Cafe del Mundo

The wild and ridiculous realm of travelers in India is perhaps one of the most wonderful aspects of traveling. With the slightest pluck, one invariably ends up sharing dinners with people from all over the world, in the blink of an eye.

I stayed in Rumtek with an Australian and an Israeli, and on one rainy afternoon I realized that the distance between our three countries could perhaps divide the world evenly into thirds. Yet a shared language, and a shared desire for adventure brought us together like wild dogs. And it is often like that.

Dinner last night in a crowded restaurant, and suddenly an old Englishman, a poet by the look of him, stood up and announced an open music night.

A Quebecois jumped onto a chair and played the spoons brilliantly, and sang a wonderful and raucous song that I could tell was quite dirty despite my poor French. A shy Brazilian woman sang Portuguese bossa nova - or rather whispered it, the way bossa nova is meant to be sung. An Argentine man played the accordian, and made half of us cry. I never knew an accordian could be so beautiful. Several Tibetans sang folk songs in the quiet, high-pitched tradition; a blond man from Manchester played wild rowdy banjo bluegrass; a group of Israelis sang in Hebrew; two Irishmen named Barry (true) sang the blues in harmony; a Persian sang sadly in Arabic. An English girl, a song of Lancelot and Guinevere; a German, the classical guitar; and a Frenchman ended the night with Dylan. Dylan - of course. And there in that room, people from all over the world knew the words, and sang together.