"Mrrffhhmm, what's that?" I murmured, only half awake.
Rustle rustle rustle rustle. Scrtcch srtccch.
I rolled over and shone my flashlight out the window, just in time to see a pair of paws disappear over the top of the roof. Was it a monkey or was it some kind of cat? More importantly, could it claw its way through the thatched roof?
It was the middle of the night in the Himalayan wilderness, and I was staying in a campsite on Summer Hill, just outside of Shimla. While not in the high peaks region of the mountain range, Shimla is deep enough into the hills to afford a blessed respite from the sweltering heat of the plains. The British were smart enough to make it their capitol during summer months, when New Delhi became unbearable for delicate Europeans. Now, many long years after Indian independence, we Yankees made a similar decision and headed North to recharge after a long work week.
"I heard about this great place from my boss," I had announced while booking the trip. "And guess what! We can even stay in a treehouse!"
What I didn't account for, of course, was that this wasn't just any tree house. It was a tree house in India. Which means, among other things, we would have visitors of the animal kind...
... and the insect kind ...
... and midnight visitors like our monkey.
The construction was also a source of some joking between my friends and I. Sure, it was sturdy enough, but it was made entirely by hand, of wood. There were limits to its possible structural integrity. It made me a bit--shall we say, nervous? to climb the stairs and feel the entire building wobble. Shifting from one side to the other made the whole room sway. And forget making any sudden movements!
It seemed more funny than dangerous, though, and the general consensus was that the building would hold at least until the end of the weekend. Besides, they used brand-name building materials...
... Just don't mention that John Deere is spelled with an "e", and they make tractors. Not wood.
All joking aside, though, the scenery was worth every moment. We were able to avoid the noise of Shimla--because, yes, in India even remote hilltop cities are crowded--and do some trekking through the wilderness. We breathed clean air and ate delicious, fresh food. We saw more monkeys than we could shake a stick at (literally). We spent an entire afternoon drinking lassi and watching eagles fly over the mountainside.
India is many things, it can be beautiful and frustrating at the same time, but one thing it's not is easily describable. It's a mass of contradictions. You could say, it's a little like a log tree house on a remote mountainside... with candle and ashtray complementary.
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