7.17.2004
MIRACLE: GET THE KEY RING WITH YOUR LOVELY NAME ON A GRAIN OF RICE
(10 July 04)
As usual sitting writing in a cafe for breakfast -- our main vocation on these luxurious days with nothing to do. Manali was a pit, and the all-night bus ride there from Dharamsala was as miserable as I had expected. We stayed a few K away from Manali in a lovely little village called Vashist, perched up above the river with views of the forested Himalaya at the top of the valley. This quaint little place had two dark and elaborately carved heavy wooden temples, and our guest house was situated across from one. The other housed the public baths -- hot springs in deep concrete open air pools with high walls. (A cow just walked by as I type and Erik said, "I just never get over seeing the cows on the street. I love it!") It was interesting to watch the village women, squatting, washing themselves and their clothes at once. At the center of the temple grounds was an ancient looking Hanuman temple, and some Shiva-worshipping holy men lurking intensely in the shadows by a fire.
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TAGLANGLA PASS :: ALTITUDE 17,582 FEET
"You are passing through second highest pass of the world. Unbelievable is it not?"
(11 July 04)
485 kilometers from Manali to Leh > > > Roughly 24 hours of driving over two days >> up up up into the heart of the Himalaya "be gentle on my curves" the sign says > > > Sheer dropoffs rusting old painted bits of "goods carrier" truck below and myth-making cliffs above and glaciers further above and still thousands of feet of towering rocks above that. > > > Up up up above pine forests and rivers leaving toy road below up where rock becomes dust and there's nothing left but sky.
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WELCOME BHARATPUR :: HIMALAYAN DHABA & RESTAURANT :: ALTITUDE 15,000 FEET
(12 July 04)
We slept cozy with our travel companions in a round yellow circus tent ringed with raised futons and heavy blankets. A Ladakhi woman offered us milk tea and a simple meal of vegetable noodles and blankets for the encroaching high-altititude cold. Sleep came fitfully, excited, I woke up every hour just to make sure I was still breathing. 15,000 feet!
+ + + + +
LADAKH : THE JEWEL IN THE CROWN OF INDIA
(13 July 04)
The people of Ladakh remind me, in body and spirit, of they land they inhabit: a wide and open valley on a high plateau (11,000 feet) surrounded by the ancient mountains which gave birth to all of India's sacred myths. At the center of this austere desert valley is the Indus river, creating an oasis of green abundant fertility under bright sun and deep blue sky little puffy clouds. Hot days yield to windy afternoons and downright chilly evening -- foretelling of the bone-chilling Ladakhi winters.
Leh is the color of bones. Clay brick and straw buildings rise out of the dust and climb up the barren hillsides to meet a castle high on the ridge. Himalayan peaks ring around, enclosing the city in purple.
+ + + + +
THIKSEY GOMPA
(15 July 04)
Woke up (well-rested) at 5:30 and climbed the steps up to the hillside Buddhist monastery for morning puja (prayers). Two monks in red robes trumpeted across the valley from the rooftop, beginning the daily ritual. Early morning light streaked through cloudcover across the Himalaya. When the mountains had been sufficiently awakened, we wandered timidly into the prayer hall. Monks of all ages muttered sleepily along with disembodied chanting piped in from some secret sanctuary. Like a beatnik performance, voices came in and out, strong at times then fading out replaced by another inspiration, according to no prescribed rhythm. Some sat silently, swaying and others muttered privately. At intervals horns would blow, symbols would clang, and two elaborately painted drums beat in unison. Witnessing this I felt privvy to some world secret, that perhaps these early morning mutterings were solely responsible for waking up the earth each day.
After awhile, a few younger monks raced in to serve Tibetan hot butter tea followed by more young monks offering powdered porridge, spooned into the tea from large metal buckets. After a few rounds of this (chanting all the while) the monks seemed more lively -- especially the youngest ones who chanted the loudest in rote, playfully pushing and shoving then racing to be the next to serve tea.
(10 July 04)
As usual sitting writing in a cafe for breakfast -- our main vocation on these luxurious days with nothing to do. Manali was a pit, and the all-night bus ride there from Dharamsala was as miserable as I had expected. We stayed a few K away from Manali in a lovely little village called Vashist, perched up above the river with views of the forested Himalaya at the top of the valley. This quaint little place had two dark and elaborately carved heavy wooden temples, and our guest house was situated across from one. The other housed the public baths -- hot springs in deep concrete open air pools with high walls. (A cow just walked by as I type and Erik said, "I just never get over seeing the cows on the street. I love it!") It was interesting to watch the village women, squatting, washing themselves and their clothes at once. At the center of the temple grounds was an ancient looking Hanuman temple, and some Shiva-worshipping holy men lurking intensely in the shadows by a fire.
+ + + + +
TAGLANGLA PASS :: ALTITUDE 17,582 FEET
"You are passing through second highest pass of the world. Unbelievable is it not?"
(11 July 04)
485 kilometers from Manali to Leh > > > Roughly 24 hours of driving over two days >> up up up into the heart of the Himalaya "be gentle on my curves" the sign says > > > Sheer dropoffs rusting old painted bits of "goods carrier" truck below and myth-making cliffs above and glaciers further above and still thousands of feet of towering rocks above that. > > > Up up up above pine forests and rivers leaving toy road below up where rock becomes dust and there's nothing left but sky.
+ + + + +
WELCOME BHARATPUR :: HIMALAYAN DHABA & RESTAURANT :: ALTITUDE 15,000 FEET
(12 July 04)
We slept cozy with our travel companions in a round yellow circus tent ringed with raised futons and heavy blankets. A Ladakhi woman offered us milk tea and a simple meal of vegetable noodles and blankets for the encroaching high-altititude cold. Sleep came fitfully, excited, I woke up every hour just to make sure I was still breathing. 15,000 feet!
+ + + + +
LADAKH : THE JEWEL IN THE CROWN OF INDIA
(13 July 04)
The people of Ladakh remind me, in body and spirit, of they land they inhabit: a wide and open valley on a high plateau (11,000 feet) surrounded by the ancient mountains which gave birth to all of India's sacred myths. At the center of this austere desert valley is the Indus river, creating an oasis of green abundant fertility under bright sun and deep blue sky little puffy clouds. Hot days yield to windy afternoons and downright chilly evening -- foretelling of the bone-chilling Ladakhi winters.
Leh is the color of bones. Clay brick and straw buildings rise out of the dust and climb up the barren hillsides to meet a castle high on the ridge. Himalayan peaks ring around, enclosing the city in purple.
+ + + + +
THIKSEY GOMPA
(15 July 04)
Woke up (well-rested) at 5:30 and climbed the steps up to the hillside Buddhist monastery for morning puja (prayers). Two monks in red robes trumpeted across the valley from the rooftop, beginning the daily ritual. Early morning light streaked through cloudcover across the Himalaya. When the mountains had been sufficiently awakened, we wandered timidly into the prayer hall. Monks of all ages muttered sleepily along with disembodied chanting piped in from some secret sanctuary. Like a beatnik performance, voices came in and out, strong at times then fading out replaced by another inspiration, according to no prescribed rhythm. Some sat silently, swaying and others muttered privately. At intervals horns would blow, symbols would clang, and two elaborately painted drums beat in unison. Witnessing this I felt privvy to some world secret, that perhaps these early morning mutterings were solely responsible for waking up the earth each day.
After awhile, a few younger monks raced in to serve Tibetan hot butter tea followed by more young monks offering powdered porridge, spooned into the tea from large metal buckets. After a few rounds of this (chanting all the while) the monks seemed more lively -- especially the youngest ones who chanted the loudest in rote, playfully pushing and shoving then racing to be the next to serve tea.
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