In response to a to z challenge
Cherapunjee, or Sohra is known as the wettest region on earth, I knew that in seventh grade I had not known was, the sheer beauty of a place that is famous for being ridiculously rainy.
My head was on a slow nauseous spiral on the perpetual roller-coaster that was the road from Shillong to Sohra. 46 miles on the road, after a cup of chai and two toasts, this girl born and brought up on dreary planes was ready to strew her innards on the road. Thankfully she didn’t, through sheer willpower and a bit of self-medication (zopher, not marijuana)
Instead, she felt clouds settling on her skin, and gawked at lumbering mountains that seemed to pose amidst the waterfalls, covered with green with red rocks peeking through, “Look at me, I am fabulous, bitch.”
Yes, this is a photo post, mainly because dad let me touch his fancy-ass camera.
The clouds were far away, they looked stuck on with glue. Then we ended up going right into those pretty white fleecy puffy almost edible clouds. They make mean rain, it turns out.
It was fun, till the rain started blurring the windshield, and the mountain road was more white and wet than copulation orgy porn. It was terrifying, windy (yes we got out to have lunch. Upturned umbrellas, smirking inhabitants and wide eyed me.) My clothes nearly blew off, and yes, I was wet. All over. Totally Platonic.
Ever cribbed about the rain after voluntarily going to the place with highest rainfall in the world? Nope, Neither did I, even if it was uncomfortable and terrifying.
It was breathtakingly beautiful.
That dog likes butter cookies apparently. He was waiting for more.