Journal Entry No. 006 – “The Monk and the Barrel”
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Entry Date: April 3rd. Himalayan Highlands. Altitude: somewhere between wisdom and hypothermia.
It was somewhere between the second nosebleed and the third yak encounter that I realized I had made a serious mistake.
You don’t go to the Himalayas looking for whiskey. That’s like going to the DMV looking for inner peace. And yet, there I was—12,000 feet above reason—following a hand-drawn map given to me by a man in Kathmandu who claimed a reclusive monk distilled something “stronger than enlightenment.”
I should have known better. But I didn’t.
Because I am, as they say in more civilized corners of the world, an idiot with a purpose.
Arrival at the Monastery (and Possibly My Own Funeral)
The monastery wasn’t on any map. It clung to the mountainside like it had something to hide. The monk who greeted me didn’t speak, but his stare said: “This is not the weirdest thing that’s happened today.”
He led me into a stone chamber lit by yak butter lamps and the kind of silence you feel in your teeth. In the center: a single barrel. No label. No markings. Just the faint scent of honey, pine, and secrets.
He poured two cups. Sat across from me. And waited.
The Pour That Changed the Altitude
It wasn’t branded, but I’d bet my last passport stamp it was Amrut Fusion—a bold Indian single malt made from both Indian and Scottish barley. Smooth, powerful, and utterly unexpected in a snow-covered silence broken only by occasional monk flatulence.
We drank. We didn’t speak. And somehow, it was the most honest conversation I’ve ever had.
Today’s Whiskey: Amrut Fusion Single Malt
Indian whisky with global ambition—bold, elegant, and just wild enough.
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Nose: Tropical fruit, toasted barley, honey, and a touch of smoke
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Taste: Malt-forward with spice, cocoa, citrus, and a whisper of peat
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Finish: Long, warming, and adventurous
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Pairs best with: Thin air, thick robes, and spiritual crises
Final Thought from the Idiot
When I left, the monk handed me a small wooden medallion carved with what I think is Sanskrit for “good luck.” Or possibly “leave.”
I didn’t find whiskey nirvana, but I did find a damn fine pour in the most impossible place on Earth.
Until the next altitude adjustment,
—W.I.
