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When living in Brazil, the mere mention of Bali evoked me thoughts of a far away paradise. I dreamt about a tropical island with white sands and clear blue water populated by surfers and tanned people.
It was during a trip to Bhutan, a year ago, when I first saw, and subsequently fell in love with the Himalayas. You see, those giant mountains mean different things to different people. To some, it represents a chance to meet with and conquer a real-life giant, something every mountaineer finds irresistible. To others, it is a region to be feared, respected and admired from a distance. But to me, it was a sort of mystery, waiting to be unraveled. The five days I spent in Bhutan were clearly not enough. I wanted more. I had to travel deeper into the region and walk among these giants to fully grasp their magic.
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I first traveled to India a few years ago. That was a short three-day trip, but long enough to give me a flavor of a compelling, out of the ordinary country. I watched the sunrise from the remarkable Taj Mahal, drove 300km from Agra to Ranthambore National Park on a Royal Enfield Bullet, and tracked wild tigers in their natural habitat. Rajasthan is a place that moved me. I fell in love with the culture, the land, the people, and have been going back ever since.
