I am siting in an authentic Tibetan Cafe in Mcleodganj. My dad and by younger sibling also accompany me. My dad is tired. He wants north indian food, so he waits for us to order, eat and finish up so that we can go somewhere else and let him have something there. He later settles for a lavish serving of ginger garlic fried rice along with a fresh yoghurt fruit salad. We order and wait for this fine Tibetan lady to bring us our beverages. My brother orders an apple beer and me, I order a lemon ice tea. My usual summer time drink. A beautiful young lady walks in. She is obviously not indian. Her skin tone tells me that straight away. She’s dressed in a sea green flowing ankle length gown and carrying a big peach colored shawl over that. That’s how foreigners travel here in India. The freckles on her skin light up as she goes through the extensive Tibetan and Bhutanese menu. Before that i forgot to mention, her arms had those last bit of hairs she might have left out for a long time maybe due to her travel. A little unkempt for some. Maybe it’s just my imagination, but I seem to like her already. Because I like how she kept it purely natural. Every bit about herself spoke volumes. Even the dark brown sandles had no starry flair about them and could easily be termed as unisexual choice, for all I know. Coming back to the lightening in her eyes, she orders Singaporean Fried rice. I was a little taken aback and a little disappointed. I expected her to be a little more open to experience. Maybe it’s just me. But here she is having her own fill. Meanwhile I order a Tibetan Thukpa, Shakem Datse and plain rice. And it turns out nice. Eventually.