Ananda-In the Himalayas Garhwal, India
Last night, embosomed in luscious linens, I lay listening as the
great—and here in India—sacred, Himalayas tossed a thunderous squall
across the sky. Through the open drapes the lightening flashed on the
polished wood floors of my room which is perched above the valley where
the Ganges emerges from the mountains. From such an aerie, drawing the
drapes was not an option, so I fell asleep surrounded by softness and
storm.
At dawn, a quiet tap awakens me when a pot of hot ginger tea is delivered. Slipping into soft, white kurtas—PJ like togs left fresh each day—I sip, watching the first light dawn in this immense valley.
Ananda-in
the Himalayas Spa
India
"Puck, Puck," go the pomegranate-sized linen bundles of rice cooked with herbs. My body, warmed with fragrant oil, is being pummeled with rice. "Whap, Whap." One therapist starts on my left leg and down the right while the other keeps the rice packs steaming. Unable to resist this whacking duet, limb by limb, my muscles yield.
Ananda’s
Restaurant
in the
Himalayas
It’s like
dining in a maharaja’s tree house. Outside, an ancient sal tree emerges
through the deck. Inside, a glass-domed roof and portal windows let in the
Himalayan spring. A central island fireplace warms on cool evenings.
Outside crickets provide the serenade, inside it’s Indian musicians. By
day glimpses of the Ganges valley peep through the forest, by night it’s
fireflies.