Dharamsala & Trekking

Hello from the Himalayas! We've been in Himachal Pradesh for 2 weeks now, and man the time flies by when you're ten thousand feet high!
Spent a week in Dharamsala, home of the Tibettan Government in exile!
Bought lots of cool Tibettan stuff, including a yak's wool hat!
Also went dayhiking to a waterfall-laundromat and viewpoint-teashop!

Beyond lay the snowline, and some impassable passes,
But we wanted to trek, so we asked some questions,
And were told it was "not possible" to cross the mountains,
We would have to content ourselves with foothill fountains!

So we signed ourselves up for a week-long trek,
But no sooner had we left than our guide out-let
The existence of a lower pass, some 40k east,
Which would let us cross the formidable peaks!


In a brash decision, we abandoned one plan,
And embraced another, or my name ain't Stan.
Four buses later, plus a rumbling jeep,
We began our climb up over the peaks!

For half and two days we approached valley's head,
Drinking tea in cave huts and sleeping in cow sheds.
Eating fresh rice and dal from the guides' pressure cooker,
Washing in snow streams and looking for hookers!



On a brilliant morning the pass we did reach,
The wind was chilly, the views beyond speech.
We took some photos, the donned our rain gear,
For a sliding descent down the mountain's rear!



That night we took shelter in a little ghost town,
The wind blew hard, but we did not frown.
Instead we put our minds in helicopter mode,
And rapped off the twilight of our haunted abode.


Next day we learned of a bridge's demise,
Which meant a long walk and a train through the skies.
Over the raging Ravi river we pulled ourselves
And slept that night amidst puppy smells!



Then 'twas the last day, quick as can be,
We rose with the dawn and drank some tea.
Then we walked a few k's, past some kids with a cow,
To a quaint sunny village where a jeep we found!

The village was quiet, small, and clean,
It smelled of new wood, dung, and gasoline.
Surrounding the houses were terraced wheat fields,
Apple orchards, grazing lands, and walnut trees!


But we couldn't stay long, 'cause the jeep was waiting,
To carry us down, hopefully without fainting,
A precipitous road filled with many holes,
But we got through okay: Shiva saved our souls!

That night we spent in our guide's village,
Playing with children and drinking homemade swillage.
We awoke early to catch a long bumpy bus,
Back to Dharamsala it transported us!


So now we are here, back where we started,
This morning with our guides we parted.
In half an hour I've a Lama to meet,
So I'll say goodbye: so-long my sweets!

Holy Cities: Varanasi, Sarnath, Agra, Amrisar

For Mom, Dad, Kimi, and Me.
May we be forever in the same boat,
Floating down the river of life.

Well, I've got a lot to write about this time. Since leaving Khajuraho we've been to the holiest city of the Hindus, Varanasi; the site of the Buddha's first sermon, Sarnath; the great city of the Mughals, Agra; and the religious center of the Sikhs, Amritsar. So without further ado...

Varanasi. City of Shiva. Of enchantment. And the finest merchandise this side of the river Ganges, on sale today, come on down! A beautiful city, really - the best in India, we think. Why? Partly because it's on a sacred river, which is bordered by a "boardwalk" of concrete steps called "ghats" where people bathe, wash clothing, and cremate their dead. And you can walk along these ghats at sunrise, when the pink light illuminates the old buildings by the river, and boats full of tourists drift lazily by, and you can inhale the air heavy with the ashes of dead people. It's wonderful, really. The other reason Varansi is so great is that in the old city, the streets are so narrow that cars can't get through, so there are no horns. Many an hour was spent sitting on the roof of our hotel, sipping Mango Maza, gazing out at the city, and listening to the absence of horns.




There aren't really any "sights" in Varanasi, so we spent our days walking along the ghats and through the alleyways of the city, getting lost and finding ourselves, trying not to step in the numerous fresh cow-pats. There was also classical Indian music to listen to, and Ayurvedic massages to partake of. At one point I had breakfast in a French cafe that reminded me so much of home that all of a sudden the relative poverty of India fully dawned on me, and I realized more than ever before that from a financial point of view, Westerners are the kings of the world. I decided that, true to Hindu mythology, good Kings can do one of two things: they can give up their riches and go live among the poor. Or they can use their riches and power to promote justice and balance in the world. Usually they do the latter while they're young, and the former when they're old. So that's what I'm going to do. Of course, my idea of justice and balance focuses only partially on humans and the rest on other species. :-)

That aftenoon I walked around Banares Hindu University. When I got tired I sat down in front of a building, and a few minutes later I was befriended by its residents, some Indian English majors now studying education. We talked and had tea, then headed for the University temple and sat in the grass and talked some more. It was wonderful to talk to young, middle class, educated Indians. Gave me much hope for this country, even though all they want to do is emigrate to the U.S. They shared their thoughts on philosophical matters and great English writers, and boy was it heartening stuff.


I best move on to Sarnath or I'll lose the will to write. Sarnath is a quiet town about 10km outside Varanasi. We spent only an afternoon, evening, and morning there, but it was very rewarding. We visited many Buddhist temples (Japanese, Chinese, Tibettan, and Burmese) and had the opportunity to compare their styles. We "prayed" at the Japanese temple, which consisted of beating drums in a simple pattern for 20 minutes and uttering matras we didn't understand, but it was mesmerizing. I finally found "The Snow Leopard," which I am planning to read now that we're in the Himalaya. And we stayed with two old European ladies who have lived in India more than a decade. They are Buddhists and practitioners of the Tai chi-like exercise of Falun Gong. We partook of a session, which I found much less rewarding than mountain climbing. We also stayed in their beautiful little house, slept on their straw mats, and ate their delicious food.



Soon it was back to Varanasi to finish up some silk transactions with our wholesaler-merchant-friend Muhammud. He showed us some hand silk looms, which are fascinating contraptions. An Indian works them 10 hours a day for $2.50. That can buy about what $10 buys at home. But boy does he produce nice stuff! Losing my battle to be immaterial, I bought some and shipped it home. Then we were on a train to Agra.

In Agra we stayed at the home of a Servas host, Krishna Gaur (different from Guar, the Indian buffallo. Krishna looked more like a gorilla). Our room was a concrete solar oven on the roof, but we had our own kitchen, which Krishna insisted we make use of to treat him to some American food. We suggested Mexican instead and spent that evening trying to make fajitas. It turned out a little more like tostadas, since the tortillas we made weren't flexible. Also we had to use kidney beans and processed cheese. But they pretended it was good.

Next day it was off to Fathepur Sikri, a Moghul palace and mosque. We hired a guide who told us the lineage of the Moghul Kings, from (Admiral) Akbar to Jehangir to Shah Jehan (who built the Taj) to Aurangazeb. The Moghuls were an amazing military power, and no doubt would have ruled India much longer were it not for the guns, germs, and steel of the British Empire. True to form, Mughal buildings express that power (see pictures). Also of note, although Muslims, were tolerant of Hinduism and Christianity. In fact, Admiral Akbar even had a Christian and Hindu wife! Curious, I read the Wikipedia article on Islam and it turns out that it's a fairly tolerant religion. Imagine that! Islam, like all other religions, is centered around faith and moral behavior! It's only Islamic extremists, like extremists of other religions, that are confused and dangerous. I figured this was the case, but it was still nice to read it in Wikipedia (the authorative source). Highly recommended.


Next day we awoke at dawn to make the pilgrimage to the most beautiful building in the world, the Taj Mahal. To attempt to describe it here would be an atrocious insult, and pictures are only slightly better. Suffice to say that it was Shah Jehan's attempt to create Paradise on Earth, and that it comes damn close.

That night we ate Krishna's delicious Indian food, watched him down a few bottles of whisky, and listened to him rant about philosophical matters. We went to his son Vikram's workshop and saw how he inlays semi-precious stones into marble, the exact same way as it was done for the Taj.

Next morning we made french toast in our kitchen and then headed for the railway station. Seventeen hours later we arrived in Amritsar, at 4am. We were woken up by the person cleaning the train, and we stumbled out of the station and ran into a rickshaw wallah (at 4am! Don't they ever sleep?!) Turned out he was a nice man so it was okay. He got us some tea and showed us where to put our bags. Then we got on his rickshaw and he took us to the Golden Temple, gem of the Sikhs. There we stayed as dawn dawned and reflected off the white marble and dark water and gold temple. Mantras tickled our ears.


After soaking it up awhile we headed to Jallianwalla Bagh, where in 1919 a crazed British General Dyer and his crack troops opened fire on thousands of peaceful Indian demonstrators. It was a horrible embarassment to the British government, and contributed to the success of peaceful independence. Today the site has been transformed into a beautiful garden, with a small museum dedicated to some prominent figures in the massacre, and with an old brick wall full of bullet holes.

Then we initiated our long-awaited journey into the Himalayas. At the bus stand Kyle's small bag got stolen, which sucked. I was supposed to be watching it, too, and I haven't a clue what happened, so I feel bad. But he's taking it well, as a lesson in non-attachment. We're now in Dharmasala, city of the Dalai Lama in exile, and of many of his Tibettan Buddhist followers. The air is cool and the mountains covered in pine forests. We have finally found our own temple. The next month is for worship.