Tibetan Monks and Hindu Sages

We're currently at the last outpost of tech-savvy civilization before heading back off into the Himalayas. A blog post is therefore warranted, though unfortunately uploading photographs seems to be an impossibility here. A brief update will have to suffice. Hey, that's just more incentive to sit through our slide show when we return to the states, right?

On the 22nd we boarded a bus in Amritsar. Eight hours later we'd left India. Though no passports had been stamped, no boarders crossed, by going to Dharamsala we'd certainly entered a different land. Dharamsala, located in the far west of the state of Himachal Pradesh, is known for being the seat of the Tibetan government in exile. Tibetans first started arriving in 1959, after the Chinese invaded their homeland and they were forced to cross the Himalayan rage on foot to find safety from Mao's brutal campaign to crush Tibetan culture. The Dalai Lama himself lives in the nearby village of McLeod Ganj, though His Holiness does not make many public appearances there these days. Our small guest house, a mere 10 minute walk from his residence, clung to the side of a mountain from which there were stunning views out over a lush valley.

I say that McLeod Ganj felt distinctly un-Indian for several reasons: 1) the population appears to be one third Indian, one third Tibetan, and one third Western traveler; 2) there are distinctly fewer cows; 3) it is unnaturally clean and quite 4) there are less people trying to get you to buy something; 5) there are far fewer crazy things happening on the street at any given moment. In many ways, it was a respite from the chaos of this country. But I'll tell you this: it proved to me just how addicted I have become to India's beautiful frenetic energy. There's never a dull moment. And by the time we'd spent five days in McLeod Ganj, I was more than ready to jump back into the fray.

Nathan spent the first two days alternating between exploring the town by himself and taking care of me since I was ridiculously sick. He visited several of McLeod Ganj's colorful Tibetan gompas (temples) and nature trails, and spent an afternoon volunteering at the Tibet Hope Center where he chatted with Tibetan monks and refugees during an English conversation class. Our third day in McLeod Ganj fell on a Saturday, the day which His Holiness the 17th Karmapa holds public audiences. I was feeling better by then (thank god for the efficiency of modern antibiotics) and so Nathan and I made our way down to a large temple complex to hear him speak. The Karmapa is the leader of the Karma Kagyu, or "Black Hat" school of Tibetan Buddhism. The current Karmapa, Ogyen Trinley Dorje, is only 23 years old. Along with 200 or so Tibetans and other Westerners, we sat on the floor of a large hall and listened to him discuss his thoughts on the dharma.

The English conversation class at the Tibetan Hope Center was in session again on our last day in town. This time we were both able to make it. It was amazing to hear each individual discuss their flight from Tibet (everyone we talked to crossed the mountains on foot), their new life in India, and their hopes for the future of their homeland. Though the Tibetan cause has largely gone out of vogue with protesters in the United States, the struggle for an autonomous Tibet is still very much alive for the Tibetan people. In many ways, our time in McLeod Ganj opened our eyes to the relevance and immediacy of this issue.

The evening of the 28th we had a train to catch in Pathankot, a transport hub several hours to the south of McLeod Ganj. It was supposed to be a simple bus down there. But as soon as we left the Tibetan enclave we were thrown into the madness of India in full force. Mid-journey our bus started overheating while going uphill, spewing vile gas everywhere, and broke down. After some milling about on the side of the road, another bus drove by and all the passengers from our bus jumped on, filling it to the brim. Through the chaos of this process we ascertained that this bus was not going to Pathankot, but we'd better get on any way so we could make it to the next town. We climbed the ladders up to the roof of the bus to strap down our backpacks, but before we could get down the driver was frantically screaming at us to sit and hold on - there was no room inside the bus. We had little choice but to cling onto the small railings on the top of the bus and flatten ourselves to the roof as the bus took off. Along with a group of Indian boys who'd ended up on the top as well, we dodged low-hanging branches and watched the sun sink towards the horizon as we careened along the mountain road. We road a good 25km that way. At least we had a good view! Needless to say, we made it to the next town alive and hired a van to take us to the train station.

We arrived the next morning in Haridwar, one of the holiest sights in Hinduism. This is where the mighty Ganga (the Ganjes River) leaves the foothills and enters the plains. The devout come from all over India to bathe in the water here and wash away their bad karma. We spent the whole day and the next morning wandering around the ghats, or stairs, which lead into the water. Sadhus (aesthetics), pilgrims, cotton-candy sellers, and everyone in between crowded by the river. At sunset hundreds of people - perhaps thousands - gathered on the ghats to listen to the music of the evening prayer and place puja (offerings) of little banana leaf boats filled with flowers and candles into the Ganga to be swept downstream with the current...

....I'd meant to resume writing this blog after a concert we attended this evening. But the concert, of sonorous traditional sitar and tabla, ran long and now we have a train to catch. So in short, we left Haridwar and spent the last few days in Rishikesh, the self-proclaimed "yoga capitol of the world." We've white-water rafted, visited the Beatles old ashram (they wrote most of the White Album here), wandered the streets, and watched the sun set over the Ganga while strolling down the river's white sand beaches.

By tomorrow afternoon we'll be in Sonapani again. From there will depart for the last leg of our journey: a nine day trek through the Himalayas to the Pindari Glacier. We'll try to put up one last blog post in Delhi before we leave, but we may not get the chance. If that's the case, you'll just have to hear about our trek in person when we're back in Seattle on the 19th!