Sheltered in the Himalayas
Travel Diary by Efrat Nakash
June to December 2004
Table of Content:
McLeod Ganj at the Indian Himalayan Foothills
The Khumbu trail to the Everest at the Nepali Himalayas
Crossing the Himalaya to Tibet
Katmandu at the bottom of the Nepali Himalayas
Appendix – Volunteering, Compassion in Action
Preparations
During my travels in Patagonia Argentina, I fell deeply in love with a very special man, Rafael. Together we traveled all over Patagonia, visited the Indian people, and lived together at his wooden house. We spent a couple of months together. Ten days after returning home, I got an email from Rafael saying that his wife was coming back to live with him. No, I did not know he was married.
It was after half a year of vacation, traveling to Antarctica and South America. With a broken heart, I could not go to job interviews or make any other decision about my life. I knew I wanted to change my lifestyle. My kids were grown up, and were responsible for their own lives. I did not wish to continue living in the nouveau riche, snobby Ramat Hasharon. I wanted to have a simple life, to live in a small place with only basic things, in respect to the work I would find. However, I was not in a mental state to make any operative decision.
I wanted to run away. I decided that my best shelter would be in India, both from spiritual and simplicity aspects. In India, I can live in a very simple way. I was able to get bonus flight tickets, and in India I would spend less than I would if I stayed at home. I believed I could strengthen my spirit and emotions by meditating, learning Buddhism philosophy and yoga.
Starting to collect information about meditation and Buddhism philosophy, I talked to a friend who mentioned Dharamsala. When I searched for Dharamsala on the internet, I found the VolunteerTibet organization. I met Tibetans during previous trips, while trekking in the Nepali Himalayas and in the Indian Himalayas at Ladakh. Their appearance as well as their behavior touched my heart. I found the Tibetans gentle, modest and smiling. I knew I could learn a lot from them.
In addition to wanting to fill up my days, as part of my escape, I believed that meditation and Buddhism philosophy would be much more complete if I would spend more time giving to others. When visiting the Indian people in Patagonia Argentina I felt I can do so much for them, and I easily switched those feelings to the exiled Tibetans in Dharamsala. I was aware that behind all that was my need to feel wanted and appreciated.
I made arrangements to fly to India, planned on staying in Dharamsala for the maximum of six months my VISA allowed, and corresponded with VolunteerTibet about my work there, offering to share my knowledge in photography, English and computers. I felt content with this base plan.
McLeod Ganj at the Indian Himalayan Foothills
Eyal and Amir, the two significant young men in my life, gave me a ride to the airport on Tuesday, June 15, 2004. It was at 3:00am, and I loved them for sharing with me the last moments before taking off. Few days later Eyal wrote to me in an email that he already misses me, probably because I went for such a long period. He is so adorable.
The airplane landed in Delhi airport on June 16 at 1:00 am. The Delhi experience was similar to the one I had in Santiago de Chile, on my way to Antarctica: when ordering a taxi, the woman behind me, Claudie, asked if I was going to PaharGanj Street (main bazaar and tourist center, similar to the Kawasan road in Bangkok). As I was going there, we shared a cub, and later also the hotel room (Hotel Vivek, OK, 300 INR (Indian Rupee) for a room with two beds). What can I say: great luck at 2:00am! Claudie is French, and has a booth in the Toulouse market. She comes often to Delhi for shopping, and so she became my excellent guide for the day. Experienced, she made sure I ate before getting on the bus to Dharamsala, and helped me carry my backpack on the way to the bus. What a thoughtful and kind woman!
The tourist-bus ride to Dharamsala took twelve hours. A young Tibetan guy, Tenzin Dakpa, was sitting next to me. He told me a lot about Buddhism and Tibetan life. I was interested in the meaning of the term "compassion". He explained to me that Tibetans mean putting others before yourself. We developed it into a philosophical discussion. Tenzin explained the Buddhist approach where you should seek for the good of others. I tried to express my perception that when I feel good I project it to others. We started to talk about volunteering, Tenzin said that he heard one volunteer say that she did it only so she would feel good, and he found that bad. I tried to explain that making others feel good does make one also feel good. It reminded me of the psychological arguments about altruism (is altruism an act for the other or for your need to be perceived as altruist).
I asked about the term used by Mahatma Gandhi describing himself as: "a humble person". Tenzin explained to me that this means not patronizing.
I enjoyed the talk very much. Tenzin told me that many Tibetans are called Tenzin, male and female. Tenzin is one of The Dalai Lama's names, and is given by him to those who ask for a name. Indeed I found out later that if you walk in McLeod Ganj and call "Tenzin", at least half the street will turn. Tenzin also explained to me the meaning of the Tibetan greeting "Tashi Delek", which is good luck.
McLeod Ganj is located at the foothills of the Himalayas, in the north of India, Himachal Pradesh State, Kangra District, Dharamsala Municipal Council. In McLeod Ganj there were 10,000 Tibetans (in 2004) plus more native Indians. The center of McLeod Ganj was a bazaar with lined shops of handicraft and jewelry along two parallel streets, about 150 meters long. In Jogiwara road there were mainly Tibetan shops, and in Temple road there were more shops that belonged to Indian owners. Both presented colorful items and spread exotic incense. Other roads split up from both ends, to the temple and close to settlements like Dharamsala, Dharamkot, Bhagsu Nag and Nadi villages.
McLeod Ganj was a very small place, where everything was within a walking distance. The streets were unpaved, many narrow trails were used for shortcuts, and during the monsoon it was muddy in some places.
Many cows and dogs wandered around, monkeys gathered mainly close to the monasteries (which were everywhere), and I saw only a few cats. Interestingly enough, the dogs did not bark during the day, and took an afternoon nap without any disturbance. But sometimes, very late at night, the dogs barked and seemed aggressive. People mentioned there were leopards around, but I had not seen one. I am not afraid of predators, as I learned, while being in a safari in Africa, that we are bigger than they are, and we stand on our back legs, which means that we are in an attacking position. If in addition I would spread my hands to the sides, I would look very frightening to them.
It was so great to walk in the narrow streets, where Tibetan people were all around. Shaved headed monks and nuns, dressed in their long dark red robe (or skirt, called Shamtap); dark red, or dark red combined with yellow shirt (called Tongak) or yellow shirt (called Nulen); and over it dark red shawl (called Zen), or yellow shawl (called Chogos).
Some monasteries run schools, and Tenzin Dakpa told me that kids who learn there shave their head and wear robes, though only the teachers are monks.
Tibetan women's traditional wear included sleeveless one color floor length dress (called Chupa), and under it – a blouse in bright colors. Married women wear on top of the Chupa a rainbow-striped length of cloth, rather like an apron (called Ponde). The place was a celebration of smiling faces, and clothes in a rainbow of colors.
The temperature at McLeod Ganj during June-July was nice, around 23-25 Celsius degrees at midday. The Dalai Lama chose Dharamsala for Tibetan refugees, because it is less hot and less humid compared to the Indian Plains, thus more suitable for Tibetan immigrants.
Dressing around Indians and Tibetans had to be conservative, covered shoulders, not exposed belly, and covered legs; otherwise, it was perceived as disrespectful. I was wearing a T-shirt and baggy pants (Sharwal) all day long, though at night it got chilly. When I just arrived, I was wearing my sandals, but decided to use shoes after watching the mud under the nails of my toes (not to mention the thought of cow's shit).
McLeod Ganj was environmental. To avoid dumping too many plastic bottles of mineral water, 1 liter bottles of boiled (for at least ten minutes) and filtered water were sold in many places for 5INR. Shops did not pack what you bought in plastic bags. The result was much less dumped plastic bags and bottles compared to, for example, Istanbul. Garbage had to be separated into "wet" which included organics, like food leftovers that would be given to the cows, and "dry" which was all the rest. If you did not separate, your garbage would not be collected.
How did Tibetans end up in Dharamsala?
Traditionally, the Tibetans just wanted a peaceful land to worship Buddha. At times, Tibet extended its influence over neighboring countries and peoples, and during other periods, Tibet itself came under the influence of powerful foreign rulers – the Mongol Khans, the Gorkas of Nepal, the Manchu emperors and the British rulers of India.
Since the revolution in China in 1911, when Tibet's government was replaced with a native republican government, until 1949, Tibet successfully avoided undue foreign influence, and acted, in every respect, as a fully independent state.
The turning point of Tibet's history came in 1949, when the People's Liberation Army of the People's Republic of China (PRC) first crossed into Tibet. After defeating the small Tibetan army and occupying half the country, the Chinese government imposed the so-called "Seventeen-Point Agreement for the Peaceful Liberation of Tibet" on the Tibetan government in May 1951. Because it was signed under duress, the agreement lacked validity under international law. The presence of 40,000 Chinese troops in Tibet, the threat of an immediate occupation of Lhasa, and the prospect of the total obliteration of the Tibetan state left Tibetans little choice.
As the resistance to the Chinese occupation escalated, particularly in Eastern Tibet, the Chinese repression, which included the destruction of religious buildings and the imprisonment of monks and other community leaders, increased dramatically. By 1959, a popular uprising culminated in massive demonstrations in Lhasa. By the time China crushed the uprising, 87,000 Tibetans were dead in the Lhasa region alone, and The Dalai Lama had fled to India, where he was leading the Tibetan Government-in-exile, headquartered in Dharamsala, until 2011. Following their leader, thousands of Tibetans escaped Tibet and they now live in Dharamsala, as well as other locations.
During 2011 The Dalai Lama proposed a change, a political leader for the Tibetan Government-in-Exile was elected (called The Sikyong), while The Dalai Lama kept the position of Tibet's spiritual leader-in-exile (for more information about Tibet in Exile).
Meanwhile, in Tibet, religious persecution, persistent violations of human rights, and a wholesale destruction of religious and historic buildings by the occupying authorities have not succeeded in destroying the spirit of the Tibetan people to resist the destruction of their national identity. 1.2 million Tibetans have lost their lives (over one-sixth of the population), as a result of the Chinese occupation.
Settling down
When arriving to McLeod Ganj (formerly called Upper Dharamsala) on June 17, 2004, I went to meet the VolunteerTibet coordinators – Sonam Choekyi Dekhang (Tibetan young lady), the managing director, and Brick Thornton (Canadian guy), the founder. We set my basic volunteering plan. I would start with English tutoring at "Gu-Chu-Sum" school, in addition to helping with photography at McLeod Ganj. During this period, I also planned to learn yoga. From the beginning of August I would help nuns in the "Jamyang Chöling Nunnery'' with computers, English, and whatever they would want. I imagined this would be the most suitable environment for me to learn Tibetan Buddhism.
After one night at the "Seven Hills'' guesthouse (very convenient, Tipa road, 200INR per night), Sonam took me to a single room apartment where she was living up until that time, and I was happy to move there (100INR per night). It was a nice room with two beds (which also served as sofas), kitchen, and a bathroom with shower, sink, and traditional Asian squat style toilet.
The apartment was in a building, owned by a very warm and welcoming Indian family. The place was very clean, colored white, well maintained with fine nets that closed all entrances so mosquitoes and spiders could not enter. I found in the market a special chalk that blocks insects from getting in under the door. All it took was to draw three close lines near the entrance door, and it worked!
McLeod Ganj spreads along a hillside, at an altitude of 1,768m, and my apartment was at the bottom of the village. More than 300 stairs were leading to my apartment down from Jogiwara road. The great advantage was that in the middle was the "Yongling elementary school and kindergarten" for sweet Tibetan kids. Every time I went up and down (which I did at least three times a day), I was watching the smiling kids and their family members who dropped them in the morning and picked them up in the afternoon.
Close to my apartment was a stream, and at night, the voice of the running water was very calming. The view of the Himalayas from the terrace was wonderful. The Himalayan slopes were green with exposed high peaks, and so McLeod Ganj was all green, full of trees, plants and covered with grass.
I had some funny experiences with my cooking facilities. At first, the apartment owner provided me with a gas stove. After a short time, it stopped working. The apartment owner found it was clogged and that the gas could not go through, so he replaced the stove with another one. This one also did not work for long. This time the tank was empty, so the apartment owner changed the gas tank. After a short while it did not work again. The apartment owner suspected a leak in one of the two flame components, so he switched back to the first stove with another gas tank, and these held up only for a short time.
So, I went to the market in Dharamsala (previously called Lower Dharamsala) and purchased a cooking heater. Guess what? After a short time, it stopped working. I went back to the shop to fix the broken wire, and after two minutes of work at home, it broke up again. Therefore, Sonam, the VolunteerTibet coordinator, gave me an electric element. I was using it to not only boil water, but also to prepare rice and cook potatoes. As I cooked potatoes in water, it was easy to cook with the electric element, and as for the rice, I just needed to make sure to pull out the electric element before the rice absorbed all the water. Still, each time I had to completely remove the electric element from the electric socket before touching the handle, as even if I just switched off the socket, I was shocked when touching the element handle.
I went back to the store where I purchased the cooking heater, and this time replaced the heating element (spiral) with a better one. It kept working for three days. As I was in the middle of cooking while it broke, I pulled Sonam's electric element, but this time it shorted out and burned. After the heater cooled down, realizing that I needed to accept the quality of the appliances here, I fixed the cooking heater (after all, all it takes is a point-to-point wire), and it became my game.
Most of the tools sold in Dharamsala are of poor quality, which enables to lower the cost of manufacturing and therefore sell it at a cheap price. It seems the Indians accept the need to fix things as a fact. Altaaf, a Kashmiri guy, bought a broken Minolta camera, although it was not working. When I mentioned that he would need to spend more money for a battery and film just to learn what was wrong, and that it might end up as an expensive repair, he was smiling, saying that he likes the camera, and he was sure he could get it fixed.
The food around was just great. For breakfast I had some pumpernickel bread with butter and cheese (from "Osho" store). Sometimes I enjoyed the special Muesli at "Gakyi Restaurant", which included granola with lots of fresh and dry fruits and local yogurt. For lunch, I cooked rice or potatoes, and had them with fresh tomatoes, peppers and onion, or ate delicious veggie Dhal (lentils) with rice in "Sunrise Café".
One of my favorite options for dinner was Tibetan Momos in the street (5 Momos for 10INR). Momo is a dumpling stuffed with vegetables or mutton, steamed or fried. The size of a veggie ball was between a squash ball and a tennis ball. The mutton Momos were shaped like small bananas. In between, I had all kinds of tempting delicious street foods like Tibetan cookies, or fruit such as lychee or mango in season, or grilled corn (5INR). I dined at restaurants only on occasions with company, as eating at home made it easier for me to control both my diet and expenses, and I did not enjoy eating in a restaurant alone. At "Nick's Italian Restaurant" at Bhagsu road, I loved the Tibetan soup with "Swimming Momos", called Ruchowtse, filled with spinach and cheese. The dish I especially enjoyed at "Dokebi Korean Restaurant'' at Jogiwara road was the "Kimchi Sushi".
"Sunrise Café" served the best Indian Masala Chai (spiced tea, 5INR). Masala Chai includes many herbal ingredients boiled in milk. I also loved drinking ginger, lemon and honey tea, which I prepared at home. I sliced pieces of fresh ginger (on a beautiful round decorated Tibetan wooden board), squeezed one lime (using a very effective lime squeezer I found in the market), a spoonful of honey (I liked the "Him Honey") and added boiling water.
If you do the math, my cost of living was up to US$3 per day. Adding Internet usage, for emails and writing this diary, I might have reached at some days the known Indian average of US$5 per day.
I loved the simplicity of my life. I had only a few very basic things that I used. It stressed out the things I had at home which were of little use, if at all. It was so easy to keep a little place clean; it was so spacious to have only what I needed; it was so easy to monitor moderate expenses.
The monsoon
The Monsoon started striking on Saturday, June 19, in full power. After a shiny morning, clouds gathered, there were thunderstorms, and heavy rain was falling, creating floods and waterfalls. As McLeod Ganj is located on the hillside, streams of brown water were running everywhere. The stream next to my apartment was flooded and became strong and deep up to the knees, until it became difficult to cross.
The monsoon was striking every day, raining heavily during midday for about one hour, followed by another hour of drizzling. Often clouds were covering McLeod Ganj, limiting visibility to two or three meters, which added a special atmosphere. One day the monsoon caught me eating my lunch Momos outside a bookstore. The salesman in the bookstore invited me in, and I had a great time reading books. I also bought "Freedom in Exile", the autobiography of the present 14th Dalai Lama. While browsing through another book, "My Land and My People", memories of His Holiness (HH) The 14th Dalai Lama, 1977, I read an interesting sentence: "Tibetans would think it a sin to kill any animal, for any reason, but they did not think it sinful to go to market and buy the meat of an animal which was already dead". If you think about it, not harming any living creature means you cannot kill any bothering fly or mosquito. All you can do is gently wave them away…
Running water in McLeod Ganj was an interesting issue. On the one hand, there was no shortage in natural sources, much rain, and many streams and rivers. On the other hand, there were long periods without running water to homes, and when the water was running, its pressure was not consistent. This was new to me, as I knew only two options: either the water was running or not. In McLeod Ganj I experienced something in between.
During my first days, I thought there was a problem with the water installation at my home. Only later, I learnt that the running water pressure varies everywhere during the day, and when it was very low, water did not get up to the shower. Therefore, for washing myself I was using, as anyone else, a bucket and a jug. Efficiency in using the bucket was increasing as I learnt which areas in the body consume more water to wash the soap out from them, and these were the groin area (in between the legs), the armpits, and the face. The idea was to wash them first and only afterwards the rest of the body. My skillfulness using the bucket was reaching the ability to shower with a quarter of a bucket. Of course shampooing the hair was the most water consuming, and when I did, I had to start with it, and spent an extra half of a bucket just to wash my long hair twice.
The Himalayan water and climate had a surprisingly positive influence on my body, as I also remembered from trekking in the Nepali Himalayas: my skin got smoother and as stretched as ever, and my hair became softer. It made me think, why do women go through a surgery to lift their face skin, when all it takes is one month in the Himalayas! It is definitely cheaper and there is no need to hide for days indoors. One's skin looks younger naturally in the most relaxed and pleasant environment, while enjoying everything the Himalayas have to offer.
Another new experience was with the electricity power supply, which was cut off often during the monsoon. Again, I knew of two options: having electricity or power failure. In McLeod Ganj there was an in between. After resuming the power supply from power cut, the current was low, so a fluorescent light did not light, while a normal bulb did!
During the last six days of July, the monsoon reached a new level. Clouds completely covered McLeod Ganj at all times, they were climbing up the Himalayas, and it rained non-stop. When I looked against a dark background, I could see the clouds move. That amount of rain brought flooding and dampness. The temperature dropped to around 20-22 Celsius degrees at midday. The saturated air did not cause sweat, but my towel and laundry could not completely dry. In my kitchen, I had dates inside a paper bag, which were very dry and hard to chew. After two days, the paper bag was soggy, and the dates had become soft.
During my early visits to nun Lhadron from Jamyang Chöling Nunnery, I asked her about the big tin boxes in her room. She explained that during the monsoon period everything gets wet from the saturated air, unless it is kept inside the tin boxes. During the extremely wet days of July, I was able to comprehend what she was referring to. As there are no close closets in McLeod Ganj, only built-in open shelves, I kept all my clothes and books inside plastic bags (which were scarce, as mentioned before in the context of the environmental culture). I always went out with my big sturdy colorful umbrella I had bought in McLeod Ganj.
One of the consequences of the monsoon is a landslide. Parts of the hills around collapsed, making a loud noise. I looked at the houses above a big landslide area from my terrace, and was pondering if it is a matter of two months or two years until they will collapse. On April 4, 1905, during the British government, a major earthquake struck McLeod Ganj. Many buildings were destroyed and numerous lives were lost. When settling in McLeod Ganj, The Dalai Lama built four Stupas around to prevent such disaster; amongst them, there was one at the TCV temple, and another at the Tushita Meditation Center.
After a month, during the last week of August, the monsoon abated slowly and we had sunny mornings with heavy rain during the afternoon. It made the days much brighter and warmer, and the sunny breaks were often accompanied with awesome rainbows. It stopped raining for a week from September first, the temperature went up, and I was happy to get back to my sandals. I learnt that a year before it rained nonstop for two months. Fortunately, this year we did experience long breaks, and one week was the longest period of consecutive rainy days. The monsoon finale lasted seven days. It started from September 10 with a non-stop rain, and was followed later by rainy afternoons. On the fifth day of Tishrei (as the date depends on the moon, this year it was September 19, 2004) the Indians started the Monsoon End Festival (called Mela), which continued for five days.
Learning yoga
On Monday June 21, I registered for daily morning yoga lessons with master Vijay. When I woke up the first day, the sun was shining, and I took my camera and went out, eager to capture all around in the beautiful light. I realized it was Monday too late, and missed the first day. It is so easy to lose the concept of time in McLeod Ganj.
The yoga style I was learning is called Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga, known also in the west as Power Yoga. As Vijay described in his brochure, "Yoga is about physical purification through posture, breath expansion, and internal cleaning. We make peace with ourselves, and from this inner harmony peace comes into our relationships."
The yoga classes were for almost three hours every morning Monday to Saturday. Vijay, a very slim and strong dark Indian man, started and ended his lessons with a loud chanting. When he raised his voice, I felt his many long "ooooo" and long "oing" suffixes in my skin, as if his voice vibration mixed with my energy or electromagnetic field. It was electrifying. He concluded his opening pray with teachings he composed: "Be a better human being. God is one, if you believe in it. It is love, compassion, and helping others. This life is not for fighting, but to live peacefully, friendly and brotherly with others. It is better not to separate human unity".
With these wonderful thoughts, we started with Sun Salutations. Vijay calmly guided the class through the Yoga Postures (called Asanas), explaining exactly what to do and how to position every part of the body. He linked each movement to the breath, by telling us when to inhale and when to exhale. Vijay allowed enough time to get into the position and stay there, while he went around and corrected the students' postures (and excuse me, precious Dr McKenzie, but the Cobra Pose is a couple of thousands years old…). I loved this slow and calm rhythm with deep breaths. It felt amazing.
During the second day of yoga, I felt my upper back hurting while doing some of the movements. Vijay said not to worry. I decided to have a massage, and had a great one at the Traditional Tibetan Universal Massage Center on Jogiwara road. Later I found Dr Tsomo Zonggong, Tibetan therapist, who had finished her studies in China. She gave excellent acupuncture and massages at the second floor of the Mount View Hotel.
I was persistent with my yoga practice, attended six consecutive weeks, my progress was slow, and I still had a long way to go. My muscles were very stiff and short, and yoga is about stretching and flexibility. Vijay paid much attention to the way I was doing the postures, made sure I did them precisely, and after a couple of days the backaches disappeared. I could not remember all the posture chains, and details for each posture. I could not experience the promised "spiritual feeling of inner harmony", maybe because I was concentrating on what I should do and did not flow smoothly.
To complete my workout I did fitness exercises at home for more than one hour. Sometimes I also walked to Dharamsala, 4 kilometers of a very steep road, 35-40 degrees. Climbing up was an excellent aerobic exercise.
Yoga was one of the many courses offered in McLeod Ganj. The courses were for tourists as well as for locals. Courses included different yoga styles; meditation courses including Vipassana and Z-meditation; Buddhism Philosophy; massage courses and single treatments of many kinds: Tibetan, Thai, Swedish and of course Indian Ayurveda; Reiki, Acupuncture, martial arts (such as karate and kickboxing); various cooking classes like Tibetan and Indian food; music and astrology. In addition, there were computer classes, language classes such as Hindi, Tibetan and more. Brick (the VolunteerTibet coordinator) called McLeod Ganj "a Spiritual Disneyland".
Volunteering
Upon my arrival on June 18, we had a volunteers' acquaintance sushi dinner at the Lung-Ta Japanese Restaurant on Jogiwara road. I met some of the VolunteerTibet volunteers, and learned that we were almost ten. Most were doing volunteer work for a short term like one or two months. My first project was to photograph the volunteers at work. I visited the guys and photographed them with their Tibetan students and coworkers. It was used by the volunteers to send home, for VolunteerTibet promotion, and for the local magazine (see the article from the CONTACT magazine in the Appendix – Volunteering, Compassion in Action).
I enjoyed the volunteers' get together. When Brick (the VolunteerTibet coordinator) left, we had a farewell party at the Pema Thang Restaurant. The food was exquisite. This restaurant also served avocado, which made their salads very special. On another occasion, Sonam (the other VolunteerTibet coordinator) invited us to her room and we prepared Momos. It was very fun to learn the process. Sonam prepared the dough from flour and water, from which we formed balls, rolled them flat on a round wooden board, placed in the center the vegetables with cheese mix Sonam had prepared, and trimmed the sides into balls or banana shapes. After 15-20 minutes in a steamer, we were eating the delicious Momos together with fresh vegetable salad.
On Sunday June 20, I went to the upper branch of the Jamyang Chöling Nunnery, where I was planning to start teaching in August. The upper branch was the first establishment of the Nunnery, and senior nuns lived there, aged between 30 and 40. The lower branch of the Nunnery at Gharoh, down at the Kangra Valley, was a new house, which was occupied by newcomers (meaning recently fled Tibetans), aged between 13 and 30. Nuns are not allowed to have long hair, so they all shave their heads. They looked exactly like monks, also wearing the same clothes, and I was not always sure who was who. Nuns are not allowed to wear jewelry, and of course – do not get married.
Nuns join the nunnery for a few years to study Buddhism Philosophy, and after graduating, they go back to their homes to teach others. Strictly speaking, Buddhism is not a religion, since it is not centered on God; rather it is a system of philosophy and code of morality. I learnt that the nuns have 364 rules of Tibetan monasticism (while monks have only 253). The four root vows concern simple prohibitions: a nun/monk must not kill, steal or lie about her/his spiritual attainment, and she/he must be strictly celibate. The rationale for the last is that sexual desire is a blind desire and can give only temporary satisfaction. If one breaks any one of these, she/he will no longer be a nun/monk in this lifetime. Nuns wake up at 4:00am, and start their day with a prayer.
Tenzin Lhadron, a senior nun at Jamyang Chöling Nunnery, asked me for immediate help with the computer. Lhadron was about to fly to Korea to attend a Tibetan Women Conference, and she requested help in preparing a photo album to show the nunnery sponsor in Korea. I helped her in typing captions for the pictures in English, printing them, and then cut and glued the labels under the printed photos in the album… It was fun.
I learned two new religious customs, in addition to the one I knew from trekking in the Annapurna in Nepal, which was to walk clockwise (meaning bypass from the left) around anything sacred, like Stupa, Gompa or Mani Stones (rocks with The Buddha of Compassion mantra in Sanskrit "Om Mani Padme Hum"). First new religious custom was if taking notes at the dharma talk (Buddhism lessons), notes should not be placed on the floor, as sacred objects should not be placed on the floor. As most of the teaching is done while sitting on the floor, nuns use a small chair to put their books on. Second was that it is rude to point the sole of your feet at people, like stretching the legs forward while listening to a talk and sitting on the floor, as feet are considered unclean.
Teaching at Jamyang Chöling Nunnery did not start in August as planned. According to Lhadron, the nuns were very busy with Buddhism Philosophy studies (two hours during the mornings and additional two hours in the early afternoons), which did not allow them time for computer studies. She contacted me whenever needed.
I helped Lhadron by photographing their new constructions, as she sent the photos to the funding organizations to show where their money was being invested. When the nunnery received a Stupa as a present from The Dalai Lama, I went with Lhadron to the lower branch of Jamyang Chöling Nunnery in Gharoh. We went on the back of a truck, jumping through the bumpy roads together with the Stupa parts. The nunnery was located in a most beautiful place in hot climate, green fields and fruit trees, which reminded me of the tropical landscape resorts at Fiji, Thailand and the Philippines. The nunnery premises were very special, with vegetable gardens and cornfields, surrounded by more greenery. It was great to watch and photograph the happy nuns while they were assembling the Stupa.
Lhadron invited me to stay one weekend at the Gharoh branch, photographing the place and the nuns. It was awesome to stay in a relaxing silence and peaceful atmosphere. Most of the nunnery students came from India, about seven were newcomer Tibetans, and two were Ladakhis that were not nuns. Gangchub Lhamo, one of the nuns, offered to join me strolling along Gharoh Village. The Indian villagers were very warm and welcoming. Every house invited me in for a cup of Chai (tea with milk), which I accepted, respecting their exceptional hospitality.
On Wednesday, June 23, I started conversation-tutoring lessons at Gu-Chu-Sum school, one hour every day not including weekends and holidays. I had two Tibetan students, who had fled on foot from Tibet, and sometimes a third one joined. Once the Chinese authorities catch a Tibetan in a political act, the Tibetan might either get a prison sentence or a home detention. Many then decide to exile and flee to Dharamsala.
Gyalmtso Lobsang and Kalsang Tsering:
Kalsang Tsering, a monk, was 30 years old. In 1995, he came on foot together with other nine people through Nepal. 18 days of walking to Katmandu, three days of a bus ride to Delhi, and another day of a bus ride to Dharamsala. His mother died, his father together with his brother and sister were still in Tibet.
Gyalmtso Lobsang was 23 years old, and he came on foot together with 21 people in 2000. A child in this group, one year old, carried by his mother, could not get enough oxygen at the heights, and died on the way. This group walked for 24 days until they reached Katmandu. Lobsang's eight family members were still in Tibet.
Indians know English, as it is one of the formal languages in India, and they start learning it at elementary school. The Tibetans attend free school in Tibet only for four years, not at a specific age, and do not learn English. More education is being offered, but it is way too expensive for Tibetans, and most of them cannot afford it. In addition, China dictates the curriculum, which does not preserve Tibetan heritage.
Tibetans respect education, were eager to learn, and it was very rewarding to help them. We went through all the names of family members and relatives; learned the names of body parts and clothing items; described what we do from waking up in the morning till going to sleep at night, and what we eat; we talked about garbage separation and recycling; described the water cycle; role played a buyer and a seller in a shop and job interviews; and described the surroundings. We also read stories and talked about them. To learn geography we used a small globe, and described the continents, islands, and different climates. Whenever weather permitted – we went out, walked in the beautiful nature around us, and enjoyed an open and free atmosphere, until the Gu-Chu-Sum headmaster had forbidden going out.
One Sunday, together with my students Gyalmtso and Kalsang, we went to Bhagsu Nag. The weather was wonderful. We went up the Bhagsu River, where locals wash themselves and their clothes in the clear pools. The monks' dark red robes and Zens were spread to dry over the rocks around. The water in the Bhagsu River was very clean. All of a sudden clouds covered the skies, and heavy rain poured. We sheltered under a roof by the open swimming pool. It was amusing to see the big drops of rain falling into the pool, while Indian males remained inside. I had a raincoat with me, but did not use it as Gyalmtso and Kalsang did not have anything to protect themselves from the rain. We came back home completely soaked.
After six weeks of daily lessons, my English student Gyalmtso started talking English fluently. He managed to overcome a barrier, opened up, and started to talk non-stop with confidence, allowing himself to make mistakes. He was raising painful and sensitive issues. On the first time, Gyalmtso talked with passion for at least ten minutes, about not having a future. While being happy to discover how he progressed and expressed himself in English, his words touched me emotionally. Gyalmtso did not want to have a future in India. He wanted to go back home to Tibet, to be with his family, and to build his life there. He spoke with anger about his difficulties with Hindi and English languages, and his desire to speak Tibetan. He claimed he did not belong there, India was not home for him. He enjoyed studying in India, but when finished, he wanted to go back home.
I was frozen, and only a couple of meetings later I was able to discuss with him reality and opportunities in India. He expressed his wish to become a Tibetan language teacher at the Sarah institute at Bir, where he studied Tibetan for two years.
It hurts to recognize that Tibetans made the exhausting and dangerous escape route across the Himalayas, to find they are homeless, jobless and rootless in India. Two years after my visit, I was happy when Gyalmtso wrote me an email, telling me he got married in McLeod Ganj, and had a baby girl.
Gyalmtso talked about his life in Tibet. His family had a big farm, many animals, and fields of vegetables. During the winter, he used to go together with his brother to the mountains to pick worms and mushrooms for Chinese medicine, which they sold at a high price. When he told me that they produce butter on the farm, I asked whether it is cow, sheep or yak butter. He burst into laughter and corrected me that in Tibetan, the word yak refers only to the male of the species (the bull). A female is called Dri in Tibetan. I explained to him that in most languages which borrowed the word yak, including English, yak is usually used for both sexes.
When Gyalmtso's friend died, he told me that for three days Tibetans kept the body at home, while many monks and Lamas came to pray for a good next life. On the third day, Gyalmtso went there at 3:00 in the morning, to prepare food for guests who were arriving at 5:00am for the cremation ceremony.
In traditional Tibetan Buddhism, the monks cut dead bodies, which were eaten by the vultures. It is called sky burial. I remember very well how shocking I was when watching the scene of the vultures swooping down on Kundun (The 14th Dalai Lama) father's chopped organs.
Gyalmtso was talking at length about life as a refugee. As early as crossing the border from Tibet to Nepal, Nepali police officers catch the Tibetan refugees, and by their mercy sometimes send the Tibetans into Nepali prison, and other times deliver them back to the Chinese soldiers. If lucky, they stay in Nepali prison until the Tibetan Refugee Reception Center in Katmandu pays for their release.
Nepalese were tough with Tibetan refugees also after they escaped. When Gyalmtso went once back to Nepal, to escort his uncle who had fled from Tibet to Dharamsala, the Nepali police officers searched him thoroughly, making sure he did not intend to do business in Nepal. The Nepalese took from him everything he had, except one set of spare clothes. Gyalmtso told me that if the Nepalese find on a Tibetan a camera, a radio or anything like that, they confiscate it.
I volunteered to be the formal photographer of the International Tibetan Women's Leadership Conference, held during September 3-5, 2004, at the Asia Health Resort close to Dal Lake. I offered my services to Stephanie, an American who volunteered at the Tibetan Women Association (TWA), whom I met in one of the volunteer gatherings. Stephanie Goodell was a faculty member at the University of Virginia at Charlottesville. As the TWA did not have a photographer, they happily accepted the offer. The Tibetan way is to allow things to happen by themselves, and magically, it always turns out good. This was one of those cases.
When we went to the temple to meet The Dalai Lama, the Tibetan women decided I should wear a Chupa, which one of the participants, Dickyi, lent me. All participants wore Chupas in conservative colors of browns and grays. The one Dickyi lent me was bright red (on the next page, Stephanie, Dickyi and I). In addition, Stephanie and I had light colored hair and skin, compared to the Tibetans', and we became very visible to The Dalai Lama, who immediately asked about "the yellow heads".
The Dalai Lama gave a 20 minute speech in Tibetan. He approached two Buddhist Muslims from Srinagar in the crowd, talking about Buddhists as representatives of all religions.
At the end we lined up, and walked up in front of The Dalai Lama, while bowing. All bent their heads, while I bent my back but straightened my eyes at his. He smiled and responded with a blessing "Tashi Delek". We received presents including a blessed long white silk scarf (called Khata), a poster of The Dalai Lama and a poster of The Buddha of Compassion, a few blessed edible seeds for healing, and a red thread to tie around the neck for protection (called Shandue). Putting Khata around one's neck is the traditional Tibetan gesture on departure and signifies not only propitiation, but also implies the intention of return.
The International Tibetan Women's Leadership conference was in Tibetan, except for Stephanie's part in her workshop, and I was unable to understand the content of the sessions. The conference was managed as any western conference. When mobiles rang during sessions, women answered. One of the speakers at the conference was Penpa Tsering, who was the executive director of the Tibetan Parliamentary and Policy Research Center. He distributed the book "Self-Governance through an Autonomous Arrangements", which was half in Tibetan and half in English, so I could read the English while he was talking. I was also reading an article written by B. Tsering, who was the head of the TWA, about the political situation of Tibet. B. Tsering, who was heading the conference, holds a PhD degree from the University of Virginia, USA. She is a remarkable person.
I read that The Dalai Lama assessed that time is running out for the Tibetan culture's survival in occupied Tibet. The Chinese invasion in 1949 catalyzed the process and made it more rapid. Chinese authorities are systematically destroying the identity of Tibetan people by religious persecution, consistent violations of human rights, and the wholesale destruction of religious and historic buildings, destruction of the environment, militarization of the country and the transfer of millions of the Chinese population into Tibet. The six million Tibetan people have been outnumbered by 7.5 million of the Chinese population in Tibet. Chinese own 98% of the stores in Lhasa, while Tibetans work only in service roles. The Chinese brought western development and culture, which affected the Tibetan people as a distinct people and culture.
On 1965, The Dalai Lama decided to agree with China on the Tibet Autonomous Region (TAR) at Ü-Tsang and part of Kham provinces of former Tibet, as he believed this would be achievable (former Tibet included three provinces: Kham province of south-eastern Tibet, Amdo in north-eastern Tibet and Ü-Tsang in western Tibet). The book "Self-Governance through an Autonomous Arrangements", which addresses options for Tibet's future political status, is based on a thorough study of 33 autonomous arrangements around the world. I learnt that the Tibetans removed the historical or territorial claim based on past independence, as history is subject for interpretation in many different ways. Tibetans hold the right to self-determination, as being a distinct people.
But, when breaking down the TAR governmental power into factors, and describing the current situation for each ministry, it becomes clear that even with the few governmental powers that the current TAR government controls, the ultimate control rests with the PRC's central government. In addition, members of the PRC's Communist Party, many of which are Chinese, control the TAR government. Furthermore, the Communist Party's policies are based on an atheist philosophy, which is not suitable to Tibetan culture.
I was able to learn from reading the book about The Dalai Lama's Five Points Peace Proposal and the Strasburg Proposal for a permanent, mutually beneficial, negotiated settlement of the Tibetan issue. The proposal suggested autonomy to all Tibet, not just TAR, which would allow Tibetans to have control over all governmental powers, except defense and some aspects of foreign affairs. It was very interesting for me to learn about different aspects of autonomy, and the various autonomous arrangements around the world.
When the conference ended, B. Tsering thanked me for my volunteering work, and awarded me with a beautiful and rich Khata, and with a dedicated copy of the book about the Tibetan autonomy I mentioned above. As if this was not enough, after receiving the photographs, the TWA were so happy with the results that they gave me another Khata, and two Tibetan decorations: Silk Tashtragil with the eight signs of good luck, and a fabric with a "Never Give Up" quote from The Dalai Lama. Photographing the conference opened for me more volunteering work with the TWA, and I helped them with computer stuff, such as updating their website and using applications.
Tibetans fled stories
Looking north, I could see the Himalayan peaks, which have only few snow patches. Tenzin told me about families who send their children from Tibet, China, over the Himalayas to Dharamsala, while the parents stay behind, to get good grounded education in Tibetan and in English. The kids cross the Himalayas on foot during winter, as in winter China reduces security control. They walk at night and sleep during the day, to avoid the Chinese border guards. Books describe in detail alternative paths. The shorter routes are riskier due to the presence of more Chinese soldiers.
The brave pilgrim refugees who cross the Himalayas carry a little amount of supplies on their backs, such as dried yak meat and Tsampa (milled and roasted barley), put on thin-sole shoes, without tents to sleep in.
I was deeply touched. It seems that Tibetans believe that receiving Tibetan education and being close to The Dalai Lama is more important than growing in the environment of parents' love.
One evening, Stephanie invited me to join her together with Tibetan friends for dinner at the Mc'LLo Restaurant and Beer Bar. Stephanie, a beautiful person, knew many Tibetans in person, and seemed very close to them. We sat on the roof, watching the amazing sunset. After tasting several Indian beers, I decided that I like the Thunderbolt Beer the most. I was interested to know more about our Tibetan friends, and they told me their personal stories.
Kunchok was a tourist guide back in Tibet. Tourism in Tibet must be politically correct. One time, while he was guiding a group of English tourists, Chinese police officers watched him. He explained to me that when he talks about Tibetan culture and The Dalai Lama, he cannot sound less than emotional. Chinese police officers watched him, caught him, interrogated him at a police station, and shouted at him. He decided to flee, leaving behind his family.
Jigmey came on foot with his younger brother four years before, to get Tibetan education. Jigmey was 26 years old, and left his father, mother, and three brothers in Tibet. His 24-year-old brother, who escaped with him, was a monk. Jigmey explained to me the situation in Tibet. Tibetans are denied freedom of expression and freedom of movement (it is extremely hard for them to get a passport), the right to get a proper education, the right to have a free and fair trial and the right to a fair wage.
There are even limits imposed upon when and where Tibetans can practice Buddhism. Before 1959, a Tibetan could choose to become a monk at any age, and it was customary to start studies very early, before becoming 10 years old. Now, the Chinese do not allow them to start monastic studies, until they are at least 18 years of age. Hundreds of Tibetan monasteries have been destroyed, and The Potala (HH The Dalai Lama's Palace) is now a tourist attraction which makes money for the Chinese Government, while The Dalai Lama lives in Dharamsala. Tibetans constantly live under the microscope of the Chinese police. If Tibetans dare to stand against the Chinese, they pay a heavy price, facing imprisonment and torture like being beaten black and blue with electric batons and even having the electric elements inserted into their mouths and vaginas.
My neighbor Wangdon (on right/above) was sentenced for three years by the Chinese authorities at the age of 16, just for a quiet demonstration in Lhasa. In prison she suffered isolation, was bitten, electrically shocked in her neck and mouth, and was humiliated by the Chinese. She suffered from a cold, slept on a concrete floor wearing only a Chupa in the cold of Tibet, and became very sick. Sonam told me the Chinese raped Wangdon on a regular basis. When Wangdon felt a terrible pain in her tummy, while in prison, the Chinese operated on her, but she doesn't know what they did to her. This did not stop her from escaping on foot through the Himalayas to Dharamsala, together with other 27 people. In India she was diagnosed as suffering from Hepatitis B. Only 27 years old, and she went through so much suffering in her life. She has no family in India, and misses her family in Tibet. She is a model for her spirit and livelihood.
Rinchen Tsering had an amazing story. He escaped Tibet in a harrowing difficult journey over the Himalayas in 1997. When realizing the sad state of adult education in Dharamsala, he built The Dogga Adult Education Center, together with the help of a Belgian lady, and offered free education to everyone who wants to learn. With the help of various Belgian donors, he ran The Dogga classroom, which offered many courses all through the day, and The Dogga Internet Café, which offered internet services. Teachers were volunteers from all over the world. The computers were used by the computer class students during the morning, and in the afternoon and evenings they were used by the Internet Café. The Dogga center was not managed for profit. All of the earnings were re-circulated into the organization and provided money for rent, supplies, upkeep, and other overhead expenses.
The Dogga Internet Café was the most beautiful one in McLeod Ganj. It had big windows facing the Himalayas; a high ceiling with spacious computer stations; boiled and filtered water containers, snacks for purchase; and a very tidy toilet.
When Rinchen told me he was buying a new digital camera, I offered him photography lessons. Rinchen had a keen eye and he caught composition factors very fast. His photographs improved dramatically from one session to another.
With each Tibetan flee story, I was amazed to realize how much Tibetans value education and perceive education as power. Still, Kunchok, who worked in The Dogga Internet Café, made a note that it is easier to trust eastern people without education, than western people because of their education. Hmmm...
Dharamsala means in Hindi a guesthouse or a rest house for the traveler. Tibetans believe that Dharamsala (the place) is their dharamsala (guesthouse). Tibetans miss Tibet. Whenever we spoke about Tibet, they got glossy eyes. No doubt, it is the homeland along with the family, which they had not seen for years, and didn't know when they would see again. They send letters, they call, but they cannot get together.
In India, Tibetans get an identification certificate of a foreigner, which is used also as a passport when departing and entering India. It is not easy to get one, personal relationships and baksheesh help. Lucky Tibetans who have one, need to renew this certificate every year, and must carry it at all times. They also receive a fake Indian birth certificate, which declares they were born in India. Tibetans without papers have many difficulties traveling outside India. Luckily, in India the authorities are less restricted.
Twice I went to the TCV, the Tibetan Children Village, close to Nadi village. Most kids in the TCV are orphans; others were left in the TCV while their parents went back to Tibet. When planning my volunteering before arriving, I wanted very much to give small kids my love, but I was afraid it would boost their separation anxiety at the end of the term, and it would hurt. Later I found out that indeed Tibetans do not take short term volunteers to work with young kids.
My first visit to the TCV was with Stephanie, and the other time with Sonam (the VolunteerTibet coordinator) and a few volunteers. In the TCV's Babies Room there were 26 babies with no parents around. The Tibetan babies were so cute and sought for love. I did not hear any Tibetan kid cry. The TCV is a well-organized village with facilities such as buses, a bakery and a laundry, and is very clean. Sonam's father left and married another woman, her mother died when she was six years old, leaving her and her brother to grow up at the TCV. The TCV is the home of the kids until they graduate, find a job, and can make it on their own.
Two beautiful paths lead down from the TCV back to McLeod Ganj, both from the football yard. One goes directly down through the amazing forest. The other starts by climbing up through The Old Tibetan Home, the Tibetan monks Meditation Corner, and then down through the forest.
Among many documentary films about Tibet, I watched "Escape from Tibet" from 1994, where I watched The Dalai Lama requesting the newcomers to go back to Tibet after having some education, in order to preserve Tibetan culture. Only few do go back to Tibet.
Tibetan culture
On June 26, I went to the birthday festival of The 17th Karmapa. The Karmapa is the third significant incarnation for the Tibetan Buddhists, whereas The Dalai Lama is the first and The Panchen Lama is the second.
In 1995 the current Dalai Lama named a 6 years old boy as the 11th Panchen Lama. This child and his family have gone missing, while the PRC named another child as a "Panchen Lama", China's Panchen Lama. The PRC wants to have full control over this individual, as The Panchen Lama is the one to discover the reincarnation of the next Dalai Lama, after the death of the current one. Without a real Tibetan Buddhist Panchen Lama, something will change in the Tibetan culture after the death of the current 14th Dalai Lama (some say The Dalai Lama will choose not to reincarnate, and The Karmapa will become the Tibetan-in-exile spiritual leader).
The celebration of The 17th Karmapa birthday was in the Gyuto Monastery at Sidmbari. I got there with a matchbox taxi (rickshaw, 200INR). The festival was beautiful. The Himalayan peaks were sticking out behind the yellow temple, Tibetans were dressed with colorful special holiday dressings, monks and nuns in dark red and yellow, and all rainbow colors of umbrellas to protect from the sun. The weather was warm and pleasant.
The Karmapa's birthday celebration:
The show included dances in many various costumes, singers, and instrument players. Tibetan ceremonies progress very slowly, last many hours, and there is a high risk of dehydration of the crowd while standing in the sun. In this event they broke for lunch, served free tasty food, rice and many different cooked vegetable dishes, followed by bananas and pieces of cake. As I was busy photographing the dancers, they invited me for soft drinks such as coke. It was a real celebration of happiness and colors.
I missed at least two of the Tibetan events, where The Dalai Lama participated. Due to security reasons, Tibetan organizers do not publish when The Dalai Lama is expected to appear, and the information is spread only at the last moment. The Tibetan calendar is very complicated, and no one was able to explain the rules. The Tibetan calendar is based on a lunar month, with a sixty-year cycle. Sometimes it skips days, other times it repeats a specific day, in both cases those days can be somewhere along the month. Sometimes the calendar skips a full month. Events are not scheduled in advance, there is no formal publication of expected events, the Tibetan calendar does not specify all events, and I was unable to receive such information. I had to rely on getting event information from friends by coincidence.
The 14th Dalai Lama's 69th birthday festival on July 6, 2004, was wonderful. The inner yard of the temple was not big enough to include all participants, as many Tibetans and tourists were crowded to pay their respects to HH The Dalai Lama, though he did not participate in person. Tibetans looked happy, kept smiling, were dressed with amazing costumes and colorful clothes, and all family members participated. Gyalmtso (my English student) had prepared together with his friends many prayer flags. On July 6 at 2:30 in the morning, he climbed together with other 23 guys up to Inderhar Pass (4,350m) in the Himalayas, to put the prayer flags and pray, paying their respects to The Dalai Lama.
HH The Dalai Lama is living in the Potala (a simple palace named after the one in Lhasa) inside the Tsuglagkhang complex, where also the Kalachakra temple and the Namgyal Gompa stand. The buildings, in a relatively modest structure, enshrine sacred items such as statues and texts.
The Dalai Lama is very busy with raising awareness of the fate of Tibet in the hands of the Chinese. He does so by meeting people who come to visit him, or by traveling all over the world. This is his way of fighting, as Tibetans do not use violence. In 1989, The Dalai Lama was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, presented to him primarily for his endeavors to find a peaceful solution for the liberation of Tibet.
Cinema was a pleasant experience at McLeod Ganj. Entrances to the three little cinemas along Jogiwara road were through narrow corridors and down narrow stairs. The cinemas' halls were about 3x4 meters. Each had about six rows; in some of them, each row was on a different stair level, other halls were flat, divided into two columns with 2-3 seats on each side. Screens varied from a one meter monitor to three meters of hanging white cloth. They were cool and felt pleasant inside. Movies run four times a day, every day, and include a wide selection. Until everyone got in, instead of commercials (used in the west), they played video clips of Indian singers.
I went to the cinema to watch "Kundun", the amazing story of The 14th Dalai Lama (called Kundun in addition to Tenzin Gyatso and many other names given to him at different stages of his life. Tibetans do not have family names, and they use the same names for males, females and pets).
Watching documentaries and authentic Tibetan movies in the cinema was very powerful. Once again I got very emotional about the fact that once The Dalai Lama is discovered, he is taken from his parents and does not have a regular childhood. In his book "Freedom in Exile", the autobiography of the XIV's Dalai Lama of Tibet (I read the 1998 edition, printed in 2002), The Dalai Lama describes his childhood in relation to seeing his parents. Unhappy periods were when he was away from his parents; one intense quote is "it is very hard for a small child to be separated from his parents". Happy times were when he could see his parents, another strong quote is when his parents were not far, and he used to sneak away to spend time with his parents. "This was not really allowed, but the Regent, who was responsible for me, chose to ignore these excursions".
The movie "Kundun" and the book, emphasize the Tibetans peaceful way of life. Tibetans are against violence and war, no matter what the consequences are. The Chinese had no difficulty to invade Tibet, as there was almost no resistance from the Tibetans. When the Chinese invaded Tibet, they claimed they had come to liberate and bring progress to Tibet. My association was the arrogant attitude of Argentina when invading The Falkland Islands, as it was fresh in my mind from my recent trip. The Argentineans managed the invasion for a similar reason – there was no army in The Falklands at that time.
On Thursday July 22, HH The Dalai Lama started his Buddhism or Dharma Teachings, for the duration of ten days. Due to security reasons, participants were required to issue a special badge, and went through thorough security checks. It seemed to me that the armed security guides, who filled the palace grounds, were out of context on this occasion.
Translations into English, Japanese, Chinese and more, were broadcasted via FM radio (which I bought together with earphones). I went the first day, and tried my best to follow the teachings. There was no guidance where to sit, and the radio reception was very poor in several places I checked. After an hour of catching only a few words through the noise, never a full sentence, I gave up and left. Later I learnt that there was a special place on the second floor for foreigners, but as usual, info was not offered in an orderly manner in McLeod Ganj. They didn't even issue notifications about the changes in the teaching hours to the registered participants. I was frustrated when I discovered that I missed things just due to lack of information.
After a couple of days, I decided to try again The Dalai Lama's Teachings. This time I went straight to the second floor, as someone told me, and indeed the radio reception was good. I followed and enjoyed some of the ideas. They were a collection of beautiful humane idioms, which felt good to listen to. The doors of the temple were open, The Dalai Lama sat inside on his lifted Chair, and I felt the surrounding holy atmosphere.
When the teachings ended, The Dalai Lama walked along the path close to me, and I felt something in the air with his huge glowing smile. The Dalai Lama has a heartwarming smile; a smile that comes from within, it is a powerful smile.
The last teaching day on Saturday, July 31, was special, and I went there again. Huge number of Tibetans gathered, and the temple and its surroundings were full. I felt sorry I could not bring in my camera, due to the security restrictions, to capture the faces. People got red ribbons to put on their forehead, and repeated some prayers loudly.
At the end, monks went through with buckets full of Tsampa Balls, and served everyone. Tsampa is a traditional Tibetan food, which is made of roasted barley and sugar. Tibetans roast the barley with sand, then filter the barley, and grain the barley into fine flour. Tsampa can be served in different ways: adding butter and preparing solid balls, adding milk and serving it as porridge, or just adding liquid like tea and eating it with a spoon. Tibetans near me explained that eating the Tsampa would bless me with long life, love and compassion. I had six balls…
When the teachings ended, The Dalai Lama went out, and this time he walked very slowly, holding with both hands the hands that were stretched towards him, dropping personal comments to everyone. I watched his magnifying smile, and noticed that all parts of his face were smiling; actually, his whole body was smiling. He projected so much warmth and light. Young Tibetans who escaped from Tibet and arrived here by foot perceive him as their father, which I am sure puts a heavy emotional load on his shoulders, and he indeed acts as the loving father of all.
I went to concerts at TIPA, the Tibetan Institute of Performing Arts, where the atmosphere was non-formal and very joyful. Tibetan performers wore colorful traditional dresses. As The Dalai Lama wrote in his autobiography "Freedom in Exile", "we are simple people who like nothing better than a good show and good party". Though concerts included traditional shows, the globalization influence was clearly there. Off stage, young Tibetans dressed and behaved as westerners. Young Tibetans searched for immigration opportunities, which resulted in many marriages between Tibetans and western people.
Young Tibetans did not accept The Dalai Lama's decision to agree on TAR, and they talked about taking violent actions in the future, to gain independence. It was common to see Tibetan youth make choices that go against the Tibetan tradition. After reading The Dalai Lama's characterization of Tibetans in his autobiography "Freedom in Exile", saying "Tibetans are by nature quite aggressive people and quite warlike", I fear Tibetans would use terrorism out of frustration and anger. No doubt, it would not happen during the current Dalai Lama's lifetime.
On September 2nd, the Tibetans celebrate their Democracy Day. From the time HH The Dalai Lama sought refuge in India in 1959, he worked towards democratic elections for Tibetan deputies, so Tibetans would less depend on him. The first elected representative body in Tibet's history – The Tibetan Parliament-in-Exile – first met on September 2, 1960.
The colorful ceremony took place in the temple, and included performances of singers and dancers. The TCV kids' dance was marvelously cute.
Another precious place I visited in McLeod Ganj was the "Dip Tse-Chok Ling" beautiful Gompa, where traditional Tibetan articles are presented. The Gompa lies at the bottom of a steep track, which leads off the lane past the "Om Guesthouse". In addition to images, they presented a superb butter Mandala sculpture. The butter was mixed with wax and sculptured into symmetric forms circling one center. Sand Mandalas are also made there once a year in honor of Losar, the Tibetan New Year. They keep the Mandala for the full year, and disperse it before the next New Year, to symbolize detachment. The Gompa resides in a small peaceful place, with rich vegetation.
Indians and Tibetans at McLeod Ganj
In McLeod Ganj, there are many little jewelry stores with gemstones. After being captured by a colored Chrysocolla ornamental stone, solid blue-green member of the quartz clan, presented in one of the little stores, I entered to chat with the owners, Muslim Kashmiri Mushtaq and his elder relative Gul Katto. As tourism is low in Kashmir, they stay in McLeod Ganj to support their families in Kashmir. Mushtaq prepared for me an amazing Mala and bracelets. Gul invited me a couple of times to dine at their small room, together with Gul's nephew Altaaf. We dined sitting on their big bed, where all three of them slept. They kindly offered me a spoon as they ate with their hands. They were so warm and welcoming, shared their room, a cup of Chai and their food. I felt great with them. Altaaf, 22 years old, was making his independent way. His goal was to make enough money to send his parents to Mecca and Medina. Later I visited him during his lunchtime, and he invited me to share his morsel of food, in his new small rented room, half way to Bhagsu Nag.
On one of the light-out evenings I entered "The Taste of India" restaurant to have some soup. As this restaurant had excellent food, it was full. The waiter asked me to sit together with two Sikh Indian guys, Jagdeep Srangal and Mohit. Jagdeep immigrated to Canada, and worked on projects in the USA as a programmer. When I met him he was visiting his family in Chandigarh. His cousin Mohit owned a garment factory at Kathua (close to Pathankot), and exported his T-shirts. They were waiting for their take-away order, and when heading to their hotel room, they invited me to join them. Both had great English, I enjoyed talking to them, so I accepted their invitation. In their hotel room, they opened an exquisite Australian Merlot, it was my first wine in India. They preferred drinking whisky. We kept talking, eating and drinking until 2:00am. On the next day we went together to Bhagsu Nag, and tasted from the Israeli food section of the "Ashoka Restaurant" menu, the schnitzel with veggie salad and potato chips, which were OK.
After two months in Dharamsala, I was able to comprehend the observed cultural differences between Tibetans, Indians and me. While volunteering I felt Tibetans appreciate the knowledge I shared with them. As I mentioned above, Tibetans, as Buddhists, highly evaluate education and knowledge. It is even concealed in The Dalai Lama's name: Dalai is a Mongolian word meaning ocean, and Lama is a Tibetan term corresponding to the Indian word Guru, which denotes a teacher. Together the words Dalai Lama are loosely translated as "Ocean of Wisdom". Monks, nuns, lamas and yogis devote themselves to learning Buddhist Philosophy.
On the other hand, Tibetans do not value time the way I do. They missed lessons without any notification, such as leaving a note on a closed door, or letting the neighbors pass a message. A couple of times I arrived at the nunnery, but the nun whom I was supposed to meet was simply not there. I did not know if I should wait, or whether she was about to arrive. A few times other nuns would tell me that the nun was away for a couple of days. Naama, an Israeli who lived in McLeod Ganj and volunteered to teach Tibetans Reiki, was deeply hurt when they occasionally just did not show up for appointments.
Several times Tibetans said in the simplest way, "we can do it when you come next year", as if it is natural to come again.
The way I observed it, Tibetans in India live inside a glass house. They get free education, as all institutes are being sponsored, and India funds a great part of the Tibetan education program. Tibetans perceive receiving donations and sponsorships as a natural part of their life. E.g, a poor family should seek sponsorship (I volunteered to picture such families, to be sent abroad for receiving sponsorship). It seemed to me that they do not appreciate the effort to get and stay there.
Tibetans live in a very modest and simple way. Most of the families lived in one small room; the toilet was outside and shared, with a shared small showering room attached to the toilet, used with a bucket. Only a few Tibetans lived in the type of room I lived in. Tibetans' personal belongings could fill one bag.
I also observed differences between Tibetans and Indians in McLeod Ganj. Tibetans did not keep their shops open at all times. It looked to me like they closed their shops once they had made enough money for their immediate essentials. Indians, on the other hand, kept their shops open during the whole day until very late at night, except on Monday, which is the shops weekly sabbatical day.
Most Tibetans were selling at a low fixed price, while Indians would easily raise their prices ridiculously to the western shoppers, and accept bargaining. Once I had about ten limes in my hand, and I asked the Indian guy in the market how much I need to pay. When he said 25INR, I was shocked and replied: "25? Why not 15?" and he immediately concluded with "OK". The real value should have been 10, only that 15 was the first number that popped in my mind when he said 25.
Many nagging Indian beggars were wandering in the streets, kids and moms with their babies. They were untouchable Indians, which means from the lowest caste, live in homeless tents in Dharamsala. As Indians do not have mandatory free education, Seda, a Turkish volunteer who lived in England, decided to sponsor the studies of a five-year-old girl from that neighborhood for ten years. I did not see even one Tibetan beggar in the streets, though I know they constantly apply abroad for funds and sponsorships.
Another observation is that Indians worked all day long and very hard in physical jobs like building construction and road repairing. I had not seen even one Tibetan who worked hard at any physical job. Tibetans had short working days: they took long breaks, and played during working hours. I was told that Indians rarely hire Tibetans, as one put it "you are welcome here, but do not take our jobs".
Tibetans did not mix with Indians. There were no mixed marriages, and I observed only a few Indians in Tibetan concerts. Tibetans prefer to preserve their culture and identity in the context of the Indians, but looked forward to marrying westerners in order to get a passport. On the one hand, Tibetans perceived their life in India as temporary. On the other hand, the Indians gave their land and opened their hearts to strange Tibetans who escaped in thousands from persecution and pain (in 2009, 94,203 Tibetan refugees were in India). Dhull, an Indian friend, wrote to me "tell your Tibetans they are not refugees, they are at home".
India assists Tibetans in spite of its own enormous economic difficulties.
Learning meditation
On Thursday, August 12, it seemed the right time for me to take a break, and I started my six-day meditation retreat at Z-meditation (Z stands for Zenith). For preparation I had to exercise each day one hour the following: said "Om" while inhaling, and counted down from 100 while exhaling (in-Om, out-100, in-Om, out-99, in-Om, out-98 etc). I had to write down the number I reached plus the thought that crossed my mind. At first I lost concentration, meaning I had parallel thoughts. First, I got to 59 when I was just puzzled out. Next, I went down to 54 when I got sleepy. This exercise made me feel dizzy and I stopped after 15 minutes. However, at the following exercises it was clear that when I was determined to make it, I would make it down to zero. When I did it just out of duty, I lost around 40-50.
The retreat days were peaceful and calm. Ajay Kapoor, a wonderful Indian who seemed very peaceful, conducted the meditation. Usually he runs retreats with his wife Suruchi Dayal, who was not present in our retreat. Ajay's definition of Meditation is a mindful action; allow only one stream of thoughts to flow in the mind, do things with awareness, identify and release noise like parallel streams of thoughts. To reduce noise and help us work on our minds, we kept silent, meaning that we did not talk for six days, avoided eye contact from each other, and ate light vegetarian food. No caffeine like in black tea or coffee, no garlic, onion or strong spices. Following the retreat I added to my breakfast menu Munnka raisins and almonds that had been soaked all night in water, and sliced banana with honey.
Ajay's teachings included beautiful ideas about love, peace, balance, freedom and independence from extrinsic attachments, happiness and joy. It is always great to listen and think about these. As I also hold some of these beliefs, it was good to devote time and concentrate on them. Most meaningful to me was to be free of expectations from others; to be able to have pure observations, without giving interpretations and being judgmental; and accepting things as they are.
I learnt a technique to help unbound negative thoughts. The technique includes an inquiry, which should help to understand if and why I should abandon a specific thought. The inquiry includes questions such as is it relevant or useful in this moment; is it conducive to peace; will it make me complete and peaceful for good, is it permanent, what is my history with such a thought, what is reality, is it my business; how do I feel when I am attached to the condition, any distressful reason to hold it, any reason to drop it?
I was inquiring about my deep agony due to my love for Rafael. I missed Rafael and was thinking about him all the time. Dharamsala was a beautiful shelter, but I could not run away from my powerful love for Rafael. I knew I should let it go. The above inquiry allowed me to add reasonable weight, to make it clear why I should set it free. Thinking about my love for Rafael was not useful, and had no relevance to the present, as he is with his wife, and this is not my business, not under my control, and I do not wish to have any control over it. Keeping my love to Rafael would not bring me peace. Continuing to love him would not make me complete and peaceful for good.
A relationship with Rafael was not part of my reality and could not be permanent. While attached to my love for Rafael I felt much pain, I was frustrated and sad. There was no reason to hold it; I certainly had to drop it. I knew there was no miracle and hocus pocus it would be gone. But I wanted to believe that such awareness would help me detach more quickly from it (and indeed, slowly it did).
During one of our conversations, when I raised my perception of the cultural differences between Tibetans, Indians and myself, Ajay confirmed it. In his terminology, Tibetans' and Indians' cultures are more lethargic; not keeping appointments, not arriving on time, not completing the job on time, are all very common. According to the ladder of evolution Ajay presented, western culture is more sensual, aesthetic and creative, which are all at higher levels. Ajay added that Indians do not attend spiritual courses, and in all his years of providing meditation courses, he had only ten Indian students. This is not due to money reasons, as Indians do stay in very expensive hotels in McLeod Ganj, paying 3,000INR and more per night, where you will not find even one western person.
While attending the retreat I had some free time, which I devoted to reading and physical workout. While reading "Illusions, The Adventure of a Reluctant Messiah" by Richard Bach, I was smiling from the sentence "there is no problem so big that it cannot be run away from" (was he quoting Snoopy the dog?). Dale Carnegie in "How to win friends and influence people" was putting in clear words Ajay's teachings: "Finding happiness is by controlling your thoughts. Happiness does not depend on outward conditions. It depends on inner conditions. It is not what you have, or who you are, or where you are, or what you are doing, that makes you happy or unhappy. It is what you think about it".
I enjoyed sitting on the roof of the meditation center facing the Himalayas, admiring the beautiful view, while thinking about the mantras: pure joy is pure observation, mindful balance, total acceptance, peaceful completeness, loving kindness, here and now. I watched the clouds climb up the valley, reach the bottom houses of McLeod Ganj, and then slide back down. At times, the clouds would form on the peaks of the Himalayas, slide down, reach the top buildings of McLeod Ganj, and evaporate. On other times, the clouds would arrive, cover McLeod Ganj, so they completely blocked all visibility, and sometimes after a while they would bring a heavy rain. I enjoyed the rain. When the rain stopped and it cleared, big drops were hanging at the tips of the pine needles, glowing in the light. I watched the Rhododendron trees, imagining them covered by blooming flowers around April. Few clouds were floating at middle height, exposing Moon Peak (4,930m) and Matter Horn Peak (5,130m), sailing slowly across.
Learning Buddhist philosophy
On Monday August 23, I joined the Buddhist philosophy course at "The Library of Tibetan Works and Archives", in Gangchen Kyishong, ⅗ of the way from McLeod Ganj to Dharamsala. As this ⅗ part is the most beautiful part of the steep road, with shortcuts through nature, I enjoyed very much the daily walks down and up. Geshe Sonam Rinchen taught lessons in Tibetan language, while Ruth Sonam translated his ideas into a very clear and easy to follow English. Geshe is a degree in Buddhist studies, equivalent to PhD in university. Only 10 monks a year graduate and become Geshe. There was an excellent chemistry between Gyen La (as Ruth called him. Gyen means a teacher, and La is a Tibetan respectful way to call someone, added after the name) and Ruth, who had an extensive knowledge in Buddhist philosophy and practice, translated and edited several books of Geshe's teachings on Buddhist philosophy and practice.
Geshe Sonam Rinchen was born in Kham province of eastern Tibet. He began his religious studies at the age of 12 at the local monastery in Kham, where he completed seven years of basic studies in logic. At the age of 19, Gyen La made a three-month journey on foot to central Tibet, to enter the monastic university of Sera At Lhasa.
One day he told us about that journey. They carried tents, which they built in a circle, socializing in the center. After the first night, they kept the following nights the order of tents in the circle, to avoid the tension caused around catching a good spot (what a brilliant idea!). Few young pilgrim girls who ran away from home before getting married, accompanied them. This was a practice known to the parents, but still without their consent. The girls joined the monks so they would be protected through the dangerous journey, and were begging on the way. On the way, the girls stayed and worked at farms that were waiting for them, as they were good workers. The girls helped harvest, and got barley in return. They sold part of the barley, and kept the rest as their food, preparing Tsampa. Once they arrived in Lhasa, they visited the holy temples. When they had no more money and barley left, they would beg again. Later they joined monks who finished their studies on their way back home. Gyen La talked in much detail about these girls, and mentioned that these were happy memories. Gyen La was forced to flee Tibet in 1959, and he completed his studies in India.
Gyen La laughed often, and enriched his teachings with examples from everyday life. The first few weeks of teachings were from Aryadeva's "Four Hundred Verses on the Yogic Deeds of Bodhisattvas". One becomes Bodhisattva when attains enlightenment for the sake of all human beings. Later we moved to Shantideva's "The Bodhisattva's Way of Life". The teachings were full of love and compassion, which served as a daily injection of positive energy and training of my mind, my daily reminder of detachments.
During the retreat, I asked about intra-human relationships, but could not get a satisfactory reply. During my weekend at the nunnery, Lhadron said that Buddhism definitely relates to the community, a person to person relationship, Sanga as spiritual friends, more to the level of serve and support, sharing and depending on each other. Gyen La added that in Buddhism we concentrate on what is happening in our own mind. As we have no control over what is happening in other's mind, most of the teachings are related to controlling our mind.
Buddhism is about reasoning. One should think about an idea, try to understand it, and only if it makes sense, accept it. There was a peaceful atmosphere, when Gyen La was talking about an awakening mind, conscientiousness, patience, happiness, enthusiasm, wisdom, dedication, compassion, generosity and kindness. The two ideas I found especially profound were to follow the middle way and reject extremes of pleasure and pain; and we suffer because we are attached to people and things in a world where nothing is permanent.
Traveling around
One Sunday I went with other two volunteers, Esther and Frank from the Netherlands, to trek around the neighboring villages. Esther Sulkeis was a nurse, worked mainly in research, and Frank Brokken, who held a PhD degree, was the security manager in the computer center of Gorningen University. Esther and Frank were married. We went to the sacred Dal Lake, continued through Nadi village and went along water pipes in a beautiful forest towards Dharamkot village. After a steep climb up, we got to the "Rest a While" tea shop at the bottom of the Galu temple. I felt a strange itch close to my ankle, and when I looked to see what it was, I found a leech (bloodsucker), firmly attached to my vein. The tea shop owner helped me take off my socks and get rid of the leeches from the inside of my shoes. Though it drizzled all the time, we enjoyed the hike.
One other Sunday when the weather was not so clear we decided to have a riding tour using local transportation. Together with Esther, Frank and Rinchen, my photography student from The Dogga, we took a local bus from McLeod Ganj to Dharamsala, and another bus to Palampur. The scenery on the way was magnificent, crossing many rivers, all was so green, especially a tea factory and plantations close to Palampur. We dined in Palampur at the Highland Regency Restaurant, and enjoyed it very much. After walking to the train station at Maranda, we climbed on one to Chamunda Marg. We managed to find a small room on the train, with one bench just for the four of us, little windows on both sides and a private toilet. The train crossed the green and beautiful views of the Kangra valley. A local bus brought us back to Dharamsala and a cramped jeep filled with fourteen passengers took us up to cloud covered McLeod Ganj.
On another Sunday, we went again by local buses to Palampur, where we took another bus to Baijnath. After visiting the Baidyanath temple, we walked through the market to the train station, where we climbed on one. All day long the weather was great, but once we sat on the train, it started to rain heavily. When we got to Chamunda Marg at 19:40, we realized that due to the late hour, the next bus would only be at 23:00. We took a local taxi to Chamunda, where the six of us squeezed into a small Suzuki Maruti 800cc, two on the seat beside the driver, and four on the back seat. Rinchen sat up front in the middle, with his legs open, while the driver steered the gear stick in between his legs. There is always room for one additional passenger inside an Indian car. We got back to McLeod Ganj at 23:00.
Transportation in India is funny. Tens of Indians packed on the roofs of the buses, which are old and the wetness helps speed their corrosion. The reason is that the vehicle goes anyway; meaning that the gasoline cost is fixed, so why not squeeze more people in, to raise profit. Western people look for comfort, and are ready to pay for it. Indians have a different perception of comfort, and squeezing does not seem uncomfortable for them, as well as using the gear in between a passenger's legs. They do not see any reason to pay more in order to make sure they can sit in a bus ride; they prefer to pay less.
On Sunday July 18, together with Gyalmtso (my English student) I climbed for the first time to Triund (2,975m). Equipped with five fresh Paales (Tibetan round bread, which looks like a pita bread but is thicker and does not open) from the bakery at the top of the steps from my home, and Nutella cocoa and nuts spread, we started our way. A great view of the Kangra Valley (where Dharamsala is located) accompanied us during four hours of climbing up 9 km of steep and straightforward ascent to the Himalayas, at the foot of the Dhamla Dhar. Many plants with beautiful flowers grew along the way. While on top, clouds covered us, and we could not see the northern view of the Himalayas. I knew I would have to get back there! It took us three hours back down.
My second climb to Triund was the first part of a four-day trek, during September 6-9. I met Sophia, an English volunteer who studied English literature at Cambridge, and after a short talk, we decided to trek together. Sophia did the research among the travel agents based on the Lonely Planet's recommendation, and we chose to trek with Eagle's Height Trekkers, from McLeod Ganj up high to the first Himalayan mountain range. We paid 800INR per day, which included the guides, food, mattresses and tent. We had to carry our personal stuff including our sleeping bag and mattress. Normally a guide and a porter should accompany two trekkers. We enjoyed the company of Ashok and Sunil, experienced guides, and fortunately also Sanjeeb, who trekked for the first time, being trained to become a guide. Ashoka, as called by Sunil, prepared delicious food including well spiced Maggi noodle soup (instant soup) with vegetables, porridge, Chapati, Aloo Paratha with butter (fried chapati stuffed with potatoes), dhal (lentils), rice, cooked vegetables with soy balls and Chai.
On the first day we climbed about 1,100m to Triund. The sun was shining, and we enjoyed the wonderful scenery. The monsoon rain triggered bright green grass and blooming flowers. The flowers' fragrance was intoxicating. We stopped to rest at the Chai shops on the way, where Ashok was able to use their cooking facilities. The Chai shops on the way are open during the season, which is April to November, depending on the snow, and cater to trekkers. Local shepherds cannot afford the prices. Trekking guides have a special business relationship with the Chai shop owners. The trekking guides keep tin boxes with supplies in the Chai shop, which are brought up by donkeys, so they do not need to carry food along the whole way. We filled our bottles with fresh water from the springs, waterfalls and rivers.
I liked my trekking partners very much. After a short walk around Triund we experienced a colorful and amazing sunset on the Dhaula Dhar mountain range, followed by a gorgeous sunrise. On our second day, we continued climbing up about 500m along 7km through a beautiful forest. We stopped at Snow Line Café, where Ashok took food, dishes, and a kerosene stove for the night and the next day. We crossed Ilaka green meadow where we met shepherds with Pashmina Himalayan Goats and shepherd dogs. From that point on there was no clear path, and we followed occasional Chortens (man made piles of stones called also Cairns or Stupas) crossing Laka Glacier over Gaj River to Lahesh Rock Cave (3,350m). The first two trekking days were very easy for me, but Sophia felt very tired.
The third day was strenuous to all. We started walking at 6:00am after having porridge and Chai. We left our sleeping gear in the cave, Ashok and Sunil carried for us all we needed for one day. During our 3 km of steep ascent climb to Indrahaar Pass (4,350m), we enjoyed a colorful sunrise. Pashmina herds were on their way down, where pregnant sheep were to give birth to their lamb. We had to hide as the Pashminas pushed stones from above towards us. Prayer flags crowned the pass, fluttering freely in the wind. From the pass, we had breathtaking mountain views. We were on the Dhaula Dhar, the first Himalayan mountain range, which goes from west to east; Pir Panjal mountain range, the middle Himalayan range, provided an impressive backdrop to the north; and in the south we could see the Himalayan foothills towards the Indian plains. On the pass, there were small Hindu temples, and few Tibetan prayer flags. The prayer flag colors represent the five elements into which man's body is resolved after death: yellow – earth, green – water, red – fire, white – air or wind, blue – sky or space.
We continued down and west to the other side towards Nag Dal Lake (4,100m), 3 km of a difficult way over sharp boulders. A lonely trekker shouted to us: "where is Triund?" While approaching him, I recognized his accent, and I replied in Hebrew. One day before we got there was Krishna's birthday, and many Indian pilgrims went to Nag Dal Lake. Ofer (the trekker) joined an Indian he met at Triund, owner of one of the Chai shops there. As the Indian wanted to get back as soon as possible to his Chai shop, he went very fast, and Ofer was left behind and lost the way. Fortunately, he met shepherds who gave him food and let him sleep with them. The wonderful shepherds are ones who have nothing but share everything. I invited Ofer to join us, and he gladly agreed because it is very easy to lose orientation in this area, and he already went through this terrifying feeling of getting lost. Around noon, clouds were covering the area, and it was very difficult to find the way, which was not clearly marked. When a storm suddenly stroked, it was drops of huge hail balls. Sunil told me about two Israelis who decided to trek to the Indrahaar pass alone, in spite of warnings from Indian guides, and were never seen again. All the guides we met during our way told Ofer how lucky he was that we found him.
The clear water of the Nag Dal Lake, with the stunning rocks around it, was rewarding. Unfortunately, the high altitude affected me, and I started feeling very bad. Sunil said that the god of the sacred Nag Dal Lake is angry I pictured it. He told me that people who pictured the lake did not get any photos. Sophia was exhausted and kept drinking Oral Rehydration Salts; Sanjeeb also suffered from altitude sickness; Sunil had a terrible headache and only Ashok was fine. Ashok gave me half a lime to ease the altitude sickness. I licked the lime, and when it started to be effective, I squeezed drops into my mouth, and at the end I ate it. It helped immediately. Ashok, Sunil and Sanjeeb washed in the ice-cold water of the sacred lake.
The way back was very difficult for me, due to the altitude sickness along with the very hard walk. Ashok and Sunil were wonderful, and helped me through the difficult places. I hardly got back the 8 km to Snow Line café.
After a very good night's sleep I woke up feeling like a new person, ready to go on and on and on. However, we only had the easy 14 km down. It was mostly cloudy, which made it pleasantly cool. The trek was brilliant and the weather just loved us. Three consecutive rainy days and nights from the moment we returned to McLeod Ganj emphasized our luck.
During the trek, I was thinking about the information we received before and during the trek compared to what we found out in reality. Sophia chose the travel agent who gave her the best information. However, the information we received was far from being satisfactory. This is probably another cultural difference. Indians do not understand what information we were looking for. I did find the guides professional, but it looked like they expected us to trust their experience without reasoning, and this was difficult for me. Examples are when I asked about the route, I was not told about the Chai shops arrangement. I discovered it only while trekking, and found it very wise. Another one is when I asked about the third day, the guides repeated we must start very early, but did not tell us in advance about the clouds that cover from noontime, making it difficult to find the way, or about the strenuous walk on boulders. Needless to say that there are no topographic maps, we could only receive a drawing of the route including names, altitudes and approximate distances.
More fun was traveling with local transportation to the Norbulingka institute. The Norbulingka is located at Sidhpur, near Dharamsala, and it preserves Tibetan culture. It includes a museum, an arts and handicrafts center, a temple, a library and a cultural research center, an academy of Tibetan culture, a guesthouse, all surrounded by a beautiful green garden.
A Tibetan woman at the Norbulingka in Sidhpur:
My second visit there was with Rinchen from The Dogga, his sponsor from Belgium, Paul, Paul's cousin Daniel, Jo and Elisa, English volunteers. As it poured heavily, we entered the local Norling restaurant.
Our discussion turned fascinating when Daniel started talking about earth veins. Earthquakes cause cracks, which cause an erection of radiation in the earth veins, with a width averaged of 70cm. If one stays inactive on an earth vein, such as sitting or sleeping, he will feel restless. Earth veins also spark off cancer. Houses and support pillars should not be built on earth veins. Egyptians built their obelisks on a cross of earth veins. The concrete support base, 4m square, was put on four earth tiles. The beta radiation that goes straight up without deviation meets the power of the cosmos at the sharp top of the obelisk.
Daniel detected earth veins using a pendulum. While walking slowly with the pendulum hanging from one hand, straightening his other palm fingers as an antenna, the pendulum moved back and forth. When he was on an earth vein, the pendulum circles counterclockwise. When he gets a hotel room he would always make sure his bed is not on an earth vein.
Cats always sit on earth veins, as it produces acid, which helps them digest meat. Dogs, horses and camels cannot stand veins, actually horses shit on earth veins. Using this knowledge, Egyptians, while walking in the desert, would send their camels to find a place to sleep, and afterwards they would move them and put their tents in that place.
Paul was a mechanical engineer, and Daniel was a pharmacist, who specialized in homeopathic medicine, producing Kambusha to cure cancer. Paul and Daniel were on their way to Nepal, to trek in the Everest region.
Departing from McLeod Ganj
While discussing with Daniel and Paul their trek in Nepal, raising issues and advising from my trekking experience in Nepal, I asked a question: "how do you feel about the idea of me joining the trek?"
On the Next day Daniel told me that together with Paul they made an analysis. The "pros" were a long list, while at the "cons" they raised two issues. First Paul was afraid they would lose their freedom to trek as they wished. Second, Paul felt it would be unfair to his wife that another woman, a stranger, will win this trip. Paul's wife could not join as she just started an Ayurvedic massage business, and had to take care of her customer base. Daniel did not have any problem with his wife, as she anyway would not have chosen to live in the trek conditions without proper facilities, western toilet and toilet paper.
I fully accepted, and closed the case. After additional evening discussions on how trekking in Nepal works, and what they should do, they requested me to reopen the idea, and consider joining them, expressing that they really wanted me to join them. Paul and Daniel said that after they got to know me better, they had changed their minds and believed that they would not lose their freedom. As far as his wife, Paul expressed that he believed she would understand, and concluded that he has no problem with this issue too. After a couple of hours, considering my need for a break from my volunteering work at McLeod Ganj, and being eager to trek, I decided to join them. I perceive Nepal as a trekking paradise.
The decision was taken on Wednesday night September 22, to depart on the next day afternoon. During that night, I was planning the next day, while doing all my laundry. Technicalities went smoothly, such as a bus ticket for the same day, on the same bus Paul and Daniel had tickets for, closing the room rent, and getting rid of some of my things.
Meeting all the warm people and saying goodbye was very emotional. Odelya, Itai and Ynon shared with me their lunch, which saved me during this hectic day. It was hard to depart from Wangdon, my sweet neighbor. The day before we left, Daniel gave her homeopathic medicine, and we all wanted to know how it affected her. Unfortunately, later on we learnt it did not change her medical condition.
When I went to say goodbye to Gyalmtso at Gu-Chu-Sum, he suggested getting to the bus stand together with Kalsang. When I arrived there in the afternoon, Gyalmtso and Kalsang were already there waiting for me. Each honored me with a Khata, and a bottle of mineral water for the way, which was a brilliant idea. These wonderful warm people brought tears to my eyes.
I felt like I would be able to close a circle in my perception of the powerful Tibetan flee saga. When Tibetans fled from Tibet, they go to Nepal, and stay there temporarily at the Tibetan Refugee Transit Reception Center nearby Katmandu, where they get money and papers to continue on to India. I wanted to go there.
The Khumbu trail to the Everest at the Nepali Himalayas
Flying east over Nepal revealed the stunning view of the Annapurna Mountains. Katmandu looked so clean and organized compared to India. We landed in Katmandu on September 25, afternoon.
Trek preparations at Katmandu
The first thing was to get the most updated info about trekking in the Khumbu region. Ram, whom we had met in the hotel we stayed at, the Blue Horizon, was working in a touring agency, Nepal Vision Treks & Expeditions (AVOID!). Ram invited us to his office, where we made a rough plan to start from Jiri, through Namche Bazaar, go to Gokyo (4,800m), cross the Chola Pass (5,420m), and climb Kala Patthar (5,554m). A bus was to get us to the starting point, and we would fly out from Lukla.
Paul and Daniel were very frightened by Ram's descriptions about the Maoists, and decided to hire the services of a guide, EakLal. As Belgium provides weapons to the Nepali government, they were afraid of hostility from the Maoists. I knew it also calmed them to know that we would be four, considering their wives response, and I easily agreed. EakLal joined us.
From the local Nepalese I learnt that the King's government was very corrupted, and did not do much for the people, especially for the villagers in the mountains. The Maoists belonged to an opposition party that used terrorism. Maoists did not hurt tourists, but did collect a fee from them. Nepal's tourism has reduced significantly during the past three years due to the Maoists terrorism acts.
At the trekking agency, we learnt that the Maoists declared a two day complete strike all over Nepal, starting two days later, on September 28. This meant no transportation and potential conflicts while demonstrating. Therefore, we completed our arrangements the next day, to depart on September 27.
When flying to India I did not plan to trek, and I did not have with me my trekking gear. I went to the Kala Patthar Trekking Store in Thamel, a reliable and cheap store that sold me excellent quality trekking equipment six years before, items I used in Antarctica (the store is located at the end of the road north from the Katmandu Guest House in Thamel. At the T junction, turn left, and left again, the store is on the top floor). I even had to buy new boots, as mine became cranky after walking over the boulders between Indrahaar Pass and Nag Dal Lake in India.
I was overwhelmed when Daniel threw offensive comments, like "the filthy Turkish, money driven Jews, and stupid Nepalese". Paul repeated twice that this is Daniel, making excuses that Belgian people say exactly what they think in a very direct way. When he continued with additional vulgar patronizing comments, I decided to get as far as possible from his mouth. It went well together with my decision to give them maximum freedom and maximum space, in response to the difficulties they expressed with the fact I joined. Only when they considered illogical ideas, I would gently express reasons showing another option, always giving them the feeling that in the end it was their choice. It started in Katmandu when Ram suggested a "full package" with advanced payment of lodging and food for US$2,000. As I knew it was a ridiculous price, I told Paul and Daniel that it would give us much pleasure to pay directly to the people who would host and serve us in the mountains. At the end of the trek, I realized I spent US$200 for the entire trek, including eating A LOT.
I decided to keep physical distance from them during the trek, and avoid taking an active part in Paul and Daniel's experiences, so that when they would tell them to their wives, they would naturally not mention me. I did not share a room with them, paid my own expenses, and eventually climbed separately to Gokyo Ri and Kala Patthar, as they chose ridiculous times to go there.
We left our luggage, which was not required for the trek, in the hotel.
The bus ride to Jiri
We departed from Katmandu on September 27 at 7:00am, on a non-stop bus service. Our backpacks were tightened up on the bus rooftop. While non-stop meant not stopping at bus stations, we did stop on the way several times, in long queues of buses and trucks. One person told me that our first two hours halt was due to a suspicious item, a puppet left by the Maoists, with a sign saying that there was a bomb inside. Later we were told it was just a stone, and we went on. I could feel the strong fear of locals from the Maoists.
During these long stops, I walked around to get some fresh air with Omita, a 19 year old Nepali girl, who offered me to join her. She was very lovely, and enjoyed practicing her English with me.
Once, we passed aside a body lying on the side of the road. It seemed dead. When I passed it again on our way back to our bus, I noticed there were flies over its face, and a very strong smell implied it had been lying there more than a day, where so many people and vehicles went by.
The first part of the 78 km bus drive took us 9 hours including stops. We broke for Dahl Bhatt (the traditional Nepalese food of rice = Bhatt, lentils = Dahl, vegetable curry with spices, or curry made of mutton) at Lamosangu Pass (2,500 m). As this section of the road was part of a Swiss program, it was well constructed in Nepali terms, with drain channels along the road. Finally, after a 12 hours ride, we arrived at Jiri (altitude 1,935m).
Paul suffered severely in his throat, and we stayed another day in Jiri. I enjoyed this day very much, strolling around and taking pictures of smiling happy locals. Due to the Maoists' strike schools were closed, no one went to work, so we were able to enjoy the pastorality. Daniel surprised me by saying he was very happy I joined them, but I decided to keep the distance from his mouth.
At the Sherpa Guesthouse I met Asaf, who had just completed the trek. He had to fly from Lukla to Katmandu, same as we were planning to do, but due to bad weather, there were no flights. As he promised his workplace he would be back at a specific date, he went down to Jiri to catch a bus. Sadly, he heard about the strike, and tried to catch a taxi. The information around was that the Maoists were planning to attack any passing taxi, and put mines along the roads, so he decided to wait. I enjoyed Asaf's company. I gave him Carmex for his sore lips, which were in a very bad condition. When he mentioned he had no T-shirts to wear, I realized he did not know how to launder. We went to buy a little pack of detergent, and started washing. He was so enthusiastic, that he went to buy more packs, and washed all his smelly clothes.
Upon checkout, I discovered that the Sherpa Guesthouse at Jiri took advantage of the people arriving directly from Katmandu, unaware of the prices along the Khumbu trail, and charged an extremely high price for the room, equivalent to the highest price on trek paid only in Gorak Shep. Asaf, on the other hand, who came back from the trek, paid a reasonable price.
Jiri to Namche
Our trek started at the Khumbu Valley, in the Buddhist Sherpa Country. Shar-pa is a Tibetan word which means "Eastern People", as the first Sherpas were migrants from Kham (a region in northeast Tibet), who possibly fled from Mongolia. Most Sherpa women wear a Chupa, a striped apron and turquoise jewelry – like the Tibetans, though some young women wear western clothes. One of the best special dishes in this area is Shakpa, which is a Sherpa Stew. It is a thick soup made with vegetables, potatoes and chewy long balls of wheat flour. It was still a surprise every time I ordered a Sherpa stew, as every place added different ingredients, sometimes also noodles, rice and meat.
On September 29 Paul said he was ready to go, and we left Jiri. Unfortunately we realized that Paul still felt very bad, he was vomiting and was very weak. We progressed very slowly. The trail went through many villages, and I enjoyed the photography festival of women and children. We stopped at Shivalaya (1,800m), right at the bank of Khimti Khola (means creek). Shivalaya means "Shiva's home" or "Shiva's temple". It was pleasant to fall asleep and wake up by the sound of the river's stream.
Many porters use the trail, carrying heavy loads, between 70-100kg. Daniel kept commenting that he could not understand why porters needed to carry everything, instead of flying in the cargo. He looked puzzled when I tried to explain to him that the Nepalese do not have money to fly a cargo, but have plenty of free family members and cheap workers to carry it. Daniel kept patronizing by saying how important it is not to walk barefooted, how socks can keep the feet clean, and how simple improvements can make their lives better. When being asked about a yak's price, he responded that 15,000NPR (Nepalese Rupee) is not so much money. He just could not get that Nepalese do not have money.
We spent our next night at Bhandar (2,200m), at Ang Dawa Lodge, right next to a Buddhist monastery with few Stupas. We enjoyed a "green" hot shower, which was provided by pipes running through the kitchen's cooking fire, and then into a hot-water tank, which was connected to the shower room. Usually heating a bucket of water took a long time, and instant hot water that did not require an extra burning material, and that ran from the top shower, was invaluable. Another system used in Bhandar was the solar cookers. In the yards, there was something that looked like a satellite dish on a trolley's wheel, with a pot in the center. This enabled boiling ten liters an hour in full sunshine, with the trolley turning regularly to ensure that the sun is kept on the pot. This system suits Bhandar perfectly, because the village is set on an east-facing plateau with plenty of sunlight.
A Nepali girl carrying rice on her head, on the way from Kenja to Sete:
While walking along the trail through the villages, people stared at us from the windows, which composed perfect photography frames. In addition to Sherpas, we also met Rais (a local ethnic group). Rai can be recognized by their attire and accessories. The women wear a large round nose ring (like a coin) through the left nostril, while another ring hangs from the middle of the nose over the mouth, and a bright red wraparound the waist patterned Loongi (fabric, also known as Sarong). Often men and women carry a large knife used for cutting firewood and grass. The Rais are considered the original inhabitants of Nepal.
During our stay at Kenja (1,640m), aside from the Kenja Khola, the Maoists came to collect money. They were strong in the villages far from the cities, as in the cities the Nepali army was gathered in order not to lose control. The Maoists demanded 1,000NPR from a tourist, and 100NPR from a Nepalese. We received a receipt from The Kirat National Liberation Front of Nepal. If we met more Maoists on the way, we were to show them the receipt and avoid paying again. Paul shook the Maoists' hands, blessed them for their important actions, and wished them good luck. Daniel followed him. I wondered if this was out of ignorance or fear.
Climbing up from Kenja was great, smiling locals were so happy to see their faces on the screen of my digital camera. Kids ran ahead to announce my arrival, and the Nepalese felt so honored when I pictured them.
Daniel was fit, and continuously challenged himself by going very fast. He seldom stopped taking pictures, and could not recognize the pictures I had taken. Paul, who felt better, turned out to be unfit. He felt very tired and weak. Rivers of sweat were pouring from his face, and he said that his sweat was running down, making him feel as if he peed in his pants. His watch also displayed the altitude, and all the time he was calculating how much we had climbed and what altitude we had reached. It looked like all his concern was to mark a V on getting to Everest, so he could show others he had made it. He told us that his daughter Tine went on this trek with a group, got sick at the beginning, had to go on with the group, and later – could not tell anything about the trek. I wondered if it runs in the family.
At Sete (2,580m), we entered the New Everest Lodge, run by Hira Jirel. Hira was a trekking guide from Jiri who decided to change occupation, and rent the place in Sete. His rental agreement was for three years, two more to go. Afterwards he planned to move to Machermo at 4,200m. Quickly I found myself in his kitchen, by the warming fireplace, enjoying talking to him. I found him interesting and good at cooking. He spoke very well in English, in addition to Tibetan. His family came from Tibet, and he was Buddhist.
When we entered Hira's place, two Maoists were eating in the kitchen. They pay a visit from time to time, taking food for free. Hira realized he must accept it, he had no other choice. He tried to behold them as human beings, though he objected to their violence. When people did not obey the Maoist's demands, the Maoists broke windows and destroyed houses. He told me that past Bupsa the Maoists entered a guesthouse in the middle of the night, asked all foreigners to get out and pay them. This was the only unpleasant Maoist act towards tourists I heard of, though this place was not on the main trek.
At Hira's kitchen I met Bear, an American who pretended to be from Dengue, a country name he had made up. At Katmandu, he prepared faked flags with this name, and sewed them on his backpack and pouch. Wherever he stayed, he left fake addresses. He did it to avoid the high payment to the Maoists as USA citizen (1,500NPR) or an unpleasant reaction from them. He chose a country name that didn't exist, to avoid the possible awkward situation that could happen if he had met someone that actually came from the country he pretended to be from. On his way back, he went to the same places, as people were warm to him, and told few of them that he was actually from the USA. The Nepalese did not think it was a funny joke. Hira did not like at all that bear lied to him.
Bear came to Nepal from Tibet. He told me that Lhasa looks like any other Chinese city, just smaller. The Chinese government ruined Lhasa. Outside Lhasa he enjoyed the beautiful Tibetan villages, but sadly, almost in every village there is a Chinese army base, just to remind the locals they are there, and brainwash the kids' minds. It made me sad. Bear told me that the Chinese have undercover monks in the monasteries. When he met a monk who spoke very good English, he would suspect him to be an undercover Chinese. The undercovers would ask people about The Dalai Lama, and if one had a picture, he would get into trouble, such as being deported from Tibet.
Nights were very long. It got dark at 17:30, we had supper at about 18:30, and at 20:00 everyone went to bed. I could not read or write using a candle light or a low-tension light bulb. We woke up at 6:00, at dawn, and it was just too much for me to sleep ten hours night after night. Another impact of these long nights was the need to pee in the middle of the night. At the New Everest Lodge, as well as in other basic places high up in the mountains, the toilet was far out from the building, usually with some cranky stairs leading to it. Hira taught me a trick: pee inside the room into a bottle using a funnel. Wow! This really solved the problem in cold and dark places.
On our way up to Lamjura La (3,530m), we passed several Mani Walls (carved in Mani stones with the six syllables of the great mantra: "Om Mani Padme Hum"). There were many houses on the way to support the teahouse style of trekking. As it started to rain, I entered one of the Sherpa teahouses at Lamjura. I was amazed by the efficiency of a three year old boy who took care of the cooking fireplace. He made sure to push each piece of wood inside after part of it burned, and used a blower to fan the fire, while his mother cooked. This typical Sherpa house had lined shelves displaying the kitchenware. The room had dining benches covered with thick Tibetan rugs. At the pass, the prayer flags and Chortens marked the gateway to the Solu Sherpa area.
It continued raining lightly on the way down to Janbesi (2,700m), which added a special atmosphere to the magnificent forest. Janbesi, a beautiful Sherpa village, looked very welcoming with its colorful Gompas (monasteries) and Stupas. We stayed at the Apple Garden Guesthouse, which indeed offered very tasty green apples, even though they did not look tempting. Janbesi had a small hydro-electric scheme that provided electricity. The electricity tension varied frequently, lights deemed then had spikes, which all added up to the unique atmosphere at night in the dining room.
Janbesi's morning offered us the view of the first white peak. As Paul felt weak, we decided to stay one day in Janbesi. Janbesi had elementary and secondary schools and locals spoke good English. The ability to communicate with the locals made the stay much more warm and friendly. At that season farmers collected corn, with very big and juicy seeds. Locals did not bite the seeds; they rather peeled them off the corn with their fingers. The corn was extremely tasty roasted or boiled.
One monk lives in Janbesi Gompa, founded in 1639, and looks after the beautiful temple. After visiting the Janbesi Gompa I climbed to a white Stupa, which looked bright in the sunlight. A small trail led to the backyard of the Serlo Gompa. Few monks were washing things, and Lochook Namgyel asked me if I had lost my way. No, I replied, I came to visit the monastery. Lochook invited me for tea in the kitchen, where I spent several hours.
On the right Lochook and I.
In the kitchen I met Tulko Pema Therchen Rinpoche (means: reincarnated), who was heading the monastery. Another Lama discovered him as a reincarnation. He spoke very good English, and I enjoyed a long conversation with him. He learnt English by himself, talking to tourists and volunteers. The Rinpoche told me that monks join this monastery for education, unlike some other places where they stay for life. Rinpoche told me that the Maoists also threaten monasteries, demanding food and money. The Maoists destroyed the telephone connection in all the area.
While sitting in the kitchen, I also enjoyed talking with Lochook, who was on kitchen duty that day. Lochook came from Cherem Village, near Lukla. He was 20 years old, and joined the monastery 6 years ago. His family, including his four sisters, lived in the village.
Going back to Apple Garden Lodge I had a long talk with Khami, the guesthouse owner. His wife died 10 years ago, and he raised four children. His elder daughter was married and lived in Sikkim, India. One son was in Katmandu, and the younger was a monk in South India. His younger daughter helped him run the guesthouse. From time to time Maoists came to his guesthouse, demanding a large amount of money, saying he has a large guesthouse. Indeed, the guest house is spacious, and in the past he had between 15-20 guests every night. But during the recent three years of Maoist activities, he had had only few guests during the trekking season. When we stayed there. We were his only guests. Tourists prefer to fly into Lukla, to avoid meeting Maoists.
Paul decided to use a porter's service to carry his backpack, and we went on. Twice we reached 3,000m, but were unable to see views due to low clouds. An endless line of porters and mules with heavy loads was going towards Namche, and returned with empty baskets. As it rained every day, the trail was muddy and slippery. I realized that I progressed at the same speed of a heavy loaded porter, and took the same precautions. One porter, who carried 70kg of Kerosene, lost balance while leaning on his stick to rest, and fell. Fortunately, he got only scratches, but he lost part of his load, meaning a huge part of his income.
We enjoyed the night in the Everest Trail Lodge, Yak and Yeti (Café) Home at Surke (2,300m). The owner was out, guiding an expedition to Everest. The dining hall was covered by framed certificates from his many peak climbs. His lovely wife and baby hosted us.
Further on the way I met two Sherpa ladies, sitting and smiling, looking very happy. They offered me a drink, which after the first reaction of refusal, I was afraid I hurt their feelings, and agreed to taste. They poured milky watery Chhang (Himalayan beverage) into the cup of their jar, and I realized it was the local alcoholic drink, made of barley, millet or rice.
As we passed the junction to Lukla, with its small airport where most tourists fly to start the trek, we met many more trekkers. From this point, we were not expected to meet more Maoists. Our leech experience should also be over now, as we climbed higher and it got colder. Previously I found a leech above my ankle, causing my sock to be soaked with blood. Paul found a leech on the back of his palm, and another one on his neck. Grosse! EakLal told us that during the monsoon time it rains with leeches falling from the trees.
We reached Phakding (2,685m), which looked like a lodge city as it is located half-day walk from Lukla to Namche, with high standard lodges, charging high prices. This was a major change in comparison to the trekking part from Jiri to Surke.
We entered the Sagarmatha National Park right before Jorsle. Sagarmatha is the Nepali name for Mount Everest. At the guarded entrance to the national park, I learned that there was a 1,000NPR fee for an Entrance Permit to the Sagaramatha National Park, which we paid in Katmandu, but could have also paid at the entrance. The entrance included registration. From that point on, there were trash bins along the way, and the path was very clean. This area operated a rubbish removal project, and locals did a good job keeping the villages tidy and free of trash.
Trekking from Jiri to Namche included constant ascents and descents. According to the trekking guidebook, by the time we reached Namche we climbed up almost the exact height of Mt Everest, 8,848m, and the corresponding descents to Namche mounted up to the total height of the Ama Dablan, 6,828m. The slopes were covered with terraces with fresh green harvest. As it rained everyday, once the sun came out, the water drops on the leaves shined and glowed, and the Kholas' (creeks) streams produced a wonderful sound.
At Namche (3,440m) we experienced a new climate, cold and dry, without monsoon rain. It was a nice experience to walk in a spray of rain, but I was happy it ended.
The market in Namche offered rich displays of handicrafts, warm trekking clothes, jewelry and Tibetan/Sherpa traditional items and art. The Tibetan Bazaar at Namche was full of life and colors. Tibetan traders got a permit from the Chinese to cross the Himalayas with yaks, to sell cheap Chinese goods in Nepal. Their merchandise was of a very high quality, excellent down coats, blankets, shoes, carpets and other warm clothes. Locals explained that the warm clothes, coats and blankets are much warmer yet cheaper than those which come from Katmandu. The owner of the Namche Bazar Guesthouse, where we stayed, told me that he trades with the Tibetans. They provide him with fine chili peppers, sugar, rice, Tsampa and butter.
Namche had a big hydro-electric power station, and it offered facilities that did not exist not in Jiri and not in any other place on the way: washing machines and dryers, full electricity tension without failures, bakeries with western breads and cakes, cappuccino, microwaves, satellite telephone connection and Internet cafés.
Namche to Gokyo
After a day of acclimatization in Namche, on October 11 we continued on our way. A new landscape of white high peaks surrounded us, at 6,500-8,800m. The weather was cooler with a light breeze, which made the walk very pleasant.
On the next page, Namche and its surrounding peaks.
On the way we passed by a cremation ceremony. An old Sherpa man from Namche died. I had crossed his house the previous day, when many people had gathered to pray for his good next life, and some men were building a wooden box to carry the body. Early that morning I heard playing of musical instruments, while the body was being carried up, and put on a mountain altar. While the body was on fire, family members and monks practiced burial rites, picnicking nearby, eating and playing Sherpa instruments. It reminded me of Gyalmtso's description of when his friend died in McLeod Ganj.
After a short walk, still almost 400m altitude up, we reached Khumjung (3,790m), a beautiful Sherpa village. In order to avoid the risk of AMS (Altitude/Acute Mountain Sickness) we decided not to be tempted to go further up. The short walks went fantastically together with the short daylights.
In the Hidden Village Lodge, I met Peter, an American anthropologist, who was a director of an American students' project. US anthropology students came to Nepal with assignments, which they performed under his supervision. He had lived in Katmandu on and off through the '80s and '90s of the 20th century. He was very close to the Buddhist Sherpas, and had visited Tibet 15 times. He told me that the villages in Tibet preserve their culture. As opposed to what Bear told me, Peter said that in most Tibetan villages there were no Chinese soldiers. He claimed that life in Tibet had changed during the last years under the Chinese occupation, but that so had the life of the Tibetans in McLeod Ganj. When Tibetans from McLeod Ganj talked about Tibet, they compared it to years ago, while they should compare it to their current life in India. Globalization happened in both places. Peter thought it was unfair to talk about the loss of Tibetan culture, for the sake of the Tibetans in Tibet. Unfortunately, it was also my observation that the Tibetans in India looked down on newcomers. A Tibetan woman in McLeod Ganj would not marry a newcomer.
Occasionally Peter met Tibetans who fled from Tibet. Many of them were not caught by the Nepali soldiers, and did not know how to get to India. Tibetan traders said that indeed there are no Nepali soldiers at Nangpa La, and that this pass was also used by fleeing Tibetans.
The Nepali people use yak dung as a burning material. In addition to it being a free burning source, it helps keep the villages very clean. Locals collect dry shit, mix it with water like dough, and dry it again on their outside walls. The Nepalese call the yak's female a Nak, and offer tasty Nak cheese, called in English yak cheese (as in English Yak is used for male and female).
Khumjung also had a small Tibetan market. When we arrived, Tibetan traders had just left with their yaks. Later a new group arrived with new merchandise. It felt good to see these neighborly trade relations between Tibetans and Nepalese. Sherpa women seemed to be waiting for their arrival, immediately taking sacks of rice, sugar, Tsampa and butter. After examining the clothes that the Tibetans brought I noticed that in the cold places villagers did wear those clothes.
Yaks had bells hanging on their necks, which produced a beautiful sound on the way. They also served as a warning for those ahead on the trek: yaks are coming. If one stays in the middle of the path, the yak will stop. When giving way, it is important to be at the hillside, otherwise the wide cargo over the yak might push away.
Parkash (means light in Sanskrit), a Hindu Nepali teacher I met in the guesthouse, told me that Efrat is a Masculine name in Urdu, from Hebrew origin, with the meaning "One who is honored". Muslims in Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, India and Islam Nepalese speak the Urdu language.
An amazing clear and sunny morning revealed all the white peaks around Khumjung. Mount Ama Dablan was so beautiful from that angle. A striking polarized blue sky was the background of the mighty white peaks. Less and less trees were growing, getting lower, colorful blooming flowers in blue, pink, yellow and white, on a green grass cover.
Up to Khumjung we enjoyed fresh green vegetables, grown in gardens attached to houses. Further up we lost it. The villages were not populated by families, just by commercial trekking teahouses, who still offered green vegetables, which were brought by porters. All guest houses had electricity from solar systems. All guesthouses offered satellite communication.
While in Dole (4,048m), snow started falling. White pieces fell gently, laying on the bushes, grounds and rooftops. It was so silent and calm. Gradually it covered everything with a pure white layer.
The next shiny morning made the snow glow on top of the bushes. The giant mountains with their white peaks added dignity. I loved walking alone in peace, listening to nature sounds, admiring the surroundings. The sunshine warmed gently, and from time to time, as the wind moved the leaves, a pack of snow would fall, making a soft, tender sound. Above this altitude there were no more trees.
Machhermo (4,410m) lies in a small valley, surrounded by green grassy yards. After putting my gear in a room, I sat all afternoon basking in the warm and pleasant sun. I met again Tracy and Ian from Australia with Steve from New Zealand, whom I met in Namche Bakery; two other Aussies recognized me from Vijay's Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga class in McLeod Ganj; Anthony, Kiwi who spent a night with us at Khumjung; two Americans who spent with us the previous night at Dole. One of them, Ken, told me about his business in the US, providing guided tours in Switzerland. He was considering providing treks in Nepal, though he did not like to be away from home for long periods.
I met a new USA triumvirate, Raleigh, Monty and his father. Raleigh was working for an American trekking agency, and guided groups in Nepal. She was a mountain climber, and planned to climb the Ama Dablan with Monty. Afterwards she was going to meet a group in Katmandu, and will take them on a camping trek to the EBC (Everest Base Camp). She made an interesting comparison between a camping trek and a teahouse trek. In her opinion, the chances to get infected by others is higher while teahouse trekking, as the kitchen is less clean and people leave germs in the beds and the blankets. A good tip she gave was not to take a room above the kitchen, as it is very smoky. The smoky kitchen was another point she made against teahouse trekking.
September to November is the main trekking season, while March to May is the main expedition season, with less trekkers. Raleigh told us that during the spring expedition season, the EBC becomes a city. The Nepalese fly in satellite dishes, generators, and other facilities. "Yak trains" go up and down with supplies. Raleigh also told me that the Nepali kids, who work in the guesthouses, including in Katmandu, work for food and a place to sleep. Their parents cannot support them, and send them away. It hurts to think about it. They were so young.
The Trekkers Lodge at Machhermo was luxurious compared to Namaste Lodge at Dole. Coming to think about it, at Dole we slept in the sleaziest guesthouse. The dining room was small, with a low ceiling and no windows! It was very cold, as the host did not turn on the fireplace. Ken called it "a hole". The Trekkers Lodge at Machhermo was much bigger, it had a large and spacious dining room, a very high ceiling, large windows to enjoy the beautiful nature around us, soft benches to sit on, and the hosts turned on the fireplace early, so once the clouds covered the sun, we could enjoy the warmth of the dining room. At Dole the Sherpa woman did not wash the pots, but rather used them again, and Ken said that his Dhal soup tasted like the garlic soup that was prepared for us earlier. The kitchen at Machhermo was clean. During sunset, we were able to watch the beautiful colors on the white peaks. EakLal chose the guest house in Dole, and it seemed that all the above aspects have no meaning to him.
At night, Paul and I experienced a dull headache. Daniel was fine, as he was taking Coca, a homeopathic medicine for AMS, on a regular basis. Back in Katmandu, he told me I did not need to buy Diamox, the conventional medicine for AMS, as he had enough Coca for the three of us for 20 days. When he started taking Coca, he did not offer us. Once, after mentioning my headache and asking for it, he gave me just one dose of Coca. I felt uncomfortable begging each time for more. One time, while Daniel was bragging loudly in the dining room about having the Coca, a tourist who had a headache requested some. Daniel told her that since she was having hot chili peppers, she could not take Coca, and did not even offer her some Coca for the next morning.
Though the next day it was snowing from early in the morning, but I agreed to the foolish decision to continue to Gokyo. After contradicting EakLal's decisions more than once, like when he wanted us to go directly from Namche to Dole, climbing more than 600m, claiming that if we would feel bad, we would stay at Dole, I decided not to object this time.
When we started walking in the snow I enjoyed the quiet and dry snowfall. Machhermo's green yards were covered with white snow. I was busy taking many pictures, and soon enough I was completely alone. The snowfall became thicker and heavier and when I had arrived at the first lake of Gokyo (named Long Ponba), there was a break with no people going up or down, and I could not see the trail or any footprints, as fresh snow covered everything. I felt fear, which boosted my headache.
I could not believe I repeated the same mistake I had made six years before (March 1998), when climbing to the Machhapuchhare Base Camp in the Annapurna region. Back then I went up with a close friend, Baruchi. Before departing from Deurali, snow started falling. Baruchi asked whether we should stay or continue. As I enjoyed the dry and quiet snowfall, and still ignorant of its consequences, I suggested that we continue going up. We knew we would have to cross an avalanche, which completely covered the path. While stepping over the avalanche, we could not find the trail. Few directions looked feasible, visibility was very low due to low clouds, and we heard avalanches all around us. Back in Deurali, when I expressed my wish to continue walking in the snow, I had not thought that it would cover the trail. It was an unpleasant feeling not to find the trail. Finally Baruchi, who was an experienced rescue member of the Mount Hermon team, found the path. He showed me the slight difference in color and texture between the fresh snow over the tightened ice on the trail, and the fresh snow on the sides of the trail.
After a few explorations, and with Baruchi's description in mind, I managed to find the path to Gokyo. Luckily, after a while, by the second lake (named Tajung Tsho), Raleigh, Monty and his father arrived. When Raleigh saw me, she could tell I was not feeling well. Monty entered a camping group tent with me, while Raleigh continued to Gokyo to find EakLal. Fortunately enough, the camping group we entered included physicians, who immediately gave me Diamox and paracetamol. They equipped me with additional Diamox pills for all of the expected stay at high altitude. After resting in their tent and drinking warm water, we continued to Gokyo. Relaxing and not being alone I felt much better.
Gokyo (4,800m) lies beside the third lake (named Dudh Pokhari). The snow, which fell during the previous day, covered Gokyo's houses and yards with white. Gokyo offered all facilities: solar electricity, a satellite phone and green vegetables. We stayed at the Gokyo Resort.
Gokyo Resort by Dudh Pokhari, the third lake of Gokyo:
The Nepalese attitude in this area was completely different from what I experienced while trekking in the Annapurna region. Moritz, a German carpenter from a village in south Germany, confirmed my feelings. He had already trekked in Nepal 18 times. He said that the popularity of the Everest region made the Sherpas rich, and they became very greedy, always finding creative ways to charge more money. Prices rise with the altitude. Examples were the high price of drinking hot water or warm rinsing water.
As the next morning I did not feel completely OK, I decided not to climb higher. I went north towards the fourth lake (named Thonak Tsho), and continued on to the fifth lake (named Ngozumbo Tsho). Everything was covered with white fresh dry snow. The turquoise color of the lakes and the reflection in the fifth lake were amazing. A Nepali guide called Bhakta asked permission to stay with me, and we enjoyed an interesting talk. I loved his approach to religions, saying that all are equal, none is better; and his view that if we feel happy, everything looks great. We both felt happy at the lake's shore.
The next day my headache was over, I felt good, and started my climb before dawn to Gokyo Ri (means mountain, 5,357m). The guesthouse owner suggested climbing for sunrise. It was still dark at 5:00am, and I had to cross a stream over stones, and to start the steep climb. Snow leftovers and an icy and muddy trail, made the climb strenuous. The sunrise colored the peaks in a wonderful orange during the climb. After two and a half hours, I had reached the summit, which revealed the top of the world, gigantic mountains, including Mount Everest (8,850m) and Lhotse (8,516m). Lhotse means south peak, named so because it is south of Everest. All peaks were surrounded by the valley of Ngozumpa Glacier.
As the sun rose in front of us behind the mountain peaks, I couldn't see the view clearly. I sat there for three hours, admiring the view as it got clearer, and watched the clouds form on top of the mountains. I was lucky to enjoy a clear day. The sun was warming, but still it was very cold, and I could not take off any layer of my clothes.
On the summit I met Taw from Thailand, whom I met the evening before at the dining room. Taw was from Bangkok, and through the Internet she sold mainly clothes and additional items too. She was very sweet, and great to talk to. As the sun moved towards the center of the sky, the view of the top of the world became clearer and sharper. Few tiny clouds made the scene perfect. An Australian photographer arrived, fully equipped. I took advantage of his tripod and spirit level, to make a horizontal panorama. Later other Aussies and a German guy joined, and insisted on a group picture of all those in the peak at that moment.
The way down was easier, as plenty of grassy parts became dry. The view of the turquoise third lake with Gokyo's guesthouses and the mountains at the background was stunning.
Gokyo to Kala Patthar over Chola Pass
October 17 was another beautiful sunny day and we headed to Thangnak, in order to shorten the crossing of the Chola Pass, which we were to do the next day. Crossing the Ngozumpa Glacier was amazing. Many ponds, some were deeply frozen, some were covered with thin ice, and some were with fresh green water. The glacier kept collapsing upwards. Thangnak (4,690m) is a small place. The sunny warm day was used for laundry, which indeed dried before sunset.
We were so lucky with the weather, we could not ask for anything better. The past sunny days had melted all the snow and ice. We crossed many streams, which had amazing icy formations that glowed by the first sunrays. The very steep climb to Chola Pass was over rough gravel, which ended at the pass with cairns and prayer flags (5,420m). Up front was an amazing glacier, and terraces of ice ending with icicles. The pass itself is a glacier, which was covered with white fresh snow, looking like a huge soft dune of snow. Walking at 5,420m, where the air was thin and cold, I felt a mild headache, tiredness and breathlessness, also from the hard climb. Generally, I just did not feel 100%, and as it was cold, I did not stay much on the top.
The way down was again very steep, stepping on boulders next to a rock wall. Amazing scenery was in front, with a flat valley dotted by blue and turquoise lakes, and a high ridge in the background. The Cholotse's face was utterly dramatic; the Ama Dablan's triangle was stunning; and the Lobuche's East Peak was looking particularly formidable and even surreal by the afternoon lightning.
We stopped at Dzongla (4,850m), which had a few desultory buildings that sat in a swampy hollow. Before the sunset I went to the viewpoint over the turquoise lake Tshola Tsho, walled by the mighty Cholotse and others.
The next beautiful morning illuminated the stunning views of Tshola Tsho, with the mighty Cholotse in the south.
Tshola Tsho:
Turning north, we went along a stream, with a calming noise of running water. The stream was partially covered by ice, had icy edges, which slightly broke as the sun warmed them. Further on we went along the Khumbu Glacier, which had frozen turquoise pools surrounded by walls of ice.
Fully loaded yaks passed by. Someone carried on his back a Sherpa, who suffered from altitude sickness, down to the hospital in Pheriche. The next day, this Sherpa's tourist became also very sick from AMS, and was evacuated to Pheriche. Sherpas think they are protected from AMS, while in reality those who come from the Katmandu valley get affected by it just as any other human being.
At Gorak Shep (5,160m) we entered the Himalayan Lodge, where I was so happy to meet Tracy, Steve and Ian, the yoga girls, and others I had met in Namche. Lhamo and Antseri run the lodge. They are Sherpas. They have four kids, two daughters and two sons, all staying at a boarding school in Katmandu. They own a big house in Katmandu, where they stay off season, December to February and June to August. Lhamo showed me pictures of her children and their house in Katmandu. It was visible that they are RICH.
Kala Patthar, which means Black Rock, is a dark hill (5,545m), which looks as if someone had dumped a pile of soil, to allow people to climb on to see the Everest peak behind the Nuptse (7,879m). The early morning climbers measured minus 18 Celsius degrees.
During the next afternoon, I climbed it to watch the sunset on Mount Everest. As everyone warned me about the cold, I dressed so well that I did not feel the cold at all. In addition to the thermal underwear layers on top and on my legs and a fleece beanie, I was wearing silk liner socks under the woolen pair, and put on my gaiters, to block the wind between my shoes and pants. I carried my backpack, which I emptied out all items from, only with my folded (not squeezed) down sleeping bag, so it protected my back. I enjoyed the company of John and Damien, two Irish guys, and Ravi and Vivek from India.
I, and the Everest in the background, from Kala Patthar:
Since Kala Patthar had no ice or mud on it, it was easy to get down. On the other hand, the ground was so dry that it was dusty. Each step raised a cloud of dust, and I had to keep a distance from those in front of me. We ran down the hill for 40 minutes, while a quarter of a moon illuminated our way.
I was surprised when Paul, who had dreamed for ten years to see Everest from up close, climbed only half the way to Kala Patthar, and also did not want to get to the EBC. I did not mind it, as people kept telling me that it is not worth the journey, which is long (7 hours) and very dangerous over the very slippery glacier, and that you can not get any special view from the EBC.
Back to Katmandu
We started our descent on October 21, in a freezing breeze. I did not like the idea that this trip was close to its end.
On our descent to Duglha I was amazed by the amount of tourists, porters and yaks on their way up. That is the short straight popular way to and from the EBC. The whole sight was a visualized sample of Raleigh's description of the "yak train" that goes up to the EBC during spring. On the way, I could hear many rescue helicopter rides, evacuating sick people with AMS. Green grass covered the valley of Pheriche, low vegetation, very low bushes, real leaves and some flowers. The Ama Dablan looked noble in the background.
When going to Pheriche it felt good to be back again in a village, to see kids and family life. The guest houses were still very commercial and of high standard. We entered the Pumori Lodge. John, a Canadian, was on his way with an expedition, to climb the Pumori Peak. Though he was just at the beginning of his trek, which he had been planning for two years, he already wanted to go back home. He had recently got married, for the second time, and wanted to have a proper honeymoon.
Going down went too quick. The landscape changed very fast. Together with the bushes appeared taller trees, which, when approaching Tengboche, turned into a Rhododendron forest.
At Tashidelek Lodge, I met Susan and John, who were having a big tour. Aussie Susan and English John met while working in Hong Kong for Cable & Wireless. John, who was a lawyer, was redundant, and Susan, who was a sales representative, resigned. They started their journey in Tibet, and after Nepal, they were planning to continue to Cambodia, India, Vietnam and China.
The view of Tengboche:
A sunny morning brought me back to Namche, through a highway of yaks, porters and trekkers. The highway was dusty from Kala Patthar down. Porters wore bandanas to cover their noses and mouths, to protect from the dust. When yaks arrived, I had to protect myself not only from being pushed by their cargo, but also from the huge cloud of dust they raised. The highway along the Imja Khola was full of independent trekkers, and I met again trekkers I knew from higher places.
Young girls collected yak dung into porter's baskets, others collected foliage. Locals use these leaves to cover their toilet holes from time to time.
I arrived at Namche on October 23, and went back to the Namche Bazar Guesthouse. A nice surprise was when Bhakta came to visit me. He completed the trek where we met, spent two days in Katmandu, and was back up with new tourists. I was drinking Roxi, another local alcoholic drink made of rice.
The next day Paul, Daniel and EakLal went down to fly earlier to Katmandu. I decided to stay in Namche one more day, extending the stay in this beautiful area.
At Namche Bakery, I met Tracy, Steve and Ian. This was the place where we first met, at the beginning of our trek. They trekked in addition to Chukkung, and said that it was so great, to sit in the center surrounded by the mighty mountains, that they stayed there two nights. They thought it was much nicer than Kala Patthar, with much fewer tourists. This made me wonder how people keep following the popular, without checking alternatives. This time it was me, following EakLal. In Tengboche I met a group, which was planning to go only to Kala Patthar and EBC. When I mentioned to them that Gokyo Ri is fabulous and people say that the EBC is not so interesting, one of them replied that it is famous, and you cannot be in this region without getting there. Well, joining Paul and Daniel meant not being completely alone, but still compromising and following the herd.
Namche skies were clear in the mornings, with clouds forming at noon, until they fully covered Namche. These clouds looked beautiful from Kala Patthar, fluffy in the soft sunset light. At Namche it became cold, and visibility was very limited.
Back at the guesthouse, I had an interesting conversation the whole afternoon and into the night, with Asha and Marek from Warsaw, Poland. I met them in the same guesthouse on the way up, and they saw me several times along the trek. Asha became very sick with AMS, and stayed for several days at Pheriche. She did try to continue higher, but felt very bad and went back to Pheriche, close to the hospital. Marek went alone to Kala Patthar, but when he was back Asha was feeling so good, that he went up again with her. So adorable.
Asha was an English teacher. Her school headmaster allowed her to take a year off, dividing her teaching hours amongst the other English teachers. Marek resigned from a mobile company, where he had worked as a project manager. They planned to travel a year in South East Asia. When I met them, they had already been to Iran, Pakistan and India. Asha and Marek were Buddhists, and met at a Zen Buddhism institute. They practiced Buddhism, mainly through meditation, and perceived themselves converted to Buddhism as a religion.
The way down went fast again. The day started with a sunny morning, but as we went down clouds covered the sky, and it slightly rained until we reached Lukla. After watching a documentary film about the porters, having Momos in a small homely restaurant, and a night at the North Face Resort at Lukla, we flew together the next morning back to Katmandu.
Nepali trekking agencies
Most of the Nepali trekking agencies are short sighted, and rather than taking care of the Nepali interest, they act from selfish motivation. Ram frightened us about meeting Maoists, in order to sell us a guide, not thinking about the effect on Nepal's tourism, which was anyway very low due to the Maoists activities. Instead of reassuring us that the Maoists only ask for the 1,000NPR fee, but did not harm tourists, which was the reality, he threw fear, causing Daniel nightmares. One night Daniel was dreaming that the Maoists were pointing a gun to his tummy. Another time he dreamed Maoists were asking him to take off all his clothes, emptied his backpack, and took everything, leaving him naked.
Travel agencies use all means to promote their business, including telling lies. Daniel showed interest in finding the origin of the Kambusha among the Sherpas in the Khumbu region, and I was interested in learning about the culture and life of the Sherpas. Ram sold us a guide who is a Sherpa, who grew in the Khumbu region, whose family still lives in this region, who will take us to visit his village. In reality, EakLal was Hindu and not a Sherpa, when he was one year old his family moved to Katmandu, and he had no family in the Khumbu region. When we visited villages on the way, EakLal never joined us, which might have opened doors for us.
Marek told me that a travel agent they consulted wanted to charge them sums of money for food and lodging such as they had never encountered, like 500NPR for Dhal Bhatt. Ram also used such lies with us. He tried to play on our conscience saying EakLal will pay his own expenses, while that was not true. Nepalese guides and porters receive free meals against bringing tourists in. I noticed that whenever I reached a guesthouse without telling them I had a guide, I was offered a lower price than when declaring I had one. Marek and Asha told me that they never paid the lodging amount that appeared in the menu, always much less, while having a guide, I paid as was written in the menu. Marek raised a possible explanation that when one has a guide, he pays more to cover the guide's meals. In other words, independent trekking is cheaper by far.
At Lukla we went to the Porter Progress Organization Center, where we watched a BBC documentary film about porters. Nepali travel agencies charge a large amount of money from the tourists, but the porters get only a few Rupees. Only a few travel agencies take care of their porters, providing them with boots and warm clothes. The majority of travel agencies do not. Porters from Katmandu valley suffer from AMS, frozen toes and fingers, and snow blindness. Another lie was when Ram said that it is difficult to find a guide or a porter up high; therefore, it is advisable to take one from Katmandu, paying their flight or bus fares, and more working days. Not only guides and porters are available at high altitude, but they are also much more acclimatized to the high altitude.
Nepali guides have another way of thinking, and some of them are unaware of the western expectations from a guide. EakLal was concentrating on getting from point A to point B as quickly as possible, using the shortest way, no matter how steep it was. The way itself had no importance to him, while I was interested in the way, the scenery, the nature, and mostly in the people I met. Even during our very short trekking days of about three hours, he would choose the shortest and steepest way, while there were longer ways through villages, which other trekkers talked highly about. Raleigh and others whom I spoke to, reassured my observation about Nepali guides.
While some of the guides took their clients to Chukkung, not only did EakLal not offer it to us, but he also made sure we would not even think about it, by taking us to Pheriche instead of Dingbuche, which is on the way to Chukkung.
EakLal faced a situation he didn't know how to deal with, within our group. Daniel was always running ahead, while Paul was struggling to follow him, though he paid a high price of slipping many times, and getting to the limits of his ability, which put him in stress and made him always complain how he was very tired. On the other hand, I went slowly, talking to locals and other trekkers, and taking pictures. As EakLal wanted to quickly get to the destination, he left me completely alone. At times locals asked for my destination and showed me the way, at other times I asked for directions. When I discussed with EakLal the irresponsible act of leaving me alone in the heavy snow close to Gokyo, I could not get the impression he understood the seriousness of it. He repeatedly said how he wanted to get to the guesthouse and once there, he had intended to go back and get me. Actually, he cared to get as fast as possible to the destination, to play cards with the other porters and guides. Therefore, I found myself climbing alone in the dark before sunrise at Gokyo Ri, and going down alone after sunset in Kala Pathar.
The Nepali guides had dissatisfied most of the trekkers I met. I heard terrible stories from people I met, like guides and porters who stole money from their trekkers, demanded for more money in order to continue, showed ignorance about AMS and more.
Going to Tibet
The quick descent from Kala Patthar by the Tibetan border emphasized how close I was to Tibet. My experience with the Tibetans and all the stories I had heard about life in Tibet made me very curious, and I decided to go there. As there were no flights in November, which is off-season, I decided to take a round trip by car.
Crossing the Himalaya to Tibet
Katmandu to Lhasa
Our minibus ride to the border started on Saturday, November 11, 2004. As the tourism season ended at the end of October, all the Nepali travel agents collaborated, and sent their clients on the same trip. Soon enough we all realized that everyone received different information from his or her travel agent about the journey. People paid different prices (from US$115 to 175), no one had complete information, and the pieces of info provided sounded contradicting.
After a five hours ride from Katmandu, we reached Kodari which is at the border. Crossing through the Nepali immigration went quickly, but at the Chinese border control we had to wait, as the Chinese took their lunch break. A new Tibetan guide joined us, Laga, and we moved to a Chinese minibus.
Tourists arriving from Nepal received a 20 day Chinese permit for the straight route from Zhangmu, by the Nepali border, to Lhasa. If one had a valid Chinese visa in the passport, the permit canceled the visa. Receiving back the visa required visiting a Chinese immigration office. Visiting areas in Tibet, a bit further out from the route, like the Yarlung Valley, required additional specific permits.
The permit was provided to a minimum group of two, and at the border, it was possible to separate the permit. The separation cost depended on nationality. Russians should pay ¥450 (Chinese Yuan), British ¥320, Canadians ¥310, and so on. Most of the rest of the world would pay ¥100. Permit holders should enter and depart together.
Those who entered Tibet through China did not have such limitations. The Chinese visa allowed an unrestricted visit in Tibet.
Nicolas, my permit partner, was from Marseille, France. He was 31, and had just completed the Khumbu trail to Everest from Jiri, as I did. Luckily, we found out we had the same preferences, and got along well together.
Two Malaysian girls paid to ride a Land Cruiser from the Chinese border, but Laga said that they could not go on one. The whole group encouraged the Malaysian girls, insisting that we were not going to move until they got into one. After we found out there was room for two more people in one of the Land Cruisers, the guide claimed there was no room for their one backpack. When sorting this one out, Laga suggested we spend the night at the Chinese immigration town Zhangmu, at an altitude of 2,000m. Once again we had to question his authority, demanding we proceed to Nyelan, as the next day we were about to cross a 5,220m pass, and we knew that climbing over 3,000m a day would guarantee AMS to most of us.
On the bus I met some interesting people. Steve from the UK had just finished his university studies, and as he was entitled to take an untaxed overdraft, he used it for this trip. John Sheahan from Minnesota, USA, was a breath therapist, who helped patients with severe breathing problems to handle their breathing equipment and live outside the hospital. Every year he took three months off, and arranged with his colleagues that they would take care of his patients.
We also had two weirdos with us. One was David the Aussie, who perceived himself as a high spiritual character, and held a business card denoting the title "MAITREYA Divine Great Director". Maitreya is a bodhisattva, a successor of the historic Śākyamuni Buddha. David told us that he collects donations from people for building Buddhist institutes, and uses the money to travel in Nepal and Tibet, as he claimed these voyages were to fulfill this mission.
We called the second one John "the biking scam artist", because he told us that he had a non-profit organization where people would give him money to distribute to the needy people of the countries he was biking through. He told John Sheahan, actually bragged about how he would sometimes give some coins to beggars and kids, but had kept most of the money to fund his trips. So I guess, as John Sheahan put it, "we should feel blessed to have traveled with such a generous American and such a holy Australian. At least we got a few good stories out of the deal."
The road was rough and dusty. Driving vehicles could be recognized from far away by the cloud of dust they raised. In the mornings, I would put sunscreen on my face, and within a short while, a thick layer of dust would stick to it.
We reached Nyelan (3,750m) at twilight, straight away into the Tibetan freezing cold weather. In early autumn, the temperature in Tibet was between 10 and minus 5 Celsius degrees. On sunny days, the warmest it got was 10 degrees. The fine dust in Tibet contaminated my lungs, the cold and dry air stimulated my throat, and I started coughing.
In the Tibetan hotels, which offered basic facilities, we received a thermos with boiled water, cups, and a washing bowl. We could refill the thermos as much as we wanted. This was brilliant, as I desired for a warm drink and much of it, to protect me against AMS. The boiled water became lukewarm after a couple of minutes in a cup, and was used then for brushing the teeth and washing the face from the thick dust cover. Another outstanding technique was putting one's feet in a bowl filled with the boiled water before going to bed, as on the way there were no showers. The heat spread throughout the body and helped falling asleep in those extremely cold places. Restaurants everywhere also offered free boiled water or Jasmine tea.
Changing the clock to China time, two and a quarter hours forward, provided us with longer daylight the first day, but when we woke up at 7:30am, it was still completely dark. The minibus windows were covered with frost, and we were freezing inside the minibus almost until noon.
We drove through the huge, vast, dry, high desert plateau, with endless brown colors, and white peaks at the horizon. The full glory of the Himalayas rose up from the bare yellow earth. It felt like Tibet when the towering Himalayan mountain ridge was on the south. Vertical layers revealed how Tibet was pushed to its present dizzying heights by the Indian tectonic plate, which drifted up and collided with the Asian mainland.
The landscape of the Tibetan plateau:
Occasionally, winding dust hazed the landscape. Squatted two-story farm houses dotted the moonscape like sand castles on a deserted beach, their mud walls punctuated by small, black-framed trapezoidal windows. The houses were topped with colorful decorated tiny turrets, with a bouquet of prayer flags rising out from them.
The houses were surrounded with high walls, to protect them from the strong winds and the dust. The outside walls had a decorative gate, with two heavy wooden doors, and a small cover-shield, painted in bright colors. Some embraced courtyards were filled with farm animals. Many were whitewashed and defined with ruddy black and red bands just below the roofline. Short vertical, sometimes diagonal, black and red stripes also decorated the outside walls down from the roof. Round patches of yak dung covered most of the walls, and once dried, piled on the walls. Doors to the residing rooms were covered with curtains, decorated with one of the sacred signs of good luck.
Driving was slow and not easy. Most of the way the road was bumpy and dusty, and only close to towns got tar sealed. Most of the time we were at 4,000m, crossing passes over 5,000m. Prayer flags crowned every mountain pass, flapping in the strong winds that swept constantly across the roof of the world.
After crossing the Laling La, at 5,050m, we stopped for lunch at Old Tingri. While picturing a nomad by his tent, who agreed to be photographed and enjoyed seeing himself on my camera's screen, I was bitten hard by his dog. It hurt, I cried out, and all the Tibetans around responded in much care, as many Tibetan dogs are infected with Rabies, and the disease is infectious. Tibetan women smeared the bite with Tsampa, and John said I was going to die in three days. We had four more days to get to Lhasa where I could go to a hospital.
When crossing Lhakpa La (5,220m) most of the group did not feel well. The wind was very strong, flipping intensively the many hanging prayer flags and white Khata prayer scarves.
We stayed overnight at Lhatse (4,000m). Toilets were far in the dark, and due to the cold weather, everyone used the inner big yard. During the night, I heard peeps, and thought it was a weird alarm clock buzz. In the morning, John was amazed when he realized that the chirp had come from mice that were crawling under his sheets.
After a short drive the next day, we reached Shigatse (4,000m). Shigatse, Tibet's second largest town, looked Chinese and hardly spiritual. The Chinese controlled the towns, held the majority of the shops, restaurants and businesses. Still, in the Tibetan quarters, Tibetans operated the shops, street-side stalls, Tibetan restaurants, small businesses, travel agencies, and a few guesthouses for foreign travelers.
Stream of Tibetan pilgrims walked around the Tashilhunpo Monastery in Shigatse, perambulating clockwise while turning the golden prayer wheels. Such a circuit around sacred Tibetan places is called Lingkor, which means pilgrim's route.
Shigatse's Tashilhunpo Monastery was famous as the seat of the 10th Panchen Lama (which means The Great Teacher), who was on good terms with the Chinese. The Chinese government did not allow bringing in or presenting The Dalai Lama's picture. While in every Tibetan house and restaurant at McLeod Ganj, and in every Sherpa house and restaurant in Nepal, hung a big picture of The Dalai Lama, Tibetan houses and restaurants in Tibet hung the picture of the last late 10th Panchen Lama.
We continued our way through the mountain desert painted in creams, yellowish and pale browns. The area was treeless, devoid of any greenery. We climbed passes and dropped into new valleys. The valleys were surrounded by beige mountains, which stood in sharp contrast to the blue overhead, a sky that its hue tended towards metal at this high altitude.
Tibetan shepherds were herding sheep, goats, cows and yaks; farmers were busy collecting and cultivating their ripe crops; and traders were negotiating in small markets. We spotted a few nomadic herdsmen who were living in tents made from woven yak hair. On our way from Shigatse to Gyantse we stopped at a barley graining mill, which was using the river water.
From far away we could see Gyantse Dzong (which means fort), impressive on its rocky spine. After arriving at Gyantse (4,160m), we started threading our way through the Tibetan quarters, narrow alleys of painted doors and windows, full of atmosphere and character. In front of the houses, in tiny yards, there were few cows and baby cows.
We climbed up through a hill to watch Gyantse and its Pelkor Chode and Kumbum Stupa. We enjoyed a superb view of the local activities happening on the flat roof terraces and in the enclosed courtyards, which were normally hidden with high walls. From there we climbed further to Gyantse Dzong, to get a full overview of Gyantse. The Tibetan quarters looked so beautiful. Walls within walls surround the houses. On the other hand, the Chinese part seemed cold, broad boulevards, wide sidewalks, and tall concrete buildings with huge windows.
Around Gyantse, as well as around other towns, there were greenhouses with plastic tunnels, where locals grew vegetables. We were so happy to buy fresh vegetables, tomatoes, cucumbers, green peppers, onions and carrots, and ate them all fresh. The Chinese had introduced the vegetables to this area, for their own dishes, as Tibetans were not used to eating veggies, and did not use them in rural villages. Tibetans adopted the use of chopsticks.
To support the Tibetans I ate only in Tibetan restaurants, not Chinese. There were also tourist restaurants, but I preferred the simple ones for locals and pilgrims. There were not many dish variations, mainly Thukpa, a Tibetan noodle soup, usually served with meat and vegetables. The Thukpa was extremely hot with chili peppers. Sometimes I also had Momos, which were stuffed only with meat in Tibet. The local restaurants did not have menus, and since Tibetans do not speak English, I used to enter the tiny kitchen, look into the pots, and point at items like salt and Kwopa (which means garlic).
We continued our way through the empty awe-inspiring landscape. The Tibetan desert was full of water, or more accurately – frozen water. It had many frozen streams and icy ponds, some with running water beneath the icy cover. Kids were sliding on pieces of wood over the little icy ponds. We passed an impressive glacier that looked as if it was going to crash down and collapse from Mount Nechinghangsang (7,720m).
Inside the snowy mountainous plateau, we reached the Yamdork Tsho (which means lake), filled with blue-green water, which looked so intense with the brown and white mountains and the polarized blue sky. The hydroelectric power station seemed to unfit the row nature. This beautiful sight was sadly dying, as a major tunnel was draining the lake in Tsangpo to provide hydro-electricity for Lhasa.
Lhasa and around
We reached Lhasa on Wednesday, November 10, where I shared a room with Nicolas, at the Tashi Targyal Hotel. At last, we had hot running water, where I took a good shower, and got rid of the thick dust layer which covered my body. When washing all my clothes, the water turned dark brown. The dust got everywhere. The smell of the fresh clean laundry was like spanking incense. Taking a hot shower every night before going to bed was such an enjoyable spoil.
Nevertheless, it felt stronger that Tibet was still not prepared for tourism, though it first opened its doors to visitors in 1984. I relate to the necessities for tourists' western lifestyle. Many of the tourists who reached Lhasa found themselves not fit for the basic facilities, and went out as soon as possible. Unfortunately, the Travel agents in Katmandu did emphasize that the packages included drive-in only, but did not make it clear how difficult it would be to get out. In the high season, twice a week buses drive to the Nepali border to bring new tourists, but off season there are no flights, no regular transportation, just when a group forms, about every 10 days or more. For those who are determined to go back, the only option is hiring a Land Cruiser for a very high price.
My dog bite looked bad, and I went to The People's Hospital. Hospital signs were only in Tibetan and Chinese, not a word in English. Only a few personnel spoke little English. One led me to another while I had to pay for the visit, get a prescription, buy the vaccination ampoules, and get my first injection of the Rabies purified vaccine. Everyone in the hospital was wearing a mask, and I could see only the eyes of those who took care of me.
More than a half of the people in the streets, and mainly the women, covered their faces with masks against the dust. The masks created a kind of barrier, because it made me lose my main means of communication with them, which was smiling.
Sun and wind have a large impact on the Tibetan climate, and cause extreme changes during the day. While it was freezing cold during the mornings and the evenings, it was relatively much warmer around noon. Moving from sunny places to shaded areas made a drastic change.
We started exploring Lhasa around the Potala Palace. The Potala is the most enduring symbol of Tibet. It served as a winter residence for The Dalai Lamas, from the 6th until the 14th, and hosted the main political and religious affairs. Markus, a German who came with us on the bus from Nepal, went inside The Potala Palace, and described The Potala as a cold and alienated museum, lifeless.
A reflection of the Potala Palace:
Visiting Tibetan sacred places required paying high entrance fees, which were paid to the Chinese. Entering The Potala Palace cost ¥100, The Norbulingka ¥60, The Tashilhunpo monastery in Shigatse ¥55, and so on. I felt as if the Chinese were looking for a reimbursement for the restoration work they did, after their own senseless destruction since 1959 and particularly during the Communist Revolution in 1966-1976, when the Chinese policy was to suppress Tibetan institutions, eradicating all symbols of the past.
Traveling includes discovering about life, culture and history. I came to Tibet to see in my own eyes the Tibetans' life, after listening to the descriptions from my students in McLeod Ganj in India, and from all the people I met along the Khumbu trail to Everest in Nepal. Well, things on the surface looked quiet, it seemed like Tibetans and Chinese learned to live together. Many monks and nuns walked around in their robes and zens, around and inside the Chinese shops.
Religion is the lifeblood of the Tibetan people. The Tibetan Lingkor goes through different parts of Lhasa. Some of the pilgrims come from 2,000km away, and it takes them six months to get to Lhasa while prostrating. Pilgrims, in their traditional clothing, did not seem fit when they crossed the Chinese parts of Lhasa, the wide Chinese roads, tall buildings and expensive shops. Around The Potala and The Jokhang, the Tibetans seemed more relevant.
Wandering in the Tibetan quarters around The Jokhang and watching the local life was profound. I observed the many pilgrims, prostrating their entire bodies on the ground; the many shops and stands with Tibetan religious items such as necklace ornaments of agate, jade, gold and silver; the colorful traditionally dressed Tibetans with burnt bronze faces, by the harsh plateau sun, and the women's dark hair decorated with turquoise stones.
Hundreds of large bronze cylindrical prayer wheels line the walls along the Lingkor, skirting the sacred places. Butter lamps in dark halls, with the skylight falling in patches from the windows in the high overhead; large piles of offering stones; paintings of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas in bright attractive colors; rows of prayer flags stretching to top while the wind whips through them; and strong smell of burned incense.
Lhasa was full of Tibetan beggars, as this is part of the Tibetan culture. Pilgrims make trips by begging for the money on the way, as I remembered very well from the Geshe's stories in the Library at McLeod Ganj. Monasteries and nunneries in Tibet do not have sponsors and do not get funds like in India. Monks and nuns are coming from the local families, who support them. Local Tibetans were holding small money notes, distributing them to the pilgrims. This behavior looked natural and fit the atmosphere. However, the local beggars felt sticky when hassling the tourists, demanding for money, not politely asking. They did not take no for an answer, and would follow the tourist, nagging and annoying.
While entering the Base Camp Mount Restaurant in Lhasa, we realized that the place was the meeting place of many Tibetan tour guides. Most of them spent time in Dharamsala, and their English was very good. Raj, the cook, was Nepali, who had been staying in Lhasa for 8 months, and would go back to Nepal at the beginning of December. After a few Lhasa beers and some small talk, I had the guts to ask Jigme about their inner feelings. Jigme stared at me and said "you should never trust anyone". I realized he was afraid, and replied that I trust him, and asked him to trust me. I told him openly about my relationships with Tibetans in McLeod Ganj, and explained that I am just curious to learn about their real life in Tibet. I struggled inside, between the desire to know and the fear I might endangered him. Jigme kept repeating I should never trust anyone, and that I can never know who is disguised and who might inform on me.
After a while Jigme hesitated and quietly admitted that they fear the Chinese. If he were caught speaking about politics, he would be imprisoned immediately. Jigme said that for the Chinese government, politics comes before economics. The Chinese government did not care that young Tibetans have no jobs and drink beer.
Tibetan tour guides had to renew their license every year, by taking an exam. A year before, 56 Tibetan tour guides had lost their licenses for unclear reasons. The tour guides who gathered in that restaurant did not have a license, because they grew up in Dharamsala.
Jigme went to Dharamsala with his grandparents when he was 5 years old. His mom was working in west Tibet, and he never had any connection with his father who was living in Nepal. Several years ago, the Chinese threatened his uncle, who worked for the electricity company, and his mother, who worked in a court, that they would lose their jobs if Jigme would not come back to Tibet. They promised Jigme would get a job. When Jigme came back, he did not get any job, so he decided to become a tour guide, as he had good English.
The guides we met in this restaurant did not know Chinese, and therefore could not get any job. Learning Chinese was too expensive for them. The only thing they could do was become a tour guide, and I realized that they did not perceive being a tour guide as a good job, probably because of the short season. Off-season they hang around in the Base Camp Mount Restaurant, where they get special prices, drink a lot of beer, and smoke one cigarette after another. They dressed and behaved as westerners, looking very much like the Tibetans in McLeod Ganj.
They love Tibet, and hope to be free. Getting a passport is not easy, and only those who have connections with the government can get one. Ardon, a beautiful girl, grew up in Nepal, and came to Lhasa a year ago. The coming winter, she planned to get back to Nepal, and to spend the following year in Dharamsala, to learn English. Wangdon was born close to Mount Everest, and his family is still there. Dorje was happy, as the next day he was guiding a group back to the Nepali border. Dolkar wanted to open a travel agency, and planned to travel to Katmandu, to establish relationships with travel agents who offer Tibetan tours. Sonam would join her to Katmandu.
These Tibetan guides were a group of beautiful people, who seemed confused. They sensed the lack of their freedom everyday. Jigme and Wangdon talked beautifully about Buddhism. Jigme explained that he learned about Buddhism for his job as a guide. They sounded sincere about Buddhism, more than the majority of the young Tibetans in McLeod Ganj. They kept warning us to be careful with the Chinese undercover, never talk politics, never mention The Dalai Lama.
We received detailed information from this group of guides about touring Tibet. Jigme explained to us how to get on a pilgrim bus to visit the Samye Monastery, as this was off-season.
The way to Samye was striking, through a landscape of infinite variations of brown and blue colors. In the crystal air, trees etched against hills and peaks against the sky. Tree leaves fluttered in brilliant yellows and oranges. Robed horsemen easily galloped through the road, usually with a wooden carriage piled with sacks and people.
We reached the Tong-sho ferry landing at 10:00. The ferry was a big wooden boat where people stood inside. The boat was winding among the sandbars, crossing the broad Yarlung Tsangpo River (known as the Brahmaputra). The river flows 2,900km from west to east across the Tibetan plateau before it loops south to enter India. Riding with the pilgrims on the same bus, and squeezing together in the ferry, was exciting. They were more open, though we were able to communicate only through eyes and smiles. I could feel their profound beliefs and their deep respect of their sacred places, and how they live their culture.
A Tibetan girl in a crowded ferry boat on the way to Samyai Monastery:
The pilgrims looked astonished each time an airplane flew in the sky above. They would excitedly tell everyone to watch, stood up, and pointed to it while laughing and talking loudly.
At the other bank, we climbed a tractor wagon to the Samye monastery. During the Cultural Revolution the monastery was destroyed, and reconstructed between 1984 and 1990. Some reconstruction work was still taking place. The monastery was alive, with monks living there. We stayed overnight at the clean and pleasant hostel beside the monastery entrance.
While climbing the Hipo Ri, a mountain south to Samye, we enjoyed the Mandala-like structure of the monastery to the north, while west, south and east of us stretched the Yarlung Valley, with the shiny Tsangpo river flowing along, with huge sand dunes, and trees in their foliage. The brightly colored flags moved in ritual formations around the sacrificial altars.
At sunrise, the sun's rays were sliding slowly down Samye's golden roof, making it glow in a shiny bright yellow. The sand dunes looked amazing in the morning light, when its strong contrast made the dune shapes soft, yet powerful.
When back in Lhasa, we went to visit the living Sara Monastery. Like few other monasteries, Sera's setting hugs the ridge, and forms a bucolic atmosphere that makes it so charming.
A dusty road, hemmed by rock walls and willow trees, took us through the monastery. The debating garden was a tranquil spot where monks gathered to discuss the finer points of the doctrine learned during the morning studies. We witnessed the graceful and distinctive hand and body movements, which were an integral part of the discourse.
Inside the chapels, we squeezed into the lines of pilgrims, humbly bowing and receiving a monk's blessing. Wrathfu Deity, the protector from the bad spirits and the bad evils, the angry manifestation with scalps over his crown, looked intimidating in the deemed light, while pilgrims bowed to it with full respect.
Lhasa to Katmandu
We started our way back from Lhasa to Nepal on Thursday, November 18. We winded through wondrous scenery, including spectacular views of the Himalayas. We experienced a snowstorm in the afternoon of the first day. Low dark clouds added dignity to the Tibetan passes. On the next day, passes and mountains looked magnificent, covered with new white snow.
The stream flowing under the bridge just beyond the checkpoint after Shegar (called also New Tingri) is the upper Arun River, which eventually becomes a mighty body of water slicing through the Himalayas on its journey through Nepal to join the Ganges in India.
From Old Tingri we had a full panorama of the majestic Himalayan landscape, immensely high mountains, including the pyramidal peak of Mount Everest, known to the Tibetans as Chomolungma.
We were riding in a Land Cruiser, together with a minibus. On the way, our driver helped three vehicles who had problems. Riding every week on these rough roads requires mechanical knowledge. After Old Tingri, the bus engine went dead. Our driver found a workaround, while we had tea in one of the Tibetan houses. We reached Nyelan very late.
Beyond Nyelan the scenery became spectacular, as we felt part of the Himalayas. The road dropped precipitously, 1,450m in 33km, zigzagging down through a gorge that scored into the steep walls. The white peaks of the Himalayas dropped away while we entered the green valleys of Nepal. Trees, grass and shrubs clang to the steep slopes.
By the time we reached Zhangmu, most evidence of Tibet was gone, replaced by the Nepali wooden houses and the Chinese cement buildings. The yaks were also gone.
After crossing the Chinese immigration, we took a taxi through the 8km of steep no man's land to the Nepali immigration at Tatopani, and the border stop at Kodari. Crossing the border went smoothly. We went on a tourist bus back to Katmandu, where we arrived on Saturday, November 20.
Katmandu at the bottom of the Nepali Himalayas
Tibetans in Katmandu
Finding the Tibetan Refugee Transit Reception Center in Katmandu required detective work. I went through several Tibetan centers all over Katmandu City. People sent me to Patan in the south of Katmandu, and to the Jawalakhel Handicraft center, close to the Tibetan Refugee camp.
After taking a good look into my eyes, Tibetans explained to me that I should go to Ichangu in the west of Katmandu, close to Swoyambhunath Stupa. There I wandered up and down the hills, questioning many people who didn't know the place. In one Tibetan restaurant very close to the Tibetan Refugee Transit Reception Center, a man who spoke good English explained to me that they do not use the English name, and explained that in Tibetan it is called Nelenkan. Finally I got there.
I became very emotional when observing the newcomers, who were still dressed in traditional long fur Tibetan robes, though the temperature was hot. Tibetans were sitting or lying on mattresses inside a huge unfurnished hall, or sitting on the steps outside. They looked frightened to me, probably from the unknown future. I imagined my close Tibetan friends from McLeod Ganj when they were in this place, Gyalmtso, Kalsang, Wangdon and others.
I couldn't find any volunteering work there, as people stay there only for a short while, and they do not know English at all, so I was unable to communicate with them. In the Tibetan quarters at Ichangu, as well as in the Tibetan refugee camp at Patan, I found out that the Tibetan community in Katmandu was well organized in Tibetan schools, which were run independently by people who have lived for many years in Nepal.
The village of Ichangu
While staying in Katmandu at the Potala Tourist Home guesthouse, I ate most of the time at the nearby "Namaste Nepali Restaurant'', which offered excellent homemade Nepali food. The owner, Dilip Karki had worked for 14 years in a trekking agency, and three years before he opened this tiny restaurant. Dilip and his wife Sharmila were so nice, sensitive and gentle, that I kept eating there, enjoying conversations and learning about their life.
Dilip, Sharmila and I, in front of their Namaste restaurant:
I told Dilip that I would like to stay in a village and teach English, and he arranged, through a relative, my stay in Ichangu.
Ramesh, Dilip's cousin, came to pick me up, and brought me to their family house in Ichangu. As mentioned above, the Tibetan quarters in Ichangu are in the valley, including the Tibetan Refugee Transit Reception Center. The upper part of the village is over the hill, populated by Hindu people.
Once we got to the upper part of the village, we went to the village temple. Ramesh put some red sticky powder mixed with rice on my forehead, between the eyes. He explained that married women put it high on the forehead and about 5cm up inside the hair. He also put some flower leaves on my hair.
I stayed in a family house with two stories. On the first floor, Ramesh's brother's wife, Sushila, had a store. Her goat with her three kids all slept on the stair landing. On the second floor were three rooms: one where Sushila and her little boy Kissor slept, another for her other two kids, Anu and Issor, and on the third, I stayed. Half a floor up, on the stair landing was a tiny kitchen, where Sushila prepared great food.
From the corridor on the second floor was a great view of wheat fields, divided by terraces, and three hills, with monasteries on the top of two of them. Sushila's other two children stayed with their father at Katmandu for their studies. Again and again I encountered families who had separated for the education of their kids.
The house had no faucet, no sink, no running water, no toilet, and no shower. Along the paths in the village there were taps, where people would brush their teeth, wash their faces and feet, girls would wash their hair and other people would wash their whole body. Men would wash themselves while wearing shorts or underwear, and women would wrap in a Loongi (Sarong) and douse themselves. People used the open fields as toilets. People brought water to their houses in big jars. Judith, an English woman who lives in France, whom I met in Lhasa, pointed out that they also drink less, and therefore pee less. As Sushila closed the entrance door at night, I had to practice Hira's idea and used a plastic jug.
Indians, Nepalese and Tibetans perceive the usage of toilets in a very open way. People have no problem doing their excretions in the open. Men would stand with their backs to the road; monks and women would squat, while their long dresses or robes cover them around. This is part of their culture. When I requested to hide myself behind something, Ramesh promised to arrange something. However, as he could not understand how important it was to me, he never did. The same was when I requested Ramesh to hide so I could take a shower, with all of my clothes off. Toilets and showers exist only in touristic places. The frequency of taking a shower by locals in India, Nepal and Tibet is much lower. I remembered that EakLal told me that Nepalese wash themselves once in two weeks.
Near Ramesh's house, his friend Tankuli had a little restaurant, where she offered food for locals. Tankuli became an orphan when she was very young, and she grew up alone. I found it beautiful that she could rent the restaurant, and earn enough money for her living. I had great buff Momos. Nepalese also prepare Momos, they just wrap them in a different way. While the Tibetans' mutton Momos are shaped like bananas, the Nepalis' ones are round like small balls.
The first rain started falling, and Ramesh was very happy and said that this meant good luck. In addition to blessing their fields, I was happy as the rain washed the dust away, and I could enjoy the fresh air. I was still coughing from the dust in Tibet. Everyone got completely wet, as the first rain always comes by surprise. Anu, Issor and Kissor arrived from school freezing and completely wet.
Sunrise in the village was beautiful. Clear blue skies, with an amazing light on the field terraces. Ichangu is warmer than Katmandu, and it surprised me. Katmandu is lower; it does not have green spaces, it is polluted and crowded. I enjoyed very much the warmth of Ichangu, the sunshine and reading a book in a warmer room. But nights were cold, and I had no means of heating the room. Only in the hotel in Katmandu I had the guts to use electricity, and warmed myself by getting close to my Indian electric cooking heater.
Ramesh took me on a motorbike ride in the village. The rain in the previous day turned the dust into a very slippery mud, and soon enough we slipped with the bike. Luckily, nothing happened to us, as Ramesh was riding very slowly, but he said his motorbike was lost. Everyone in the village, kids and grownups, were laughing to see me covered with mud. Other times when I strolled in the village, they enjoyed saying hello and ask simple questions in English. Tourists usually do not get to this village.
The idea was that I will teach English there, but this did not work out. After five days I decided to go back to Katmandu. I left Anu and Sushila items that I had gathered since the beginning of my journey in India, including buttoned shirts, a jumper, a woolen beanie with a fleece linen, woolen gloves, a sturdy umbrella, a radio transistor, curtains, a tablecloth, two cushions, Kashmiri decorations, a big towel, laundry detergent powder, dishwashing detergent, Ayurvedic soap, soapboxes, a kitchen stand, a plastic jug, sunglasses, candles, pens and a big bag.
Ramesh's acronym for Nepal was Never Ending Peace And Love.
Nepalese in Katmandu
I was unable to walk in peace in Katmandu. People were harassing tourists, trying to sell them different items. Every price would be "very cheap" and a "good price", and they would not let go. When I did want to buy something, the Nepalese would throw ridiculous prices to start bargaining. After a while, I decided not to invest more energy in bargaining, though it encourages unfair trade, but at least I would be supporting the Nepalese. However, soon enough after the trade I would always meet someone who bought the same item for half the price or less. This left me with a bad feeling that I was ripped off, and it took away the joy of leaving money. Traders would also contradict themselves about the merchandise, such as the type of wool, the percentage of wool, the quality of the product, so I could never know what exactly I was going to buy.
The idea that in western countries couples have a sex relationship without being married drove the young Katmandu men crazy. As much as they were very friendly, many had a goal to have sex with a tourist. They developed their friendliness and warmth by spending time with a tourist, expecting the tourist to pay all expenses. They would continue with promises and would suggest an overnight stay in Nagarkot. Probably they felt free to break their customs outside their hometown. When finally they understand that it would not happen, they would vanish. Andy from Victoria, Australia, said she thought of surprising them once by answering with yes. She believed that they would freeze as they would not know how to continue.
Returning Home
Most enjoyable was distributing everything I decided not to carry home as giveaways. After leaving so many items in Ichangu, I gave Dilip my old shoes, the electric cooking heater, trousers, socks, Ayurvedic soap, shower rubber and my big laundry plastic bowl. I left Nepal with the memory of their glowing eyes from all the presents.
On my way back, I had the time to reflect on the half year I was away. I accomplished the goals I set when departing, volunteering while learning yoga, meditation and Buddhism philosophy. Rafael was out of my life. I assessed the goals of my life. For twenty years, it has been to love and appreciate when being loved. I refined it, to live for others. I assimilated the unsteadiness of life. I was aware of my attachments, though relationships are not stable. I enjoyed reading so many books and writing. Staying for a long time in each place, I was able to obtain deep comprehension, to get a wider view; I was able to notice little nuances. My understanding of the Tibetan issue was much more profound.
Living so close to different cultures made me less judgmental. The atmosphere of happiness, humility, dignity, patience and tolerance touched me.
I learnt how much I enjoy simple life; though I realized that my basic needs for long stays include a toilet where I can be hidden, access to a toilet at night, and a hot shower where I can conceal myself.
After landing, I spotted immediately Eyal and Amir, smiling and glowing. I could not stop squeezing them. I missed them so much.
Epilog
With a whole different view of my life, I sold my huge two floor penthouse and moved into a tiny functional apartment four months after returning home. 60 square meters, third level without an elevator, in an old simple building, without a private parking lot. I did stay in Ramat Hasharon, so it would be easier for my boys to have all the family in one place.
Moving to a much smaller house and simplifying my life made me giveaway many items I owned but never really used. I was able to fill the largest box the post allowed and transferred to Nepal items for Dilip and his family. I was so happy to receive an email from him saying that the box arrived.
But nouveau riche, snobby Ramat Hasharon couldn't stand having an old simple building, and supported an evacuation and reconstruction project. Though financially wise it is an excellent deal, I don't plan to stay in a 15 floor exclusive twin towers, with 126 big apartments, all in high standard, with elevators, a fancy lobby, and a roofed private parking lot.
To the photo galleries: India, Dharamsala, Katmandu, Everest Trek, China, Tibet and China, Tibetan Culture.
Appendix – Volunteering, Compassion in Action
CONTACT Magazine, A Dharamsala Community Publication, September 2004
By Wynette Weaver
Three years ago, Brick Thornton visited Tibet. He met many travelers who expressed a desire to help the Tibetan community by any means possible. Recognizing a volunteer group was necessary, he and others organized volunteer Tibet. It offers foreigners the opportunity to participate in helping and supporting the Tibetan community in exile. Help is needed from teaching English, computer skills to participating in already established social programs. Thousands of hours have been devoted to the Tibetan Community through Volunteer Tibet.
Some programs include environmental reports, education kits for the Tibetan Government's Department of Information, data database for Men Tee Khan-Tibetan Medical College. Working with troubled youths, women's health seminars in schools and nunneries, to assistance for the Library of Tibetan Works. English instruction and tutoring for monasteries, nunneries and adult education.
To raise awareness of Tibetan religion and history VT has organized tours and various outings.
Volunteer Tibet is located on Jogiwara Road below Dokebi Korean Restaurant. For your support please speak with Sonam Choekyi Dekhang, Managing Director.
Brick Thornton, Founder of Volunteer Tibet and Sonam Choekyi Dekhang, Managing Director.
Efrat's Story
Efrat Nakash became interested in volunteering to help the indigenous people in the world after spending a few months in Patagonia, where she visited the Mapuche Indians. During this time, Efrat was impressed with the warmth of the local people. After returning to her well-off life in "nouveau-riche, snobby Ramat Hasharon", Efrat decided she wanted to have a simple life, to live in a small place only with basic things and do something to help others. Efrat, whose children were grown, wanted to live close to nature and help others. Efrat began to research where she could go to live a simple lifestyle and help others. During previous trips to Nepal and Tibet, Efrat had met Tibetans whose appearance and behavior touched her heart. The people she met were gentle, modest and smiling. She knew she could learn a lot from them. She was also attracted to visiting India to strengthen her spirit and emotions by learning meditation, Buddhism philosophy and yoga.
Efrat did an Internet search for Dharamsala on the web, and discovered the Volunteer Tibet organization. Besides wanting to study meditation and Buddhist philosophy, Efrat realized that her life would be more complete if she could do something for others. Efrat was already on the Buddhist path by thinking along these lines, as developing Bodhicitta, loving kindness, and putting others before oneself is part of the path of Buddhism, the path of being a Bodhisattva, and having compassion for all sentient beings. Dedicating herself to the exiled Tibetans of Dharamsala seemed like a good place for the short term, and she was able to do this through Volunteer Tibet. She made arrangements to fly to India and planned on Staying in Dharamsala for the six months her VOSA allowed.
In McLeod, Efrat met with the coordinators of Volunteer Tibet. Brick and Sonam who helped Efrat design a volunteer program suited for Efrat, sharing her knowledge in photography, English and computers. Her first project was to photograph the volunteers at work at their projects, Efrat visited the volunteers and photographed them with their Tibetan students and coworkers. The photos were given to the volunteers to send home, for Volunteer Tibet promotion and the local magazine, CONTACT. After this assignment, Efrat began tutoring Tibetans from Gu-Chu-Sum school in English and helping with other photography.
In August, Efrat will help nuns in Jamling Chöling Nunnery with computers, English and whatever they need. Efrat felt it would be an "excellent atmosphere to learn deeply about Tibetan Buddhism". When Efrat visited the nunnery to meet the senior nun, Tenzin Lhadron, her services were needed immediately: Tenzin was going to Korea to attend a conference and she needed help preparing a photo album to show to the nunnery sponsor. Efrat helped her to write the subtitles for the pictures in English, then cut and pasted the photos into the album.
Efrat is "amazed how Tibetan education is more important for the Tibetans than their families". She has heard many people tell how the children are sent over the Himalayas from Tibet, leaving their parents behind, so they can get an education here. "Tibetans perceive education as power", she says, "Indians know English, as it is one of the formal languages in India, and they learn it from elementary school. The Tibetans go to school in Tibet for only four years, and do not learn English. They are eager to learn, and it is great to help them. We played roles of a buyer and a seller in a shop, described what is in the classroom and what we see from the window, described what we do from waking up till going to sleep and what we eat. We also read stories and talked about them. My students loved the description of the water cycle. We described the body parts and cloth items. For geography we use a small globe, describing the continents, islands and different climates".
Efrat feels deeply for the Tibetans who have been separated from their families to escape over the Himalayas to McLeod Ganj. "Tibetans miss Tibet", Efrat says. "Whenever we speak about Tibet, they get glossy eyes. No doubt it is the homeland together with the family, which they haven't seen for years. They send letters, they call, but they do not hug each other". Efrat has compassion and heart for helping others that is sure to keep her on the path to becoming a Bodhisattva.
To the photo galleries: India, Dharamsala, Katmandu, Everest Trek, China, Tibet and China, Tibetan Culture.