December 9 ( p.m.)
Off to Dharamsala, northeast of Amritsar nestled in the foothills of the Himalaya Mountains. Took a local bus (kind of like a very old, beat up schoolbus-no knee room, no shock absorbers, and full to the brim with people. Seven hours of ROUGH, WINDING, HIGH SPEED thrills.
The traffic was ridiculous! No one stays on their side of the road! They pass, sometimes three abreast, then pull in only fractions of a second before colliding. We were picked up by Jen Hogan, niece of a friend from Parkman, who is putting us up in her guest house. We sat down to our first western meal in almost 2 weeks.
December 11
Had our first Hindi lesson yesterday. Off for Macleod Ganj, home of the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan exiled Government. Pretty much straight uphill all the way. We had breakfast on a restaurant deck overlooking the whole world! Among other things, we had chocolate pancakes, French toast, and Tibetan Tsampa, (roasted barley porridge) and butter tea. Snow covered peaks behind us. The temperature is COLD in the shade, but nice and warm in the sunshine. The town is full of maroon robed monks, acting in ways I never expected! Rather than being pious, quiet, seriuous and staying separate from us normal-clad folks, they were dining in the little restaurants with westerners, talking on their cell phones, and constantly smiling and laughing. They must spend a lot of time with the Dalai Lama, who is ALWAYS laughing, smiling and joking around. Tons of Tibetan handicrafts, music, clothing, old coins and crystals for sale in the tiny shops.
We visited the Kalachakora (Wheel of Time), The Dalai Lama's temple. He lives up the road a bit further. Didn't see him. He makes himself pretty scarce now due to the Chinese Government's present threats on his life. Met a couple of really cool monks who taught me how to do the Tibetan prostration prayers. Great exercise!
December 12
Back up to Macleod Ganj. Visited the Tibetan Children's school, a school for orphans and for the children of parents still living in Tibet that smuggle their children into India so they don't have to learn Chinese. (The Chinese are forcing all children in Tibet to learn Chinese instead of Tibetan.) It is a beautiful school, supposedly the nicest school in India.
Back to Jen's for a last meal at their hose. Lots of great discussions, and lots of laughter. Reminded me of home. I really miss it.
December 13
Went up to a hilltop (mountaintop on Maine terms) above Macleod Ganj today, a fancy little stone hotel at 8,000 feet elevation owned by Jen's friends, Bo and Shiela, a British couple. We went as friends, invited for the weekend, and dined and slept in luxury, well, kind of. It never got above 30 degrees in the shade, and got down in the 20s at night O.K. in Maine when you have winter clothes and a warm house to stay in. They did have one room with a wood stove that was nice, but the dinnig room and bedooms were frigid! The spectacular views and te even more spectacular sunset on the snowy mountain peaks made it all worthwhile.
December 14
Slept in. Too cold to get out of bed. Many blankets and hot water bottles at our feet made for a nice cozy night. Back down the hill and caught a bus for the town of Reishikesh, 14 hours to the southeast.
A new insight into the treating to beggars:
There are far more beggars in India than there are people in the state of Maine. Most are disabled in some way, missing arms or legs, blind, deaf, or struck with some horrible disease. They walk right up to you, or if they can't walk, drag themslves up to you and stare pitifully up from the sidewalk or gutter holding out their little money cup. When you first see them, you either get a big lump in your throat, dig in your pocket and leave them a few coins, or pass on by-being very careful not to glance down and catch their eye-with a guilty conscious. But, after a few weeks, you become hardened to their pleas, and they almost become invisible to you. This "invisibility trick" is the way most tourists (and locals) treat the beggars. But how can we do this? They are fellow human beings, our brothers and sisters! Put yourself in their shoes. You are dirt poor ,probably live on the street, and on top of that, you are either blind, deaf, have a disabling disease, or are missing limbs. Then, insult upon insult, people TOTALLY IGNORE YOU! The least we can do is to acknwledge their presence and to reach out to them in some way.
The other day I saw an old lady dragging herself down the street on her back. At first, I saw her only with my eyes, and hought "What a horrible sight!". Suddenly, I saw her with my heart, and tears welled up in my eyes. As I slowly went by, we made eye contact and she smiled! Maybe she felt my compassion? That incident changed the way that I react to beggars. I now walk right up to them, bend down and hold their hands and give them the biggest and realest smile that I can. They always smile a great big smile right back, both of us get misty-eyed, and we both separate, still smiling. It is a moving experience to say the least.
Off to Dharamsala, northeast of Amritsar nestled in the foothills of the Himalaya Mountains. Took a local bus (kind of like a very old, beat up schoolbus-no knee room, no shock absorbers, and full to the brim with people. Seven hours of ROUGH, WINDING, HIGH SPEED thrills.
The traffic was ridiculous! No one stays on their side of the road! They pass, sometimes three abreast, then pull in only fractions of a second before colliding. We were picked up by Jen Hogan, niece of a friend from Parkman, who is putting us up in her guest house. We sat down to our first western meal in almost 2 weeks.
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| Jim's house. |
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| A Tibetan monk. |
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| Nursery at the Tibetan school |
Had our first Hindi lesson yesterday. Off for Macleod Ganj, home of the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan exiled Government. Pretty much straight uphill all the way. We had breakfast on a restaurant deck overlooking the whole world! Among other things, we had chocolate pancakes, French toast, and Tibetan Tsampa, (roasted barley porridge) and butter tea. Snow covered peaks behind us. The temperature is COLD in the shade, but nice and warm in the sunshine. The town is full of maroon robed monks, acting in ways I never expected! Rather than being pious, quiet, seriuous and staying separate from us normal-clad folks, they were dining in the little restaurants with westerners, talking on their cell phones, and constantly smiling and laughing. They must spend a lot of time with the Dalai Lama, who is ALWAYS laughing, smiling and joking around. Tons of Tibetan handicrafts, music, clothing, old coins and crystals for sale in the tiny shops.
We visited the Kalachakora (Wheel of Time), The Dalai Lama's temple. He lives up the road a bit further. Didn't see him. He makes himself pretty scarce now due to the Chinese Government's present threats on his life. Met a couple of really cool monks who taught me how to do the Tibetan prostration prayers. Great exercise!
December 12
Back up to Macleod Ganj. Visited the Tibetan Children's school, a school for orphans and for the children of parents still living in Tibet that smuggle their children into India so they don't have to learn Chinese. (The Chinese are forcing all children in Tibet to learn Chinese instead of Tibetan.) It is a beautiful school, supposedly the nicest school in India.
Back to Jen's for a last meal at their hose. Lots of great discussions, and lots of laughter. Reminded me of home. I really miss it.
 | ||||
| The "Eagles Nest" hotel. |
December 13
Went up to a hilltop (mountaintop on Maine terms) above Macleod Ganj today, a fancy little stone hotel at 8,000 feet elevation owned by Jen's friends, Bo and Shiela, a British couple. We went as friends, invited for the weekend, and dined and slept in luxury, well, kind of. It never got above 30 degrees in the shade, and got down in the 20s at night O.K. in Maine when you have winter clothes and a warm house to stay in. They did have one room with a wood stove that was nice, but the dinnig room and bedooms were frigid! The spectacular views and te even more spectacular sunset on the snowy mountain peaks made it all worthwhile.
 |
| Panorama of the view from "The Point" |
December 14
Slept in. Too cold to get out of bed. Many blankets and hot water bottles at our feet made for a nice cozy night. Back down the hill and caught a bus for the town of Reishikesh, 14 hours to the southeast.
A new insight into the treating to beggars:
There are far more beggars in India than there are people in the state of Maine. Most are disabled in some way, missing arms or legs, blind, deaf, or struck with some horrible disease. They walk right up to you, or if they can't walk, drag themslves up to you and stare pitifully up from the sidewalk or gutter holding out their little money cup. When you first see them, you either get a big lump in your throat, dig in your pocket and leave them a few coins, or pass on by-being very careful not to glance down and catch their eye-with a guilty conscious. But, after a few weeks, you become hardened to their pleas, and they almost become invisible to you. This "invisibility trick" is the way most tourists (and locals) treat the beggars. But how can we do this? They are fellow human beings, our brothers and sisters! Put yourself in their shoes. You are dirt poor ,probably live on the street, and on top of that, you are either blind, deaf, have a disabling disease, or are missing limbs. Then, insult upon insult, people TOTALLY IGNORE YOU! The least we can do is to acknwledge their presence and to reach out to them in some way.
The other day I saw an old lady dragging herself down the street on her back. At first, I saw her only with my eyes, and hought "What a horrible sight!". Suddenly, I saw her with my heart, and tears welled up in my eyes. As I slowly went by, we made eye contact and she smiled! Maybe she felt my compassion? That incident changed the way that I react to beggars. I now walk right up to them, bend down and hold their hands and give them the biggest and realest smile that I can. They always smile a great big smile right back, both of us get misty-eyed, and we both separate, still smiling. It is a moving experience to say the least.
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