Looking at the pictures of the potala and everest on the walls of the restaurant seem so strange - everything from Tibet seems, already, to be a dream - and yet when I look at the picture I know for sure that I was there, however strange it may seem. I'm definitely ready to get out of here. I hate the mess that is Delhi and while I appreciate the variety of options available here, I suffocate under this overpopulated and over-bureaucratized hell hole. Tibetans in India are the perfect blend of tibetan culture, food and friendliness combined with the more favorable climate and relatable culture of India.

Something about my hotel, or this settlement consistently reminds me of a medieval city - or maybe it's just from reading Eragon. It just seems fitting if one imagines the restaurants without the flourescent lighting to be shady taverns down side streets and twisting alleyways by the bank of a river.