Santha Pub Crawl / Christmas in Desitown

Last weekend we joined up with a group that does an annual "Santha Pub Crawl," dressing up in cheap Santa suits and walking around the downtown area caroling. It was mostly Indians, but word had definitely gotten out to the 20-something expat community. It was probably the largest collection of white people I’d seen in one place since the FRO. This may have been a bizarre Christmas, and my first away from home, but getting to do stuff like this more than makes up for the lost traditions.

Christmas is surprisingly important here. I had no idea. I figured this country had enough religious tension between the Hindus and Muslims, but I’ve found there really isn’t much tension at all in Bangalore. The attitude seems to be that they’ll celebrate any holiday as long as it’s cool. Plus, apparently there are tons of Catholics in the south. Again, who knew?

The general stores are all stocking Christmas stuff, and there are plenty of fake trees and Christmas decorative things available streetside. The children who sell cheap toys to stopped cars at stop-lights are now selling Santa hats instead. At SPAR a few weeks ago, I wound up in line behind a woman buying about $200 of stuff. I only had a couple of things, and she apologized to me: "Sorry, Christmas gifts!" The Taco Bell plays Christmas music, too (digression: Tulsi loves Taco Bell, and I won’t turn down a chance to go, so now the pop refill guy knows who I am. I’ve tried to explain why being a known regular at Taco Bell is NOT a good thing, but it’s falling on deaf ears).

Anyway, back to this Pub Crawl. We met at a bar at the top floor of a mall, but since we showed up a little late, we quickly left this bar full of Santas for our first stop on the steps of the mall. We got some good dhol-led caroling in before a security guard showed up. He was pretty polite about asking us to beat it, but I still got to yell "GRINCH! GRINCH! I CALL GRINCH!" He got the joke, too, but we’d had our fill here anyway. There wasn’t much traffic at the mall.



From there we proceeded on a route of a few blocks, handing out candy to kids and stopping at several points to keep singing. They passed out lyric sheets, but still nobody could sing the verses to anything. You can only sing the chorus to Jingle Bells so many times before that gets really old. Plus we didn’t do the prologue to Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, but the expats made up for that by knowing the lines that kids add on (...you would even say it glows, LIKE A LIGHTBULB!). Along the way a few Indian girls stopped me to get a photo. I like to think they singled me out. Santa can be White, Black, Hispanic, Minnesotan, whatever. But Indian? That’s a stretch.

Along the way a family of beggars joined us. This was, I think, the mom with baby, two young sons, a young daughter, and one daughter who was probably 13-14. They came for the candy, but stayed for the fun. It was obvious that this was the coolest thing that had happened to these kids in months. The dhol beat made everything a little bit Indian, and they danced to that. At one point a few people just started singing a popular Indian song with the dhol, and the kids went CRAZY at that. At one point, we passed a bakery, and the owner came out and gave us two small cakes. We kept one to eat at the bar, but the other went to the beggars.



When we all gathered at the bar, I met the guy who’d organized this. Turned out he’d lived in Chicago for much of his life, and missed that Chicago spirit of "living for the moment." He particularly missed spending Sundays watching football, not caring about anything else, and drinking all day on St. Patrick’s Day. Here, he said, people get too hung up on all of the other things they have to do and never just enjoy what’s right in front of them. Nobody could concentrate on one thing long enough to watch more than one football game, let alone three on a Sunday. The goal here was just do something awesome and unforgettable, and hopefully to add some in-the-moment cheer to the people we met. I’d say mission accomplished.

They Sell Beef at SPAR!

Sorta. It’s ground buffalo. Apparently you get to call that beef. I’m not really asking questions, though, because this was pretty exciting. Ground meat opens up many routes for non-veg meals. So far that's been spotty.

I know what you’re asking: why did I just now, two months into this trip, discover that there’s ground beef at SPAR, the great Dutch grocery store I’d been to many times? Ground meat isn’t the most popular item in the store, and they don’t stock heaps of it like they do in the States. If it sells out, it sells out. Even major products run out sometimes, too, and at all stores, not just SPAR. SPAR, for example, had no skim milk, forcing me to go to Spencer’s. Last week, Spencer’s was out of skim, as well as Nutella. Both are currently out of Diet Pepsi, even in small bottles (bastards). The supply of honey at both, as well as the Big Bazaar, was spotty, with an inconsistent array of brands and sizes.

This isn’t because any of these products are esoteric here. Honey and Nutella are quite common. Skim milk isn’t the most popular, but it seems to get pretty wide consumption. Nobody drinks Diet Pepsi, but that’s just because no one stocks it. That one’s a poor example. If Pepsi and Coke would JUST GIVE IT A CHANCE.... anyway. They’re out of stock simply because it doesn’t make sense to keep huge quantities of perishable items on hand, nor does it make sense to have constant, flexible shipping to account for uncontrollable spikes in demand. In India, what makes sense is just dealing with the fact that you might have to wait for Nutella, or buy a small jar of honey, or go with regular milk.

Compare this to the US. There it’s virtually unheard of for a grocery store to be out of anything approaching a staple. It’d be weird to be sold out any particular cut of beef, or any particular size of Nutella, much less the whole shebang. I remember once when the Hyde Park Co-op had no bread, but that was because it was going bankrupt and hadn’t paid the bread supplier, sparking the comment "What is this, Russia?" from one of my friends. I think a lot of this is due to our more efficient supply chains–US suppliers can ensure a constant supply of any food, and can deliver extra when demand unexpectedly spikes. This is sort of a waste of money, but thanks to Wal-Mart we do it as efficiently as possible. The main thing, though, is that we’re willing to pay for it. With meat and produce in India, Indians just learn to deal with the fact that supply isn't as consistent, and that it changing that would result in a lot of spoiled meat and produce. In the US, we have meat coming in daily, and when the seasons prohibit a particular vegetable from being available, we just import it. What do you do if you need avocados for your Labor Day party in September? Import them from Chile! What do you do if you need raspberries in March? Import them from Guatemala!

I’m not saying the Indian system is better–far from it. This is one of those American luxuries that’s worth the cost, as opposed to daily lattes or the Chevy Suburban. I’ll adjust, no doubt, but begrudgingly. I can deal with honey shortages and avocado blackouts. It’s only when you cut off my protein and diet pop that you’re playing with fire.

Indian Justice

Last Sunday, Anand (I’d previously called him Ajit to hide his real name. He was displeased at that courtesy), Tulsi, and I drove back to Channapatna, the toy capital. Tulsi works there as a buyer and distributer, and also has done some cool design work in a workshop there. She was going to show us how things work. A tour of sorts. Unfortunately, we never made it to Channapatna because we hit a dude on a motorcycle.

Some primer is in order. Although we were on a "highway," this isn’t much like highways in the US. There are occasional formal on- and off-ramps, but most of the stretch is pretty open. When it goes through towns, people just sorta hop on the highway. The same applies to areas that are just a few roadside food stalls. People are constantly getting on and off. The shoulders in these areas are one with the sidewalks and parking, all the way up to the storefronts. Picture a highway where the shoulders are full of broken down cars constantly rejoining traffic.

Obviously, we were driving on the left, but I’ll translate this into American drive-on-the-right to make it clearer for you all. We were on a four lane highway, and were in the left lane of our two lanes. There was a rickshaw in the right lane, probably 3 car-lengths ahead of us. This blinded us to the motorcycle trying to cross the highway, making a left-hand turn across the median to go the other direction. It also blinded him to us. He staled before the median, planning to wait for a break in that traffic, leaving him stopped right in front of us. Anand slammed the brakes, but there was nothing we could do–we hit his rear wheel, he spun around, and his helmetless self flew off the bike. This was 100% the biker’s fault.

What happened next is all a blur. I recall just staring straight ahead, motionless, as Anand and Tulsi rushed out to deal with things. Eventually Tulsi rushed back and said "Areyouok?stayinthecar!" Anand would later say that the only reason he wasn’t beaten up by a mob at this point was because Tulsi was there, and Indians won’t fight in front of a woman.

As it turned out, the guy was mostly fine. A few scratches. Nothing major. This helped cool the situation down, and we agreed to drive the guy a nearby hospital, because that’s what good people do. Anand followed him in, and it became clear that despite his limited injuries, this day was far from over.

The man demanded that the doctors give him lots of bandages. They didn’t want to put anything on him, since all he had were a few scratches, but he insisted. The man was also demanding an Rs.50,000 bribe from Anand, lest he file a police report. We decided we’d file the report ourselves. Anand also called for backup, and several well-connected friends of his showed up. While we were waiting for them, as well as the police, the man walked away from the hospital with his family, largely unscathed.

At this point we were a little confused about how to proceed. We didn’t want to file a report if we didn’t have to, as that would mean impounding the car for at least a day, possibly a week (all of our knowledge of the law was hearsay). But we also didn’t know what he’d be up to, and again, we were fearful of being accused of a hit-and-run. Even though we’d have proof to the contrary at the hospital, just being charged is way more of a hassle than we wanted to deal with. We decided to drive back to the site, find the guy’s license plate number on his bike, use Anand’s friends’ connections to run that number, and find out where he lives. Tulsi and I laid back for this venture. We left it up to Anand and his gang of cronies.

What Anand found on arriving was that his side was hopelessly outmanned, as well as out-armed. While he’d amassed a handful of sharp, well-connected friends, the other guy’s family had summoned a gang. With sickles. Anand described one drunk guy waving his sickle around at him, dangerously close. Anand responded by getting his friends to summon their own gang, who showed up in an oversized van called a Tata Sumo. This just made me think of the scenes in Hotel Rwanda where truckloads of mercenaries with machetes are driving down the streets.

With both sides equally backed up, they negotiated things down to Rs.4,500, or almost exactly $100. A hefty fine, but one we were reluctantly willing to pay. Why not just take things to court, you might ask? We weren’t at all at fault, and wouldn’t a court certainly find that? There were several problems with court. First, like I mentioned, we didn’t want the car impounded. If this thing went to court, the car could’ve wound up impounded for quite a while. Second, we discovered when looking up their address that this guy’s family was a powerful minority family in the area, and courts tend to bend over backwards to protect minorities. The "oppressive majority" line apparently plays really well here. Anand’s friends said they could easily drag the litigation on for at least a year, if not several, and that this stress and hassle would eventually cost us well over a few thousand Rupees. Finally, they had control of the local witnesses. They were already claiming that we hit the bike in its rear end, rather than side, making it seem like we just sped into it. Forensics on the car could prove otherwise, but that’s probably more CSI than real-life Indian law. So even though it wasn’t our fault, courts wouldn’t necessarily agree.

Anand finally rejoined us with the good news (and rounding up cash from us–nobody runs around with 4,500 Rupees). We then took off to hang out with his friends who had come to our rescue. They own a small, very self-sustaining farm in the countryside. Anand said that everything they have they made themselves. I think this means they have their own proprietary software on their homemade computers, too, but I’m not sure. We wound up having an incredible homemade meal at their home, very simple but easily one of the best veg meals I’ve ever eaten. I didn't get a photo of the appetizer plate, which was homemade chips, a sort of raisin blondie/brownie thing, and some other Indian fried thing. It's hard to justify dosas and stew being this good, but they were.



I’d commented to Tulsi on what a waste that day had turned into. It was supposed to be awesome, and had just turned into a total bite. Then we got that meal. And I also got a look at this sweet family photo of theirs. And I got more good blog material. Not a good trade-off, but at least we got something out of the deal.

Photos

I'm not the best photographer, so when I take photos, I tend to go for volume and hope a few turn out. So the Flickr stream's a bit crowded. By request, I've compiled what I think are my best shots so far: http://www.flickr.com/photos/41957090@N04/sets/72157625629777870/.

I'll try to update that page as I keep going.

Imperialist Food: Taco Bell

With much fanfare, they just opened a Taco Bell in my neighborhood. It’s kitty corner to the Sony World store after which the intersection is named, but I predict that within a couple of years, they’ll start calling the intersection "Taco Bell." It’s that gaudy.

This place opened at some point when I was in Dharamsala, and it’s been packed ever since. Based on my limited contacts here, Indians really seem to dig Taco Bell. I keep telling them how odd this is, given that Taco Bell is the single lowest grade food among major American fast foot chains, but I think part of the appeal is just the Mexican food aspect. There’s no Mexican food here, so Taco Bell is as close as they get. Plus they have the free fire sauce packets, and we all know how much Indians love free fire sauce.

In a way, I knew what I wanted when I walked in: as much variety as possible. So I didn’t really care what I was eating as long as each item was different. But for an Indian with NO idea what any of this food is, it’s a daunting process. Somewhat like the "Fahita" stand at the Iroquois County Fair, both sides of the cash register were pronouncing the J in Fajita. They do have a large poster explaining exactly what’s in each menu item, which I sorta wish they had in the States, too, just so you can tell if they’ve exhausted all permutations of the same 7 ingredients.

Anyway, about the food. Unlike the Dominos, this stuff was all pretty similar to what you get in the States. By which I mean: generally nasty, but with just enough good options to make it good comfort food. I hate a potato taco, which was basically tater tots, sauce, and toppings. It failed because the cold ingredients (everything but the tots) won out, and despite being eaten first, it was cold.



I also partook of the nachos, which were flavored in themselves, in addition to the toppings. So rather than just nachos, it was basically topped Doritos. While a pleasant surprise, I don’t think I’d go for the nachos again, for reasons that should be clear when you look an inch below this sentence.



The side item with my potato taco meal was a "snackito," which is basically the world’s most tightly wrapped tortilla. It enclosed a very small amount of, basically, salsa and cheese. Forgettable.



The burrito, however, worked great. Nice and soft, with all of the right stuff inside of it and none of the garbage. The chicken was at least acceptable, and everything else worked. It probably worked, for me, because it was exactly what I’d get in the US. It was not Indianized. When I go back, I’ll probably just get a couple of burritos. And a refillable diet pepsi. I’ve mentioned the dearth of diet pop in this country, but Taco Bell represented. When my brother was in Germany, he described the lack of Mountain Dew, and the eventual craving for this. When he finally found it at a Taco Bell next to a military base in Stuttgart, he parked himself there and downed it all afternoon. His heart’s still beating, and I can only hope the same is true for me when I get done with this place.

One note about the refillable pop, though. In the States, this phenomenon emerged because it’s cheaper to waste pop than to hire someone to pour it. The margins on pop are through the roof, so give out however much it takes to get people to pull the trigger on it, right? Here, you get the "best" of both worlds. A refillable pop from a fountain in the dining area, but poured by an employee standing next to it. They seriously have people standing next to each of the two fountains who take your cup and pour in your drink of choice. Ridiculously cheap labor strikes again.

Stats

I get some interesting stats from Blogger's dashboard. Today's was discovering that a Russian had found my site while doing a google search for "how to marry with banana tree." Glad to see that post is useful to someone.

Adventures in Tibet Part V: It’s 234 kilometers to Chandigarh

We’ve got an empty bladder, two packs of weird sandwich cookies, it’s cold and the bus is air-conditioned. Hit it.

When I booked my flights, I had serious concerns about an early morning flight out of Delhi. The overnight buses from Dharamsala don’t get into Delhi until 8 or 9, and with an hour trip to the airport, plus a minimum of 45 minutes of lead time, I didn’t think it was going to work. But Sanju had to get back in time for a wedding that day, so the upshot was I traveled back from Dharamsala solo. This was an adventure all on its own.

I was able to buy my ticket for a nice, state-run, "luxury" bus two days in advance. I wasn’t taking chances with the buses all selling out from an exodus of Russian Pilgrims. The bus arrived on time, was neat and tidy, and was mostly empty. Or at least it was mostly empty when it departed. As soon as it pulled in, a bunch of Russian Pilgrims rushed on board while the Indian conductor was pleading with them to stop so he could check their tickets to make sure they were on the right bus. They weren’t. So after my travels, I think the order from most to least orderly travelers goes:

Germans -> Americans -> Indians -> Russian Pilgrims

We picked up some people along the way, but only briefly was there anyone sitting next to me. I’ve concluded that lateral space is far more important than leg room for comfort. The seats on these buses recline like hell, to the point where the seat in front of you is only a few inches from your face unless you also recline. That didn’t bother me. But I loved the side space. Perhaps airlines should see if they can’t focus on that instead of leg room.

Once in Delhi, I took a rickshaw to the airport and found my driver not only speaking English, but also being quite chatty. It was here, actually, that I first learned of the cold snap and ice storm in the US. This was the weirdest of sources for my emergence from living under a rock in Tibet, but it was neat to have that sort of a threshold to jump over. That news ended the trip. I still had to get through a delay-stricken, poorly laid-out Delhi Airport (the taxi to the runway was 15 minutes, AFTER we bused to the plane itself). But at that point, I was back to news, and the trip was done.

I’ll get back to posting non-travel-blog stuff very soon. I realize these posts weren’t my best, but they were pretty much necessary. Some teasers: my review of Taco Bell, a "best of" photography post to sort through the hundreds of bad and repetitive photos I took, and more adventures with the law (this time with an angry mob). I’m also now bringing a camera with me whenever I go to the grocery store. There’s too much good stuff there.

Adventures in Tibet Part IV: Buddhism is Weird

One would think that after hearing the Dalai Lama lecture on Buddhism, I’d warm up to the religion. Let’s just say I’m not exactly sold on it yet.

The Dalai Lama gave public lectures on three days, the last three days we were in town. On the first, he lectured on "The 37 Practices of a Boddhisatva," a text outlining the practices of ideal Buddhists, available here: http://viewonbuddhism.org/resources/37_practices_bodhisattva.html. This was somewhat similar to a college lecture, both in it being mentally stimulating and in its ability to be cool despite its fundamental bogusness (according to Corel, bogusness is a word). The next day was a bunch of vows, which I skipped for reasons I’ll explain, and the third day was over my head. So most of my takeaway was from the first day.

The 37 Practices includes a lot of advice that’s pretty jarring to a western audience. Things like Practice 3, "Withdrawing completely from things that excite us, our mental disturbances slowly decline. And ridding our mind of directionless wandering, attention on virtue will surely increase. As wisdom shines clearer, the world comes in focus, our confidence grows in the Dharma we have learned. Live all alone far away in seclusion - the Sons of the Buddhas all practise this way." See also Rule 33, advising abandonment of family.

The Dalai Lama discussed these rules in surprising detail, from the ground up. He actually started with the Big Bang, but I saw most of that as window dressing to make the rules seem more scientific than mumbo jumbo. Ultimately, it all stems from reincarnation and the idea that our bodies are prisons for our souls. Any pleasure we gain in this life is meaningless, but the pain we experience is not, as it detracts from our ability to meditate and achieve Nirvana. Ergo, live your life to minimize pain, even at the expense of minimizing happiness.

I see several problems with this. Largely, it’s just that this is a huge sacrifice to take on faith, but that’s a theological argument. I think Christianity is more forgiving about keeping the faith without sacrificing much. But, in Buddhisms terms, I see a glaring hole. Several of the rules (see, eg, 11) focus on charity and improving the lives of others. You sacrifice your own meaningless happiness for the betterment of others. But isn’t that betterment a waste of time? Isn’t that pleasure fleeting too? Why give ephemeral happiness to others, while you, yourself, are declining it as harmful? It seems to me that this whole thing dissolves when applied to society, and only works in small doses. You wind up with a double standard: one set of rules for the monks, and another for everyone else. But I could go on for a while on this. For far longer than is interesting on a blog. So I’ll just say that I quickly found holes in this Buddhism thing.

At the end of the first day, there was a public vow, the Pratimoksha Vow. Anybody in the audience could take it. It consisted of five rules: don’t kill, don’t steal, don’t lie, don’t rape, don’t drink. Four of those are pretty easy. The Dalai Lama even clarified that once, a guy said he wanted to take the vow, but that he couldn’t give up alcohol. He gave him some leeway: just don’t abuse it. I didn’t want to quibble by saying "what if I only get really ripped once in a while, and am chill when I do it?" That seemed intrusive. So I did not take the vow.

In researching the vow later, though, I got to thinking how similar Buddhist monastic life is to Christian Monastic life in the Dark Ages. See this list of rules here:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patimokkha. These are rules describing every aspect of life. Join the monastery and have every decision made for you–rules govern everything. Compare this to The Rule of St. Benedict, a bizarrely similar set of rules for Dark Ages monks. There’s a reason why we use the term "monk" for eastern religions, too. It’s the same thing–a bunch of people who were living in a chaotic, depressing society who found refuge in the order and predictability of religious asceticism. Christianity also has similar tenets on the body being a prison, and about happiness on Earth being ephemeral. The difference is that Christianity didn’t take this to the extremes. It didn’t say that true Christians would live solitary lives. That would never have worked. Christianity was always a practical religion, whether that meant caving to Roman demands, surviving the Dark Ages, reforming the Vatican’s systems, or looking the other way when Catholics support abortion. Buddhism, by my judgments, is more strict. When pressed, it has simply said "you outsiders can do what you wish. We don’t care. We’re Buddhists." And Tibet gets conquered and its citizens either marginalized or eradicated. How’d that hopey-changey stuff work out for ya?

Anyway, the second day was more vows. And while that list of vows was neat, in practice it was like 20 minutes of untranslated chanting (we got an English feed on FM radio). The second day was a whole lotta that, so I skipped it to explore town. The third day was half over my head, and half only for the Russian pilgrims (no English feed). So I only got one real day with His Holiness. I think that was enough. I can say I met him and listened to his lectures. I don’t need to say it was spiritual.

Adventures in Tibet Part III: Triund

I was in Dharamsala for 5 days. The first of those was a groggy half-day, and the Dalai Lama was speaking on the last three. This left one day for an all-day trip, and I decided to hike to Triund, which is basically a ridge with great views of the Himalayas. Dharamsala itself is at the foothills of the mountains, so just looking at it isn’t too spectacular. You have to go in and up a bit to get the real deal.

I started in McLeod Ganj, the part of Dharamsala where the Tibetan stuff and our monastery are, which is at 2,082m (6,831ft). Triund is at 2,875, or 9,432ft. So this was going to be a whole lotta climbin’.

The first 50 minutes or so of the trail was pretty uneventful. It was uphill, but wide paths. Aside from the scenery, it was similar to any State Park trail in the US. I did eventually see some 4-wheelers on this path, which helps explain how the shops along the way get supplied. This part of the trail was pretty obvious in its layout. You couldn’t get lost. So when I passed two Americans who had come with a guide, I briefly considered slowing down and keeping them in sight, but I figured that would only slow me down. The two women were middle-aged, and I figured I had to go faster than them to make good time. Famous last words.



After about 50 minutes of this winding uphill, I got to a temple, café, rest house, and general clearing. The café was called "Rest a While." I wasn’t much in the mood for rest yet, so I took some photos and trudged on. Soon after this I hit the only confusing part of the trail, and I chose wrong. Compare these two photos, and tell me which you think is the right way (no markings):

I came from the left, on this shot:



This was what was staring at me, the alternative to winding back up the hill on that path:



I chose to wind back up the hill. While this did result in some cool photography, it also resulted in me walking along increasingly bootleg paths, without a soul in sight, such as this:



I was having my doubts about this detour being the right path, but just when I considered returning to Rest a While, I started seeing some odd trash. Unlike most of India, there wasn’t much trash in Dharamsala. So when I saw mostly-empty water bottles sitting around, I assumed they were some sort of trail market. Note that I had seen no trail markings at this point–there had been no need early on. So I assumed this was just some sort of "you’re in the right place, people have been here" sort of deal. Wrong.

Eventually this path wound back on itself. Most things looked the same, but when I recognized the same bottle of AquaFina that I’d seen earlier, I knew I was in trouble. And that’s when it dawned on me: these mostly empty water bottles weren’t trail markers, and they certainly weren’t trash. They were last-ditch provisions for lost hikers, and I was a lost hiker.

This was definitely a reality check moment. I still had plenty of water, and it was daylight, but I was still in the middle of the Himalayas, off the trail, and on some pretty sketchy territory. Fortunately, I was still able to easily retrace my steps back to Rest a While, and as luck would have it, I saw a hiker coming down the path I should have taken as I approached it. This put me back on my way, albeit another hour and a half in the hole. The timing wasn’t a big deal, though, since I was making good time. I would have about an hour at the top, eventually, and that would be enough.

The rest of the trail was fairly clean and well-marked, but it got tougher and tougher as I went on. I had over 800m to climb, upwards. That’s a lot of work. The scenery was beautiful along the way (see the Flickr stream), which helped, but all of this combined with the already high altitude made this a tough hike towards the end. The path was basically stretches of slope followed by stretches of steps, and as I got closer to the end, it became all steps. But this was all worth it when I hit the top. The last stretch is walking straight up the last hill. At this point, all of the mountain tips are blocked. All you see is hill. But then you crest, and it just all opens up into this:



At the top, there were more shops. One was cooking rice and daal, and I partook. There were also a bunch of dogs, as well as hippies singing various songs. Note the video on flickr of them ad-libbing a verse to Don’t Worry, Be Happy.

It would be dark by 6:00, and although the trip down would be much quicker, I set out at 3:30. I got back to Rest a While at 5:00, and ran into an Israeli named Alon, who had two dogs with him. They weren’t his. They’d just followed him down from the top. When we made it back to Dharamkot, the village at the start of the trail, one dog was still with us (the other had fallen behind and joined another group). When we got to the end of the trail, three local dogs were waiting, and instantly recognized our dog as an outsider. They didn’t just bark, though–they chased after this mountain dog. He sidestepped and bolted into town, chased at full speed by the three local dogs. That’s the last I saw of him. I figure he probably owed the other dogs money,
and had been hiding out on the mountain all summer. Either that or he just really stunk.


If anyone’s found this page as a result of searching for more info in the Triund hike, drop me a line. I found a dearth of reliable info online, and I’d be happy to answer anybody’s questions.

Adventures in Tibet Part I: The Pilgrimage

In Buddhism, they tend to use the word "auspicious" a lot. In the dictionary I’m seeing definitions like "promising success," "favored by fortune," and "favorable." I’m not quite sure about the intricacies of the Tibetan language (or whatever the original language of Buddhism is), but whether it’s poor translation or not, I think my journey to Dharamsala, the Tibetan capital in exile, can be described as fairly inauspicious.

Sanju and I made our flight to Delhi by about 30 seconds. They make you check into flights 45 minutes before they depart. Probably a security measure, and it’s good policy anyway, but for our 7:00 flight to Delhi, from an airport about an hour away from Koramangala, this meant getting up at the ass crack of dawn. Right after Sanju and I entered the snake line for check-in, they closed it, signaling that the 45 minute barrier was up. Maybe this means someone was looking out for us, but as someone who thinks that stuff’s a crock, to me it just meant that our planning was off.

We arrived in Delhi and got to the bus station at noon. I didn’t ask questions when we immediately boarded a bus. I’d assumed we’d take an overnight bus, but I also assumed Sanju knew what we were doing. Turned out this bus was not direct to Dharamsala, but was rather a bus to Chandigarh, the capital of Punjab, from which we would transfer to Dharamsala. The saving grace here was that this was definitely the nicest bus I’d ever been on. I didn’t play varsity sports, I was only on JV team when IMSA’s Scholastic Bowl team won the 2000 State title, and let’s just say our junior high Science Olympiad team didn’t exactly spring for super quality buses. This thing had leather seats, LA-Z-Boy style leg rests, and free bottles of water for all. Good stuff. It was only a few dollars more than the really crappy buses, but I paid for this luxury in karma when we got to Chandigarh at 6:00.

In Chandigarh, we transferred to the first bus we could find to Dharamsala. This was a local bus. Local=cheapest. Fortunately Sanju and I both snagged window seats, and fortunately we both had warm clothing on. This bus was put to shame by the old school buses that only had half-backed benches. If you’ve been to school recently, you probably know the distinction I’m talking about. I still managed to sleep a little, but things really went to hell when we arrived at our monastery at 3AM, long after everyone had gone to bed. And also after having walked down about 300 steps with our luggage, making walking back up to town impossible for both of us. Did I mention it was about 45 degrees out? After briefly chilling on a bench, we snagged a monk who happened to be running around doing something, and were let into an unheated dining hall to sleep until 7. At that point, someone woke up who let us into our rooms. They were also unheated, but the three huge wool blankets more than made up for that quickly.

Tomorrow, after some rest, things get better. Don’t worry. Like I said, "auspiciousness" is a crock. At least once your planning starts going well.

Adventures in Tibet Part II: I Know Too Much Cyrillic for My Own Good

I rolled out of bed at noon, still really groggy, but well aware from my research that this town shuts down early, and that to have any shot of salvaging the day, I’d have to power through and just get to bed early. I would eventually learn from the Dalai Lama that a true Buddhist should be a loner, rejecting personal relationships, so the fact that Sanju was out of commission on the first day really just made everything more Buddhist.

The first thing I had to do on this good Sunday was register to see the Dalai Lama. I’m not totally positive why they do this, as there was no background check on me or anything, and although I did get a totally sweet ID card with my photo stapled to it and all of the writing in Tibetan, I never actually had to show it to get into the lectures. Anyway, this led me to the main temple complex in Dharamsala, where I noticed all of the signs were in Russian. The conference had been called by Russian Buddhists, so I was expecting some Russian flair to this. And fortunately, I know some really basic Cyrillic, mostly from math classes, and the word "REGISTRATION" had just been converted to the Cyrillic alphabet as РЕГИСТРАЖИЯ. I was able to pick out REG_STRA___ and made some deductions. Unfortunately, registration at the temple was only for Russians, registration for foreigners would open on Monday at an office in town, and what the hell was I doing there looking for registration? I know too much Cyrillic for my own good.

The benefit, though, and where this vacation started to go great in all sorts of ways, was that I was at the Dalai Lama Temple Complex BEFORE it was mobbed with people. For the rest of the trip, this place would be packed, and would also be off limits to photography. So I got to shoot the place, unlike people who didn’t come early, drawn in by Russian signs. It’s a neat place with some cool prayer wheels. They also have an actual temple inside, although photography in there was banned at all times. So I didn’t get to photograph their offerings of Chips Ahoy! to the various deities inside. Chips Ahoy!, mind you, that expired a year ago. I doubt the Buddha is pleased. Unless he likes softer cookies, as I do. Seriously, leave some Chips Ahoy! out overnight. You may enjoy them more.

With the Dalai Complex down, I set out for an afternoon walk to Bhagsu, a nearby village and home to a neat temple and some waterfalls. Neither was spectacular, but the falls were pretty cool, and made for a good warmup to the next day’s hike up the Himalayas.

Adventures in Tibet: A Primer on Dharamsala

I just got back from a trip with Sanju to Dharamsala, the Tibetan capital in exile. I arrived on Sunday, November 28, and left on December 2. With overnight bus trips bookending the trip, and with some flight delays, I was gone 7 days. I got back a little over 24 hours ago.

Tibet has a long history of being in and out of Chinese rule. Various Chinese and Nepalese emperors have conquered it, various Dalai Lamas have raised armies to free it, and the process has all gone back. When the Qing dynasty fell in 1912, the 13th Dalai Lama returned to Tibet from India to assert Tibetan independence. For the next roughly 40 years, China did not contest this, and Tibet governed itself. In 1950, with a newly solidified government and few external problems, China moved to solve this Tibetan issue and moved its troops in. With Tibet’s new leader, the current Dalai Lama, still quite young, their resistance was minimal, and the resulting peace accord solidified China’s control over Tibet.

Over the next ten years, Tibetan anger over this situation simmered, though, and periodically broke out in violence. In 1959, Chinese resistence against this resulted in a full scale uprising in Lhasa. The Chinese invited the Dalai Lama to a theatrical performance at a nearby military base, on the condition that he come without guards or fanfare. Realizing what was up, he instead fled to India, like the 13th Dalai Lama had done. This was probably a prudent move, as China has shown with the current Panchen Lama exactly how diabolical they can be with Tibetan leaders. That boy has likely been dead since his capture in 1995, but as long as the Chinese claim he is alive somewhere, he cannot be replaced, as replacements are chosen via reincarnation. Had Tenzin Gyatso gone to that performance in 1959, he likely would have met the same fate, and there would be no Dalai Lama now, or possibly for quite some time. Now, however, he runs an excellent PR campaign from Dharamsala, with the current government in exile.

As I see it, Tibet has to be considered part of China. If nothing else, they’ve been conquered. If conquest is illegitimate, then none of the world’s borders are legitimate. Maybe San Marino can still claim legitimacy, but few other countries could. But just because China owns Tibet doesn’t relieve them of all responsibilities there. It doesn’t give them carte blanche to flood the province with Hans, run the whole show from Beijing, give Tibetans no special rights, and make them pay to see the Potala Palace. It is in that spirit that I support the Tibetan cause and their right to self-governance.

This isn’t to say that Tibet is special among China’s minorities–when they marched 56 children in black face for the 2008 Openinc Ceremonies, that was wrong towards all minorities, not just the Tibetans. But I’ve also heard their plight compared to that of, say, the Chinese Catholics, and that’s just bunk. The Chinese Catholics are just a group of people of a specific religion, not an ethnicity with a language, a history of independence, centuries of organized governance, and a large identifiable territory.

My feelings about Tibet were a lot of what drew me to Dharamsala. I’m not particularly into Buddhism, and am even less so now, but I support their cause, even if their take on religion is a little funky. Whose isn’t? If you’d asked me when I came to India what one place I’d like to see most, I probably would have said Dharamsala. Tibet has fascinated me, as have the Himalayas. As you’ll see tomorrow, things got off to a rocky start, but Dharamsala was anything but disappointing. It was a beautiful area, and I had a wonderful, stimulating time. I’ll post all about it over the coming days.