Two weeks ago, I went to the Himalayas, and I could actually BREATHE. I took so many deep breaths, just because I
could without inhaling death.
I flew into the airport at Bhuntar, Kullu Valley, and the views of the mountains made me unbelievably happy and excited. Even before touchdown I thought, "why again am I stuck in Delhi?" Then I took the bus up the Kullu Valley to Manali, which is famous for Israeli backpackers getting high on charas. This weekend, though, Manali was crawling with Punjabi tourists, because it was a long weekend for Guru Nanak's birthday (Guru Nanak is the founder of Sikhism, and most Sikhs are Punjabi).
After finding a hotel in Manali, I hopped in a taxi to tackle the first leg of the Manali-Leh road to Rohtang La, a mountain pass at about 4000 meters that separates Kullu Valley from Lahaul and Spiti Valleys. Indian tourists from the plains visit the pass to touch snow for the first time. In fact, when I got there, some Tibetan guy offered me a horse ride to "touch the snow" for Rs 1000 (the snow was about a half kilometer higher). I laughed, because I'm not paying US$20 to touch snow!! Then I explained that I grew up with snow, so no thanks.
road to Rohtang La
view from the road to Rohtang La
view from the road to Rohtang La
Rohtang La certainly delivered the spectacular views I was promised. See my previous post, "
This is where I am." for two pictures. Here are some more:
chorten under construction
road back from Rohtang La
road back from Rohtang La
On my second day, I went on an all-day hike (about 6 or 7 hours, I think). I was supposed to go to Lama Dugh meadow, but there was a slight change of plans. Twice.
1) After climbing up for about an hour and a half, we found that the trail was blocked by a pile of big rocks, probably a landslide. So we walked back down, and the guide said we would go to a village instead.
2) We went back up again, this time in a different direction. Eventually we heard really strange rumbling noises, and then we saw that some villagers were cutting down trees and rolling the logs down the hill--right on the trail. Probably not a safe place to be. Luckily the guide knew an alternate route to the village.
this isn't even the steepest part
Despite the route changes, the hike was really peaceful and beautiful. We spent most of the time in pine forest, saw snowcapped mountains, and walked through apple orchards and villages. The orange, yellow, and red leaves on the deciduous trees made me especially happy, because I haven't really seen leaves turning since I started Stanford and they reminded me of autumn at home. We passed a lot of villagers on the way, and I instinctively said "kuzuzangpo la," which is "hello" in various Bhutanese languages. Even though Kullu Valley does not look particularly like Bhutan, I guess I subconsciously associated hiking to a village in the mountains with Bhutan. Of course no one knew what "kuzuzangpo la" meant and gave me strange looks. And that happened more than once. Oops.
deciduous trees!!
villagers
I got some beautiful views during the hike
the village we hiked to
with my guide in the village
After my hike, I rewarded my exhausted self with chai, a nap, and some shopping. I bought a few Kashmiri salwar kameezes (it's impossible to resist a Kashmiri salesman) and a traditional Kullu shawl. My salwar kameez wardrobe now totals 10--but none are stitched (you buy sets of fabric). I really need to find a good tailor!
On my last day in Manali, I visited a Hindu temple, a Tibetan Buddhist monastery, and a Tibetan Buddhist temple. The Hindu temple, Hadimba Mandir, was very different from the temples I've seen on the northern plains and Deccan plateau. The temple was wooden and set in a very nice park setting with huge pine trees and boulders. There were some basic wooden carvings and hanging yak horns, but overall it was pretty simple (whereas temples in Tamil Nadu are quite elaborate). Inside the temple, there was a mini cave that you had to bend down to go into (really just a rock with an overhang that you could squat under) and the idol was very small. The temple was crawling with Punjabi school children in uniforms; I guess the school was taking advantage of the long weekend for an extended field trip.
Hadimba Mandir
I saw some signs pointing to another temple, so I decided to go check it out. To get to this temple, one has to walk through a mini-amusement park, complete with a small ferris wheel, a few bungee-trampoline contraptions, yak rides, and an area where people can dress up in traditional Kullu clothing and take a picture. A surprising number of Indian tourists actually did put on the Kullu clothing and take pictures, but the yaks were less popular.
mini-amusement park immediately outside Hadimba Mandir. notice the yaks and the girl in the air
girl dressing up in traditional Kullu clothing for a photo op
After passing through the mini-amusement park, I could not find the temple. I asked someone in Hindi where the temple was, and they pointed at a decorated tree. Well, I had seen the tree! The "temple," apparently, was this tree.
a "temple"
I expected the Tibetan Buddhist monastery to be pretty much the same as the monasteries in Bhutan. Most of the imagery and architecture were the same or very similar, but there was a helluva lot of political stuff that is, of course, completely absent from Bhutanese monasteries.
At the entrance to the monastery, there is a huge billboard with the Dalai Lama's smiling face on it that says in Hindi and English: "Thank you India! 50 years of Tibet in Exile." When you walk in, you see a big sign by the prayer wheels that explains in English how the Chinese are carrying out cultural genocide and all these horrible human rights atrocities. After the prayer wheels, you pass another sign with a painted version of the photo of the Panchen Lama (you know, the one of the kid in the orange sweater) and a long explanation in English and
Tibetan about how the Chinese captured him and he hasn't been seen since. Inside the lhakhang (or at least that's what it's called in Bhutan; is it the same word in
Tibetan? basically the temple room) there were several pictures of the Dalai Lama, including one mounted on the same type of fabric thing as a thangka (painting) with his autograph on it (very sports star-style) and another huge one that was framed and placed in the throne-like chair in front of the Buddha statue that the head lama usually sits in.
looking inside the lhakhang
But my favorite thing in the whole monastery was a picture of the Panchen Lama's face superimposed onto the body of an actual lama, obviously photoshopped. I thought it was hilarious--I mean, a child's face superimposed onto an adult body! I actually giggled aloud. ...but then a monk gave me a dirty look and I realized it is actually kinda sad and I'm the most disrespectful person ever. Because this photo was inside the lhakhang, I wasn't allowed to take a picture of it. Otherwise I totally would have so I could show you.
Tibetan women take part in a puja with prayer wheels
Despite the dirty look I got from the monk, a nun invited me to drink butter tea with her on the roof. I actually managed to drink the entire cup of butter tea, and I do
not like butter tea (it's like drinking liquid butter). The mugs of course had a political message on it: "Peace can only exist where human rights are respected." The most exciting part of this spontaneous tea-on-the-roof get-together was that my conversation with the nun was entirely in Hindi. My first-ever conversation (excluding those with autowallahs) in which I didn't switch into English at some point! I am very proud of myself.
The nun who gave me butter tea watches the puja below.
Tibetan Buddhist temple. I love prayer flags.
chorten - you circumambulate this a minimum of 3 times in order to acquire merit for your karma
Then I ate delicious momos. Yum.
My supposed-to-be-14-but-ended-up-being-16-hour bus ride was awful. The first two hours were fine because no one was sitting next to me. However, when we reached Kullu, a 50-something French hippie boarded and sat next to me. And she smelled like she hadn't showered in weeks. She came on the bus with this super sketchy Indian man, who looked sort of like a sadhu but fully clothed (possibly due to the cold). About an hour later, as I was falling asleep, I felt her fingering my jacket, looking for the pockets. Luckily nothing was in my pockets, but then I stayed awake the entire night thinking she was going to steal from me. Damn smelly French hippie! Because my bus arrived in Delhi two hours late, by the time I got home I literally less than 5 minutes to change into work clothes before I had to leave for work. I really hope I didn't smell like that hippie.
And now for "your moment of Zen":
if you want to pay full-price, this is the shop for you!
