March 10th is the annual Tibetan Uprising Day. Ever since HHDL fled Tibet in 1959 there have been protests against the Chinese in Tibet and in exile every year. As I've written about earlier, last year's March 10th uprisings were the most brutal in Tibet since 1959 and lasted almost a week. This year the only pictures we've seen out of Tibet are of Chinese forces entering Tibet in tanks by the thousands. My theory is that very few protests went down in Tibet this year because China has their thumb pressed down on them so hard. Since Uprising Day we haven't heard any news out of Tibet except that there is no news...I'm sure we'll know more in the coming weeks.
Here in exile thousands of Tibetan refugees tried to pile into the Suklakhang (temple) to hear DL's Uprising Day speach. The fam and I got there too late to pack ourselves in with everyone else, so Sangmo and I sword fought with our Tibetan flags until the march started. I got a translation of the speach in a pamphlet and let me tell you, DL made some pretty bold statements about how the Chinese government isn't playing fair.
the Girardia is taking over...I'll write more after I peal myself off of the bathroom floor :)
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
Movin' On Up
So we've recently moved in with our homestays up in McLeod. It was a very tearful goodbye at Sarah but I totally lucked out with my famiy. My Pa-la is the only major electrician in town and so I think he's really well off. They have a washing machine and a stationary exercize bike. My Ama-la is the best cook I've ever met. The first dinner I had there I thought to myself "so this is what its like to have a home-cooked meal with love by mom"...no offense mom - but its probably the MSG that makes me like it so much. And they are ALWAYS trying to feed me. "Eat more! Eat more! Finish this!" I finally asked my language teacher to tell me how to say "No. Its impossible." (It's "meh. di mi cipa rey", in case you were wondering).
I have a 13 year old brother, Tenzin Kunga, who quickly became on of my favorite people in the world. He's English is amazing but he can't seem to get my name down. The whole family can't really seem to get it. They called me by my Tibetan name for the first few days, which I loved, but then they decided my English name sounds more like "taxi," so thats what Pa-la still calls me. Little bro just calls me Aja-la now, which means big sister, which I also love. The first day he helped me carried my backpacks to the house, but first put on his muscle shirt, insisted on carrying my huge trekking backpack, and kept telling me how easy it was as we stumbled our way through the forest to the house. What a cutie. Unfortunately, he went off to boarding school for the first time on Friday. He was super nervous, poor kid. I'm surprised at how much I miss him. He wrote me a very sweet goodbye letter saying that I'm his sister and he can't wait to come home to hang out with me next month. I've never had a brother before!
I also have a little 7 year old bundle-of-energy sister, Tenzin Sangmo. We were unbelievably fast friends...she's never had a sister before. She immediately stuck herself on my hip. The first night she told me she wanted to show me an Indian dance and started a little song-and-dance routine. She's quite good at dancing...but half way through she got a burst of energy and started jumping up and down on the bed yelling and giggling. "That's not an Indian dance." - Me "I know! I know!!!" -Sangmo. Yesterday I took her up to Bhagsunag to play in the waterfall. She giggled and squealed and ran around splashing pepole uncontrollably (I, of course, joined in with bursts of inner-child energy) in her underware and refused to dry off and denied being cold even as her teeth chattered. I taught her and Kunga "Go Fish" the other day. Big mistake. They went nuts over it. Every second I'm home its "Goldfish! goldfish!!!"
I have a 17 year old brother too, but I've never met him. He's at boarding school and shows no sign of ever wanting to come home, says Ama-la.
I think I live in one of the better houses in Mcleod. I have my own room with two beds and a tv, which is really fortunate as I now have girardia (ameobic dysentery was SO last week), so I'm free to groan and hate myself and curse my stomach in private. Many of the other students weren't so lucky with their families or their homes. Lauren is in a one-room house shared by 5 people, including a 1-year-old. Josh's family stuck him in a room with a 26-year-old woman whom we think they are trying to marry him off too...awkward. Elinor, who has a very strong personality, shares a room (which she affectionatly calls her hut) with a very bossy 30-year-old sister (whom she not-so-affectionatly calls The Nazi) and her mother. Casey was ridiculed by his sister for not being able to eat as many momo's as his host-grandfather. Carrie has to walk 20 minutes to get to a bathroom. So, yeah, I lucked out.
I have a 13 year old brother, Tenzin Kunga, who quickly became on of my favorite people in the world. He's English is amazing but he can't seem to get my name down. The whole family can't really seem to get it. They called me by my Tibetan name for the first few days, which I loved, but then they decided my English name sounds more like "taxi," so thats what Pa-la still calls me. Little bro just calls me Aja-la now, which means big sister, which I also love. The first day he helped me carried my backpacks to the house, but first put on his muscle shirt, insisted on carrying my huge trekking backpack, and kept telling me how easy it was as we stumbled our way through the forest to the house. What a cutie. Unfortunately, he went off to boarding school for the first time on Friday. He was super nervous, poor kid. I'm surprised at how much I miss him. He wrote me a very sweet goodbye letter saying that I'm his sister and he can't wait to come home to hang out with me next month. I've never had a brother before!
I also have a little 7 year old bundle-of-energy sister, Tenzin Sangmo. We were unbelievably fast friends...she's never had a sister before. She immediately stuck herself on my hip. The first night she told me she wanted to show me an Indian dance and started a little song-and-dance routine. She's quite good at dancing...but half way through she got a burst of energy and started jumping up and down on the bed yelling and giggling. "That's not an Indian dance." - Me "I know! I know!!!" -Sangmo. Yesterday I took her up to Bhagsunag to play in the waterfall. She giggled and squealed and ran around splashing pepole uncontrollably (I, of course, joined in with bursts of inner-child energy) in her underware and refused to dry off and denied being cold even as her teeth chattered. I taught her and Kunga "Go Fish" the other day. Big mistake. They went nuts over it. Every second I'm home its "Goldfish! goldfish!!!"
I have a 17 year old brother too, but I've never met him. He's at boarding school and shows no sign of ever wanting to come home, says Ama-la.
I think I live in one of the better houses in Mcleod. I have my own room with two beds and a tv, which is really fortunate as I now have girardia (ameobic dysentery was SO last week), so I'm free to groan and hate myself and curse my stomach in private. Many of the other students weren't so lucky with their families or their homes. Lauren is in a one-room house shared by 5 people, including a 1-year-old. Josh's family stuck him in a room with a 26-year-old woman whom we think they are trying to marry him off too...awkward. Elinor, who has a very strong personality, shares a room (which she affectionatly calls her hut) with a very bossy 30-year-old sister (whom she not-so-affectionatly calls The Nazi) and her mother. Casey was ridiculed by his sister for not being able to eat as many momo's as his host-grandfather. Carrie has to walk 20 minutes to get to a bathroom. So, yeah, I lucked out.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Catching Up Take 2! "Losar! and Amoebic Dysentery!"
February 25th, 2009
Wednesday – First Day of Losar
Today is the first day of Losar, the Tibetan New Year. It’s the biggest three days of the year. Most Tibetans consider it their birthday and don’t pay attention to when their birthday really is. My friend, Wobar, from Ladakh says he's 21, but he made that up a few years ago. We think he's actually 24 or 25 but no one actually knows. Its so weird how age-obsessed Americans are when it SO doesn't matter. Losar is usually filled with dancing and drinking and celebrating and prayers and games. It’s the only time that the students here really let loose and stop working. It starts the day before when you turn your house inside-out cleaning and purifying for the new year. Its not at all like the American New Year, where we have one night of partying, one day of hang over, then its back to work on Monday. They really view Losar as the beginning of something new, a real reason to celebrate. The first day is family day where everyone stays home and drinks chang, a Tibetan beer. The second day is going around to peoples houses (at school, houses = dorm rooms), and drinks chang, and the third day is communal celebrations, where everyone gets sloshed with more chang and plays.
Unfortunately, the exiled community has cancelled Losar celebrations in memory of those who died in the March 10th uprisings last year. Last year was the most brutal and violent year in Tibet since HHDL fled in 1959. Thousands were killed, burned alive, arrested and tortured by the Chinese government. The Tibetans wanted to take advantage of the attention China would get during the Beijing Olympic Games to bring their situation to the world’s notice. They started their campaign with the annual protests that have taken place on March 10th since 1959, but last year it turned into a weeklong ordeal with hundreds of protests popping up independently of each other all over Tibet. Canceling the Losar celebrations for this year was an idea originating in Tibet, but the Chinese government has ordered the Tibetans in Tibet to celebrate or be fined – way to be immature, China. The Tibetans in exile have decided to carry out the canceling of the Losar celebrations in respect for those suffering in Tibet. We still have the week off and we still have prayers and offerings (in fact, we woke up at the butt crack of dawn to stuff ourselves into chupas, the traditional Tibetan dress, to go to Pooja, or prayers, this morning) but there are no performances, dancing, or drinking – however I just played volleyball for two and a half hours, had a jam sesh with Tawni and our German friend Lina, and sunbathed on the roof, which is a party enough for me. Instead of chang we drank “appy apple juice” and called it chang.
Fun story time! So 2 and a half hours of volleyball equals some crazy sunburn..but thats not the story. Tawni and I were peppering with a Tibetan monk, who everyone was calling "Rimpoche." All day I was thinking "what an odd name, who names their kid Rimpoche?" Because (in laymen's terms) in Tibetan Buddhism, a Rimpoche is a recognized reincarnated high scholar or Lama (priest) who is usually head of a school or monestary. So, for simplicity, I'd been calling this guy "Rimpi" all day - less of a mouthfull. He and I hung out a lot, played basketball, ate dinner with some mutual friends...and then I find out he's ACTUALLY a Rimpoche (big deal, p.s.). I freak out b/c my new bff is a freaking Rimpoche! Score! He's now tied for first on my favorite monk list. The other #1 is Sakya, an adorable 18-yr-old monk from Bhutan who never fails to giggle uncontrollably as he takes off his robes to play a pick-up game of basketball.
Anyway, back to Losar: originally, we were all pretty bummed we’d be missing out on the real Losar that everyone talks about and gets excited about. But Elinor put it well when she said she respected and was moved that everyone was so willing to give up their only three days of debauchery and fun whereas in America, we look forward to Memorial Day because of the sales. And so, this afternoon, we’re going to go up to Mcleod to hang out with the hunger strikers and meet up with our roommates at their various nunneries.
So apparently, our new Tibetan friends refuse to let us not experience the "real" Losar. It started out as just a few of us on the roof watching the sun set...then someone brought some speakers, then someone else brought a backpack full of whiskey, then our teachers showed up and all the Tibetans freaked out because they are afraid of authority figures...but the teachers obviously didn't care that we were partying, joined in, and everyone relaxed and we ended up playing until 4 in the morning dancing on the roof. Quality. A strapping young man, who happens to be a Tibetan pop star (youtube his breakthrough song, Tenzin Dolma) by the name of Lobsang Delek drunkenly confessed his attraction to me and I got first-hand experience of the sleezy overly-forward Tibetan flirting culture. Next day I found out that everyone was talking about it and I'm automatically his girlfriend...guess I don't really get a say in this one so I'm just gonna go with it.
Tonight I also received my Tibetan name. Tawni was trying to introduce me to one of the Tibetan students, who just couldn’t get my name down. So she said the name “Tsomo” is the closest Tibetan name to “Stacey”. “Tsomo” means Goddess of the Ocean. Lobsung Delek (henceforth referred to as “LD” to distinguish him from the other ten hundred Lobsungs I know), then gave me my second name “Yengchen,” which means Goddess of Music…because, he says, I inspire him. PUKE!
February 26th - Losar Day 2
Woke up and trekked up to Mcleod for an audience with Dema Loche Rimpoche. He told us to study hard and care about what we do and to not be late to lunch at the IBD. Josh, Becky, Elinor, Norsung, Choenyi, Karma-la, Wobar, and I drove into Dharmakot for lunch #2 because they (our Tibetan friends) said that the best pizza in northern India was there….it was ok pizza, I guess.
Becks and I later went back to McLeod and met up with Ani Choezin (my roommate) and her friend Ani Deki, who has tuberculosis…we call her Ani TB-la. She really likes having a nickname. I was sooo happy to see Choezin. She’s been gone all of Losar and next week she’ll be in Delhi with her brother.
That’s two weeks without a roommate! I honestly didn't want to let go of her hand - espeically because it distanced me from all the other Westerners that have shown up in McLeod almost overnight. I've found that I'm racist against other Westerners and nothing makes me more pissed off that someone coming into ANY foreign community without the proper respect or knowledge of what is and isn't acceptable. I saw a girl in a tanktop with her bra straps out and I've never been so offended or felt so incited to violence in my entire life. Its just so easy to judge...I gotta work on that one.
Tonight the party in LD’s room and moved to a dance party in the foreigner’s guesthouse. Love confession #2 came my way from Wobar…awkward. They really love the foreigners. Becky has a new boyfriend also named Lobsung – but her relationship is slightly more two-sided than my own.
February 27th – Losar Day 3
Apparently, only girls were at Pooja this morning. All the men were too hungover.
Not too much happened today except we all decided that we’ve never been more happy or more at peace than when we are here at Sarah. I woke up at the very late hour of 9AM and just chilled all day. I saw LD at lunch today and blatantly ignored him. I really don’t know how to handle this situation. We’re in middle school.
Tonight started out at Pa-la’s (father) room. Pa-la is the (very) old groundskeeper and rides around on a scooter. He feeds the cats that hang around campus and they follow him everywhere. He doesn’t speak a word of English, which is understandable as he only has a few teeth left. Anyway, the third day of Losar is meant for communal celebration to Pa-la invited us all to his house and got us sloshed. He really knows how to throw a party. Our glasses were never empty but seemingly refilled themselves magically of whiskey. We had our first taste of REAL chang which was DELICIOUS and tangy and fruity and surprisingly not very alcoholic. Tawni was impressed by how Becky and I could pound the whiskey – props to sorority life!
Later we met up with our friends, hiked behind school and had a mini-Losar-style bonfire. LD snuggled up next to me and was watching me all night creepy-Bollywood-style. I told him was creeping me out. “What is creepy?” was all I got out of him.
February 28th - Losar Day +1!
A few of us foreigners and some Tibetan friends trekked up to Bhagsunag, a “waterfall” above Mcleod Ganj. As you can see, it was more of a trickle down a
rock than a waterfall – bloody draught, bloody global warming. There was minimal snowfall this year in the Himalayas, snowfall people rely on here for water. Usually the mountains are completely white almost down to Mcleod, or so I’ve been told. But the mountains are still mostly brown. My roommate clicks her tongue in disapproval at them often.
We decided to hike up beyond the waterfall and found a sick little hippie café, called Shiva Café, with a natural swimming pool thing, drums to bang on, and a dijerydoo (sp?). 2 hours later we decided we’d been bum enough so we trekked back down.
Becks and I met up with the Ani-la’s again and went to Lhasa Café for dinner – never again! Becky and I were on the floor in anguish most of the night. Oops. We then accompanied our roommates and the rest of Mcleod on a circumambulation of the temple during a candle light vigil remembering a monk that was shot by Chinese officials today in Tibet during a protest against celebrating Losar. More tongue clicks from Ani-la.
Becky has confessed she wants to bring Lobsang back to the states. I’m obsessed with Rimpoche…I hear he’s a Kague sect monk! That means he can marry!!! Score!
March 7th – Amoebic Dysentery!
So I’ve had the plague the last three days. It was pretty much awesome. A few of us came down with some crazy stomach bug and we had fevers peaking at 102, shakes, and crazy diarrhea - I won’t bore you with the rest of the gory details. Everyone has been great though and really helpful and understanding. More than once I woke up to bottles of water and plates of rice next to me. I quarantined myself in the library where I could lay unmoving underneath the fan for 36 hours straight. It was actually a quite pleasant sickness, all things considered.
Tonight was also the goodbye talent show put on by the Emory students. We had two days to throw together a show for our Tibetan friends and it was STRESSFUL. Probably the most stress I’ve felt since I’ve been here. Some of the girls really wanted to put on an a cappella song (in two days…unheard of) so I threw together a half-done arrangement of Always Be My Baby by Mariah Carey. Everyone picked it up really fast but forgot every note by the time we were on stage. Whatever. It was still fun.
Wednesday – First Day of Losar
Today is the first day of Losar, the Tibetan New Year. It’s the biggest three days of the year. Most Tibetans consider it their birthday and don’t pay attention to when their birthday really is. My friend, Wobar, from Ladakh says he's 21, but he made that up a few years ago. We think he's actually 24 or 25 but no one actually knows. Its so weird how age-obsessed Americans are when it SO doesn't matter. Losar is usually filled with dancing and drinking and celebrating and prayers and games. It’s the only time that the students here really let loose and stop working. It starts the day before when you turn your house inside-out cleaning and purifying for the new year. Its not at all like the American New Year, where we have one night of partying, one day of hang over, then its back to work on Monday. They really view Losar as the beginning of something new, a real reason to celebrate. The first day is family day where everyone stays home and drinks chang, a Tibetan beer. The second day is going around to peoples houses (at school, houses = dorm rooms), and drinks chang, and the third day is communal celebrations, where everyone gets sloshed with more chang and plays.
Unfortunately, the exiled community has cancelled Losar celebrations in memory of those who died in the March 10th uprisings last year. Last year was the most brutal and violent year in Tibet since HHDL fled in 1959. Thousands were killed, burned alive, arrested and tortured by the Chinese government. The Tibetans wanted to take advantage of the attention China would get during the Beijing Olympic Games to bring their situation to the world’s notice. They started their campaign with the annual protests that have taken place on March 10th since 1959, but last year it turned into a weeklong ordeal with hundreds of protests popping up independently of each other all over Tibet. Canceling the Losar celebrations for this year was an idea originating in Tibet, but the Chinese government has ordered the Tibetans in Tibet to celebrate or be fined – way to be immature, China. The Tibetans in exile have decided to carry out the canceling of the Losar celebrations in respect for those suffering in Tibet. We still have the week off and we still have prayers and offerings (in fact, we woke up at the butt crack of dawn to stuff ourselves into chupas, the traditional Tibetan dress, to go to Pooja, or prayers, this morning) but there are no performances, dancing, or drinking – however I just played volleyball for two and a half hours, had a jam sesh with Tawni and our German friend Lina, and sunbathed on the roof, which is a party enough for me. Instead of chang we drank “appy apple juice” and called it chang.
Fun story time! So 2 and a half hours of volleyball equals some crazy sunburn..but thats not the story. Tawni and I were peppering with a Tibetan monk, who everyone was calling "Rimpoche." All day I was thinking "what an odd name, who names their kid Rimpoche?" Because (in laymen's terms) in Tibetan Buddhism, a Rimpoche is a recognized reincarnated high scholar or Lama (priest) who is usually head of a school or monestary. So, for simplicity, I'd been calling this guy "Rimpi" all day - less of a mouthfull. He and I hung out a lot, played basketball, ate dinner with some mutual friends...and then I find out he's ACTUALLY a Rimpoche (big deal, p.s.). I freak out b/c my new bff is a freaking Rimpoche! Score! He's now tied for first on my favorite monk list. The other #1 is Sakya, an adorable 18-yr-old monk from Bhutan who never fails to giggle uncontrollably as he takes off his robes to play a pick-up game of basketball.
Anyway, back to Losar: originally, we were all pretty bummed we’d be missing out on the real Losar that everyone talks about and gets excited about. But Elinor put it well when she said she respected and was moved that everyone was so willing to give up their only three days of debauchery and fun whereas in America, we look forward to Memorial Day because of the sales. And so, this afternoon, we’re going to go up to Mcleod to hang out with the hunger strikers and meet up with our roommates at their various nunneries.
Tonight I also received my Tibetan name. Tawni was trying to introduce me to one of the Tibetan students, who just couldn’t get my name down. So she said the name “Tsomo” is the closest Tibetan name to “Stacey”. “Tsomo” means Goddess of the Ocean. Lobsung Delek (henceforth referred to as “LD” to distinguish him from the other ten hundred Lobsungs I know), then gave me my second name “Yengchen,” which means Goddess of Music…because, he says, I inspire him. PUKE!
February 26th - Losar Day 2
Woke up and trekked up to Mcleod for an audience with Dema Loche Rimpoche. He told us to study hard and care about what we do and to not be late to lunch at the IBD. Josh, Becky, Elinor, Norsung, Choenyi, Karma-la, Wobar, and I drove into Dharmakot for lunch #2 because they (our Tibetan friends) said that the best pizza in northern India was there….it was ok pizza, I guess.
Becks and I later went back to McLeod and met up with Ani Choezin (my roommate) and her friend Ani Deki, who has tuberculosis…we call her Ani TB-la. She really likes having a nickname. I was sooo happy to see Choezin. She’s been gone all of Losar and next week she’ll be in Delhi with her brother.
That’s two weeks without a roommate! I honestly didn't want to let go of her hand - espeically because it distanced me from all the other Westerners that have shown up in McLeod almost overnight. I've found that I'm racist against other Westerners and nothing makes me more pissed off that someone coming into ANY foreign community without the proper respect or knowledge of what is and isn't acceptable. I saw a girl in a tanktop with her bra straps out and I've never been so offended or felt so incited to violence in my entire life. Its just so easy to judge...I gotta work on that one.Tonight the party in LD’s room and moved to a dance party in the foreigner’s guesthouse. Love confession #2 came my way from Wobar…awkward. They really love the foreigners. Becky has a new boyfriend also named Lobsung – but her relationship is slightly more two-sided than my own.
February 27th – Losar Day 3
Apparently, only girls were at Pooja this morning. All the men were too hungover.
Not too much happened today except we all decided that we’ve never been more happy or more at peace than when we are here at Sarah. I woke up at the very late hour of 9AM and just chilled all day. I saw LD at lunch today and blatantly ignored him. I really don’t know how to handle this situation. We’re in middle school.
Tonight started out at Pa-la’s (father) room. Pa-la is the (very) old groundskeeper and rides around on a scooter. He feeds the cats that hang around campus and they follow him everywhere. He doesn’t speak a word of English, which is understandable as he only has a few teeth left. Anyway, the third day of Losar is meant for communal celebration to Pa-la invited us all to his house and got us sloshed. He really knows how to throw a party. Our glasses were never empty but seemingly refilled themselves magically of whiskey. We had our first taste of REAL chang which was DELICIOUS and tangy and fruity and surprisingly not very alcoholic. Tawni was impressed by how Becky and I could pound the whiskey – props to sorority life!
Later we met up with our friends, hiked behind school and had a mini-Losar-style bonfire. LD snuggled up next to me and was watching me all night creepy-Bollywood-style. I told him was creeping me out. “What is creepy?” was all I got out of him.
February 28th - Losar Day +1!
A few of us foreigners and some Tibetan friends trekked up to Bhagsunag, a “waterfall” above Mcleod Ganj. As you can see, it was more of a trickle down a
rock than a waterfall – bloody draught, bloody global warming. There was minimal snowfall this year in the Himalayas, snowfall people rely on here for water. Usually the mountains are completely white almost down to Mcleod, or so I’ve been told. But the mountains are still mostly brown. My roommate clicks her tongue in disapproval at them often.We decided to hike up beyond the waterfall and found a sick little hippie café, called Shiva Café, with a natural swimming pool thing, drums to bang on, and a dijerydoo (sp?). 2 hours later we decided we’d been bum enough so we trekked back down.
Becks and I met up with the Ani-la’s again and went to Lhasa Café for dinner – never again! Becky and I were on the floor in anguish most of the night. Oops. We then accompanied our roommates and the rest of Mcleod on a circumambulation of the temple during a candle light vigil remembering a monk that was shot by Chinese officials today in Tibet during a protest against celebrating Losar. More tongue clicks from Ani-la.
Becky has confessed she wants to bring Lobsang back to the states. I’m obsessed with Rimpoche…I hear he’s a Kague sect monk! That means he can marry!!! Score!
March 7th – Amoebic Dysentery!
So I’ve had the plague the last three days. It was pretty much awesome. A few of us came down with some crazy stomach bug and we had fevers peaking at 102, shakes, and crazy diarrhea - I won’t bore you with the rest of the gory details. Everyone has been great though and really helpful and understanding. More than once I woke up to bottles of water and plates of rice next to me. I quarantined myself in the library where I could lay unmoving underneath the fan for 36 hours straight. It was actually a quite pleasant sickness, all things considered.
Tonight was also the goodbye talent show put on by the Emory students. We had two days to throw together a show for our Tibetan friends and it was STRESSFUL. Probably the most stress I’ve felt since I’ve been here. Some of the girls really wanted to put on an a cappella song (in two days…unheard of) so I threw together a half-done arrangement of Always Be My Baby by Mariah Carey. Everyone picked it up really fast but forgot every note by the time we were on stage. Whatever. It was still fun.
Catching Up Take 1 - Pictures to Come! "School and Amritsar"
February 24, 2009
K so guess its been a while...my bad. We’ve been super busy with class work and weekend trips and maybe sleeping sometimes. But we’ve been so busy I haven’t even meditated or yoga’ed in about 2 weeks. Serious bummer, but I’m certainly not lacking in experiences.
K, catch up time: So our philosophy teacher is the sickest person I’ve ever met. She’s a German nun who will become the first female Geshe next year. People say she speaks Tibetan and English better than German. She also speaks English with an Australian accent, which adds a fun little flavor to our Dharma discussions. We’ve been talking about a lot of stuff that’s pretty much rocked my views on the mind and karma and blah blah but reincarnation still eludes me. In fact, the whole Buddhist philosophy of mind has piqued my interest and I think I’m going to do my research project on how Western neuroscience and the Buddhist view of the mind compare. I want to bring in the effects of meditation on the brain and how one can train and shape the mind through certain meditation practices. Ani-la (our philosophy teacher) is teaching us a meditation technique that involves observing the mind itself, a practice that will certainly be helpful in my attempt to "locate" it in my research. I also want to bring in traditional Tibetan medicine and analyze how health affects the mind. Should keep me busy for a while.
On another note, our philosophy classes are also furthering my disillusions with Buddhism and specifically, Shangri-la, or the perceived mysticism of Buddhism. Unfortunately, Buddhism is revealing itself more and more to me as another religion machine despite its urging to question and criticize its major components rather than accept them on faith. Our questions about reincarnation and karma and other crazies have increasingly been answered with a “be skeptical…but accept it.” Or at least, that’s how it seems to us at the moment. I’ll keep you posted.
So three weekends ago
(wow, has it really been that long since I’ve been on a computer?) a few of us decided to take a little day trip to Kongra Fort for some R and R and maybe get some reading done. I’m still unsure of what Kongra Fort was actually used for but it was a sweet little ruins in the mountains with few tourists and lots of…wildlife. My friend Carrie left her bag unattended for thirty seconds – just enough time for a vicious little monkey to upturn it and mug her. At first we though he was going for the ipod to sell on ebay,
but when he did a nosedive off the cliff with just her banana we wrote him off just another mundane, banana-stealing primate. How typical. The next day a few of us decided to go on a walk behind Sarah campus and stumbled across a waterfall. That's a little view of our favorite mountain range, ya know, the Himalayas, that we saw on our way. And that's Lara taking off her shirt for her first real "shower" in a month!
There is a performance school up the street. Tibetan students from South India audition and travel all the way up to Dharmasala to learn traditional Tibetan instruments, songs, and dances. They enroll in the school because they believe they are doing their part in the Tibetan struggle by keeping their Tibetan traditions alive. Most of them are very committed to the cause. They are much younger than the students here at Sarah, mostly about 15-21 years old. We went up to visit a few weeks ago and they immediately offered us dance lessons in return for English lessons. So now I’m a professional Tibetan dancer AND I’ve learned how to teach English. We’ve also been teaching them other styles of dances. Last week my friend Allie taught them a ballet routine and this week we’re teaching them how to salsa
Febrary 25th, 2009
Wendesday – The Longest 24 Hours I’ve Ever Experienced
Josh, Elinor, Becky, and I went to Amritsar on Feb 13th. Amritsar is the holy Sikh city on the boarder of Indian and Pakistan. It’s in Punjab and it’s like a whole other country. It’s more like Delhi in that it’s busy, dirty, and crowded but there are women everywhere and its socially more Western-ish. People are bigger and taller and it’s hotter and SO beautiful. Elinor said it’s like what she pictured India to be like; big white and gold buildings with the sun shinning off the water and tons of colorful people and food everywhere. The weekend was so packed and intense that I’m just gonna go ahead and list it out:
Feb 13th 7:30PM Took a two-hour bus ride from Gaggle (below Sarah) to Pathankot to take an overnight train to Amritsar. Unfortunately, there were too many of us and we had too many big bags and the bus got so overcrowded that there were two guys literally out the door hanging onto the side of the bus. Elinor scored a seat but at the cost of a man intentionally sticking his butt on her face.
9:30PM Arrive in Pathankot.
The next train as at “11:15PM” but in India you have to add 3 hours to everything. We decided to grab some tea at the only shop still open. We received some quality Indian hospitality by the assistant manager of the shop who told us he was starting his Indian pop star career. He was going on tour the next day and did a little song and dance for us…he was actually pretty legit. He offered to take us down to Rajistan with him the next day and give us VIP seats at his concert, but we told him we had to take a rain check. 11PM We show up at the train station to wait (and wait and wait) for the train. We meet two really awesome English people, Joel and Nina, who were taking the year off from med school at Sheffield University to travel around the world. They said they had missed the earlier train to Amritsar and had been waiting for hours because the trains came whenever they felt like it. We hung out with them for the next few hours and shared a sleeper car with them when the train finally came at around 12:50AM.
Feb 14th (Valentine’s Day!)
12:50AM So…its raining like crazy and the sleeper car may as well be flooded. We all curl up on the bunks for a freezing cold, very wet nap. Elinor is so cold I literally sleep on top of her.
3:30AM Arrive in Amritsar groggy and cold. The six of us shared a auto rickshaw to the Golden Templed and parted ways – Joel and Nina went to find a room and we went straight to the Temple to watch the sunrise. We checked in our shoes,
trudged through feet washing water, and stopped short when at our first glance at the Golden Temple…it was stunning and took us completely by surprise. We got there just in time to watch the Book Awakening ceremony. In the Sikh tradition, they worship the Book of the Gurus, a compilation of the major teachings of their gurus. The Book lives inside the temple and someone is always chanting from it while it is awake – which is from 4AM to 10PM everyday. The Awakening ceremony involves a lot of pomp and circumstance with chanting, horns, drums, and a huge procession over the water and into the temple. After the ceremony we decided to go find a room to drop our stuff off and come back in time for the sunrise.
5:30AM As Westerners, we had trouble finding a room. The Golden Temple is the pilgrimage destination for Sikhs and the hostels around the area are meant as free lodging for pilgrims. Obviously, we weren’t pilgrims and so were continually turned down. We finally found a room at Guru Dwala, the oldest and most popular of the pilgrimage hostels. We slipped the attendant a few rupees and he gave the four of us a private room – otherwise we would be three white girls and a huge white guy sleeping in the over packed courtyard with two hundred plus people – not the safest idea. There was a dirty sleeping dred locked man curled up in front of the door to our room and the attendant pulled him on his mattress pad out of the way, the sleeping guy didn’t even notice. It was a really great tiny, dirty, little room with a cabinet, three beds (which we pushed together, better for cuddling!), and light bulb that didn’t turn off. We soon fell in love with our accommodations and honestly
considered it home. 6:30AM We return to the temple to watch the sunrise bundled up in all our blankets. We are in a significantly better mood sans backpacks and sleepingbags and set up shop at the edge of the pool. It was so peaceful and beautiful and we could see the sun and the moon opposite each other over the Temple. The Golden 
Temple grew brighter and brighter and the fish came right up to our feet to watch us watch them. Every Sikh must always have the “5 K’s” on their person at all time. I don’t know what the proper K name is for them but they have to have a dagger or knife, a specific bracelet, a turban, some special underpants, and 
something else that I’m forgetting right now. While we were sitting at the Temple, Sikh men were taking their ritual baths with their huge swords and people who were up early enough were circumambulating the pool. The Temple attendants were very holy men with huge beards carrying spears. We desperately 
wanted pictures of these attendants so Becky posed for a picture in front of one so we could pretend we were taking a picture of her… 
7:15AM Parantas for breafast!!! It’s our favorite Punjabi food and we pretty much stuffed our face with them whenever we saw them on the street. I wanted to buy them in bulk and store them in my pockets and bathe in them, but I resisted. They are spicy crepe-like things filled with potato or cheese or cauliflower that is drowned in butter and spicy chic pea dal. It’s the most wonderful experience for the mouth. By this time we are so tired that we aren’t tired anymore and decide to walk around the city. We randomly ran into the Jallianwala Bagh memorial where the British famously massacred a peaceful Indian protest in 1919. It was really exciting to find it because we all remembered learning about it in school and never expected to find ourselves standing in front of it. It was a beautiful memorial with gardens and grassy areas. Interestingly, it wasn’t a solemn and distant memorial like what one would find in the West. It looked like a nice place to hang out in the sun and bring you kids to fly kites.
9:30AM Eventually we left Jallianwala Bagh and wandered around some more. It became increasingly apparent that we were the only white people in Amritsar as people blatently stared at us and wished us a Happy Valentine’s Day from windows three stories up. A man approached me and asked where I was from. I told him USA and he said he would love it if we came into his all-girls’ school to meet his students and have tea. We accepted and were immediately bombarded by girls who wanted “snaps” and our autographs and to shake our hands and wish us Happy Valentine’s Day (picture at right is me signing a girl's hand).
It 
was the most bizarre experience and we’ve never felt more loved on V-day. We check our watches 
thinking it’s dinner time, but its only 11 in the morning, so we go back to our humble abode and pass out. 1:30PM Wake up and return to the Temple for some relaxing introspection in the shade overlooking the pool. Seriously consider taking a swim, its 900 degrees. We decide that no pilgrimage to Amritsar is complete without taking a traditional communal lunch. Sikh temples always provide free meals and accommodations for travelers. It was some of the best food we’ve had on the trip yet. It was really amazing how efficient the lunches are. Hundreds of people file in, sit in neat rows on the floor, and people run by spilling dal and chipati (bread) into bowls (see picture to the right. Guy with bucket has dal, Becky and Elinor tucking in). Everyone eats 
quickly, leaves, and the next few hundred people file in and they do it all over again. On our way out we were stopped by a man offering tea. Its our 6th cup of tea of the day and a few minutes into it we find out that the group of men we are drinking tea with are very important and one is the mayor of Amritsar or something... Elinor lets it slip that she's single and Josh was just our classmate and she was instatnly swarmed with men...as was Josh. They really loved Josh and his tallness and blondness in this state. Eventually we were asked to leave because we were creating a scene and a traffic jam. As we left the building we were again swarmed with handshakes and "snaps" and happy valentine's day wishes and "this is my mother, and this is my sister, and this is my cousin-brother he is singer..."
5PM Rickshaw to Durgiand...we think it was some kind of Hindi slash Sikh temple thing. Shindi temple? Anyway, it was awesome and they gave us straight up sugar clumps as offerings.
7:15 PM "Hey guys, what time do you think it is?" -Stacey
"9:30"-Elinor
"7:15!" -Stacey
"No way..." -Elinor
Ate some sketchy street chowmien for dinner #1. Didn't get sick. Sweet!
7:50 PM Went to "The Brother's" for dinner #2. GREAT food. Had the equivalent of 3 meals for about six bucks. Walked aroudn some more, found a dried fruit stand and loaded up for the roommates.
11PM Pass out.
Feb 15th
7:15AM "Wake up" and blink drearilly, strange guys sitting otuside our door watching us walk in and out to brush our teeth. They were the only guys in the courtyard...they really didnt have to be sitting right in front of our door.
8:20AM B-fast at same parantas place.
9:30AM Train to Pathankot. Just made it! About an hour into the ride we had a particularly long stop in front of a sugarcane field. Some young Sikh men got off and started to play sword fight with the sugarcane. They broght a bunch of stalks back onto the train and showed us how to chew them. We were sticky for the rest of the ride.
4PM Got back to Sarah in one piece dirty, travel worn, and sooo happy to be back. It was amazing how much we found we'd missed campus. Reveled in a bucket shower happily. Everyone was jealous of our adventures. We're pretty much the coolest people we know. End scene.
K so guess its been a while...my bad. We’ve been super busy with class work and weekend trips and maybe sleeping sometimes. But we’ve been so busy I haven’t even meditated or yoga’ed in about 2 weeks. Serious bummer, but I’m certainly not lacking in experiences.
K, catch up time: So our philosophy teacher is the sickest person I’ve ever met. She’s a German nun who will become the first female Geshe next year. People say she speaks Tibetan and English better than German. She also speaks English with an Australian accent, which adds a fun little flavor to our Dharma discussions. We’ve been talking about a lot of stuff that’s pretty much rocked my views on the mind and karma and blah blah but reincarnation still eludes me. In fact, the whole Buddhist philosophy of mind has piqued my interest and I think I’m going to do my research project on how Western neuroscience and the Buddhist view of the mind compare. I want to bring in the effects of meditation on the brain and how one can train and shape the mind through certain meditation practices. Ani-la (our philosophy teacher) is teaching us a meditation technique that involves observing the mind itself, a practice that will certainly be helpful in my attempt to "locate" it in my research. I also want to bring in traditional Tibetan medicine and analyze how health affects the mind. Should keep me busy for a while.
On another note, our philosophy classes are also furthering my disillusions with Buddhism and specifically, Shangri-la, or the perceived mysticism of Buddhism. Unfortunately, Buddhism is revealing itself more and more to me as another religion machine despite its urging to question and criticize its major components rather than accept them on faith. Our questions about reincarnation and karma and other crazies have increasingly been answered with a “be skeptical…but accept it.” Or at least, that’s how it seems to us at the moment. I’ll keep you posted.
So three weekends ago
(wow, has it really been that long since I’ve been on a computer?) a few of us decided to take a little day trip to Kongra Fort for some R and R and maybe get some reading done. I’m still unsure of what Kongra Fort was actually used for but it was a sweet little ruins in the mountains with few tourists and lots of…wildlife. My friend Carrie left her bag unattended for thirty seconds – just enough time for a vicious little monkey to upturn it and mug her. At first we though he was going for the ipod to sell on ebay,
but when he did a nosedive off the cliff with just her banana we wrote him off just another mundane, banana-stealing primate. How typical. The next day a few of us decided to go on a walk behind Sarah campus and stumbled across a waterfall. That's a little view of our favorite mountain range, ya know, the Himalayas, that we saw on our way. And that's Lara taking off her shirt for her first real "shower" in a month!
There is a performance school up the street. Tibetan students from South India audition and travel all the way up to Dharmasala to learn traditional Tibetan instruments, songs, and dances. They enroll in the school because they believe they are doing their part in the Tibetan struggle by keeping their Tibetan traditions alive. Most of them are very committed to the cause. They are much younger than the students here at Sarah, mostly about 15-21 years old. We went up to visit a few weeks ago and they immediately offered us dance lessons in return for English lessons. So now I’m a professional Tibetan dancer AND I’ve learned how to teach English. We’ve also been teaching them other styles of dances. Last week my friend Allie taught them a ballet routine and this week we’re teaching them how to salsaFebrary 25th, 2009
Wendesday – The Longest 24 Hours I’ve Ever Experienced
Josh, Elinor, Becky, and I went to Amritsar on Feb 13th. Amritsar is the holy Sikh city on the boarder of Indian and Pakistan. It’s in Punjab and it’s like a whole other country. It’s more like Delhi in that it’s busy, dirty, and crowded but there are women everywhere and its socially more Western-ish. People are bigger and taller and it’s hotter and SO beautiful. Elinor said it’s like what she pictured India to be like; big white and gold buildings with the sun shinning off the water and tons of colorful people and food everywhere. The weekend was so packed and intense that I’m just gonna go ahead and list it out:
Feb 13th 7:30PM Took a two-hour bus ride from Gaggle (below Sarah) to Pathankot to take an overnight train to Amritsar. Unfortunately, there were too many of us and we had too many big bags and the bus got so overcrowded that there were two guys literally out the door hanging onto the side of the bus. Elinor scored a seat but at the cost of a man intentionally sticking his butt on her face.
9:30PM Arrive in Pathankot.
The next train as at “11:15PM” but in India you have to add 3 hours to everything. We decided to grab some tea at the only shop still open. We received some quality Indian hospitality by the assistant manager of the shop who told us he was starting his Indian pop star career. He was going on tour the next day and did a little song and dance for us…he was actually pretty legit. He offered to take us down to Rajistan with him the next day and give us VIP seats at his concert, but we told him we had to take a rain check. 11PM We show up at the train station to wait (and wait and wait) for the train. We meet two really awesome English people, Joel and Nina, who were taking the year off from med school at Sheffield University to travel around the world. They said they had missed the earlier train to Amritsar and had been waiting for hours because the trains came whenever they felt like it. We hung out with them for the next few hours and shared a sleeper car with them when the train finally came at around 12:50AM.Feb 14th (Valentine’s Day!)
12:50AM So…its raining like crazy and the sleeper car may as well be flooded. We all curl up on the bunks for a freezing cold, very wet nap. Elinor is so cold I literally sleep on top of her.
3:30AM Arrive in Amritsar groggy and cold. The six of us shared a auto rickshaw to the Golden Templed and parted ways – Joel and Nina went to find a room and we went straight to the Temple to watch the sunrise. We checked in our shoes,
trudged through feet washing water, and stopped short when at our first glance at the Golden Temple…it was stunning and took us completely by surprise. We got there just in time to watch the Book Awakening ceremony. In the Sikh tradition, they worship the Book of the Gurus, a compilation of the major teachings of their gurus. The Book lives inside the temple and someone is always chanting from it while it is awake – which is from 4AM to 10PM everyday. The Awakening ceremony involves a lot of pomp and circumstance with chanting, horns, drums, and a huge procession over the water and into the temple. After the ceremony we decided to go find a room to drop our stuff off and come back in time for the sunrise.5:30AM As Westerners, we had trouble finding a room. The Golden Temple is the pilgrimage destination for Sikhs and the hostels around the area are meant as free lodging for pilgrims. Obviously, we weren’t pilgrims and so were continually turned down. We finally found a room at Guru Dwala, the oldest and most popular of the pilgrimage hostels. We slipped the attendant a few rupees and he gave the four of us a private room – otherwise we would be three white girls and a huge white guy sleeping in the over packed courtyard with two hundred plus people – not the safest idea. There was a dirty sleeping dred locked man curled up in front of the door to our room and the attendant pulled him on his mattress pad out of the way, the sleeping guy didn’t even notice. It was a really great tiny, dirty, little room with a cabinet, three beds (which we pushed together, better for cuddling!), and light bulb that didn’t turn off. We soon fell in love with our accommodations and honestly
considered it home. 6:30AM We return to the temple to watch the sunrise bundled up in all our blankets. We are in a significantly better mood sans backpacks and sleepingbags and set up shop at the edge of the pool. It was so peaceful and beautiful and we could see the sun and the moon opposite each other over the Temple. The Golden 
Temple grew brighter and brighter and the fish came right up to our feet to watch us watch them. Every Sikh must always have the “5 K’s” on their person at all time. I don’t know what the proper K name is for them but they have to have a dagger or knife, a specific bracelet, a turban, some special underpants, and 
something else that I’m forgetting right now. While we were sitting at the Temple, Sikh men were taking their ritual baths with their huge swords and people who were up early enough were circumambulating the pool. The Temple attendants were very holy men with huge beards carrying spears. We desperately 
wanted pictures of these attendants so Becky posed for a picture in front of one so we could pretend we were taking a picture of her… 
7:15AM Parantas for breafast!!! It’s our favorite Punjabi food and we pretty much stuffed our face with them whenever we saw them on the street. I wanted to buy them in bulk and store them in my pockets and bathe in them, but I resisted. They are spicy crepe-like things filled with potato or cheese or cauliflower that is drowned in butter and spicy chic pea dal. It’s the most wonderful experience for the mouth. By this time we are so tired that we aren’t tired anymore and decide to walk around the city. We randomly ran into the Jallianwala Bagh memorial where the British famously massacred a peaceful Indian protest in 1919. It was really exciting to find it because we all remembered learning about it in school and never expected to find ourselves standing in front of it. It was a beautiful memorial with gardens and grassy areas. Interestingly, it wasn’t a solemn and distant memorial like what one would find in the West. It looked like a nice place to hang out in the sun and bring you kids to fly kites.
9:30AM Eventually we left Jallianwala Bagh and wandered around some more. It became increasingly apparent that we were the only white people in Amritsar as people blatently stared at us and wished us a Happy Valentine’s Day from windows three stories up. A man approached me and asked where I was from. I told him USA and he said he would love it if we came into his all-girls’ school to meet his students and have tea. We accepted and were immediately bombarded by girls who wanted “snaps” and our autographs and to shake our hands and wish us Happy Valentine’s Day (picture at right is me signing a girl's hand).
It 
was the most bizarre experience and we’ve never felt more loved on V-day. We check our watches 
thinking it’s dinner time, but its only 11 in the morning, so we go back to our humble abode and pass out. 1:30PM Wake up and return to the Temple for some relaxing introspection in the shade overlooking the pool. Seriously consider taking a swim, its 900 degrees. We decide that no pilgrimage to Amritsar is complete without taking a traditional communal lunch. Sikh temples always provide free meals and accommodations for travelers. It was some of the best food we’ve had on the trip yet. It was really amazing how efficient the lunches are. Hundreds of people file in, sit in neat rows on the floor, and people run by spilling dal and chipati (bread) into bowls (see picture to the right. Guy with bucket has dal, Becky and Elinor tucking in). Everyone eats 
quickly, leaves, and the next few hundred people file in and they do it all over again. On our way out we were stopped by a man offering tea. Its our 6th cup of tea of the day and a few minutes into it we find out that the group of men we are drinking tea with are very important and one is the mayor of Amritsar or something... Elinor lets it slip that she's single and Josh was just our classmate and she was instatnly swarmed with men...as was Josh. They really loved Josh and his tallness and blondness in this state. Eventually we were asked to leave because we were creating a scene and a traffic jam. As we left the building we were again swarmed with handshakes and "snaps" and happy valentine's day wishes and "this is my mother, and this is my sister, and this is my cousin-brother he is singer..."5PM Rickshaw to Durgiand...we think it was some kind of Hindi slash Sikh temple thing. Shindi temple? Anyway, it was awesome and they gave us straight up sugar clumps as offerings.
7:15 PM "Hey guys, what time do you think it is?" -Stacey
"9:30"-Elinor
"7:15!" -Stacey
"No way..." -Elinor
Ate some sketchy street chowmien for dinner #1. Didn't get sick. Sweet!
7:50 PM Went to "The Brother's" for dinner #2. GREAT food. Had the equivalent of 3 meals for about six bucks. Walked aroudn some more, found a dried fruit stand and loaded up for the roommates.
11PM Pass out.
Feb 15th
7:15AM "Wake up" and blink drearilly, strange guys sitting otuside our door watching us walk in and out to brush our teeth. They were the only guys in the courtyard...they really didnt have to be sitting right in front of our door.
8:20AM B-fast at same parantas place.
9:30AM Train to Pathankot. Just made it! About an hour into the ride we had a particularly long stop in front of a sugarcane field. Some young Sikh men got off and started to play sword fight with the sugarcane. They broght a bunch of stalks back onto the train and showed us how to chew them. We were sticky for the rest of the ride.
4PM Got back to Sarah in one piece dirty, travel worn, and sooo happy to be back. It was amazing how much we found we'd missed campus. Reveled in a bucket shower happily. Everyone was jealous of our adventures. We're pretty much the coolest people we know. End scene.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Reincar-what?-tion
First off, thank you to those of you who have commented!
Aunt Lee - I'll definitely work on those recipes for you. You're going to need to stock up on the bok choy.
Aunt Jana - You absolutely SHOULD travel here. I feel like you and Jeff would especially appreciate Indian and Tibetan culture.
Katt - I'm so jealous (in an un-attached Buddhist way) of your 10 year India Visa. You go stamp that thing for real!
On another note, I sent my mom an email the other day detailing a philosophical conversation I had with a few friends of mine. I think that's my actual favorite part about being here - when my friends and I hang out, we don't talk about boys (often) or what parties we're going to this weekend or complaining about an upcoming test. It's all bowel movements and Buddhist philosophy. So worthwhile! For example, this weekend, we went up to Mcleod Ganj and noticed the altitude had a real affect on us when 2 beers turned us into blundering idiots. Instead of running down the streets yelling like the stupid Americans we are, we got into a heated discussion about the concept of "emptiness." It was the most educational hour I've had yet. Anyway, I sent my mom this email because I felt she should know my thoughts on the subject of reincarnation and compassion (ideas which are sure to change as I spend more time here). She recommended I post it here too for our friends and family to take from it what they will:
"Yesterday I got into quite the discussion with my friends Elinor and Lara. It started off with me disagreeing with Nirvana and the goal to feel things without "passion" on the path to enlightenment (sorry if this sounds hokey but there is a point). Lara, who was raised a Buddhist, explained that it was just a translational thing and it doesn't really mean feel things without passion so much as not becoming so attached to a situation that it tears you up when it steps out of the realm of your control. Anyway, the conversation then moved into Elinor and I also disagreeing with the idea of reincarnation (which is more complex than I can just explain to you in an email). Elinor and I agreed that it was too hokey to buy into but decided on our own idea of reincarnation. I informed Elinor of my belief (derived from my background in neuroscience) that once we're put in the ground, that's it, nothing comes after death, and that's why I can't keep my mind open to reincarnation. However, together with Elinor's view, I think I can buy the following: Elinor's view is that a type of energy (for lack of a better word) is passed on when you leave your mark on someone, such as people who have a profound influence on you, be it your parents or some random person you bummed into on the street. She said that before her grandmother died she told Elinor that she'd always be watching over her. Elinor, of course, doesn't believe that her grandmother is actually watching over her but her impression of her grandmother, her character, and her influence certainly does live on as it has shaped Elinor as a person. So, in a way, her grandmother is retroactively always looking over her and, in a way, she has been reincarnated IN Elinor and wherever Elinor leaves her "energy". Insofar, I can buy it. But it still left me with a "we're not living for an afterlife, whats the point." If you figure that one out, let me know.
BUT what the conversation finally morphed into was a discussion of life from our parents' perspective. We figured out that while we have been here in India so far, we have had little motivation or desire to talk to anyone but our parents. India has really highlighted who is important to us in our lives and we are truly worried about how our relationships will change when we get back to our respective schools in the states. We will have been thinking on this whole higher level for so many months and this thinking is invisible to everyone - so we'll be the same to them when we get back. (...) But, the point, which I'm straying from, is that you [mom and dad] did a good job with me. Elinor, Lara, and I talked about how it might have felt to have your first child pop out and not having a clue of what to do, how a mother's love is the perfect example of compassion, which is at the heart of Buddhism and what we struggle to understand everyday since we touched down in India, and how ridiculously awesome people and mentally awake and sharp we are and are continually becoming because of our upbringing. It just amazed us that people without a clue (even if you DID have a clue) could have produced such a worthwhile person (and I'm not tooting my own horn, it was just part of the discussion reflecting on the type of person who would willingly spend a semester rolling around in the dirt in India). Anyway, I told Elinor what you [mom] said to me so many millions of years ago, which HAS had a profound impression on me. You said "my life started when my children were born." This line alone helps me believe that a life of compassion and hopefully inner peace (yes, more hokeyness) IS possible, which is the main reason why I've crossed the world. And Elinor told me that her father used to look at her and say "if I died today, I'd die happy. I have passed on what I need to in you." Both of these examples directly support the ideal of compassion that is so paramount in Buddhism and that reincarnation, by Elinor's and my terms, is completely possible.
Elinor also told me that the best day of her life, which occurred in the past semester, was when she stopped looking at her parents as strictly parents and more as best friends. I see the truth in her statement, but for me, such a transformation of thought makes you [mom] and dad not just parents and not just best friends but more than either combined. I want you to know that I love you very much and that if, god forbid, you die today, you can die happy.
Love you more than the sun and the moon and the stars,
Stacey
Aunt Lee - I'll definitely work on those recipes for you. You're going to need to stock up on the bok choy.
Aunt Jana - You absolutely SHOULD travel here. I feel like you and Jeff would especially appreciate Indian and Tibetan culture.
Katt - I'm so jealous (in an un-attached Buddhist way) of your 10 year India Visa. You go stamp that thing for real!
On another note, I sent my mom an email the other day detailing a philosophical conversation I had with a few friends of mine. I think that's my actual favorite part about being here - when my friends and I hang out, we don't talk about boys (often) or what parties we're going to this weekend or complaining about an upcoming test. It's all bowel movements and Buddhist philosophy. So worthwhile! For example, this weekend, we went up to Mcleod Ganj and noticed the altitude had a real affect on us when 2 beers turned us into blundering idiots. Instead of running down the streets yelling like the stupid Americans we are, we got into a heated discussion about the concept of "emptiness." It was the most educational hour I've had yet. Anyway, I sent my mom this email because I felt she should know my thoughts on the subject of reincarnation and compassion (ideas which are sure to change as I spend more time here). She recommended I post it here too for our friends and family to take from it what they will:
"Yesterday I got into quite the discussion with my friends Elinor and Lara. It started off with me disagreeing with Nirvana and the goal to feel things without "passion" on the path to enlightenment (sorry if this sounds hokey but there is a point). Lara, who was raised a Buddhist, explained that it was just a translational thing and it doesn't really mean feel things without passion so much as not becoming so attached to a situation that it tears you up when it steps out of the realm of your control. Anyway, the conversation then moved into Elinor and I also disagreeing with the idea of reincarnation (which is more complex than I can just explain to you in an email). Elinor and I agreed that it was too hokey to buy into but decided on our own idea of reincarnation. I informed Elinor of my belief (derived from my background in neuroscience) that once we're put in the ground, that's it, nothing comes after death, and that's why I can't keep my mind open to reincarnation. However, together with Elinor's view, I think I can buy the following: Elinor's view is that a type of energy (for lack of a better word) is passed on when you leave your mark on someone, such as people who have a profound influence on you, be it your parents or some random person you bummed into on the street. She said that before her grandmother died she told Elinor that she'd always be watching over her. Elinor, of course, doesn't believe that her grandmother is actually watching over her but her impression of her grandmother, her character, and her influence certainly does live on as it has shaped Elinor as a person. So, in a way, her grandmother is retroactively always looking over her and, in a way, she has been reincarnated IN Elinor and wherever Elinor leaves her "energy". Insofar, I can buy it. But it still left me with a "we're not living for an afterlife, whats the point." If you figure that one out, let me know.
BUT what the conversation finally morphed into was a discussion of life from our parents' perspective. We figured out that while we have been here in India so far, we have had little motivation or desire to talk to anyone but our parents. India has really highlighted who is important to us in our lives and we are truly worried about how our relationships will change when we get back to our respective schools in the states. We will have been thinking on this whole higher level for so many months and this thinking is invisible to everyone - so we'll be the same to them when we get back. (...) But, the point, which I'm straying from, is that you [mom and dad] did a good job with me. Elinor, Lara, and I talked about how it might have felt to have your first child pop out and not having a clue of what to do, how a mother's love is the perfect example of compassion, which is at the heart of Buddhism and what we struggle to understand everyday since we touched down in India, and how ridiculously awesome people and mentally awake and sharp we are and are continually becoming because of our upbringing. It just amazed us that people without a clue (even if you DID have a clue) could have produced such a worthwhile person (and I'm not tooting my own horn, it was just part of the discussion reflecting on the type of person who would willingly spend a semester rolling around in the dirt in India). Anyway, I told Elinor what you [mom] said to me so many millions of years ago, which HAS had a profound impression on me. You said "my life started when my children were born." This line alone helps me believe that a life of compassion and hopefully inner peace (yes, more hokeyness) IS possible, which is the main reason why I've crossed the world. And Elinor told me that her father used to look at her and say "if I died today, I'd die happy. I have passed on what I need to in you." Both of these examples directly support the ideal of compassion that is so paramount in Buddhism and that reincarnation, by Elinor's and my terms, is completely possible.
Elinor also told me that the best day of her life, which occurred in the past semester, was when she stopped looking at her parents as strictly parents and more as best friends. I see the truth in her statement, but for me, such a transformation of thought makes you [mom] and dad not just parents and not just best friends but more than either combined. I want you to know that I love you very much and that if, god forbid, you die today, you can die happy.
Love you more than the sun and the moon and the stars,
Stacey
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Nga Ming-la Stacey Sikee-yu
I FINALLY put up all my legit pictures. I put them where they should have been in the original posts, so scroll back down and check them out!
Today is Saturday, which means a much needed holiday from classes. To celebrate, I meditated on the roof this morning. But while I was up there there was an EARTHQUAKE! It was just a baby earthquake but super awesome because I felt it so much more on the roof. Earthquakes are common here and in Tibet because of the tectonic plates and whatnot. That's how the Himalayas were formed, from India and the plate it's on crashing into Asia and the plate it's on. We just learned about it in Culture class. Anyawy, a bunch of us have decided to go into Upper Dharamsala, called Mcleod Ganj, to use internet and generally spend money.
Yesterday we went on a field trip to the Tibetan Library and museum in Mcleod Ganj. Ani-la's
brother is in town so she hitched a ride with us in the jeeps to meet him (pictured right: Ani-la, Lauren, Genny, and me). As it turns out, Ani-la is pretty much the most popular person on campus and definitely the most popular person in our little group of Americans. Everyone wants a piece of her. She turned the ride up to Upper Dharamsala into a nun-style dance party, which consisted of clapping and shaking our heads to the sounds of "who let the dogs out," which the driver thought we'd appreciate because it was in english......
The Library was super interesting. The cura
tor had no problem unwrapping a 13th century text for us to take pictures of. Becky, who took a class on restoration at the Carlos Museum, was horrified. They really didn't have great restoration and conservation techniques, just a dehumidifier. The text pictured below is written in classical Tibetan on wood with actual gold and silver ink. Pretty freaking cool.
Talking about Tibetan, I pretty much rock at it. Apparently, I've had a dormant skill for languages. I'd probably be better at it if I cared about it more... The thing about colloquial Tibetan and written/classical Tibetan is that they are almost completely different languages. So while I can read it and understand it, I find motivation for speaking it hard to come by, especially because all the Tibetans on campus want to practice their English. But Tibetan itself is a ridiculously cool language. When you learn a new language, you also get incite to how the native speakers think. So in Tibetan, the sentence structure is all about relationships between people and things and what is actually happening is secondary. "I have tea" becomes literally "I to me tea have." "My name is Stacey" becomes "My name Stacey is called." Tibetan also doesn't have the verb "to be." Instead, they use the literal term "exists." This alone makes Tibetan a great philosophical language. Something has to actually exist in order for it to be a legit sentence, or else you're lying or speaking hypothetically. So, "My house in is California" is actually "My house exists in California." Any other wording would make it false. If I were to come up with more examples, you'd see that Tibetan is a way to get a lot of information out of someone with very few key words. Its bizarre and SO cool.
In the afternoons a few of us have taken to playing volleyball with the students, monks, and teachers a-like. You'd think they'd be terrible, but there's some rea
l competition out on the court, even if the form is off and there is blatant disregard for the real rules. When a lot of people want to play there is a rule that once you mess up, you're out and someone takes your place in the rotation. It gets really heated when two people mess up and their reasons for staying in are ridiculous. One guy the other day said that he should stay in because the other guy who messed up had his shoe untied. Sometimes they resort to a form of rock, paper, scissors, but they have weird hand motions and use their knuckles and I don't understand it at all. My room overlooks the volleyball court and I snapped this picture earlier today of a team of monks getting in a good rally. The monks are the source of 90% of my entertainment.
Anyway, I'm off to meet up with Ani-la and her brother for some "Italian food." I'll let you know how it goes...
Today is Saturday, which means a much needed holiday from classes. To celebrate, I meditated on the roof this morning. But while I was up there there was an EARTHQUAKE! It was just a baby earthquake but super awesome because I felt it so much more on the roof. Earthquakes are common here and in Tibet because of the tectonic plates and whatnot. That's how the Himalayas were formed, from India and the plate it's on crashing into Asia and the plate it's on. We just learned about it in Culture class. Anyawy, a bunch of us have decided to go into Upper Dharamsala, called Mcleod Ganj, to use internet and generally spend money.
Yesterday we went on a field trip to the Tibetan Library and museum in Mcleod Ganj. Ani-la's
brother is in town so she hitched a ride with us in the jeeps to meet him (pictured right: Ani-la, Lauren, Genny, and me). As it turns out, Ani-la is pretty much the most popular person on campus and definitely the most popular person in our little group of Americans. Everyone wants a piece of her. She turned the ride up to Upper Dharamsala into a nun-style dance party, which consisted of clapping and shaking our heads to the sounds of "who let the dogs out," which the driver thought we'd appreciate because it was in english......The Library was super interesting. The cura
tor had no problem unwrapping a 13th century text for us to take pictures of. Becky, who took a class on restoration at the Carlos Museum, was horrified. They really didn't have great restoration and conservation techniques, just a dehumidifier. The text pictured below is written in classical Tibetan on wood with actual gold and silver ink. Pretty freaking cool.Talking about Tibetan, I pretty much rock at it. Apparently, I've had a dormant skill for languages. I'd probably be better at it if I cared about it more... The thing about colloquial Tibetan and written/classical Tibetan is that they are almost completely different languages. So while I can read it and understand it, I find motivation for speaking it hard to come by, especially because all the Tibetans on campus want to practice their English. But Tibetan itself is a ridiculously cool language. When you learn a new language, you also get incite to how the native speakers think. So in Tibetan, the sentence structure is all about relationships between people and things and what is actually happening is secondary. "I have tea" becomes literally "I to me tea have." "My name is Stacey" becomes "My name Stacey is called." Tibetan also doesn't have the verb "to be." Instead, they use the literal term "exists." This alone makes Tibetan a great philosophical language. Something has to actually exist in order for it to be a legit sentence, or else you're lying or speaking hypothetically. So, "My house in is California" is actually "My house exists in California." Any other wording would make it false. If I were to come up with more examples, you'd see that Tibetan is a way to get a lot of information out of someone with very few key words. Its bizarre and SO cool.
In the afternoons a few of us have taken to playing volleyball with the students, monks, and teachers a-like. You'd think they'd be terrible, but there's some rea
l competition out on the court, even if the form is off and there is blatant disregard for the real rules. When a lot of people want to play there is a rule that once you mess up, you're out and someone takes your place in the rotation. It gets really heated when two people mess up and their reasons for staying in are ridiculous. One guy the other day said that he should stay in because the other guy who messed up had his shoe untied. Sometimes they resort to a form of rock, paper, scissors, but they have weird hand motions and use their knuckles and I don't understand it at all. My room overlooks the volleyball court and I snapped this picture earlier today of a team of monks getting in a good rally. The monks are the source of 90% of my entertainment.Anyway, I'm off to meet up with Ani-la and her brother for some "Italian food." I'll let you know how it goes...
Monday, January 26, 2009
Singing Up the Sun
So, I lied about putting pictures up today. The internet in the computer lab is attrocious. I literally started the dial-up, left to eat lunch, started to load a page, left for a meditation session with Geshe-la, came back to the page still loading, signed on to my mail, threw a tantrum when the internet connection was "interrupted" and couldn't load, tried again, and two hours later, here I am. I'll have to wait until I have the time to get up to Lower Dharamsala and get back to a high-speed internet cafe, if such a thing exists. We're all getting pretty frustrated so maybe we'll make the time tomorrow.
Today after lunch Ani-la and I were chillin' in the room when she asked me what a eukaryote was. I got SOOO excited! She's learning Biology in her science class. Finally, something I can help HER with!
Classes started officially today. It has the potential to be a pretty intense semester. Typical day looks a little like this:
6:00AM Jump out of bed to a bell that someone rings 108 times (a very auspicious number, for whatever reason) with a big smile on my face (no, I'm not kidding. That actually happens here. Yesterday morning Ani-la woke up actually laughing. How amazing is that?!)
6:30AM Prayers in the monastery next to my dorm (pictured below, this is the view of the monastery from my dorm room balcony). Today was the first time I went.
Usually Ani-la sleeps through them so neither of us go. But they are very interesting and provide great people-watching opportunities. Monks and men on one side, nuns and women facing them on the other. Everyone sits on cushions cross-legged without shoes and chants together. I have yet to be fluent in Tibetan (maybe that'll happen tomorrow) so I have no idea what they are saying but its a very pretty droning song-like chant. But my favorite part about the whole thing was that the sun came up as everyone was chanting. As prayers went on the monastery got brighter and brighter and as the dawn broke I got this very strange feeling the they themselves were actually singing up the sun. It was so cool.
7AM Morning tea with Ani-la and everyone directly after prayers, morning meditation with Courtney-la, breakfast, skipping. Ok, so there is no scheduled skipping time, but sometimes I just want to skip around! This is also time to read the readings due for class as fast as possible because I probably will never do them when I'm supposed to. We have about 300-400 pages of reading due a week, not including other assignments and language practice.
9-10AM Language Class
10:30-12ish Mid-morning tea, Tibetan Culture class or Buddhist Philosophy class
12:30 Scarf down lunch of bread and dall (a lentil soup kind of thing, varies everyday). Meals here are not the same kind of pomp and circumstance that they are in America. It is not considered a social time, it lasts as long as it takes to eat your food and not much longer, and if you eat alone, you don't feel like a loner. Meals are taken at face value - it's a time to become un-hungry and get back to your life. I rather like it like this. If you want to be social, you offer tea.
1:30-2:30 Language class again with language partners (usually IBD students studying to become teachers)
2:30-5:30 Afternoon tea (I told you we drink about 900 cups a day), free time with scheduled yoga and afternoon meditation sessions on the roof
5:30 Scarf down dinner and go for a walk. Yes, a walk. Here, everyone eats dinner as fast as they can and the entire campus gets up and walks around together until dusk. What a beautiful practice!
6:30-9:30PM Free time when we are supposed to do work... 9:30 is when the curfew bell rings. Oh yeah, we have a "curfew." But I'm pretty sure the American students are excempt because no one seemed to care last night when we stayed up late in our lounge watching Planet Earth with some monk friends. The monks LOVE Planet Earth. We brought a bunch of Planet Earth DVD's as gifts for the monks because they aren't supposed to form attachments to things, it doesnt count against their vows of poverty, they are super earthy and scholarly anyway, and well...everyone is fascinated by Planet Earth. I think that's a pretty legit assumption to make.
K, well its 4PM now, which means yoga time! Bet you're all jealous!
Today after lunch Ani-la and I were chillin' in the room when she asked me what a eukaryote was. I got SOOO excited! She's learning Biology in her science class. Finally, something I can help HER with!
Classes started officially today. It has the potential to be a pretty intense semester. Typical day looks a little like this:
6:00AM Jump out of bed to a bell that someone rings 108 times (a very auspicious number, for whatever reason) with a big smile on my face (no, I'm not kidding. That actually happens here. Yesterday morning Ani-la woke up actually laughing. How amazing is that?!)
6:30AM Prayers in the monastery next to my dorm (pictured below, this is the view of the monastery from my dorm room balcony). Today was the first time I went.
Usually Ani-la sleeps through them so neither of us go. But they are very interesting and provide great people-watching opportunities. Monks and men on one side, nuns and women facing them on the other. Everyone sits on cushions cross-legged without shoes and chants together. I have yet to be fluent in Tibetan (maybe that'll happen tomorrow) so I have no idea what they are saying but its a very pretty droning song-like chant. But my favorite part about the whole thing was that the sun came up as everyone was chanting. As prayers went on the monastery got brighter and brighter and as the dawn broke I got this very strange feeling the they themselves were actually singing up the sun. It was so cool.7AM Morning tea with Ani-la and everyone directly after prayers, morning meditation with Courtney-la, breakfast, skipping. Ok, so there is no scheduled skipping time, but sometimes I just want to skip around! This is also time to read the readings due for class as fast as possible because I probably will never do them when I'm supposed to. We have about 300-400 pages of reading due a week, not including other assignments and language practice.
9-10AM Language Class
10:30-12ish Mid-morning tea, Tibetan Culture class or Buddhist Philosophy class
12:30 Scarf down lunch of bread and dall (a lentil soup kind of thing, varies everyday). Meals here are not the same kind of pomp and circumstance that they are in America. It is not considered a social time, it lasts as long as it takes to eat your food and not much longer, and if you eat alone, you don't feel like a loner. Meals are taken at face value - it's a time to become un-hungry and get back to your life. I rather like it like this. If you want to be social, you offer tea.
1:30-2:30 Language class again with language partners (usually IBD students studying to become teachers)
2:30-5:30 Afternoon tea (I told you we drink about 900 cups a day), free time with scheduled yoga and afternoon meditation sessions on the roof
5:30 Scarf down dinner and go for a walk. Yes, a walk. Here, everyone eats dinner as fast as they can and the entire campus gets up and walks around together until dusk. What a beautiful practice!
6:30-9:30PM Free time when we are supposed to do work... 9:30 is when the curfew bell rings. Oh yeah, we have a "curfew." But I'm pretty sure the American students are excempt because no one seemed to care last night when we stayed up late in our lounge watching Planet Earth with some monk friends. The monks LOVE Planet Earth. We brought a bunch of Planet Earth DVD's as gifts for the monks because they aren't supposed to form attachments to things, it doesnt count against their vows of poverty, they are super earthy and scholarly anyway, and well...everyone is fascinated by Planet Earth. I think that's a pretty legit assumption to make.
K, well its 4PM now, which means yoga time! Bet you're all jealous!
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Tibet Low Down
So, Pahla, or “dad” in Tibetan, commented on my last post about the people who come to Dharamsala from Tibet. Well, Dad and everyone else, I shall tell you:
First, a little history. Tibet was invaded by the People’s Liberation Army in 1949 pretty much because China felt like it. China viewed Tibet’s Buddhist non-violent way of life as backwards and heathen and wanted to modernize it. Also, there was something about Russia and China fighting over ownership of Tibet because whoever had control of that area more or less dominated Asia. China originally was all about the non-violence too and claimed they wanted to “help” Tibet perpetuate their chosen way of life. But, once they gained Tibet’s trust they started implementing their communist ideals, namely redistributing the land to the lower class. That all sounds fine and dandy, but in Tibet, the monasteries owned the land. The monks of the monasteries are dedicated to practicing Buddhism while the lower class work the land. The lower class is totally fine with this for a number of reasons: (1) anyone can become a monk if they want to, (2) everyone has a close family member who is a monk or nun (Ani-la has a “cousin-sister” here who is a nun and a brother who is a monk in southern India, but also a sister who is still in Tibet with her family), and most importantly, (3) monks’ work is necessary for the perpetuation of their religion, which is the basis of their way of life. When the People’s Republic of China forcibly took the land away from the monks they did so in a rather untactful way – by publicly humiliating and imprisoning the monks, often violently. This goes on for a while with much resistance from the Tibetans, a lot of monk imprisonment and torture, claims of cultural genocide of Tibetans by the Chinese, and gross disregard for human rights – all in complete isolation. No one in the world even knew this was going on. Eventually, in 1959, neotiations with China fail and the Dalai Lama is forced to flee across the Himalayas disguised as a common soldier and takes refuge in India. India gave Tibetans land in the south as refuge before the Dalai Lama fled but when he came, they also gave him and his cabinet Dharamsala to set up their government in exile.
Which leads me to why everyone is here. Many people do go to Nepal and Ladakh (an area on the boarder of China and India) and elsewhere, but Dharamsala is the place to be. People continue to flee and settle here because they want to be close to HHDL. He is more or less their god and so, of course, they want to be near him. However, all the monasteries are set up in such a way that the moment Tibet is liberated they are prepared to pack up and return home immediately. Dharmasala is also home to the IBD, the Institute for Buddhist Dialect, where I am studying, and the best place to be educated in the Tibetan Buddhist tradition. Most people who flee are children who are sent here to grow up free of Chinese repression, student who want an education, and people who make a pilgrimage to be blessed by His Holiness. People leave their families behind in Tibet in search of a better life, jobs, and the education they are denied in China. They go to great length to get here, such as Ani-la, and when they do, they take their studies very seriously. Many show up after experiencing torture, imprisonment, death of entire families and enter India with frostbite and malnutrition among other...discomforts. The most amazing thing I’ve found, however, is how they can laugh everyday, and do so often. They are some of the most kind, selfless, loving people and I can only hope to learn and emmulate these traits by the end of my stay. Tibetans will give you the world before they take anything for themselves. They are very careful with everything they own and feel blessed to be getting an education. They love to laugh and play and are gentle and quiet all at the same time. They are such a beautiful people that I can scarsely believe such a humanity exists. If you haven't figured it out yet, I'm ridiculously happy and fortunate to be here learning from them.
First, a little history. Tibet was invaded by the People’s Liberation Army in 1949 pretty much because China felt like it. China viewed Tibet’s Buddhist non-violent way of life as backwards and heathen and wanted to modernize it. Also, there was something about Russia and China fighting over ownership of Tibet because whoever had control of that area more or less dominated Asia. China originally was all about the non-violence too and claimed they wanted to “help” Tibet perpetuate their chosen way of life. But, once they gained Tibet’s trust they started implementing their communist ideals, namely redistributing the land to the lower class. That all sounds fine and dandy, but in Tibet, the monasteries owned the land. The monks of the monasteries are dedicated to practicing Buddhism while the lower class work the land. The lower class is totally fine with this for a number of reasons: (1) anyone can become a monk if they want to, (2) everyone has a close family member who is a monk or nun (Ani-la has a “cousin-sister” here who is a nun and a brother who is a monk in southern India, but also a sister who is still in Tibet with her family), and most importantly, (3) monks’ work is necessary for the perpetuation of their religion, which is the basis of their way of life. When the People’s Republic of China forcibly took the land away from the monks they did so in a rather untactful way – by publicly humiliating and imprisoning the monks, often violently. This goes on for a while with much resistance from the Tibetans, a lot of monk imprisonment and torture, claims of cultural genocide of Tibetans by the Chinese, and gross disregard for human rights – all in complete isolation. No one in the world even knew this was going on. Eventually, in 1959, neotiations with China fail and the Dalai Lama is forced to flee across the Himalayas disguised as a common soldier and takes refuge in India. India gave Tibetans land in the south as refuge before the Dalai Lama fled but when he came, they also gave him and his cabinet Dharamsala to set up their government in exile.
Which leads me to why everyone is here. Many people do go to Nepal and Ladakh (an area on the boarder of China and India) and elsewhere, but Dharamsala is the place to be. People continue to flee and settle here because they want to be close to HHDL. He is more or less their god and so, of course, they want to be near him. However, all the monasteries are set up in such a way that the moment Tibet is liberated they are prepared to pack up and return home immediately. Dharmasala is also home to the IBD, the Institute for Buddhist Dialect, where I am studying, and the best place to be educated in the Tibetan Buddhist tradition. Most people who flee are children who are sent here to grow up free of Chinese repression, student who want an education, and people who make a pilgrimage to be blessed by His Holiness. People leave their families behind in Tibet in search of a better life, jobs, and the education they are denied in China. They go to great length to get here, such as Ani-la, and when they do, they take their studies very seriously. Many show up after experiencing torture, imprisonment, death of entire families and enter India with frostbite and malnutrition among other...discomforts. The most amazing thing I’ve found, however, is how they can laugh everyday, and do so often. They are some of the most kind, selfless, loving people and I can only hope to learn and emmulate these traits by the end of my stay. Tibetans will give you the world before they take anything for themselves. They are very careful with everything they own and feel blessed to be getting an education. They love to laugh and play and are gentle and quiet all at the same time. They are such a beautiful people that I can scarsely believe such a humanity exists. If you haven't figured it out yet, I'm ridiculously happy and fortunate to be here learning from them.
You Are Only As Good As Your Bucket
Last night I had the most fulfilling shower of my life. If we want hot water in the shower, we’re supposed to take one during the day because the hot water is solar powered. If it’s a sunny day, one is blessed with warm water. Unfortunately, I waited until the last minute (7PM) to shower so hot water was not a possibility. Ani-la saw me preparing to cleanse myself and started clicking her tongue in disapproval. She commenced re-teaching me how to bathe. She heated water for me in her electric teakettle and halfway filled my bucket and her own with hot water to be mixed with cold. Two buckets of warm water?! I couldn’t believe my good luck. I entered the shower area…thing, looked down at my two plastic buckets of water and flip-flopped feet, got intensely excited at the prospect of being clean, and laughed out loud at myself. India had finally punched me in the face.
After my incredibly fulfilling shower I felt much better (p.s. between Delhi smog and cold showers I have developed what I believe to be another bout of bronchitis…at least my intestines are working!). I also decided that in the spirit of cleanliness, it was time to do some legit laundry (picture was actually taken in Pragpur, notice the sweet tile...but you get the idea). Ani-la, in her endless patience and compassion, took pity on me again and showed me how one really cleans their clothes…which also requires a bucket. Cleaning clothes, and I mean REALLY cleaning clothes, should leave you aching and breathless. I definitely broke a little sweat. I took the whites while Ani-la took the colors, she laughed at my awkward splashing the whole time.
Today is Sunday, which is everyone’s day-off. We chose to spend the day on the roof reading the mountain of books we’ve been putting off. Josh accidentally dropped a pretzel off the roof a few hours ago. It was caught mid-air by a passing cow, who has been mooing for more food ever since.
My friend Genny is an amateur artist and talked me into taking a spontaneous drawing class. My picture of a Tibetan palace is pretty sick, if I do say so myself (look Ma! I drew a picture!). A few of us also decided to take an excursion to the nearby town of Gaggel this evening. Gaggel has a practical if polluted little marketplace about a 20 minute walk from campus down a mountain. It was a beautiful stroll with wonderful company…but the thing about walking down a mountain in the evening is that you have to walk back up it… in the dark. Ani-la refused to let my cow poop-laden shoes anywhere near the room, even to just deposit them on the balcony. They are now clean of feces and soaking in my bucket. You really are only as good as your bucket.
After my incredibly fulfilling shower I felt much better (p.s. between Delhi smog and cold showers I have developed what I believe to be another bout of bronchitis…at least my intestines are working!). I also decided that in the spirit of cleanliness, it was time to do some legit laundry (picture was actually taken in Pragpur, notice the sweet tile...but you get the idea). Ani-la, in her endless patience and compassion, took pity on me again and showed me how one really cleans their clothes…which also requires a bucket. Cleaning clothes, and I mean REALLY cleaning clothes, should leave you aching and breathless. I definitely broke a little sweat. I took the whites while Ani-la took the colors, she laughed at my awkward splashing the whole time.
Today is Sunday, which is everyone’s day-off. We chose to spend the day on the roof reading the mountain of books we’ve been putting off. Josh accidentally dropped a pretzel off the roof a few hours ago. It was caught mid-air by a passing cow, who has been mooing for more food ever since.
My friend Genny is an amateur artist and talked me into taking a spontaneous drawing class. My picture of a Tibetan palace is pretty sick, if I do say so myself (look Ma! I drew a picture!). A few of us also decided to take an excursion to the nearby town of Gaggel this evening. Gaggel has a practical if polluted little marketplace about a 20 minute walk from campus down a mountain. It was a beautiful stroll with wonderful company…but the thing about walking down a mountain in the evening is that you have to walk back up it… in the dark. Ani-la refused to let my cow poop-laden shoes anywhere near the room, even to just deposit them on the balcony. They are now clean of feces and soaking in my bucket. You really are only as good as your bucket.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
I'll Give Up Anything But the Toilet Paper
So I've been in transit the last few days and haven't had access to internet. Fortunately, I've been writing my blog as I go, so prepare yourself, this one's a doozie:
It’s been quite an action-packed couple of days. In Delhi, we went to see HH the Dalai Lama speak at an Islamic peace conference at a university. Even though everyone speaking, including HHDL, spoke forever and my attention waned more than a little, it was really interesting to hear their perspectives. One of the Islamic professors who spoke was very anti-Israel and spoke against the war in Gaza as a blatant violation of the peace treaty by the Israelis. Most of the audience appeared to be Muslim and stood and cheered at his denunciation of Israel while the five Jews in our group, myself included, found our jaws on the floor, eyebrows raised to the ceiling, and an inconspicuous hand covering our Star of David necklaces…which we all happened to be wearing. HHDL respectfully disagreed with his denunciation by saying that everyone was to blame for the war and it was everyone’s responsibility to share the world peacefully and govern with compassion, that violence breeds more violence and so, the only way to end the suffering in the Middle East is non-violent compromise and respect.
Later, we went to Old Delhi to shop by ourselves, never have to do that one again.
It was so crazy it was stressful and not fun at all. Everyone was trying to rip us off and the guys in the group were thrust unwillingly into Big Brother roles to fend off the endless stream of Indian men from us women. We found that in India, gender issues really are gender issues. Also, I think I mentioned how dirty Delhi is in a previous post. The picture to the left is all we ever saw of the sun when we were in Delhi due to the incredibly dense smog. It was always hazy and everything seemed gray. It was disgusting.
Next day we went to Humayun’s Tomb, which was a great break from Delhi. It was peaceful and unbelievably beautiful, great place to take the kids if ever you find yourself in India.
Humayun was a Mogul general who did a lot of cool stuff for India. His tomb was also the precursor to the Taj Mahal, but I overheard someone saying it was better than the Taj. We then went to a walking tour of the New Delhi train station to learn about street children. The train station is another place I never need to go to again. We later described it as the great equalizer, where it didn’t matter your status or skin color, you still got grabbed, you still felt unsafe and claustrophobic, and you still wanted to get out of there as fast as you could. The street children tour was incredibly moving. Our tour guide was a 20-year-old former street child who works for the NGO called Salaam Baalak. He ran away from home at the age of 8 because he was abused in his Aunt’s home. He sold tampered water bottles in Delhi for money for five years, got into drugs and gangs, and was finally picked up by Salaam Baalak, educated, and put in a shelter. He is now at University studying to become a tourism manager. He told us that 8 months ago, he knew no English, which was surprising because it was perfect, and now he’s also studying Spanish, because they make up a huge portion of the tourists now coming to India. To end the tour, he brought us to the shelter he used to live at as a kid to meet the boys who live there now. There were about 20-30 kids between the ages of 7 and 14 all spread out on the floor with blankets watching a movie. 
I think they were used to tour groups coming in and looking at them because they hardly cared that a whole hoard of white people came in and interrupted their movie. It felt very voyeuristic taking pictures of them until they noticed all the cameras out. They pretty much went crazy for the cameras. They all jumped up and wanted to get their pictures taken and take pictures themselves. For the next half an hour we all posed together and made funny faces and took hundreds of pictures. They loved seeing themselves on camera. When it was time to go they begged us to stay and play some more. They wanted to show us cricket and the pictures they drew for the parents they ran away from or were surrendered by. Many of us cried when we had to leave them. If you’d like to know more about the street children of India or the NGO Salaam Baalak you can go to their website http://www.salaambaalaktrust.com/.
Next day was a 14 hr bus ride to Pragpur. It wasn’t such a bad ride. We ended up with a bus-wide Disney sing-a-long to a drum. Pragpur was AMAZING. Best
place I’ve ever stayed. It was a colonial British-style resort thing and they treated us like kings. The beds were huge and comfortable, the rooms were richly decorated with couches and mirrors and fireplaces, the showers were HOT, they had western toilets, they did our laundry for us and made us a bonfire and waited on us in the dinning room like every meal was black tie. It was really amazing. And the quaint little village 3 minutes away was clean and untouched by tourism and there were no beggars or smog, which was literally a breath of fresh air. Such an upgrade from Delhi. We decided we’re going to go back there in a few weeks when we’ve had enough of squat toilets and want to feel like westerners again. On the last night in Pragpur, Geshe-la (he is the monk who has been traveling with us and who is pretty much the head of the Emory-Tibet program. He is also pictured above by that pretty little pool area near the quaint little village. WARNING: FUN FACT AHEAD! “Geshe” is what we call anyone who has received their geshe degree, which is what you get after graduating from monk school. “La” is added to the end of any name to denote respect of an elder or teacher. For instance, the professor at Emory who helped start the program we call Tara-la. I will return home and want to call my mom “eema-la”) gave us a rather lengthy introduction to meditation. We meditated for about 5 minutes, but it had been a while for me, so it felt like a good 2 hours. I was also only able to concentrate on not falling asleep. No good, I’ll have to work on that one. Later that night we also waited up together to watch the inauguration. This night was one of the best times I’ve had so far, which is saying a lot because every hour is amazing. At 10:30PM (which is late for us) about 12 of us piled into a bed and turned the tiny TV up to full blast. We were so excited and were giggling uncontrollably. We stood with the rest of DC when Obama took the podium, held hands excitedly as he took the oath, and yelled and jumped around the room clapping when he was declared president. We could hear a similar raucous happening at our Indian next-door neighbor’s house.
This morning we found ourselves in Jeeps traveling the last two hours to Dharamsala. The views on the way were stunning, and I don’t use that word lightly. We saw our first glimpse of the Himalayas and Tawni-la, our program coordinator, squealed and made the driver stop so we could get out and truly appreciate the view (this is actually a view of the Himalayas from the HHDL's personal monestary in Mcleod Ganj, but you get the point).
During half of the trip Tawni-la also drilled us on the Sanskrit alphabet, their sounds, and vowels. I rock at it, not gonna lie. By the time the trip was over I could sound out most words. Remembering the words is super hard though b/c there isn’t any sound that is remotely like English, Spanish, or Hebrew. Tibetan is a whole other ball game. For most of the alphabet, there are four letters that have exactly the same sound except with different intonations. You mispronounce one character by even a little bit and you have a completely different word or you make no sense at all. Anyway, the other half of the trip was us ogling at the views, stopping for chi in the middle of the road at a cattle crossing, and me playing the guitar from the floor of the jeep with everyone making up words to songs.
As we neared the Sarah (pronounced Sah-ra) University campus Courtney-la, our program assistant coordinator, started crying because she was so happy. I, personally, felt like I was returning to summer camp, even though I’ve never been anywhere near Sarah. Once we arrived we were greeted by a group of monks who placed blessed white cada, or scarves, around our necks. We were led into our dinning room where the students at Sarah had decorated it with pictures and welcome signs written in broken English expressing their hope for the exchange of knowledge and friendship, Sarah as a second home, and advice to live life fully while here. It was surprisingly moving finally reaching the campus and being welcomed so warmly that many of us, myself included, found ourselves hugging each other in tears.
Went on a tour of the campus, which is unbelievably beautiful, despite the shotty buildings by American-standards. The roofs are used just as often as the ground and we all sat up there for sometimes reflecting while taking in the scenery – which was substantial as the Himalayas can be seen pretty much anywhere you look. We then finally met our new roommates. We could tell they were just as nervous and excited as us. No one wanted to initiate contact and we kind of stood around giggling nervously. After awkward silence passed into awkward charades, as none of them speak great English, I found my perfect roommate. Her name is Choezin, but I call her Ani-la, which means Respected Nun, as a pet name. Ani-la crossed the Himalayas in 1994 to escape Tibet without shoes. Her brother is a monk in Southern India while her parents and her sister stayed in Tibet.
She hasn't seen her parents since 2003 when they came to visit, which is a relatively short time since everyone else I've talked to haven't seen their families for upwards of 10 years. She also happens to be the funniest, sweetest person I've ever met. On Saturdays, the entire campus gets together and has a campus clean up. I've never seen anything like it. We were singing and laughing and dancing around (except for the monks and nuns, who aren't allowed to sing our dance). Today it was Choezin's turn to clean the dining hall. I helped her out and I've never had so much fun cleaning anything. She had me rolling on the floor laughing the whole time. She thinks our language barrier is the funniest thing in the world. Last night I offered her tea (we have about 900 cups of tea a day), to which she replied "no, no, I already drunk." I, of course, thought she was referring to alcohol and said "Ani-la! What would the Buddha think?!" She said "...he think I like tea."
Today I woke up to monks debating in the courtyard. When monks debate they get really loud and excitedly clap their hands whenever they make a point. The girls on the trip have come to the conclusion that monks are the most attractive people on the planet... probably because they're so unattainable. Unfortunately, you're not supposed to have unclean thoughts about monks...but I'm allowed to look, right? Probably not. I also decided that today I shall shower. It will be the highlight of my day. It’s been about four days. I'm getting really good at using the squat toilet and the weather here is perfect. I was expecting cold and sub-zero temperatures, but I'm in a t-shirt and flip-flops. It’s wonderful. Oh also, yesterday I beat a rug outside on a balcony overlooking the Himalayas. Its times like that when I feel like I'm still in a movie. It STILL hasn't hit me that I'm here yet. I'm waiting for India to punch me in the face. Anyway, time to get out of this Internet cafe; it’s a good 2 rupees a minute.
Hope all is well in the States and I miss everyone!
I now leave you with this image of a goat on a leash. It is my favorite picture I've taken so far.
It’s been quite an action-packed couple of days. In Delhi, we went to see HH the Dalai Lama speak at an Islamic peace conference at a university. Even though everyone speaking, including HHDL, spoke forever and my attention waned more than a little, it was really interesting to hear their perspectives. One of the Islamic professors who spoke was very anti-Israel and spoke against the war in Gaza as a blatant violation of the peace treaty by the Israelis. Most of the audience appeared to be Muslim and stood and cheered at his denunciation of Israel while the five Jews in our group, myself included, found our jaws on the floor, eyebrows raised to the ceiling, and an inconspicuous hand covering our Star of David necklaces…which we all happened to be wearing. HHDL respectfully disagreed with his denunciation by saying that everyone was to blame for the war and it was everyone’s responsibility to share the world peacefully and govern with compassion, that violence breeds more violence and so, the only way to end the suffering in the Middle East is non-violent compromise and respect.
Later, we went to Old Delhi to shop by ourselves, never have to do that one again.
It was so crazy it was stressful and not fun at all. Everyone was trying to rip us off and the guys in the group were thrust unwillingly into Big Brother roles to fend off the endless stream of Indian men from us women. We found that in India, gender issues really are gender issues. Also, I think I mentioned how dirty Delhi is in a previous post. The picture to the left is all we ever saw of the sun when we were in Delhi due to the incredibly dense smog. It was always hazy and everything seemed gray. It was disgusting.Next day we went to Humayun’s Tomb, which was a great break from Delhi. It was peaceful and unbelievably beautiful, great place to take the kids if ever you find yourself in India.
Humayun was a Mogul general who did a lot of cool stuff for India. His tomb was also the precursor to the Taj Mahal, but I overheard someone saying it was better than the Taj. We then went to a walking tour of the New Delhi train station to learn about street children. The train station is another place I never need to go to again. We later described it as the great equalizer, where it didn’t matter your status or skin color, you still got grabbed, you still felt unsafe and claustrophobic, and you still wanted to get out of there as fast as you could. The street children tour was incredibly moving. Our tour guide was a 20-year-old former street child who works for the NGO called Salaam Baalak. He ran away from home at the age of 8 because he was abused in his Aunt’s home. He sold tampered water bottles in Delhi for money for five years, got into drugs and gangs, and was finally picked up by Salaam Baalak, educated, and put in a shelter. He is now at University studying to become a tourism manager. He told us that 8 months ago, he knew no English, which was surprising because it was perfect, and now he’s also studying Spanish, because they make up a huge portion of the tourists now coming to India. To end the tour, he brought us to the shelter he used to live at as a kid to meet the boys who live there now. There were about 20-30 kids between the ages of 7 and 14 all spread out on the floor with blankets watching a movie. 
I think they were used to tour groups coming in and looking at them because they hardly cared that a whole hoard of white people came in and interrupted their movie. It felt very voyeuristic taking pictures of them until they noticed all the cameras out. They pretty much went crazy for the cameras. They all jumped up and wanted to get their pictures taken and take pictures themselves. For the next half an hour we all posed together and made funny faces and took hundreds of pictures. They loved seeing themselves on camera. When it was time to go they begged us to stay and play some more. They wanted to show us cricket and the pictures they drew for the parents they ran away from or were surrendered by. Many of us cried when we had to leave them. If you’d like to know more about the street children of India or the NGO Salaam Baalak you can go to their website http://www.salaambaalaktrust.com/.Next day was a 14 hr bus ride to Pragpur. It wasn’t such a bad ride. We ended up with a bus-wide Disney sing-a-long to a drum. Pragpur was AMAZING. Best
place I’ve ever stayed. It was a colonial British-style resort thing and they treated us like kings. The beds were huge and comfortable, the rooms were richly decorated with couches and mirrors and fireplaces, the showers were HOT, they had western toilets, they did our laundry for us and made us a bonfire and waited on us in the dinning room like every meal was black tie. It was really amazing. And the quaint little village 3 minutes away was clean and untouched by tourism and there were no beggars or smog, which was literally a breath of fresh air. Such an upgrade from Delhi. We decided we’re going to go back there in a few weeks when we’ve had enough of squat toilets and want to feel like westerners again. On the last night in Pragpur, Geshe-la (he is the monk who has been traveling with us and who is pretty much the head of the Emory-Tibet program. He is also pictured above by that pretty little pool area near the quaint little village. WARNING: FUN FACT AHEAD! “Geshe” is what we call anyone who has received their geshe degree, which is what you get after graduating from monk school. “La” is added to the end of any name to denote respect of an elder or teacher. For instance, the professor at Emory who helped start the program we call Tara-la. I will return home and want to call my mom “eema-la”) gave us a rather lengthy introduction to meditation. We meditated for about 5 minutes, but it had been a while for me, so it felt like a good 2 hours. I was also only able to concentrate on not falling asleep. No good, I’ll have to work on that one. Later that night we also waited up together to watch the inauguration. This night was one of the best times I’ve had so far, which is saying a lot because every hour is amazing. At 10:30PM (which is late for us) about 12 of us piled into a bed and turned the tiny TV up to full blast. We were so excited and were giggling uncontrollably. We stood with the rest of DC when Obama took the podium, held hands excitedly as he took the oath, and yelled and jumped around the room clapping when he was declared president. We could hear a similar raucous happening at our Indian next-door neighbor’s house.This morning we found ourselves in Jeeps traveling the last two hours to Dharamsala. The views on the way were stunning, and I don’t use that word lightly. We saw our first glimpse of the Himalayas and Tawni-la, our program coordinator, squealed and made the driver stop so we could get out and truly appreciate the view (this is actually a view of the Himalayas from the HHDL's personal monestary in Mcleod Ganj, but you get the point).
During half of the trip Tawni-la also drilled us on the Sanskrit alphabet, their sounds, and vowels. I rock at it, not gonna lie. By the time the trip was over I could sound out most words. Remembering the words is super hard though b/c there isn’t any sound that is remotely like English, Spanish, or Hebrew. Tibetan is a whole other ball game. For most of the alphabet, there are four letters that have exactly the same sound except with different intonations. You mispronounce one character by even a little bit and you have a completely different word or you make no sense at all. Anyway, the other half of the trip was us ogling at the views, stopping for chi in the middle of the road at a cattle crossing, and me playing the guitar from the floor of the jeep with everyone making up words to songs.As we neared the Sarah (pronounced Sah-ra) University campus Courtney-la, our program assistant coordinator, started crying because she was so happy. I, personally, felt like I was returning to summer camp, even though I’ve never been anywhere near Sarah. Once we arrived we were greeted by a group of monks who placed blessed white cada, or scarves, around our necks. We were led into our dinning room where the students at Sarah had decorated it with pictures and welcome signs written in broken English expressing their hope for the exchange of knowledge and friendship, Sarah as a second home, and advice to live life fully while here. It was surprisingly moving finally reaching the campus and being welcomed so warmly that many of us, myself included, found ourselves hugging each other in tears.
Went on a tour of the campus, which is unbelievably beautiful, despite the shotty buildings by American-standards. The roofs are used just as often as the ground and we all sat up there for sometimes reflecting while taking in the scenery – which was substantial as the Himalayas can be seen pretty much anywhere you look. We then finally met our new roommates. We could tell they were just as nervous and excited as us. No one wanted to initiate contact and we kind of stood around giggling nervously. After awkward silence passed into awkward charades, as none of them speak great English, I found my perfect roommate. Her name is Choezin, but I call her Ani-la, which means Respected Nun, as a pet name. Ani-la crossed the Himalayas in 1994 to escape Tibet without shoes. Her brother is a monk in Southern India while her parents and her sister stayed in Tibet.
She hasn't seen her parents since 2003 when they came to visit, which is a relatively short time since everyone else I've talked to haven't seen their families for upwards of 10 years. She also happens to be the funniest, sweetest person I've ever met. On Saturdays, the entire campus gets together and has a campus clean up. I've never seen anything like it. We were singing and laughing and dancing around (except for the monks and nuns, who aren't allowed to sing our dance). Today it was Choezin's turn to clean the dining hall. I helped her out and I've never had so much fun cleaning anything. She had me rolling on the floor laughing the whole time. She thinks our language barrier is the funniest thing in the world. Last night I offered her tea (we have about 900 cups of tea a day), to which she replied "no, no, I already drunk." I, of course, thought she was referring to alcohol and said "Ani-la! What would the Buddha think?!" She said "...he think I like tea."Today I woke up to monks debating in the courtyard. When monks debate they get really loud and excitedly clap their hands whenever they make a point. The girls on the trip have come to the conclusion that monks are the most attractive people on the planet... probably because they're so unattainable. Unfortunately, you're not supposed to have unclean thoughts about monks...but I'm allowed to look, right? Probably not. I also decided that today I shall shower. It will be the highlight of my day. It’s been about four days. I'm getting really good at using the squat toilet and the weather here is perfect. I was expecting cold and sub-zero temperatures, but I'm in a t-shirt and flip-flops. It’s wonderful. Oh also, yesterday I beat a rug outside on a balcony overlooking the Himalayas. Its times like that when I feel like I'm still in a movie. It STILL hasn't hit me that I'm here yet. I'm waiting for India to punch me in the face. Anyway, time to get out of this Internet cafe; it’s a good 2 rupees a minute.
Hope all is well in the States and I miss everyone!
I now leave you with this image of a goat on a leash. It is my favorite picture I've taken so far.
Friday, January 16, 2009
So...Today was Day 6, Right?
Wrong. Day 1 went on forever, but in a good way. Except for the jet lag everything is amazing (its 5:30 AM and I’ve been up for two hours). And no one’s been stolen from or had their stomach explode yet! Great success!
We started with orientation yesterday morning. We learned a whole bunch of useful things; like how to use a squat toilet, how not to offend people with the bottoms of our feet and left hands, and how to fend off Indian men with dishonorable intentions. We then moved on to our first excursion: the Bangla Sahib, a Sikh Gurdwara where Sikhs go to worship the Book of the Gurus. Sikhism, in a nutshell, is pretty much the humanitarian aspects of both Muslim and Islam – but if a Sikh heard you say that, they’d get really offended. The Bangla Sahib was a huge beautiful temple-like thing that smelled fantastic. We were required to cover our heads and take off our shoes and “clean” our feet in some deliciously murky water. We sat in the temple for a while people-watching. So far, that temple is the only place no one stared at us. I’ve been feeling more and more like an exotic animal. We then walked clockwise around a big pool of water filled with carp used for ritualistic bathing. Clockwise is pretty much the direction for all religious rituals except for the “bone ritual,” which has yet to be explained to me. This particular excursion ended with accepting a gooey sugary deliciousness taken as a sort of communion.
We then moved on to a South Indian Temple where we all gave flower garland offerings to the Goddess of Auspicious Beginnings – which was appropriate. In return for our offering, we all got our first red forehead dot. We also acquired a little 3+ yr old Indian boy as our team mascot. He is probably the cutest freaking thing I’ve ever seen. He took immediately to us and started climbing over everyone and swinging from the guys’ arms and hugging everyone. He took this picture of himself on my camera. Cute, huh!
He followed us for a good five minutes, holding peoples’ hands. We were just beginning to wonder if this was considered kidnapping when his mother caught up with us. She had a hard time convincing him that he was in fact, not American, and needed to stop hiding behind our legs and come back.
Hopped our first metro to Old Delhi where we formed a caravan of 10 rickshaws to carry us through the ridiculously narrow and crowded streets of the Kinari Bazaar. We decided rickshaws would be safer and faster for a large group of India-first-timers. Safer? No way – at least not for the people we ran into. It was quite a roller coast ride. And when I say roller coaster, I mean I literally felt like I was on a roller coaster straight out of Magic Mountain. And I have never felt more exposed and touristy than during those 20 minutes when I was a white American woman sitting above the crowd taking pictures of everything, holding onto my purse for dear life, and avoiding eye contact with Indian men like it was my job. And faster? Doubtful. Our caravan caused a traffic backup of epic proportions. It was ridiculously fun, though. Quite an experience. I hear one never forgets their first rickshaw.
The rickshaws dropped us off at Jama Masjid, the largest mosque in India. It was my first mosque – it was really a day of firsts for me. I also saw my first yak. Anyway, I was literally blown away by the mosque. It was huge (could fit 20,000 people) and beautiful. We again had to cover our heads and ditch our shoes (my feet were getting pretty black by this time) before we stepped into the open-air courtyard.
The ground and the sky were filled with pigeons with little kids chasing them around the center pool. We had to pay a good 200 rupees (a whopping $4.10) to bring a camera inside, so I could only take this one picture outside the mosque. Smudge on face = red dot. Thought in head = Hi, Mom and Dad! Look! I'm in India!
Autorickshaws took us to the Indira Gandhi Center for the Arts for a Northeast India performance of native songs and dances. Oh, autorickshaws, where do I start… I swear we were going to hit everything within in a ten-foot radius. I had to keep myself from yelling “watch out! You’re gonna hit that bus and kill us all! Hey! You almost ran over that baby! What are you doing?!” At one point, after a particularly complex merge, Becky and I just looked at each other and I said “holy hell, I can’t believe we crossed that street.” Anyway, I’m sure the performance at the Arts Center was lovely, but I don’t know b/c I fell asleep in my chair.
India is endlessly fascinating but it still hasn’t sunk in that I’m actually here. Parts of Delhi look straight out of Disneyland and the smog that creates a haze over everything gives it a feel of unreality. Even the hard evidence of my presence in India, such as my disgustingly dirty feet, my black boogers, the roll of toilet paper stashed in my bag, and my newly formed habit of looking right instead of left before crossing the street doesn’t make it feel any more real. Maybe today will feel more like India now that the initial culture shock is over and my stomach is getting accustomed to the spice.
Today we meet Double H DL, His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Yep, two days in India and we’re already rolling with the big dogs.
We started with orientation yesterday morning. We learned a whole bunch of useful things; like how to use a squat toilet, how not to offend people with the bottoms of our feet and left hands, and how to fend off Indian men with dishonorable intentions. We then moved on to our first excursion: the Bangla Sahib, a Sikh Gurdwara where Sikhs go to worship the Book of the Gurus. Sikhism, in a nutshell, is pretty much the humanitarian aspects of both Muslim and Islam – but if a Sikh heard you say that, they’d get really offended. The Bangla Sahib was a huge beautiful temple-like thing that smelled fantastic. We were required to cover our heads and take off our shoes and “clean” our feet in some deliciously murky water. We sat in the temple for a while people-watching. So far, that temple is the only place no one stared at us. I’ve been feeling more and more like an exotic animal. We then walked clockwise around a big pool of water filled with carp used for ritualistic bathing. Clockwise is pretty much the direction for all religious rituals except for the “bone ritual,” which has yet to be explained to me. This particular excursion ended with accepting a gooey sugary deliciousness taken as a sort of communion.
We then moved on to a South Indian Temple where we all gave flower garland offerings to the Goddess of Auspicious Beginnings – which was appropriate. In return for our offering, we all got our first red forehead dot. We also acquired a little 3+ yr old Indian boy as our team mascot. He is probably the cutest freaking thing I’ve ever seen. He took immediately to us and started climbing over everyone and swinging from the guys’ arms and hugging everyone. He took this picture of himself on my camera. Cute, huh!
He followed us for a good five minutes, holding peoples’ hands. We were just beginning to wonder if this was considered kidnapping when his mother caught up with us. She had a hard time convincing him that he was in fact, not American, and needed to stop hiding behind our legs and come back.Hopped our first metro to Old Delhi where we formed a caravan of 10 rickshaws to carry us through the ridiculously narrow and crowded streets of the Kinari Bazaar. We decided rickshaws would be safer and faster for a large group of India-first-timers. Safer? No way – at least not for the people we ran into. It was quite a roller coast ride. And when I say roller coaster, I mean I literally felt like I was on a roller coaster straight out of Magic Mountain. And I have never felt more exposed and touristy than during those 20 minutes when I was a white American woman sitting above the crowd taking pictures of everything, holding onto my purse for dear life, and avoiding eye contact with Indian men like it was my job. And faster? Doubtful. Our caravan caused a traffic backup of epic proportions. It was ridiculously fun, though. Quite an experience. I hear one never forgets their first rickshaw.
The rickshaws dropped us off at Jama Masjid, the largest mosque in India. It was my first mosque – it was really a day of firsts for me. I also saw my first yak. Anyway, I was literally blown away by the mosque. It was huge (could fit 20,000 people) and beautiful. We again had to cover our heads and ditch our shoes (my feet were getting pretty black by this time) before we stepped into the open-air courtyard.
The ground and the sky were filled with pigeons with little kids chasing them around the center pool. We had to pay a good 200 rupees (a whopping $4.10) to bring a camera inside, so I could only take this one picture outside the mosque. Smudge on face = red dot. Thought in head = Hi, Mom and Dad! Look! I'm in India!Autorickshaws took us to the Indira Gandhi Center for the Arts for a Northeast India performance of native songs and dances. Oh, autorickshaws, where do I start… I swear we were going to hit everything within in a ten-foot radius. I had to keep myself from yelling “watch out! You’re gonna hit that bus and kill us all! Hey! You almost ran over that baby! What are you doing?!” At one point, after a particularly complex merge, Becky and I just looked at each other and I said “holy hell, I can’t believe we crossed that street.” Anyway, I’m sure the performance at the Arts Center was lovely, but I don’t know b/c I fell asleep in my chair.
India is endlessly fascinating but it still hasn’t sunk in that I’m actually here. Parts of Delhi look straight out of Disneyland and the smog that creates a haze over everything gives it a feel of unreality. Even the hard evidence of my presence in India, such as my disgustingly dirty feet, my black boogers, the roll of toilet paper stashed in my bag, and my newly formed habit of looking right instead of left before crossing the street doesn’t make it feel any more real. Maybe today will feel more like India now that the initial culture shock is over and my stomach is getting accustomed to the spice.
Today we meet Double H DL, His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Yep, two days in India and we’re already rolling with the big dogs.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Arrived in One Piece!
Hello from New Delhi!
After a perfectly uneventful 14 hour plane ride and another hour drive in the craziest bus ride of my life, I've arrived at the YMCA Tourist Hostel in Delhi. There are 17 students including myself and I think we're all going to get on wonderfully.
The plane was great. I had a row to myself, except for the little Indian boy who liked to climb over me to press his face up to the window periodically. There were tons o' babies. Babies were everywhere. My friend, Becky, and I split a bottle of wine and killed an hour baby-watching. Great fun. Customs was a breeze but once we got to baggage claim we felt like caged exotic animals. Everyone was staring at the hoard of American students toting backpacking backpacks and money belts. But, we were staring too. Actually, I don't really know who started the staring, us or them.
The second I stepped out of the airport I was run over by an autorickshaw. Ok I lied. But he came a little too close for comfort. We all piled into a rickity bus with the word "TOURIST" emblazoned on the windshield...in case anyone was confused by the busload of white people staring and pointing out the windows. The bus ride made me feel like I was living a videogame. There was honking and swearving around bicycles and pedestrians and yelling and speeding. You know how in America there are signs that say "Click it or Ticket." Well, in Delhi they say "Lane driving is sane driving" (I have a picture to prove it). We were definately NOT driving in any particular lane for most of the ride. I decided it was better just not to watch.
Anyway, its not 9:30 PM here...which means I should have been asleep 8 years ago. Goodnight and tashi delek!
After a perfectly uneventful 14 hour plane ride and another hour drive in the craziest bus ride of my life, I've arrived at the YMCA Tourist Hostel in Delhi. There are 17 students including myself and I think we're all going to get on wonderfully.
The plane was great. I had a row to myself, except for the little Indian boy who liked to climb over me to press his face up to the window periodically. There were tons o' babies. Babies were everywhere. My friend, Becky, and I split a bottle of wine and killed an hour baby-watching. Great fun. Customs was a breeze but once we got to baggage claim we felt like caged exotic animals. Everyone was staring at the hoard of American students toting backpacking backpacks and money belts. But, we were staring too. Actually, I don't really know who started the staring, us or them.
The second I stepped out of the airport I was run over by an autorickshaw. Ok I lied. But he came a little too close for comfort. We all piled into a rickity bus with the word "TOURIST" emblazoned on the windshield...in case anyone was confused by the busload of white people staring and pointing out the windows. The bus ride made me feel like I was living a videogame. There was honking and swearving around bicycles and pedestrians and yelling and speeding. You know how in America there are signs that say "Click it or Ticket." Well, in Delhi they say "Lane driving is sane driving" (I have a picture to prove it). We were definately NOT driving in any particular lane for most of the ride. I decided it was better just not to watch.
Anyway, its not 9:30 PM here...which means I should have been asleep 8 years ago. Goodnight and tashi delek!
Monday, January 5, 2009
Nine Days and Counting!
I'm unbelievably psyched. My 16+ hour flight to India is in nine days. I've been busy these last two wks running around the entire greater San Diego area preparing to leave. I got my Japanese Encephalitis shots, 23 winter coats, a brand spanking new camera, an account with the Bank of India, and more meds than I know what to do with (I cleared out the CVS Pharmacy of Emergen C - many weird looks. Naturally, I told ogling onlookers of my verminophobia and that I had a very serious addiction to Emergen C). I've also tried to ween myself off of meat since mid-December so I don't have to go cold-turkey when I get to Dharamsala (haha, get it...turkey... ya know, the meat product?... oh c'mon you guys! It was a good joke). Anyway, I've failed miserably in that endevor but it was a valiant effort.
On a more somber note, in these last two wks I've also had to say a lot of goodbyes. This past semester was the best yet of my college career and when I come back in the Fall it will be durastically different - an inevitability that I might just avoid by not coming back from India at all (yeah, how do you like that one! "Change" can suck it.). A lot of my close friends will have graduated, my Little will be abroad, and I'll be just another Senior with no legitimate life plan. Awesome. I also won't be seeing many of my friends in SD for the better part of a year - also lame, esp since you guys are some of the greatest people I have ever known. I'm seriously in awe of how awesome you guys are and what great friends you've been over the years. So, to my friends and family (blood-related and otherwise) in both Atlanta and Calif, eventhough I've already said it (or at least implied it), and I'll be saying it again and again over the next months, just know that I'll be missing you every day and there is nothing more important to me in the world than our friendship. I love you all.
Until next time I procrastinate, tashi delek.
On a more somber note, in these last two wks I've also had to say a lot of goodbyes. This past semester was the best yet of my college career and when I come back in the Fall it will be durastically different - an inevitability that I might just avoid by not coming back from India at all (yeah, how do you like that one! "Change" can suck it.). A lot of my close friends will have graduated, my Little will be abroad, and I'll be just another Senior with no legitimate life plan. Awesome. I also won't be seeing many of my friends in SD for the better part of a year - also lame, esp since you guys are some of the greatest people I have ever known. I'm seriously in awe of how awesome you guys are and what great friends you've been over the years. So, to my friends and family (blood-related and otherwise) in both Atlanta and Calif, eventhough I've already said it (or at least implied it), and I'll be saying it again and again over the next months, just know that I'll be missing you every day and there is nothing more important to me in the world than our friendship. I love you all.
Until next time I procrastinate, tashi delek.
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