17/09/11
So we had a sleepless night last night, because yesterday in our sleep deprived, delirious, exciteable states and partly down to my hero-worship of Michael Palin we decided to book a 5 day trip to Kashmir. I had decided before we came to India that although it looked like a beautiful place we were not going to go because there are still government warnings etc. But we
were won round and really wanted to go. However after rereading the list of events that had happened in Kashmir and in my typical irrational way I started to worry and then beat myself up about being so spontaneous. Then I felt guilty because every Indian we met told us how beautiful it was and how safe (especially as we are in Delhi, which got bombed days ago!)
It seems such a shame not to go, but we decided that me being me would not beable to relax to enjoy it. Idiot!
Anyways so we decided instead to get the bus straight to Dharamsala this evening at 6pm. So we spent the afternoon exploring the noisy, dirty streets of Main bazaar, often being stopped by men, mainly addressing Martin not me. Martin kept repeating throughout the day the comments of one man; "You look like a movie star". It's when pottering around like this and taking rickshaw journeys that I could take a photo just by blinking, because I missed so many things I wanted to take pictures of and was reluctant to take pictures of some people for fear of being intrusive: the lady sat on the street painting one of the ceramic pots from her stall in in front of a simple home and shrine, the barber. As we were walking I was awoken from
my trancelike state by giggling school children spraying me with water (phew!) and running away.
Next we decided to relax with a drink at one of the many roof-top cafes in the bazaar -great for people watching accompanied by a cacophone of horns, whistles and shouts. It was fascinating admiring the range of outfits the women in particular were wearing from saris in different silks and variations of embroidery and salwar kamis (trousers and over-blouse). I was reading
that you can tell where a woman comes from and her religion and caste by what she is wearing.
At 4pm we were herded to where we could only guess the bus was supposed to pick us up. We sat with other westerners on ths street waiting. Along came some begging children who appeared to be human elastic bands who could contort to grab each others ankles
, rolling along the pavement while their nother or sister played the drum. The charities ask you not to give money directly
to the children but to charities, to discourage parents for sending their children out begging, but it is difficult not to when coming face to face with such poverty. Anyways eventually the bus arrived and we got on and comfortable driving through the outskirts of Delhi until the bus stopped and we were told to get off and were led to the side of the road and
told to wait. We waited for nearly an hour, still not really sure what we were waiting for and sharing our worries with fellow passengers. You think you get used to these situations after you've done a bit of travelling but it's still disconcerting not having a written itienary, written in stone or a ticket in your hand.
The bus did arrive and we were assured it was going to where we wanted to go. We travelled for three hours before the first stop, which were relieved had toilets. Even with straight roads the journey was very jerky, because there were lots of diversions, police checks and just general chaotic driving with each doing their own thing not planning ahead or worrying what anyone else was doing. We were also lullibied by the Bollywood movies that were played very loudly in to
the early hours. A few hours from Delhi, not sure of the locations, but all we drove past alot of huge hotels and malls.
Along the route the bus constantly swerves huge potholes and through the night the roads get increasingly windy.
18/09/11
As it gets light we rise to increasing altitudes, the views are stunning the roads littered with small villages of simple houses with shutters adorned with vodaphone logos.
As we pulled in to the bus station I was so ill and so relieved to get off the bus! We got a autorickshaw straight to the Pink House where we were greeted by the owner by name! We had a few hours sleep and then went up to the rooftop for some lunch of daal and chowmein watching clouds moving like smoke across the mountains and Tibeten prayer flags fluttering.
We then went to explore Mcleod Ganj, near Dharamsala, where we are staying. This is is the home of the exciled Tibeten government, including the Dalai Lama and home to lots of Tibetan refugees. Our first impressions were of a very calm, relaxing, spiritual place. As we walked out towards Bhagsu Nag we admired the beautiful views marred with the litter and open sewers, but only marginally! As we walked up the hill we came across a family building their house just off the road, a beautiful, elegant lady in an intricate sari was carrying rubble on her head. As we watched her she tipped the rubble in to a van and then walked back down the slope and swopped her empty basket for a full basket with another lady, so gracefully. I was suprised to see women doing this work but apparently this is common. Gender does not influence jobs in poorer castes, women do exactly the same as men and even while pregnant or carrying a young child
simultaneously. Amazing.
Later we walked back through Mcleod Ganj to other end where we came to the temple at the residence of the Dalai Lama, Tsug Lagkhang. Which is no where near as grandiose as you would see at places of the same significance in other religions. As we entered the
temple we were stopped by an american lady who told us that the Dalai Lama is due to return home tomorrow and where to stand and wait, so tomorrow we will try to get a glimpse. We also read about the Panchen Lama who 2 days after he was pronounced the Panchen Lama, was kidnapped along with his family, by the Chinese government, who have now admitted this. He
was only 6 years old. We also read more today about the plight of Tibetans in their own country, which is being denied and
gradually eroded by the Chinese government. It is becoming mandatory for Mandarin to be the first language taught in schools in Tibet. It is illegal to be protesting or writing about the Tibetan cause in CHina. Many influential Tibetans have been arrested and tortured until they admit to falsified charges. Many have received prison sentences and made to carry out forced labour in order to 'reform' their ideals. Some have even received the death sentence. Imagine feeling so strongly about your culture and so deeply rooted in your culture to risk death to continue your
traditions. I whether I would do the same? but I'm not sure I really have a strong cultural identity, especially without
religion. Don't get me wrong I am very proud of my Cypriot roots and I love the traditions that go along with it and I
suppose when I come away I feel stronger ties to all things that are 'English'. But I'm not sure if these are associations
with being English or just home. but maybe that is what this struggle is about -a sense of home and all the things that
go with it. The right to have a home. The right to continue those practises that make it home. Freedom.
We spent the rest of the day just pottering around the town and then went for dinner at the Tibetan Yak restuarant, which is popular with local people and we sampled our first Tibetan momo (parcels of vegetables or tofu) and thenthuk ( a flat noodle soup). Both were very tasty and filling. We're also getting a taste for the local tea with milk, although I'm
not sure it's the same chai we will have elswhere in India. In the restaurant we met a cultural anthropologist from Vienna who was travelling with her 3 year old son. How brave to take your young son on such a trip and what an amazing way to grow up, She said her son was a seasoned traveller and could sleep anywhere and could speak the basics of several different languages - incredible. That's one thing I really regret - not continuing to a fluent standard with
another language - but maybe there is still time, depending on where we end up!
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