The winding cracked and hilly roads of Darjeeling delight me. Mandarin trees and tea gardens where women pluck tea leaves and toss them into baskets strapped to their heads. Tibetan prayer flags. Low hanging clouds near the border of Nepal. Teak forests with leaves as big as serving plates. Monkeys. Men and women repairing the road by hand. The women use a hammer to break rocks into gravel. And snow capped peaks, including the world’s third highest.
I know in these moments how to drink with my eyes. I drink until I am sated, and go to sleep in a tea bungalow with a snapping, crackling fire in my room.