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| Les Amir and Mustashi |
April 19—After sleeping off our
late night flight the whole next day’s fiasco started with, “Do you have a
map?” “Yes, just a minute. Sit.”
So we watched them call, a man with big fashion boots came and gave us
tea while we waited for a car to take us to a tourist center for a map. He was charming and talked with us about the
politics of the world. The car came and
before we knew what was going on, we had hired the car for the rest of the day
and bought a tour around India.
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| Our hotel |
Amir was our tour seller so he said he would
work on it while we went to the US embassy to get more pages in my passport and
then to the market to buy a salwar kameez.
As it turned out, I needed an appointment for the embassy, and they
wouldn’t do it over the phone. They told
me that there was one spot left and to get it on line. Returning to Amir’s place, he let me use the
internet to do this and to print out the application and appointment document. Amir wanted me to sign the contract (hand
written) but it was wrong, so he said he would have it all tomorrow morning
with tickets and all.
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| New Duds |
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| Hanuman (monkey god) in Delhi |
Then we went off
to the market where I got some great duds (pants, shirt and scarf) for about
$6. I felt good about that. When we returned for the last time, he said he
couldn’t be there tomorrow, but he would have everything organized the next
morning (the day we were leaving for our trip: Sunday). Hmmmmm.
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| Our Tour Reservation Center. Legit? |
April 20—I woke up early, mistrusting
the tour company. All I had was a small
credit card receipt that I had paid with nothing to show for it. I made up scenario after scenario about how we
had been taken advantage of, and how stupid I felt for letting it happen—and I
had been to India before and felt exactly the same way! Les suggested we go to what Lonely Planet
said was the only official tourist agency in Delhi and ask their advice. The man there suggested I call the credit
card company and hold the transaction until I had a contract. The credit card folks said that if the company
was disreputable, I could contest it later.
The man said that they could be legitimate, but they charged us 4x what
we would have paid with another company, “You could take a personal taxi to
Nepal and back for this amount.” So we
went back to the original office and I asked them for my money back. “Only Amir could do that,” they said, and we
agreed to wait for the boss to talk with him.
What do you know, but Amir showed up!
He said that there were tickets already bought that we would have to pay
cancellation fees for them, and he showed us the contract that said that we pay
100% tomorrow, 50% if we canceled today. (But we hadn’t signed a contract,
ugh!) Somehow (again) Amir talked us
into settling tomorrow. We met some
Spaniards (Tito y Lola) in the same state of chaos and perceived abuse. We commiserated, and took them to the
“official” tourist agency, where the agent just shook his head at us. We went out for lunch with Tito and Lola, and
it was great to share a conversation free of an agenda.
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| City Scene |
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| ...with Brahma Cow |
The hotel had Wi-Fi, so we checked out the
prices if we had to book the trip ourselves, and it turned out about the same;
that reassured us some… even enough to have him book our hotels too. Ugh! India was supposed to be the least expensive
country. What happened? I DID do one thing that I’ve been trying to
do the whole trip—I bought a cell phone for about $24. It’s a simple Nokia, but should work in any
country with a SIM card.
April 21—We went back to see Amir,
and of course he had only some of the reservations made. We expressed concern about a Trip Adviser
report of the hotel in Varanasi, so he changed that reservation. He said he would give us the rest of our
vouchers when we returned from Dharamshala.
Les was irritated with him all along because he seemed so pompous and
pushy (“Look into my eyes and tell me I am lying.”), but then again, we asked
him to add lodging onto our bill.
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| Dawn in the North from our "Volvo" bus |
We
took what we had so far and waited for the bus. “A taxi will take you to the
bus from here.” “We’ll take you to the
bus, 5 minutes down the road.”…and at the time the bus was supposed to leave,
“The bus will be here, across the street, soon.” …then in a ½ hour, “Get your things, we’ll
drop you off at the bus.” Then we were
on a non-descript street, with no one we knew there. We asked about the bus. But of course every answer to any question we
ask is, “yes.” Some tourists showed up
and soon the bus was loading for Dharamshala and other places. A VERY nice new bus! We stopped at the Tibetan section of Old
Delhi and changed busses to an older bus, still ok, with blankets. Ahh, the memories of the bumpy windy roads
came back. This time there were no nuns
puking out the windows. Thank goodness,
as the windows didn’t open on this bus.
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| Emma Willard Gal, Amalia Rubin! |
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| Dawn in Dharamshala |
Surprise! At the dinner stop, I was asking Les what is
a paratha. A young woman nearby piped up
and explained in a very familiar voice about the typical bread. I rushed over to hug her. It was Amalia Rubin, an Emma girl who made
her mark there by connecting EWS with Tibet.
And here she was heading to Dharamshala.
It was wonderful to catch up with her exciting stories and plans.
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| The Himalaya Mountains Above |
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| Dali Lama's Complex from below |
April 22—We arrived early morning
to a new bus terminal building (cement structure) and to an old familiar town
that looked pretty much the same. No one
was waiting for us, but the town is so small, we just asked where our hotel was
and walked. And slept.
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| The street to our hotel |
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| The main drag with temple/prayer wheels in the middle |
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| Amalia shows us prayer wheels |
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| Sacred Kows on the Kora |
As we ventured out into the street, we ran
into Amalia again. So we turned and
walked the kora with her. It’s a ring
around the Dali Lama’s complex meant for meditation. Amalia speaks Tibetan and read to us some of
the mantras that were carved and colorfully painted on plates of shale. She explained some of the traditions, pointed
out the terrifying entities guarding the back of the Dali Lama’s residence, and
helped us understand the prayer wheels, bells, candles and little molded pieces
of human ashes into the shapes of deities, there to receive blessings. Apparently, Amalia is quite a rock star in
the Tibetan music video world! She
showed us the promo cut of her new album.
It looked spectacular. I must say
I’m impressed. She got discovered by
singing in a nightclub and the rest is history.
Even a U.S. woman we met with her dog on the street knew Amalia and her
fame. (This woman just happened to have
been a professional dancer in NYC and Russia [Bolshoi] and is now a Buddhist
living here.)
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| Les and His Holiness |
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| Dali Lama's Buddha |
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| Tibetan Martyrs Memorial |
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| Dali Lama's Temple |
Les and I went back to the temple
and looked at the shiny likenesses of Buddha, the chair for the Dali Lama,
pillows for the monks to do their rituals, and all the millions of holy
texts. Then out in the courtyard, we
were charmed by the only dog keeping the monkeys off the premises. Of course he couldn’t do anything about them
on the tent surface above. The monkeys
slid, galloped, wrestled and frolicked above while the dog, Les called “the
Mayor,” looked up. The monkey show was
tremendously entertaining!
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| Internet and Call Places |
After dinner, we walked up a
street to a place where I had stayed before, and the man running the hotel was
there 8 years ago. I found his photo on
my old sabbatical picture file!
April 23—Les woke up with a cold—probably caught by the man
hacking behind us on the bus—so I went up the road to see if I could get an
appointment with the former doctor of the Dali Lama. Wednesday was the soonest, so I paid my 20
cents and took my number.
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| After Massage Bliss |
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| Coffee, well done! |
Nearby was a
massage center that I went to 8 years ago, and brought back a brochure to
Les. He agreed, and we arranged
massages. Ahhhhh. Mine was gentle and relaxing. Les said his was pretty rough. I was covered in oil and wanted to get it
out of my hair, so I went back for a shower while Les went out on his own. We talk about “Indian time” as being late—not
because you lost track of time or didn’t care, but because something wasn’t
working or something happened that thwarted your attempt to make it on
time. So I asked how to make hot water
for the shower. I switched on the heater
and waited the 15 minutes, and the water wasn’t hot. In a ½ hour, there was no water pressure at
all. They said they’d “refill it” and to
wait 15 minutes. …a ½ hour later still
nothing.
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| From our hotel looking at Dali Lama complex |
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Dali Lama's Back Door
|
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| Monks sat next to me |
Finally I got out of the shower
and felt like taking a walk, so I went around the kora again (the hotel is a
stone’s throw from the complex). A monk and a nun sat next to me and started a
conversation. He was saying how wonderful
the US is, and how great Christians are for the same reason: they give money to
the poor and help people in need. He
said he walked from Lhasa through Nepal to get here, and that it took over a
month, and that he has nothing (and how nice my camera was). I learned the young nun was new from Hong
Kong, and on the way home they practiced chanting mantras in a call and
response form. That was a pretty groovy
way to end the day. (See video)
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| Momos |
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| Woman who refreshes the mantras |
For dinner we had delicious momos, a Tibetan dumpling,
boiled and in soup. A woman at the next
table was re-painting worn out mantras she found on the cora.
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Monkeys at our hotel
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| Other side of the ridge |
April 24—I got up to take a morning yoga class, but it
didn’t start until later, and we had to check out. We moved to the “Green Hotel,” where we could
see down the other side of the mountain and up into more foothills of the
Himalayas.
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| ? | |
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Indian dust mask
|
Later, we took a walk up the
hill and passed scenes of tiny rooms of metal, plastic sheeting and rocks that
was home for a mother and baby, a street musician playing a bowed instrument, guys
making a cement road by hand and some fancy stores/hotels.
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| Yoga Center: Class with Vijay |
After that I made my way to the yoga center, and joined a
hoard of Westerners (mostly) in a basement (smelled like the squat toilet) to
take class with Vijay at the Universal Yoga Center.
The class was great; I enjoyed the pace, the
clarity of his directions and hearing about the health results of doing certain
actions.
The two-hour class was $2.
Dinner was an incredibly spicy but delicious
Tibetan dish from a very small but popular restaurant.
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| Dr. Yeshi Dhonden, treated the Dali Lama |
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| Dr.'s Door |
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| Dr. Yeshi Dhonden swishes urine in a cup |
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| Waiting room |
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| Tibetan Pharmac |
April 25—Our last day in Dharamshala we went to see Dr.
Yeshi Dhondon, the doctor for the Dali Lama who is now seeing anyone who can
get a number. We had to bring our first
urine of the morning in a water bottle, and he took a group of us to a sink, and
one by one we poured it into his cup where he swished it around. What he was looking/smelling for, I don’t
know. Then we went to his office and
talked about our ailments. I wanted more
energy and drive. He gave me a list of
foods to avoid (including COFFEE!) and a prescription that a woman filled with
her hands. They are little brown balls
that you chew and take with warm water.
It’s a 3-month supply; I think I’ll wait until my daily schedule gets
more consistent.
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The whole town of Mcleod Ganj (they call Dharamshala)
|
I was feeling ill so we took a nice, slow walk to the
Tibetan Refugee Camp.
We imagined a dog
to be our escort, and a Raven wanted the almond we put out for it.
It was nice walking and sitting in the
woods.
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We saw a wedding scene on our way home!
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| Indian food court |
Soon we were on the bus that left a ½ hour late. I’m afraid I drank too much tea before I
left, so when we stopped by the side of the road at 9:30 I was the first one
off to go over the small hill.
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| I imagine his Holiness pondering, looking down this valley |
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| Les does Bollywood |
