I was sitting crossed legged at a table in a pseudo-Japanese restaurant in McLeod Ganj. I was exhausted and a little disappointed. I had just hiked back up the four kilometers from Dharamsala. The trip up may have been strenuous, but the trip down was a bit more nerve racking. Another of those narrow hair pin mountain side roads with taxis and cars braking to slow down as they rolled all the way. An Israeli looking young guy on a motorcycle even cut his engine in front of me when he hit the road where it became only dirt and I worried that he was going to slide over the non-railed edge as he went around a tight corner. I had slipped to my bottom for a second time in the reddish brown dust and mixture of loose soft gravel as I was trying to get out of the way of a taxi honking as it rounded the corner behind. The front wheel on the car came within four inches of my outstretched hand that I had used to catch myself. It was nice that they did stop to make sure I was okay, which except for a more rapid heart rate, I was. It did cross my mind that it would have been a most interesting way to see the medical college and hospital, needing medical attention for a crushed and broken hand smashed by an out of control taxi careening down the mountain….

So the menu reads “Not a profit enterprise – benefits Gu-Chu-Sum, nongovernmental organization which provides services to current and former Tibetan prisoners of conscience.”

Anyway, I had gone to Dharamsala to visit the Tibetan Medical and Astrology Institute. Fascinating to me that they combine these two. Students study either discipline for four or five years. The only part of the institute to tour other than walking through the complex of tangled nondescript white buildings was the medical museum. It consisted of one room of glass cases filled with labeled herbs and stones, some pictures of plants, giant Thangkas on the wall, and, of course, a large picture of the Dali Lama. The astrological office was even less revealing. The receptionist escorted me to an office with five or six people, including one monk, working diligently over their desks. Another receptionist, a beautiful Tibetan woman with better than average English, seemed a little surprised that I knew the exact time of my birth, and then informed me that the waiting list was ONE YEAR to have my horoscope drawn up. Yish! And they wanted $35 which seemed like a gazillion in rupees for these parts. I passed. I recalled seeing a sign for a Tibetan monk astrologer at the Dreamland Guest House. Maybe I would try that.

I stopped in the medical bookstore on my way out of the institute grounds. For some unclear reason, I was surprised to see that all the books and textbooks were in Tibetan. Guarded in a glass case by the clerk were four English books. I bought “Healing From the Source: The Science and Lore of Tibetan Medicine” written by Dr. Yeshi Dhonden, the personal physician of the 14th Dali Lama for many years. Then I found an empty concrete rooftop three floors up without railing or chairs but with a magnificent view of the snow peaks, sunshine and sprawling buildings. And I read some. Wind, humor, phlegm, tantras – all difficult concepts for me to grasp. I try to keep an open mind. The back cover of the book states that there is an ongoing trial at UCSF to study Dr. Dhondens treatment for metastatic breast cancer. Well, the book is copyright 2000. I will have to look up the results.