Haule Haule India

It's like a dream ride, come and gone, then woke up in the irritating morning sun at JFK airport. The most organic greetings of Haribo, radhe radhe, rickshaw... still echoing in my eardrum. 

The smell, ah, the mystical smell. Unique to it's own right, but too overwhelming for my nose to handle at first. The smell of open sewer, the temple-burning incense, the dry Indian sand, the piles of cow dung... concentrated into a unique fragrance. 

Haule Haule..