India

India doesn’t ease you in - it sweeps you up. In Mumbai, Delhi or Jaipur, the city breathes through a million windows. Street food sizzling on every corner, Bollywood music spilling from taxis, and absolutely everything is on the move. I ate pav bhaji on plastic stools, rode local trains that ran on instinct, and somehow found rhythm in the chaos.

But head south, and it shifts. In Goa, time stretched out with the tides. Mornings came slow, under palm trees and ceiling fans. Fishermen pulled in their nets, markets opened late, and the sea always felt close by. There’s no one version of India. Between North and South, desert and jungle, noise and stillness, it never settles into one story. That’s the beauty of it.

India isn’t easy. It asks you to pay attention. To surrender a little (also your stomach), and if you do, it gives more than you ever expected.