Lush green colossal mountains as though it is all a glimpse of heaven’s hills, rain then sunshine, rain and sunshine … shivering as we float in clouds; these intermittent fogs. Locals strolling in skimpy clothing, for they have known no other climate. In the distance, cows perch easily on mountains like a child’s unsymmetrical drawing. The beautiful smell of rain, over and over again, delicacies, diary factories, the waterfall, daring explorations to holy-mountain, bicycle rides through quiet artificial streets, racing past coffee brown cabins, pretending we have forever, intoxicated with life and careless laughter. Cold as ice, warm as home.