13. You’ve just written a 300-page autobiography. Send us page 217. (University of Pennsylvania)

I had just landed in a small hill station in the Indian hills near the India/Nepal border, Manali. 40 years later and not much had changed at all in the small town, the people were friendly and food was amazing. The one thing I had to do while I was in town was the 40 kilometre bike ride through the mountains, which I had done way back when I was 12. The memory of riding through the mountains was one that I had to live again.  I knew that I would struggle a little more than I did last time. During the ride the group hit the little Tibetan restaurant where we were stopping to have lunch. This little shack in the hills of India to this day served the best Tibetan food I had ever eaten. The momos, coriander soup, chow-mein and fried rice all tasted the same from the first time I ate it 40 years ago;absolutely amazing. The door to the resteraunt was still not put on right, the individual wooden panels that made the walls were being held on by rusted nails and the plastic roof was still leaking. We sat outside under some old trees eating our delicious Tibetan food, knowing there was still a couple more kilometers left in our journey. 

The food was cooked in a small kitchen with fresh ingredients that tasted so fresh and pure. Sitting and eating here, letting the memories rush back of the life I had, living and growing up in India with my parents. The view was amazing and at that moment everything just became too much, everything was perfect, I couldn’t imagine a more perfect scene. We had to go. I didn’t want to leave, but the journey to all the places I visited as a child had to continue. We rode back to the hotel to see my wife and there we rested, as the next stop was to be where some of the best experiences of my life had happened, Mussoorie.

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