It’s gorgeous over here, its spread across the top of these ranges of mountains and the weathers a lot like Maine weather. On the 8 hour bus ride over here around the winding valleys, I did absolutely nothing but sit by the window and stare. There’s something about being on eye level with clouds, surrounded by nothing but miles and miles of tea plantations and untainted wilderness; with the drops of sunlight filtering through the canopy of trees overhead that makes you forget about every single trouble – almost hypnotizing you, making thought of any kind impossible. The dew hangs like drops of quicksilver from the overhead trees and there is a profusion of wildflowers around each corner. Kerela is called ‘God’s own Country’ and it literally radiates some divine force with its flawless landscapes and breathtaking beauty. The mountains lie in slumber, defining magnificence with not only their mass but how they manage to blend in so perfectly in the background, managing to look so powerful without undermining the scenery around it. Waterfalls crash in deep pools- arising and disappearing from absolute oblivion. The symphony of the whistling trees and the weightless clouds overhead leave little to be desired. Inhaling the brisk air- the mixed smell of tea and wet earth, it feels as though this air alone can cure any sickness. You can almost feel yourself passively absorbing the beauty of this place and holding your breath, afraid to shatter the ungodly perfection that surrounds this place. Each aspect of this place, fits in together like a puzzle- crystal clear and listless. Who says paradise isn’t right here on Earth? The glistening of the drops of sun and the waves softly kissing the shore, murmuring in song makes technology feel oddly out of place in my hand, makes music sound like uncomprehensionable noise and makes it almost impossible to think that the houses we left behind back home is the ‘better’ place. At dusk, standing underneath the blazing sky and staring into the endless mountain ranges makes you feel so small but yet at the same time- a part of something so much bigger. As the last song of the birds overhead slowly dies into the spreading blanket of darkness- it seems to take with it any lingering thoughts and leaves you in a state of absolute bliss; as though saying- until tomorrow.