Uralic led me down a small cobalt stone road. After what seemed like a walk of ten minutes, we reached the end of the path. As I looked ahead, I was stunned by the beauty in front of me—a beautiful small hill. But it wasn't the hill that surprised me; it was the small, beautiful wooden houses, some one-story, some two, big and small, scattered gracefully all over the mountain. A beautifully crafted road wound between them, clearly designed by a skilled and intelligent architect. Everything felt surreal. The wood itself was of different colors—from pink to orange—different types of wood that looked as if they had come straight out of a magical world.
"Come on, let's go. My wife, Shanaya, she didn't let me into the room for nearly twenty days after she heard you actually came back and I didn't let her meet her best friend," he said in a dramatic manner. I stopped for a moment and looked toward him.
