I was given a chance to visit the Himalayas, to one of the concealed places in the province where a panoramic view was preserved. It was very provincial and solemn. Its coniferous and subtropical forests, wetlands, and montane grasslands are as much a part of this world as the inhospitable, frozen mountaintops that tower above. The mountains were the wrinkles of age and pimples of youth on Earth's crusty outer skin. They rose up as the crust collides, cracks, crumbles, folds, and spews. They dominated their surroundings with towering height. I clearly remember when I was on my way there that the emerald shade produced by the different kinds of trees were smiling and alluring me to join them. However, what I first saw was just superficial compared to its hidden beauty awaiting me, as I explored the place, especially when I went around the surrounding area where the sun ate away the darkness. Since it was miles away from the city, I had to climb up the mountain. But, as I finally reached its zenith, I could step on the fogs as they rose going up to the sky and formed as clouds; I could feel that I was on the top of the world, thus the cold dewdrops touched my toes as they dispersed and went along with the air.
After a while, I didn't know that I still had to clamber down to finally reach another astonishing place. From there, I stayed in my grandfather's ancestral house. Nearby, I could see the hills planted with rice. Their fronds were swaying and dancing as the wind blew. Some were brimming with the golden yellow grains ready to harvest. At the backyard, an array of different trees weighed down with copious fruits that were mouthwatering. On the other side, were bountiful vegetables watered with love and care. These plants were within a reach which served as our everyday food.
The tour guide took me to one part of their place which truly took my breath away; to my surprise, they let me ride at the back of their _Carabao_, thus, I felt the tail of it at as...
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