The Year of Two Returns By Sidonie Morel The order of the year Autumn back to the village, spring back to the hostel In parts of the western Himalaya where winter closes roads for weeks at a time, the school year is arranged around two long journeys. Before winter tightens its grip, children return from the boarding hostel to their home village. When spring arrives and the route becomes usable again, they travel from the village back to the hostel to begin the next stretch of schooling. The movement happens twice a year, and the direction matters. It helps to name the sequence plainly, because the landscape can confuse the […]
When the Bucket Is Lighter Than It Should Be By Sidonie Morel The first sound is metal Before the sun, the day already has its weight The morning begins with a small violence of sound: metal against metal, the quick clink of a bucket handle, the dull bump of a lid set down too firmly because hands are still half-asleep. In Ladakh, early light is never sentimental. It comes clean and pale, a thin blade along the edge of a wall, and it shows you things you did not ask to see: the powdery dryness on a doorstep, the faint crack in the plaster that yesterday’s wind widened by a […]
How a Plateau Teaches Movement Without Travel By Sidonie Morel Before the Light Becomes a Schedule On the Changthang plateau, morning does not arrive with an announcement. It seeps in, the way warmth does when you keep your palms around a cup for a long time. The first thing you hear is not the heroic sound people expect from high country—no triumphant wind, no cinematic silence—but something domestic and exact: a rope dragged across packed earth, a low cough from inside a tent, a kettle finding its place on a flame that is still deciding whether it will hold. When I first tried to speak about Changthang herding, I caught […]
When the Footpath Is the Real Map By Sidonie Morel In Ladakh, the first thing the road teaches you is speed. It delivers you to places before you have had time to feel the air change on your skin. The engine stops, you step out, you look—then you move on, as if the landscape were a series of pictures hung too close together. But there is another Ladakh, older than mileage and quieter than schedules, where the path is not an accessory to travel, but its reason. It begins in small ways: a turn off the asphalt into dust the color of wheat flour, a stone step worn shallow, a […]
Where Stone Holds Its Breath: Ladakh and the Work of Staying By Sidonie Morel Arriving where the land is kept close The first touch is not wonder, but weight There is a moment, stepping out of a vehicle in Ladakh, when the air feels less like atmosphere and more like a dry, thin cloth pulled taut. It does not billow. It does not soften. It holds its line. The body answers before the mind can compose a sentence: a small tightening in the throat, a faint rasp behind the tongue, the instinct to swallow slowly so the dryness does not scratch you raw. I had come with the usual vocabulary […]
A Black Mountain at the Edge of Permission By Sidonie Morel In Zanskar, light does not merely fall; it settles, as if it has weight. It presses the valley into clarity—stone made sharper, water made colder to the eye, the dust in the air briefly revealed like flour shaken over a table. I arrived with the ordinary European hunger to “see,” to translate distance into possession. Zanskar refuses that hunger gently, the way a host refuses a second glass for your own good. I learned this first not from a monastery wall or a sentence of doctrine, but from a dark shape that would not soften as the day warmed: […]
Leh at First Breath: Learning the Pace of Ladakh’s Thin Air By Sidonie Morel A room of sun and silence—your first hours in Leh The arrival ritual (and why doing less is doing it right) You notice it first in the stairs. Not a dramatic collapse, nothing worthy of a melodrama—just a quiet surprise, as if the building has become a fraction steeper than it was on the map. Leh receives you with a particular kind of light: pale, unhurried, almost ceremonial. And with that light comes the first lesson in preventing altitude sickness in Ladakh. It is not a lesson of grit. It is a lesson of tempo. European […]
Ladakh Monastic Festivals (2026–2027): Dates, Places, and What You’ll Witness Monastic festivals in Ladakh are not “shows.” They are living, devotional days—when sacred masked dances (Cham), drums, horns, and prayers fill old courtyards, and the high desert air seems to carry a deeper rhythm. If you time your trip well, a single festival morning can become the emotional center of your journey. Download the full Festival Calendar PDF (2026–2028) Download Festival Calendar (PDF) (opens in a new tab) Below is a clean, traveler-friendly summary of the 2026 and 2027 dates, with locations and quick notes on the atmosphere. Monastic Festival Calendar (2026–2027) Festival Location Dates (2026) Dates (2027) What it […]
When the Map Stays Folded and the Valley Leads By Sidonie Morel First Light in Leh A morning that does not rush you, and a decision made in breath Morning in Leh arrives with an exactness that feels almost personal. The air is bright, spare, and so clean it makes every small sound distinct: a shutter lifted, a kettle set down, a broom dragging yesterday dust into a narrow line. Light collects on whitewashed walls, and the shadows turn a cool blue that looks deliberate, as if the town has been painted by weather rather than by choice. It is the kind of clarity that makes a traveller want to […]
Three Winter Days in Leh: Losar Scenes from Market to Courtyard By Sidonie Morel Lead: Morning light, practical footsteps Old town lanes before the shops fully open Losar in Leh begins without announcements. The lanes in the old town hold a thin layer of grit where yesterday’s snow has been kicked into powder. At the edges, ice stays in narrow bands, dull and compact. A broom moves in slow strokes near a doorway, pushing dust into a small ridge. Someone throws water from a metal bowl, a quick arc, and the splash becomes a dark patch that tightens and pales within minutes. Footsteps mark the cold stone, then fade as […]
