in Armenia. The rest were dispersed by the search for a better life, by the horrific brutality of the Armenian genocide, and by the deadly 1988 Gyumri earthquake. The adults who have lived most if not all of their lives outside of Armenia talk of buying homes and returning. The adolescents who were visiting for 3 weeks talked of their sadness at the prospect of leaving and hopes to return soon, perhaps to stay.
We were joined by more diaspora Armenians on our big tour day. The 14 hour tour included a lot of bus time interspersed with incredible sights. We saw the beautiful Shaki Waterfall, the 9th century Tatev Monastery with an even more ancient 5th century church on the grounds, the incredible views from the Wings of Tatev (the longest reversible cable car in the world), and Karahunj (Armenia’s 6,000 year old Stonehenge). We tasted wine in the region where folks recently discovered an ancient winery, also 6,00 years old. Throughout the day, we were treated to views of the beautiful scenery of Armenia – high desert, dense forest, towering mountains, and wildflowers everywhere. It was a long and delightful day.
On our last day, we visited Tsitsernakaberd, the Armenian Genocide Memorial Complex which was built in 1967 in response to Armenia’s agitation with their Soviet overlords. The memorial is truly moving, bringing many visitors to tears. In 1995, a museum was added which powerfully tells the story of Turkey’s incredibly brutal efforts to completely eliminate the Armenian people. Turkey seized the chaos of WWI to advance their plan, only stopped by the end of the war and Russian intervention. With a powerful need for protection in their vastly weakened state, they agreed to join the Soviet Union which dominated life there for the next 70 years. The photos were painful and the facts even more so.
Along the way, we had all kinds of good food, including traditional Armenian at Lavash and snacks at sidewalk cafes that line the streets and parks. We also celebrated Melissa’s mom’s birthday at India Mehak, our first Indian food in nearly a week! It is such a beautiful city, we mostly just enjoyed walking around gaping at the various styles of buildings, old Armenian, Soviet, and modern. Madlene confirmed what we had noticed about the streets of Yerevan, that they are really safe. Adolescent children, including her adorable sons David and Shahen, roam freely without a worry, and have done so since they were 9 years old.
We left Armenia so aware of all the things we didn’t get to do, but so grateful for the things we did. This beautiful, charming, welcoming city is one we can easily imagine living in, and would certainly love to visit again.
It is every wonderful thing you can think of. It is majestic mountains, stunning beaches, and jungles filled with thrilling wildlife. It is rich historic and cultural traditions and worldly cosmopolitan sensibilities. It is color, color, and more color from the flowering trees to the painted houses to the vivid sarees and kurtas worn by women everywhere. It isamazing craftsmanship that produces anything from filigree jewelry to inlaid wooden tables to carved marble using the same techniques that have been used for countless generations. And the food! Oh, the wonderful food!
It is also every terrible thing you can think of. It is horrific poverty living unseen right next to unimaginable wealth. It is traffic without rules and without sidewalks. It is
burning piles of garbage that make you gag as you walk by. It is open sewers running into lakes that catch fire in the middle of busy neighborhoods. It is profound overpopulation taxing the available resources and perpetuating the broken system that provides education, quality healthcare, and opportunities only to the lucky few. It is generations of desperation that lead people to act in manipulative and corrupt ways even when they no longer need to.
India is also everything in the middle. Normal people living their normal lives, going to work, taking care of their families, and occasionally enjoying the wonderful things or suffering from the terrible ones.
India is everything. In the midst of this vast everything, we’ve created a life that we are now dismantling. As we pack and sell off our belongings, I’m reflecting on the things that I will miss when we leave, from the tiny and insignificant to the more profound.
I will miss my friends. I have loved being a part of an international community, getting to know people from around the world who all find themselves in Bangalore for different reasons. Some are here because work brought them or their partner here. Some are here because they fell in love with someone whose home is here. Some are here because their Indian heritage summoned them back. Some have always been here because Bangalore is home. I love hearing stories of lives so different from mine, and finding those common threads that connect us.
I will miss Farrah and Kaveri in particular. They are my co-authors of a book about Bangalore, and now beloved friends. Farrah introduced me to Shanti Bhavan and was my co-manager of the OWC North Region. Kaveri taught me more about culture and India than I ever imagined understanding. Together, they have given my time here joy and meaning, and it has been such an honor to get to know them while getting to know this big, crazy city.
I will miss the view from our 16th floor apartment, looking out over a bustling little neighborhood with the downtown skyscrapers in the distance. I will miss the mysterious fireworks that we can see somewhere in the city on most evenings while sitting on our balcony (maybe it’s a sporting event? maybe it’s a wedding? maybe it’s just people having fun?), and I’ll even miss the mysterious drumming from the temples or processions that we never understand and occasionally resent as they keep us awake.
I will miss the children with their enormous eyes and happy smiles, calling out “hello, auntie!” or “hello, mam!” or “hi, what is your name?” as I walk through a neighborhood or park.
A shy little boy
I will miss zipping around town in the back of a nimble three-wheeled auto/rickshaw/tuk-tuk (names are interchangeable) with a driver who miraculously steers through crevices in traffic that feel smaller than the vehicle.
I will miss the trees of Bangalore: the huge old rain trees with their thick branches and abundant shade, the flowering trees planted long ago throughout the city to ensure that something is always blooming (right now it feels like we are surrounded by gulmohar trees dense with bright orange blossoms creating a colorful canopy throughout the city), the palm trees that sway high above us.
I will miss my weekly power walks around the old Sankey Tank reservoir with a wonderful group of women, followed by coffee and continued conversation.
I will miss the temples that dot most blocks throughout the city, some large and ornate, and some just tiny structures housing deities next to trees wrapped with ribbons.
I will miss getting into a taxi and seeing the deities on the dashboards: maybe a plump, happy elephant-headed Ganesha; maybe a flying Hanuman, the monkey god, flying from the rearview mirror; maybe an ornate Lakshmi, the goddess of abundance, blessing the day’s work.
I will miss the gorgeous bright colors of Indian women’s clothing. A bright pink patterned kurta over chartreuse leggings in an opposing pattern with yet another color or pattern introduced in the dupatta, a scarf draped over the front of the body and trailing down the back. A red and gold saree draped beautifully around a woman while shopping or working. A wild rainbow of color whenever passing by a bus stop.
I will miss the casual, seemingly effortless grace of saree-clad women swaying down the street with baskets balanced on their heads and children perched on their hips.
I will miss the strange thrill of approaching a 7-way intersection without lights or stop signs, navigated by a crush of cars, buses, motorbikes, pedestrians, and cows, everyone calm and unconcerned as they make their way through.
Speaking of cows, I will miss the wildlife of the city: the calm and stately cows that wander down lanes and highways alike, stopping for a rest wherever they please; the goat and pig families that happily root through the garbage piles or rare grassy spots in empty lots; and those whimsical, pesky monkeys that always make me smile no matter how many times I’m told of the dangers they pose.
And the food! I will miss the food: crispy dosas filled with spicy potatoes, accompanied by flavorful coconut chutney; rich, smoky dal makhani that has simmered over a fire for 24 hours before serving; delicious breads stuffed with potato or cheese or onions (or a combination of them all!); weekly meals prepared by our own incredible cook who introduced us to foods we never imagined; the decadent brunches at the big hotels, full afternoon affairs with free-flowing drinks, bountiful food, and often good friends to share it all.
I will miss the incredible travel. It has been so amazing to always have a next trip to anticipate, and to have seen so much of the diversity of India and Sri Lanka. I will be processing all that we saw for years to come. And I suspect I’ll get antsy now that I’m used to such frequent travel!
There is so much more I could mention, but really I will just miss my life here, one that has allowed me time to breathe, time to draw, time to just stare out the window. I know that soon my mindset will begin to shift and I will begin to look forward to our life back in Portland, but for now I am filled with gratitude for this experience and a bit of sorrow at its ending.
Melissa had wanted to visit Kashmir since we arrived in India nearly two years ago. She grew up around her parents’ Kashmiri artifacts and photos and imagined it as the most beautiful place on earth. You might imagine that nothing could live up to that kind of ideal, but Kashmir did. We only had four days for our visit, using up Tom’s last two available personal days, but we squeezed in as much as possible.
Traveling in a conflict zone is not something to do casually or without the right guidance and support, but luckily we knew just the right people to help us. CultureRings, a tour company focused on travel that teaches you about the culture and people of the places you visit, is run by our dear friend Kaveri Sinhji. We told Kaveri that we wanted to see both the natural beauty of Kashmir and meet the craftspeople who have made this region famous for artistry. She then partnered closely with Devika Krishnan who has worked extensively with the craftspeople of Kashmir. Devika created a beautiful itinerary for us and arranged for her friend Ramneek to guide us through the entire experience. We were both safe and delighted the entire time.
Our first day was a wee bit sleepy. To cram in as much as possible, we decided to take a 5:45 am direct flight that required us to get up at 3:00 am to head for the airport. On the upside, we landed in Srinagar at 9:05 and had a whole day ahead of us. On the downside, there was a fair amount of yawning. Our driver, Yusuf, from Mascot Travels was amazing. He greeted us at the airport and, from that point on, was always there for us right up to the last moment of leaving us back at the airport on Monday afternoon.
Yusuf drove us straight to our meeting point with Ramneek, and we began the two hour journey to Pahalgam. Because it was the last Friday of Ramadan in a state that is 96% Muslim, the roads were clear and the drive was easy. We were always conscious of the “conflict” due to the armed men stationed on every block of the main roads of Srinagar, and the incredibly good highway (probably the best we’ve experienced in all of India) that was built to facilitate ease of military movement. But our attention was focused much more on the stunning people we passed and the magnificent scenery. The dress in Kashmir is different than we’ve seen elsewhere. Tom was surprised that it was so different from what he had seen last year on his Himalayan trek. Most people, men and women, wear the pheran, a long loose garment that looks like a big shirt with three buttons at the top. In the chilly mornings, we saw men wearing a second one over the top that looked almost like a giant loose overcoat from the back. In the cold of winter when the snow many be seven feet deep, people keep warm by carrying a willow basket lined with a copper pot full of hot charcoal inside their pherans (that gives you a sense of their looseness).
For the most part, women’s heads are covered, but to vastly differing extents. Some wear a scarf set back on the head, seeming to hang from a large bun. Some wear a scarf covering the whole head and wrapping around to hang over the shoulders, and then tuck their hair and scarf behind their ears. Some wear a large gathered scarf that fully covers the head and wraps tightly under the chin leaving only the face visible. In the minority were women actually wearing niqabs that revealed only the eyes. In the vast minority (but still notable) were women who wore burkas, completely covered including a dense netting covering even their eyes. Those who weren’t wearing black were wearing bright, beautiful colors.
At this time of year, the shepherds of the nomadic Gujjar and Bakarwal tribes are in the midst of their annual migration up into the mountains. As we neared Pahalgam, we began to pass Gujjars on the road, sometimes with cows, sheep, or goats with long hair and curly horns, sometimes with their small horses, and sometimes just walking in groups. They have a distinctive look, with brightly colored clothing, embroidered saddle blankets and other ornaments on their horses, and small round hats on the women’s heads and long mustacheless beards on the men. Beautiful green fields and snow-capped mountains provided an idyllic backdrop.
We arrived at midday at the Pahalgam Hotel, started by Ramneek’s great-grandfather on the banks of the Jhehlum River Tributary. With Ramneek’s nephew involved in the business, they are now into the fifth generation with this lovely hotel, and it is clearly treasured by everyone, family and staff alike. Our room had a separate bedroom, two bathrooms, and glorious views from every window. We were in heaven.
After a delicious lunch, we had a brief rest before heading out to the workshop Ramneek has created for Shepherdcrafts. In a Gujjar home, used during migration, we visited with a group of women who are using their traditional embroidery skills to create products to appeal to a contemporary market. It has been a challenge. After an initial burst of great success, the conflict in Kashmir intensified in 2016, cutting off tourism and eliminating buyers for their beautiful work. The women are clearly frustrated – their lives are hard and it’s disappointing to make the time for extra embroidery only to have it sit on a shelf without a buyer. Ramneek is determined, however, to figure out how to make this work. In addition to encouraging people to visit Kashmir and meet these skilled artisans, she is also looking for ways to find a broader market outside of Kashmir. The goal of this effort is truly to improve the lives of people who struggle. The entire room was very proud of a young woman there who had completed 10th standard in school – a bare minimum in the US, but a major accomplishment for this nomadic tribe. Another woman has a daughter who completed 12th standard. With more education, women don’t marry in their mid-teens, they have fewer children, and they are able to betterprovide for the children they have.
After admiring their work, we took a short walk to the Himalayan Cheese Factory, an artisinal cheese factory started by Chris Zandee, a Dutch man who married a vivacious Kashmiri woman, Kamala. They wanted to create something positive for the community, something that could provide real livelihood for people while fostering a sense of pride in their beleaguered region. Chris grew up on a farm and had learned cheesemaking from his father, so it seemed worth a try. He sources milk from 150 different women in the area, making a point of paying every 10 days. Even a woman with only a half-liter to spare can expect to receive a small amount of money on a schedule. Chris is certain that this has literally saved lives, giving women the confidence to take their children to see doctors, knowing that they can afford to pay them. He gushes about how much he has learned from the community as well, about how business can lift up a community when the priority is not shareholders. Aside from the social enterprise, this is really good cheese! The gouda and cumin gouda were truly outstanding. Sitting in the lovely yard outside the factory with the river and mountains in view, happily eating bits of cheese and sampling local honey was a delight.
We took our leave in the late afternoon, a bit sleepy and bleary-eyed, and headed back to our lovely hotel with Ramneek who took us to visit the shop that she has created there. She sells many handmade Kashmiri items from the many artisans that she works with in Pahalgam and Srinigar. Everything there is beautiful. We were particularly taken with some embroidered wall hangings created by a Gujjar family with a particularly talented deaf boy who has taken up embroidery. Ramneek has worked with him for years, nurturing his natural talent and rolling her eyes when he periodically runs off to be with the men for a while, always confident that he will return to do this work for which he has such a gift. She also pointed out to us the work of some of the artisans we would meet the next day, getting us excited about what was to come.
Given our general sleepiness, we had an early dinner, once again absolutely delicious. We were quite taken with the kalari cheese, a local delicacy that looks like a flat disc, tastes a bit like a combination mozzarella and halloumi and is served fried until crisp. Similarly, we found that the Kashmiri paneer is also more mozzarella-like with a sort of chewiness that we had never before had in paneer. Yum. That night we slept in the total darkness and perfect silence never experienced in Bangalore. We woke early with the birds, which is a very pleasant way to rise. Tea was served to us in our room and we enjoyed some time gazing at the gorgeous view while sipping our tea and easing into the day.
After tasty idli, sambar, coconut chutney (made from dried coconut since we are now far from palm tree country), and the local morning bread called lavasa, we drove up toward Aru. The original plan had been to have tea with a Gujjar family in this stunning area high in the Himalayas, but the woman we were to meet had gone into labor the night before. We mentally sent her good wishes while stopping to photograph this amazing area with flowing glacial streams, wildflowers, and the ever-present snow-capped mountains. With a few more days in Kashmir, we definitely would have done some amazing trekking. As it was, we reluctantly turned the car back toward Srinigar.
Our reluctance was short-lived, however, when a couple hours later we pulled up to a dock on the huge Nigeen Lake and were seated in a comfy Shikara, sort of like a gondola with a roof. We journeyed across the lake and ended up at the beautiful Mascot Houseboats. Houseboats in Srinagar have mostly been in families for generations. The fifth generation now runs this boat. The entire boat is ornately carved, from doors to walls to ceilings, and furnished with gorgeous antique furniture and carpets. While these boats are on the water, they are all permanently docked and do not rocking at all, but the views are magical, across the lake to the greenery of the far shore and up to the surrounding mountains. We were expertly cared for by Manzoor and his partner who served all of our meals and made sure we were always happy.
The entrance to the houseboat
The flower seller who came twice a day
The living room
The lovely Ramneek
After lunch, we met Yusuf, our driver, and Ramneek took us into the old town of Srinagar. The old part of town is full of charming old two to three story buildings with high peaked roofs and ornate window frames. Many reminded us of houses more common in Portland than anywhere else we’ve seen in India. While the new part of Srinagar is at lake level and in danger of annual flooding, the old part of town is elevated and safe from water. It is not, however, safe from the ravages of time and an economy that can’t support preservation, thanks in large part to the continuing conflict. Many of these beautiful buildings have broken windows and hanging shutters, which broke our hearts.
Our first stop in Old Town was a Sufi shrine, Khankahi Shah-i-Hamdan. This 14th century shrine was rebuilt in the early 18th century, and is ornately carved, inside and out. We could not enter the shrine, but enjoyed walking the perimeter and were then invited to look through a window. The exterior is lovely, but the interior is magnificent with painted carvings covering the walls and ceiling above a beautiful carpet where people were praying.
From there we traveled a short distance to a small storefront in which a coppersmith works his magic. He used to do everything by himself – shaping the copper, carving patterns into its surface and then polishing it to a shine – but now he focuses on shaping the copper while other partners in the business do the other parts. Copper is considered an essential in Kashmir where everyone eats off of plated copper plates and bowls, drinks from copper cups, and decorates their homes with copper vases, samovars, and lamps.
The coppersmith then walked with us to the woodcarvers shop where we watched them carving intricate patterns into walnut and pine, making chests, stair railings, and table tops among other things. We couldn’t resist a big carved mortar and pestle. Now we’re reallyready to make our own masalas from fresh spices!
We were now ready for a bit of nature, so Ramneek took us to Nishat Bagh or “garden of delight”, a stunning terraced Mughal garden created in the mid-17th century. We were amazed to see so many flowers that we recognized from home – hydrangeas, irises, roses, begonias, and so many more. We assume that even though we are much further south, the elevation creates growing conditions similar to those in Portland.
After the garden, we were ready to return again to our lovely floating hotel where we sat on the roof, soaking in the view until nearly time for dinner. Dinner was delicious, particularly the Kashmiri paneer in gravy. Yum. The night was a bit of a challenge for us. It turns out that Saturday night was a particularly special night of Ramadan with prayers going all night. Through our windows we could hear prayers through loudspeakers echoing across the lake from at least three different mosques all night long. Melissa finally drifted off, but Tom barely slept. As dawn came, the prayers finally stopped, but we were awake anyway. We had tea delivered to our room and moved slowly until breakfast. Happily, we were served the best aloo bhaji we’ve ever had, light, airy pooris, and girda (very like lavasa) with local honey.
After a slow start, we again found Yusuf and went to meet Ramneek who took us to the home of a family of weavers where we watched one man spinning thin pashmina thread onto spindles in preparation for weaving, and watched two other men working magic on a loom as they wove a colorful, intricate pattern into what will eventually be a large pashmina shawl. We got a serious education there into pashmina creation. A real pashmina is made from the soft hair of high altitude goats from Ladakh. These goats are shorn twice a year for their soft wool, but are in no way harmed in the process. The shepherds prize the well-being of these goats as their livelihood depends on them. There used to be a kind of wool from the undersides of juveniles and harvesting it used to actually kill them. This, however, has long been outlawed. In order to be considered a real hand made pashmina, with a certificate of authentication to prove it, the wool must then be hand spun into fine thread by women who do this specialized work. That fine thread is then woven on large looms by men, sometimes creating a featherweight fabric and sometimes creating a very dense and heavy fabric. People associate pashminas with incredible softness, but in fact the most expensive one have a bit of stiffness to them from the density of the weaving. Because tourists expect softness, some weavers will add rabbit hair to the thread or wash the completed pashmina with fabric softeners. Many completed pashminas go back to the women who embroider them in finely detailed patterns. This traditional and amazing artform is now struggling for a number of reasons: the ongoing conflict keeps tourists away so they don’t see the work that goes into making this product, uneducated tourists are then eager for bargains and happy to buy machine-made shawls made from different wools or synthetic fabrics embellished with machine embroidery, corruption has diluted the certification process, and other states seeing the interest in pashminas have begun to make cheap versions that they ship into Kashmir to sell there to people who can’t recognize the difference. The younger generations are not eager to go into a profession where you may have to invest 3-6 months of your life into creating a single garment for sale. Hopefully marketing strategies people like Ramneek are working on can ensure a continued demand for this special, skilled work and keep this amazing craft alive.
Ramneek told us that if we saw anything we liked, we should just take a picture of it because we could always come back again; we really appreciated this advice as everything was so beautiful that it would have been easy to buy something without yet fully understanding the extent of what would be available. Our next stop was in the home of another family of craftspeople. We started by sitting with a young woman who was embroidering a shawl. Her sure fingers moved quickly and the pattern was so pretty. She had also brought along a pashmina that she was embroidering for herself and had nearly finished. It was gorgeous! She voiced the frustration that the men could work all day at their crafts, but the women had so many other responsibilities in the home that their hours for work were much shorter, but she still had a smile on her face most of the time.
After sitting with her for a while, we went into the next room where the painters sat. One woman sat painting an intricate floral design on kleenex boxes, a man and woman sat together painting a four piece metal tiffin set, and the embroiderer’s husband’s uncle, a master papier mache artist, Maqbool Jan, showed us the entire process of making a papier mache box. Usually someone else forms the boxes or bowls or whatever else they’re making while he focuses on the painting. When we got to the painting part, it was obvious why. He seemed to so effortlessly create a beautiful pattern of flowers and birds on such a small scale, it was breathtaking.
After admiring their work and learning all about it, they invited us to join them for lunch, seated on the floor in their dining room with food arranged on a cloth on the floor. Everything was delicious and it was a pleasure to sit with the family. Some of them joined us even though they were fasting, but a couple of the men were eating because of health conditions. After lunch, we were taken to a room where we could see all of Maqbool’s finished products. Wow. Just, wow.
Ramneek and Yusuf then took us to Parimahal or “garden of the fairies,” another stunning Mughal garden. This one is high in the hills with a very steep terrace and strong retaining walls that are almost fortress-like. Each of the seven levels has a different feeling, all of them beautiful. We finished the day at a tea house where the walls are covered with a mural painted by Maqbool Jan. There we sampled Noon Chai, a popular salty tea in Kashmir to which you add crushed, dried corn. We enjoyed it more when we thought of it as soup.
With that, we concluded another amazing day and returned to our houseboat, which was mercifully quieter than the previous night. The next morning, after breakfast and checking out, we went to Ramneek’s office where we met the papier mache artist from the previous day. He had brought pashminas, woven and embroidered by his family, for us to admire. The perfect patterns in the weaving, the beautifully intricate embroidery, and the story behind them made them to hard to resist. We ultimately bought two that will become heirlooms for our family.
After another drive past military personnel on every block, a large military convoy that stopped the angry traffic, and multiple checkpoints, we arrived at the airport for our return journey. Yes, Kashmir is a conflict zone with reminders in not only the military presence, but also in the graffiti: “Freedom for Kashmir,” “Islamic State,” “Zakir Musa,” an Al-Qaeda affiliated militant killed last month, and everywhere “Azadi” which means freedom. It is also one of the most beautiful places we’ve ever been, full of the natural beauty of mountains and water and flowering plants as well as the man-made beauty of architecture and traditional crafts honed to perfection through generations. We knew that we were in safe hands with Ramneek and Yusuf and strongly recommend that people visit this amazing place with the right guides. We left wanting nothing but to return.