Himahaaaaay! (Part II)
I boarded my plane to Leh well before sunrise. As I started up the stairs, leaving behind Delhi's dry, itchy heat, I experienced such an electric feeling of anticipation, unlike any I had ever felt before on a flight. For some reason, this trip, above all others, was the most unknown and therefore, exciting to me. As opposed to most domestic Indian flights, which are 98% Indian, this flight was about 50/50 (50% Indian, 50% Backpackers). About half an hour into the flight, just as we began to enter into the Himalayas, the sky started to change from grey-blue to a milky orange. Watching the sun rise over the Himalayas (listening to "Hoppipolla" by Sigur Ros) was by far one of the most surreal experiences of my life. I'm not going to say that I teared up because that would sound pretty cheesy...although I totally did. The sunrise completely set the tone of my week in Leh.
As mentioned earlier, Leh is one of the most difficult and expensive places to get to in India. Here's why: Although a relatively short flight, the landing was one of the scariest, armrest-clenching landings you could ever experience. When flying on planes, you're used to things such as the buildings and the ground being a comfortable distance away from your window. Before our final descent we had to do a complete turn about in a mountainous "bowl" (for lack of a better description). As we did this, our wings seemed to literally scrape the sides of the bowl. Then, just before touch down, the plane had to squeeze through two mountains that were very, very close together. As we were landing, I was thinking: I hope we have an experienced pilot right now. Ironically enough, this is the reason why the flight is so expensive. Only the most experienced of pilots can make this flight, due to its difficulty. Needless to say, we landed perfectly.
A mere three minutes from the airport, my cab passed through the colorful archway announcing our entrance into the city. Although one of the major (perhaps even cosmopolitan) cities of the Himalayas, Leh is very small and very cute. There are tons of little shops hidden in winding alleyways and Tibetan hand craft markets scattered throughout the extremely maneuverable town.
As the city was just starting to wake up, I decided to head to my hotel (actually, a guest house), the Silver Cloud.
The Silver Cloud was a little bit outside of town and higher up the mountain so it had unobstructed views. It's run by a small family who lives on the ground floor, including an adorable little grandma with two long braids who would chase after cows with a stick when they would sneak onto the property.
In Leh, everyone speaks Ladakhi - and in Ladakhi, the word "jule" (pronounced joo-lay) means "hello," "goodbye," "please," and "thank you." So basically, this adorable little grandma and I would converse as such:
Adorable Little Grandma: Jule!
Me: Jule!
Adorable Little Grandma: Jule! (Handing me a cup of chamomile mint tea)
Me: Jule!
Adorable Little Grandma: Jule!
Me: Jule!
Adorable Little Grandma: Jule!
Three out of the four nights I was in Leh, I ate dinner with the family in their cozy living room. On one particular night, another old woman joined us and was sitting next to the adorable little grandma. Here's how that conversation went:
Me: Oh! Is this your friend?
Adorable Little Grandma: Jule!
Me: Oh...Jule!
Adorable Little Grandma: Jule!
Adorable Little Grandma's Friend: Jule!
Leh is at an altitude of 3505 meters. Because of this, you have to spend the first 24 hours doing almost nothing or you get really sick ("Acute Mountain Sickness" they call it.) So, I spent my first day doing almost nothing. I took three naps, walked through town a bit, drank tea, and read ("Siddhartha"). In one store, I climbed ONE flight of stairs and practically dropped to the ground gasping for breath. AMS is no joke, my friends.
However, although I did practically nothing that first day, after I finished dinner at 8pm, I was absolutely spent...and went to bed. So began my weeklong routine of going to bed before 9pm each night (seriously).
The next morning, I woke up at the crack of dawn (apparently that's what happens when you go to bed at 9pm). As it was still dark, I decided that this would be a great morning to do a sunrise visit to SHANTI STUPA, a monument built in honor of religious peace, dedicated by the Dalai Lama in 1985. To get to the base of the mountain where Shanti Stupa is, you have to do a 15 minute walk through town. Since I didn't have a flashlight, I improvised and used the light from my iPod...in pitch black darkness...through a maze of winding paths...which sometimes have little rivers running through them. Truly one of those moments where you doubt whether you have any intelligence whatsoever. Luckily, I made it...with only one foot drenched in frigid Himalayan water.
I began to hike up the six trillion stairs just as the sky started to illuminate. Although I had to stop several times to get my heart rate to slow down, I made it to the top right before things started to get really gorgeous. I took so many pictures. It sort of reminded me of the Taj Mahal when I couldn't stop taking pictures.
After I came down the mountain, I went back to the hotel for a hearty breakfast of chapatti with honey, chai, and an omelet. Who knew that an omelet could taste so good if you just cook it in lots of butter and salt? Delicious. I spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the town, shopping, and visiting Leh Palace.
Leh Palace looms over the entire city and is really quite impressive from afar. My experience of visiting Leh Palace is quintessential for most of the tourist attractions I've been to in India so far. First off, as Leh Palace can be seen from most of the city, the Leh Board of Tourism (assuming there is such a thing), just figures that you can find your own darn way there. So, you kind of have to just try your luck with random streets until you find a wooden street lamp pole with "This Way To Leh Palace" written in faded pink paint. Next, you come to a big hill. No stairs, no path, just a big hill that you have to shlog up in hopes that it's leading you to the main entrance. When I got to the top of the hill, I went left when I should have gone right. However, here's why I've loved traveling in India: although I went the wrong way, I wound up skirting around the base of the massive building. I quickly realized that this was not the path for tourists, but there was no one there to stop me or tell me no, so I got to see this really amazing perspective of the building. At times, I was really close to a sheer drop down the mountain, but that's also what made my Leh Palace experience so cool. Had this attraction of been in the US, I would have been tackled by Leh Palace Security for sure.
After that, I found the official entrance to the Palace, but there was no one manning the ticket booth, so I just went on in. You know how when you go to Tom Sawyer's Island at Disneyland and there is really nothing to see, but you still have fun exploring the caves, pretending like you're Tom Sawyer (or Huck Finn...or Becky Thatcher...or Aunt Polly)? Well, that's sort of what you do at Leh Palace. This is truly nothing to see...just crumbling rooms with dirt floors and FANTASTIC views of the city and Himalayas. So, I walked around, took pictures, and pretended like I was King Sengge Namgyal.
Oh, and at one point, one of the construction guys working on the building told me that I needed to pay him 50 rupees, so I did.
That night I took my first ever "bucket shower." I was literally dreading it. For those of you who have never taken a bucket shower, here's how it works: Someone brings you a bucket of scalding hot water with a scoop. In your shower (and by shower, I mean your bathroom - which is tiled, so you sort of just stand in the middle of your bathroom and try not to get your towel wet), you have a big empty bucket which you fill with a few scoops of the scalding hot water and then mix with the freezing cold water from the tap. Miraculously, the two waters blend together to create the most soothing warm water you've ever felt in your life (especially considering that it's freezing outside). The logistics of this are quite difficult and you wind up doing the whole process in a squat like position. Surprisingly though, the bucket shower is quite effective and refreshing once you get the hang of it.
I realized that I should comment on the weather in Leh...it was freezing. Until I went to Leh, I honestly had not been "cold" for a single day in India. I brought all of these sweaters and jackets and beenies with me to India thinking, "It might get chilly at night!" It doesn't. I'm really happy that I brought all of it though, because I sure needed it in Leh.
The next morning, I hired a car and set out very early to visit three nearby monasteries or "gompas." We started with Hemis, which was the furthest. As we started to wind our way up the long sloping road to the gompa, we spotted a Tibetan monk in the distance. "A hitchhiking Tibetan monk," I cried! Somehow hitchhiking Tibetan monks are much less scary than regular hitchhikers, so we picked him up. Along the way, we chatted a bit, and when we reached Hemis, he invited me to have tea with him in his dormitory. Kotchok is one of two teachers at the Hemis monastery (he teaches Hindi, English, and Math), and his room was about the size of a Zahm Hall dorm room at Notre Dame. There were two bed-like seating areas on the ground, three large, industrial shelves filled with food, propane, and other random items, and a small little devotional area with candles, copper bowls filled with water, and various posters and pictures of a few different lamas. It was sparse, clean, and comfortable. As Kotchok boiled the water for our tea, I looked out his window. The trees at Hemis had started to turn for the winter, creating a golden curtain outside of Kotchok's window. Kotchok served me tea and then put a Tupperware box full of dried apricots, cookies, and candies in front of me. I was a bit hesitant at first, but decided on the dried apricot (as Ladakh is famous for their apricots). Although hard and flavorless at first, the apricot gradually softened and began to melt into a delicious apricot syrup. Kotchok didn't speak a ton of English, but he knew enough to converse comfortably about basic things like where he was from, his work at the monastery, and things he knew about the US. He listened intently to me tell him about where I was from, my family, what I was doing in India, where I had been, and my experience so far in Leh. It was definitely one of those moments where I paused and thought, "Whoa, I'm having tea with a Tibetan monk." Soon, the other teacher in the school came to fetch Kotchok, but when he came to the door, Kotchok insisted that he have tea with us. More tea and more talk, but no more apricots. (One was enough).
After tea, they invited me to observe their morning meeting with the students. About thirty boys wearing dark maroon robes stood in three lines and sang/chanted a very beautiful song. The boys were supposed to sing the song with their eyes closed and while some of them kept their eyes glued shut, others couldn't help but peek at me every few seconds or so. One in particular, was my favorite.
Although he had a very stately demeanor about him, he kept forgetting the words or would start a verse too early, making him the only boy singing at one time. Whenever he did this, he would stop, swallow, take a deep breath, and then start up again. With the boys chanting, surrounded by the mountains, it became one of the standout moments of my trip. Afterwards, rather than donating money to the whole monastery, I gave money to the teachers directly, who used it to buy the boys samosas as a treat that night. Kotchok and I exchanged addresses (part of his was, "Give to Kotchock uncle, live next to Bakery." I'm totally serious.) Kotchok also invited me to come back next year and spend a few months with him, living in his dormitory. I'm considering it.
After the experience I had with Kotchok, the actual monastery itself was sort of lackluster. I trapsed around taking pictures, absorbing colors, and avoiding bees. I looked everywhere for a giant Buddha that they were supposed to have, but couldn't find it for the life of me. (It's not like there's anybody to show you where it is either, so I was sort of out of luck). I'm pretty sure that I found the door that led to it (which had a "take off your shoes" sign), but it was locked. So India. Regardless, my day had already been made.
Next we went to Thiksey, which, although wonderful, couldn't really compare to the experience I had at Hemis. Here I got to watch a more formal monk ceremony with lots of dramatic drum pounding, horn blowing, and singing. Very sensory and very cool.
The last gompa I visited was Shey, which thankfully had a giant Buddha statue for me to marvel over (You can't leave Leh without seeing a giant Buddha).
However, my favorite part of Shey was this little section of the monastery that looked very similar to the Witch's castle in the Wizard Of Oz. (You know the part when she splits her soldiers up and half of them go this way and the other half of them go that way and then Dorothy and her group get trapped in that little tower? That part.)
That night Sonam (the owner of the Silver Cloud and dad of the family) asked me if I was from the US. When I told him yes, he asked me if English was my native language. I told him yes again and then he asked me if I could help him write some emails. He had to respond to a few queries from various travel guide book publishers, and what he needed to convey to them was a bit tricky. As we sat down to work on them, he asked me, "Are you sure you can write good English?" (To which I thought: "According to Professor Brogan, yes. According to Professor Cannon-Harris, no.")
On my last full day in Leh, I went with a guide for a hike through the Himalayas. We started when it was still dark and had made it to the top of the first peak (our first "pass") just as it started to get light. The first peak was actually the most difficult for me, as my muscles were still waking up. We didn't spend much time here because I wanted to be at the top of the second pass for the actual sunrise. The path we took was covered in these beautiful purple flowers that I tried very hard not to step on. So, even when I was puffing away with my head down, the scenery was beautiful. Right on schedule, we crested the second peak just as the snow covered Himalayas in the distance began to glow orange. As I looked around though, we weren't at the best vantage point. There was another steep mound that blocked our view where we stood, but would provide a great 360 degree view if we could get to the top. I asked my guide if we could go to the top of the mound and he told me that we could, but it would be difficult - more like rock climbing than trekking. But, I figured that if I was hiking in the Himalayas, I might as well go all out..and it was difficult. I almost slipped a few times, got scraped up a bit, but made it to the top for an absolutely tremendous view.
The third and final pass, while the most steep, was also the easiest for me. By that time, I was warm and revved up by the crisp morning air. We spent a lot of time on the final peak. I wrote in my journal, took pictures, and just sat silently, looking out over the seemingly infinite expanse. I don't have words in my vocabulary to describe the experience. It just was.
The sun finally began to peek over the mountains during our descent into Saboo, a neighboring city where we were to catch a bus back to Leh. When the bus finally came a half hour late and we boarded, I breathed in and thought, "Ah yes...what would a trip to India be without an hour long ride on a bus that smells like throw-up." People were smashed together in order to make room for the random objects which they brought onto the bus with them. You know, the usual things like bags, boxes, stoves, and ten foot long poles. We bumped and jostled through Saboo, picking up more people and more stoves, until we came to a sudden stop. When we stopped, I looked up to see another bus facing us on a one lane road. For the next twenty minutes we edged by each other, ever so delicately. At the height of tension, our bus was tilted at a 45 degree angle to the left with two of our wheels half way in the ditch along the side of the road. As I was sitting next to the window on the left side of the bus, I had a glorious view of the jagged rock wall a few feet from us. It was at this point that I though, "Ah yes...this is why I don't take buses." Nevertheless, we made it to Leh in one piece...all for the low, low price of 9 rupees (20 cents).
My trip to Leh was absolutely amazing. However, it was the parts that I didn't write about above that really made it outstanding. There was something about Leh that allowed me to be completely peaceful. I spent hours (literally), in my room, sipping chamomile mint tea, looking out over the mountains, thinking and writing, thinking and writing, and then not thinking about anything at all. It was the first time in a long time that I was able to be silent...still...with no where to be, nothing planned, and no distractions. I found that I had a lot to think about and digest. It's been a tumultuous, vibrant, strenuous, colorful, fun, self-defining five and a half months. I remembered how important it is to pause. I remembered that it's okay to pause. And that's what Leh was for me...a beautiful pause.
...a "Goods Carrier" truck. To which I responded, "I can't believe I'm three days away from coming home and I almost got run over by a 'Goods Carrier' truck."
