Sean, the pawn

Into the wintry sunset of my day rode in the English bloke, Seana Paula. Like all mountain stories, here is the dude of the blog (for as long as I don't fight with him). Aah! no stiff upper lip because he is Irish, and an original at that... Full of charm and wit with a mean smile like those green impish elves albeit with empty pockets... The gallivanting dude was off with some friend when he was supposed to help lug my luggage to the apartment...

Oh, yes! He eats like a pig and looks like a bear and walks barefoot... but has to live with us homosapiens... And he never has enough washed clothes... 

I took an instant liking to him... How could I not.. he has dimples... and I could be as mean as hell to him and he would just smile and be rude instead... We got along like warring cousins... Well, there was not much to get along as he did most of the talking... He was enamoured by all things Indian, which is expected! but was disgusted when he first set his foot in the country... Where else but Delhi! what else can you expect from our capitol.

He is the laziest sort of traveller: has been to India twice, in all 12 months. But, he hasn't even seen the whole of north India, forget south... he has just realised it's existence... The enthusiasm he carries around makes him blind to his own laziness and a trunk-load of friends he has acquired staying on and on everywhere including Leh, but excluding even Uttaranchal. But to Mallana he has been!! That should explain where his interests lie..


To Sean the pawn who decidedly sticks by me when we go on treks, despite my track record putting a tortoise to shame. Always round the corner he was, just when I thought I was lost, to ensure my first trek wasn't my last...