I’m not usually at a loss for words, but this time I am.
How and where do I begin to start sharing with you my thoughts, memories and laughs, from an utterly magical week spent up in Nagaland ?
This little state, tucked far away in a remote corner of north-east India, was a revelation.
Beautiful people – literally and metaphorically.
A fabulous festival celebrating tribal culture.
Vintage World War II cars on parade.
Night market selling Christmas decorations and dog curry.
People who greeted us with “Praise the Lord.”
Churches, Christmas carols, fire-eaters, guns, war cries, shawls galore, tribal jewellery, drumming like you have never heard, dancing, music – the whole Hornbill Festival was a week of extra-ordinary images and music and dancing and laughter and kindness and friendliness.
Pity about the connectivity, which means that I couldn’t blog/email/sms.
We got back late last night from Guwahati (we is Jane Binstead and yours truly) and today I really and truly meant to blog in huge detail but didn’t, ‘cos there was a polo lunch and now there’s a polo cocktail at Emporio, so the only thing I can do is offer you just a few of the 2552 photos I took in a week.
It’s going to take a while to get back into a dilli frame of mind, to be honest. 9 days of not one single beggar in either Assam or Nagaland. 9 days of no-one trying to sell us anything or hassle us. 9 days of extraordinary friendliness…yes, it’ll take a while to come back down to earth.