Hotel Ashoka Continental
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TripAdvisor Reviews Hotel Ashoka Continental Mussoorie
Travel Blogs from Mussoorie
... there as it is now taught extensively in school. Being in the
heart of this village gave a very traditional, rustic feel, and seeing the
intricate architecture, some of which was over 100 years old, served to amplify
the unique culture of these traditional Himalayan villages.
Our visit only lasted about half an hour, and then we were back in the bus on our
way back to Mussoorie. There, we had lunch at a nice hotel, and once again,
hopped into ...
... town and over the monkey decorated swinging bridge over the river and as I was walking up the steps a young baba caught my eye and said hello. I responded and he engaged me in conversation right away. He of course asked where I was from and made small talk and then showed me pictures of him and all these many white women saying proudly that he had many Western friends. I was starting to wonder when he was going to ask for my photo with him and then ...
... them to maintain their traditions so that they can someday return, with their traditions, to their homeland. But what if they never go back?
Speaking of that, I’ve had some more thoughts on the issue of Tibet: So, I think China was of course wrong to have invaded and annexed Tibet; and I hope that the Tibetans are someday able to evict China from their country (but I don’t think it’s very likely as the Han Chinese have pretty ...
... the ride down the mountain to the Dehra Dun bus station, which fortuitously happens to be right next door to the taxi monopoly stand. As I got off the bus in Dehra Dun, I was pounced upon by some tuk tuk drivers, who first quoted me a price of 600 rupees for the ride to the airport. I had paid 700 from the airport to the city in a proper taxi on my way there, so I knew 600 was too much for a tuk tuk. As I was walking away from the tuk tuk drivers, their ...
... was founded by a Mr. Bell, after whom the restaurant is named.) Boy did those tacos look good!
Mussoorie, Friday, 29 March, 2013
I woke up this morning at the stroke of seven from a dream about my dear friend Marco in Atlanta. In the dream, I was visiting a library on the ground floor of a downtown Atlanta skyscraper. The library was full, so I decided to leave the building. As I was exiting the building, I was surprised to run into my buddy ...