Wanderlust Heaven!

Hadn’t been on an Indian bus in many years, and the experience now brought back memories. Loud Indian/Ladakhi music cranked the entire time, we passed tiny little shops with nice attempts at English (‘vegetebels shops’), and people brought everything with them on the bus – chickens, vegetables (but not ‘vegetebels’), piles of clothing, etc. I sat next to a fetching Ladakhi woman – I must say that the local women are very cute. Not too sure how to go about getting a date – there really aren’t any bars in Leh, and language would be a problem in many cases. I suppose you’d need some local connections and spend some time in the area – more on that later.

Stopped in a little tea shop for a cup. The walls were covered with posters of Bollywood movie stars – one was of Aishwarya Rai, who was Miss World a couple years back. Indians are crazy about their movie stars. I’ve never been a big fan of Indian movies – the singing is high-pitched and there seem to be only 2-3 formulaic storylines (e.g., girl falls in love with boy, another boy kidnaps her and jails her on a mountaintop, she sings the song of her tragic situation for most of the movie, then the boyfriend finds and frees her). I do think the latest batch of Bollywood movies are becoming more diverse and ‘normal’ to Western eyes/ears. As I sat there I wondered if Indian society was becoming as ‘starfucked’ as U.S. society. And my conclusion was that the Indian situation might be even worse. There’s no immediate harm to worshipping movie stars, or sports stars (another big Indian thing) – it’s a decent distraction from daily life. But my issue is that it eventually crowds out admiration for perhaps more worthy figures, like competent politicians, scientists, human rights workers, etc. Anyway, no big deal, methinks…

Got on another bus, to visit Shey Palace. Sat with an Aussie fellow named Marcus, who was on a 3-month trip to India and Europe. Nice guy…first time in India so his head was spinning. Got off the bus at Shey, at the foot of the hill. Nearly all the Tibetan gompas are atop hills so some climbing is in store. Noticed the fragrance of the place, and the extreme light/sun – being so high up, you really feel the warmth and if not careful can get a bad sunburn. Climbed to the gompa, was sweating and out of breath when I got there. Had a monk open the door and let me in. Nice Maitreya Buddha (Buddha of the Future) statue and some artwork. Walked back outside into the strong sun, and saw that it was possible to climb farther up, to some monuments and prayer flags on higher peaks. I was only wearing my Tevas, so wasn’t well-prepared for serious climbing – although I hate to visit a place and not see everything. Climbed for a while, reached the first monument – the path was pretty rocky. Sat there a while, feeling the wind and watching people swarm around below. Decided to go back down – the Tevas weren’t designed for climbing like this, and if I got hurt that would be the end of further adventures like this.

Got back to Leh around dinnertime. Wasn’t too hungry, so did a bit of yoga and kicked back. Took a crap and as I was sitting there, I heard chanting from somewhere outside, as I’d heard before. This chanting happens at various times – a couple times I heard it at 3:30 a.m., and also at dusk. It’s cool – sounds otherwordly and makes you feel blessed. I wondered if the chanting priest(s) were blessing my bowel movement, and silently gave thanks as I finished up.

Was pretty tired so decided to stick around and rest, in advance of the next few days when I’d be on lengthy trips to outlying sights. The electricity was on and off, and tonight it was pretty much off. So the options were limited: perhaps practice some yoga, but I was too lazy; sex, but I was unaccompanied; sleep, but it was too early; or watch a movie. I opted for the latter.

I had bought a few pirated DVDs in Bangkok and Chiang Rai, and now decided to watch my first movie in 6 or so months. One of the reasons I brought my laptop is to watch movies and listen to music – I had done plenty of the latter, but somehow could never find 2 hours to sit and watch a movie. Now that I was out of the cities, and Thai hedonism, there wasn’t that much else to do, so I surrendered to laziness and turned on the laptop. Watched World Trade Center, the new flick. Thought it was OK – it brought 9-11 to the personal level, and was fairly well done – not too rabid or patriotic. I would have guessed Oliver Stone would have been much more militant, but he surprised me with his restraint. Still, the movie felt like a long installment of a soap opera and I was hoping for more of a ‘point of view’ movie from which I might learn something. I didn’t get much food for thought from World Trade Center. Perhaps I was being too demanding; after all, 9-11 has been analyzed ad infinitum, and the entire ‘War on Terror’ does feel like a bad soap opera. So maybe I’m being too critical here…

The picture quality of the DVD was mediocre, and taught me a lesson. If in the market for pirated DVD’s, don’t buy the latest features – they’re likely to have been filmed by a teenager holding a camera in a crowded, dingy theater. I later watched another pirated DVD, Cold Mountain – this had been around for a couple years, and the quality was excellent. Probably had been taped from cable TV or digital source.

Next day, started a series of jeep tours of the major Ladakh sights. My driver was a great guy named Angdu – a local 28-year-old who liked foreign (especially Israeli) girls, pop music, and driving aggressively. We hit it off right away, and I was relieved. I had decided not to pay for a guide, just for a driver who preferably spoke decent English and could serve as a quasi-guide. Angdu spoke great English and knew the territory cold, so I lucked out and had a fine time the rest of the week.

We drove that day (Sunday) to Lamaruyu Monastery, set high amidst a minor Himalayan range west of Leh. As we drove I checked out the terrain. Ladakh is pretty dry, in a sense. It gets relatively little rain, and doesn’t have much of a monsoon, unlike most of India. It did get inundated with showers in August – the worst stretch of rain in 80 years, and bad news for the local houses, many of which have basic mud roofs. But that was (hopefully) an anomaly, and not global warming showing up on Ladakh’s doorstep. Ladakh is blessed with numerous rivers from the Himalayan snow run-offs – the Indus River is the largest, but there are others too. Of course, rivers don’t feed vegetation like rains do – so most of Ladakh is rocky and lunar, unlike say Burma which gets huge amounts of rain and is perhaps the lushest place I’ve seen.

The weather was sunny, but a bit chilly, especially as we drove into the mountains. Actually, I thought that Ladakh’s autumn weather resembled New England’s, for different reasons (elevation versus latitude). I was reminded of post-Labor Day chills as I walked to the bus stop for school. And the winters are probably similar too, from what I’ve heard from locals. One key difference is heating – most guesthouses don’t have any, and in general people get by with wood, dung, or kerosene heating – very little central heating. The dodgy electricity supply is one contributor to this.

Lamayuru was impressive – wandered around there for an hour or so, then climbed to the high hill next to it. Was wearing sneakers so was up to the task. Got to the top and spent some time staring silently at the prayer flags whipping in the wind. Tried to compose a poem but nothing interesting really came to mind – haven’t written much poetry this year, to my surprise. Perhaps the prose is crowding it out. As I walked by a small house, I wondered if anyone lived there…then I heard chanting coming from inside and I smiled as I slowly trudged past.

That night Angdu and I stayed at a local guesthouse, and had dinner together with a German tourist. He’s a pediatrician, and asked many questions – perhaps he was diagnosing my situation. I didn’t like him at first – I hate nosy people – but as the night went on I slowly changed my mind. One thing I liked about him was that he was true to himself – for instance, we talked about trekking, and he came right out and said he didn’t like trekking because it made him tired and he liked to sleep in a bed at night. He was forthright about not being an action hero and stud – unlike many tourists up here, who like to believe they’re rugged adventurers from the old school who are discovering new worlds (while their porters carry everything and cook for them, of course). This fellow wasn’t conflicted about his identity and what he wanted, and listening to him helped me realize that sometimes I do a poor job of framing a situation and making a decision, and then I get down on myself for not being perfect. More specifically: I was annoyed at myself for not being more proactive/energetic about looking into trekking in Ladakh, and perhaps missing a golden opportunity that might ‘change my life.’ I should have been more honest with myself – I wasn’t in the mood to go out into the cold for 5 days, I was tired from the altitude, I was feeling lazy and wanted to finally watch a couple movies, etc. So I didn’t really want to trek, at least not now, but felt self-conflicted – where was the Mike Slone of ’92, who plunged ahead into the Himalayas without thinking twice?

Now Dear Reader, you’re probably thinking a couple of things. One, Mike should consider himself fortunate to at least be in the situation to have a choice to make, and none of the options are bad. Two, the Mike of ’92 wasn’t particularly thoughtful – thinking twice is usually the right thing to do, and ‘aged Mike’ with his inner debates was actually using a good process to come to the right answer. Any reactions?

Anyway, enjoyed the rest of the dinner. We drank a few bottles of Godfather Beer – this stuff is lethal. Hadn’t had it since ’92, and hadn’t missed it either. It’s something like 8.5% alcohol, and like all Indian beers uses glycerol as a preservative. When I had first had Indian beer, I used to wake up with terrible headaches, probably because of the glycerol – derivatives of which are also used in embalming fluid, nitro-glycerin, etc. Versatile chemical – but not my first choice for beer preservative. I had been taught back in ’92 how to ‘clean’ an Indian beer. My ‘instructor’ was an obese American ex-preacher in Kathmandu. What you do is get a half-full glass of water, turn the bottle of beer upside down (quickly) and submerge the top in the water. You hold it there for 5-10 minutes; the glycerol is heavier than water, so it sinks into the water glass and displaces the water, which rises into the beer bottle. You can actually watch the glycerol sinking – it’s gold-colored, murky stuff, and when you’re through you’ve got a cleaned (albeit slightly watery) beer, and a water glass full of golden chemicals. Didn’t bother to clean the beer this night, but showed Angdu later on how to do it.

An Indian Army-owned company called Himank builds and maintains the roads in Ladakh. Talk about a great (though corny) sense of humor. They place signs along the roadways, to keep drivers alert and sensible. The signs are generally hilarious, and the corniness mirrors the overall Indian sense of humor, at least as I’ve experienced it – there’s a touch of British word-play and irony which is absent from American humor, and which I really take pleasure in. It’s a bit more in your face than British humor, and I suppose it’s quintessentially Indian. A few examples of the signs:

• Better be Mr. Late than Late Mr.
• Don’t be gama in the valley of the lamas
• Love thy neighbor, but not while driving
• Darling I like you, but not so fast

And so forth. Himank did stick in the occasional political sign – ‘Union is strength’ was one I found a bit unsettling, it reminded me of many signs I’d seen in Burma.

Went back to Leh on Monday, took it easy and ate a pizza for dinner. Nice break from the momos (Tibetan dumplings) and noodles. Next day, drove to Pangong Lake with Angdu and his first cousin Thani, who is a tour guide but apparently had never visited Pangong. When I met Thani he asked me for my ‘good name,’ a quaint way of asking my first name. I hadn’t heard that in years – you still get it sometimes in former British colonies.

Pangong is a high-altitude lake, and is fed from the Himalayan run-offs, with all the various minerals descending into the lake. The water is an amazing series of shades of blue. The water near the shore is azure and light, farther out its much darker and cobalt-colored. It’s one of the largest lakes in Asia (130 km long), and one of the highest in the world. Only 25% is in India – the rest is in Tibet, and many tourists and locals visit the lake to try to peer into the lost world of Tibet. You can walk a few kilometers along the shore, but not far enough to really look into Tibet – hopefully the Indians will open more of the place, and perhaps put a few boats on it too – right now there are only a couple Army boats. Not sure how deep it is – and no one there had any idea. Angdu had heard a rumor that the Chinese Navy had put a sub in Pangong, but that sounded ridiculous…if China wanted to invade from that front, it wouldn’t be that hard to just swarm around the lake with a zillion foot-soldiers.

The Pangong water is brackish – probably was part of the ocean millions of years ago. In August you can swim, but the water is very cold (probably like Maine’s coast in summer). By the time I visited the water was freezing and I decided that discretion would prevail. Very cool place to visit, highly recommended.

Drove back that same day – very long day. Talked about girls with Angdu and Thani. Both guys are still single. Angdu is playing around with a Muslim girl, but he’s worried her folks will find out and that wouldn’t be good. Apparently Muslim parents are super-strict (what a surprise) and they will only accept a Muslim suitor. He showed me a pic on his mobile, she’s very cute. Thani doesn’t have a girlfriend, and is desperately seeking. We talked about girlfriends I’ve had from different countries – Angdu was fascinated by this discussion as he drives people from many places and has his own observations. We finally degenerated into my ranking of ‘most sexy girls’ which I won’t describe further for fear of lawsuits and death threats…

We had a few semi-close calls while driving on the mountain roads – which are very tricky. Reminded me of the high road to Monaco, but worse. Most of the sights are only 150 km or less from Leh…but the roads are so winding that you can’t drive much faster than 30 km/hour, so the trips take 4-5 hours each way. Angdu drives pretty quickly, but is conscientious – whenever we approached a blind corner, he honked in warning, unlike many of the approaching vehicles (many of which were large Army convoys and tour buses). Made for some hair-raising moments, but we were never (I think) in serious danger, a testament to Angdu’s driving skills. The road seemed to go on forever…

To and from Pangong we went over the Chang La (Chang Pass), the third-highest drivable pass in the world. It’s a desolate place, with a few bummed-looking Army soldiers, a crappy little cafeteria/tea shop, and some leaky oil drums. Lovely. Ladakh has the three highest drivable passes in the world, and I managed to go over all of them while there. At the top of these passes, it’s not easy to breath, and if you hang out long you get a headache. The drive and altitude take a lot out of you, to be sure. But the reward is the spectacular views – 20,000 foot mountains surround you, and the snows were there even in September.

I should break the narrative here to again mention, as I did in earlier entries, that I came across no other Americans. When I had dinner with the German fellow at Lamaruyu, he said I was the first American he’d met in India. Granted, there weren’t many tourists in total in late September – the high season is earlier – and perhaps numerous Americans show up in-season, but I doubt it. I’m not trying to blow my own horn here at all – my point is that Ladakhis meet many Europeans and get to hear their views on life, politics, religion, etc., but the American experience is not being shared, and that’s unfortunate. So Ladakhis hear about us from Europeans, from local Muslims, from newspaper accounts – and we’re not in charge of communicating our own stories. The Bush Administration hired Charlotte Beers to be the national media magnate, and that effort failed. I’m sure other initiatives are underway, a la Voice of America, but they’re government-sponsored and aren’t trusted sources – whereas a few American tourists in-country would likely have a much larger impact. We need goodwill ambassadors out here – perhaps I can apply for a government stipend…

To be fair, there weren’t that many Indian tourists in Ladakh, either. The number is growing as incomes rise and Indians learn to relax a bit. It’s a beautiful part of India, and I hope that Indians visit there more often – without overwhelming the place and its culture.

The ride back to Leh was long, but uneventful. Listened to some of Angdu’s Ladakhi music – which was surprisingly catchy, with lots of flutes and not too much high-pitched/Hindi-esque singing. I went out and bought a CD later on – Sungskat, by Tashi Chospel and Meena Rana (of course you’ve heard of them) – and have continued to enjoy it.

Next day, drove to the Nubra Valley, to the northeast, abutting Pakistan and Tibet. Went over the world’s highest drivable pass, Khardung La, at 18,300 feet. That might have been the highest I’d ever been – probably was. It was certainly the highest place I’d ever taken a piss. Overall, the experience was much like Chang La – cold, desolate, bored soldiers, passable facilities. But great sights and the feeling of being as high as you can go in a car.

The Nubra Valley was stunning. It’s a long cut between the mountains, the Himalayas and Karakoram range, and has a range of terrain. Much is sandy, almost desert – there are bizarre sand dunes where you can actually rent a camel and go for a spin. Apparently Indian families love this stuff – I wasn’t surprised, having seen them ride on ponies on Chowpatty Beach in Bombay. It wasn’t really my thing, and we didn’t see the camels anyway. The sandy desert at the foot of huge mountains was quite a sight.

Nubra is a wild place – it feels like it’s ruled by nature/the gods and not by man. I think Kipling had some such quote when he was in the area. There are a few towns in the valet, and you do see people regularly, but the topography is what stands out and not any achievements of man (besides the road to get here from Leh).

This area, like many in the north, is politically and militarily sensitive, so there are tons of checkpoints where you must present your passport and permits (which Rimo Expeditions got for me). I was reminded of the Massachusetts Turnpike tollbooths, and how annoying those are. When I was little I asked my mother the name of the people who sat inside these booths – a kid’s typical dumb question. I think she put me off for a while, but I persisted in asking the name – so she told me they were known as ‘Green Sidneys.’ They wore ugly green outfits, and I imagine my mom saw one with a ‘Sidney’ nametag, so that’s where she got the name. I called these people ‘Green Sidneys’ while growing up and the name still sticks with me, for some reason. I’ll bet my sister Bonnie remembers that too. Mom was really so creative, she was always coming up with these odd names – she must have had dozens of nicknames for our dog, whose name was Robin Hood but who was never called that by any of us.

Spent the night in the town of Diskit. Loved the town names in Nubra – there was also Hunder and Panamic. Drank some more Godfather Beer that night with Angdu – this time I showed him the beer cleaning trick and he found it fascinating. I think he’ll show his mates the trick sometime soon. Had a bowl of Tibetan noodles – tasteless – and hit the sack.

Next morning, had breakfast at the guesthouse before heading back to Leh. We had my new favorite breakfast – masala (mixed peppers and spices) omelette, with chapatis (flat Indian bread), butter and tea. I’ve always enjoyed eggs and bread together, and the Mexican equivalents – huevos rancheros, etc. Omelette and chapatti, with a bit of butter, makes for a very tasty breakfast rollup and I had it frequently while in Ladakh.

Stopped in Hunder to wander around. It was a cold morning, and the walk was pleasant and bracing. I sometimes find that I’m more introspective and alert when it’s cold, and that my thinking runs deeper. I wonder if any studies have been conducted relating quality/type of thinking with the weather. Anyway, I found myself wandering about and thinking a lot about my mother during that morning. I’m sure she would have loved to have seen the places I’m now visiting, and having these bizarre experiences. She was always open to seeing the world and learning.

Listened to Bryan Adams’s Greatest Hits on way back – was better than it sounds. Stopped at a weird little ring of mountains – I walked over to it, and there’s a lake in the center. Reminded me of Frodo’s walk to Mt. Doom in Lord of the Rings/Return of the King – I was looking out for Gollum the entire time.

While walking around this little, probably unnamed lake, I was trying to be in the moment and trying not to be distracted by various things – travel bookings, emails, etc. Doing one thing at a time is not what we’re trained to do these days, and can be a severe disadvantage. Is it possible to re-train ourselves and live in the moment? Is it even desirable? I think that if we can pull it off, we’ll be much happier – but I admit I don’t know how to slow down that much, even with my newly uncluttered life.

Got back to Leh, and went to arrange a ride to Manali, a large town in the next state south, Himachal Pradesh. I was sad to soon be leaving Ladakh, but felt I had done the right things and had a good set of adventures. And Angdu and I had become friends, and were planning to meet just before I took off, at the Hotel Ibex, for a few more beers (hopefully Kingfisher, not Godfather!). It was time to move on. The ‘shared taxi’ to Manali wouldn’t be pretty – a 14-hour ride leaving Leh at midnight, crammed with as many as 9 people. I opted for a window seat, and could only hope that my neighbors were petite Ladakhi women and not burly Indian laborers. Anyway, we’ll see.

Am looking forward to getting to ‘HP’ again. Was last there in ’92, with my friend Jan. Will be interesting to note the changes over the past 14 years. And perhaps, when I move from Manali to Dharamsala (home to the Dalai Lama and much of the Tibetan exile community) I will either resolve my inner conflict and be happy not to go on a trek – or I will be in the mood to get up into the mountains and challenge my aging bod – or I will remain torn and self-conflicted, an old Jew sitting around complaining when he should realize how good he has it!

N.B. 1 – Looks like BootsnAll hasn’t found the ‘lost posts,’ so I will get those back on the system, with photos, within a few days. It takes quite a while to upload photos…

N.B. 2 – Please post a comment…a bit of feedback would be greatly appreciated, and would probably help me upgrade the quality of these entries…