Oils runs in our blood
Everyone was crawling back to the city from their summer flings but I was fattening up a 45-litre pack for a motorcycle tour up to the Himalayas (from now on will be referred to by the pronouns she/her) with eight other kakis. The mountain range is a goddess and one needs to prepare for her smile that defrosts through her clouds, her cool cradle, the kiss of her butter curry, her scent in her collection of chais, and her craggy facade that one could cup with one’s hands. I’ve scooped up my five fives for a loose guide to a minimal packing list that will save your life for she will be the death of you.
Surprisingly Useful Barangs
Things I Wish I Had
Things I Did Not Use But Were Still Essential
Items I Wished I Left Behind
I dry-showered with wet tissue for two out of the 13-day date with the Himalayas but she still accepted me for my wit and daringness. It pains me to ghost her. I might come back someday but for now, I’ve my eyes set on many other roads I’d like to ride through.