Dharamsala Journal

May 21, 2004
Dharamsala

It's morning, about 6:30 am. I've just enjoyed a couple of cups of sweet spiced chai while sitting on a bench near the bus stop where many of the early risers in this community gather to start their day: Tibetan monks in maroon and yellow robes, a group of old Tibetan women, some Indian men, a group of playful dogs, and of course the chai wallah. This has become my morning ritual here in Dharamsala, to stroll from my hotel to this spot in town before the sun appears over the hills and read and reflect a bit.

 

 

I've been here in Dharamsala a week and a half now and today marks the beginning of my fourth week in India. Here's the latest installment of my India journey.

The Trip from Rishikesh to Dharamsala

Last Monday, I traveled by train from Rishikesh, a twelve hour overnight ride on a sleeper car with bunk bed sleeping berths. The train ride was pleasant and fairly uneventful, and I enjoyed my first experience on the great Indian railway system, a legacy from the days of the British Raj. Sitting around in the Rishikesh train station amidst the local Indians, beggars, and a large group of Israeli travelers, I waited and watched until my train pulled onto the tracks. From there I found my car and numbered bunk bed compartment (the bunks fold up into benches until it's time to sleep). I traveled second class air conditioned sleeper car, which is a lot more comfortable than the non-air conditioned cars, the only drawback being the windows are closed and they're so dirty you can't see very well out of them. Eventually the train departed and thus began a twelve hour ride, going from town to town, stopping at several train stations where one could get off and buy a cup of chai (the sweet tea made with milk that can be found everywhere in India). A few stops into the trip a middle-aged Indian couple boarded who had tickets for the other two seats in my compartment; they were pleasant and nice enough to buy me a cup of chai from one of the vendors on the train. A dinner of rice and dal with chapattis was available on the train, which I purchased (that may have been a mistake, since a day later I developed my first case of "Delhi belly", the seemingly inevitable intestinal distress that comes to almost all foreign travelers in India--and which subsequently inhabited my gut for most of my first week in Dharamsala). When the lights went out at 9pm I put the upper bunk down, climbed up onto it, wrapped myself in a blanket to shield myself from the considerable jet of air from the a.c. vent, and actually managed to sleep for about 5 hours. We arrived at 3:30am at a train station called Chakki Bank in Pathankot, a town very close to the Pakistan border. I debarked from the train under the light of the moon, got a cup of chai to wake up, and lugged my pack to the front of the train station. From there it was a packed auto rickshaw ride to the bus station, along with six other young Israeli travelers who were also on the train.

 

 

The bus ride was a classic Indian experience. It took an hour and a half to load the bus, with first all of the travelers getting on with our backpacks only to be told to get off and stow our packs in the overhead luggage rack, then waiting for various cargo to be loaded, including a huge pile of burlap bags that overflowed into the passenger seats. One Indian man had a can of auto paint whose fumes could be smelled quite distinctly in the back of the bus; because of that I moved to the front seat next to the front door (but I could still smell it). From the front I had an up-close view of all the locals who jumped and squeezed on board at one of the dozens of local stops during the 3 hour ride up into the hills towards Dharamsala. At one point there was a guy sitting on the handrail next to my seat with his ass hanging over into my lap (I kept shifting my knees until he finally moved); most of the ride the crowd kept stepping on my feet as they struggled to squeeze a few more people onto the steps and aisle at the front of the bus--I guess it was the Indian version of a crowded New York subway car.

 

 

As the morning progressed we climbed higher into the hilly northeastern part of India where Dharamsala resides. Out the window one saw a beautiful green countryside, fields cultivated in stepped plateaus interspersed between steep hills and stony ravines. Finally we pulled into the town of Dharamsala, below the area called McLeod Ganj. McLeod Ganj is where the Dalai Lama's Tibetan government-in-exile resides and where most of the stuff one comes to this place to see is. I got off the bus to stretch my legs and promptly lost my seat to a couple of sadhus in orange robes, so I climbed up onto the luggage rack where a couple of the young Israelis had found spots and settled in among the backpacks. That was my vantage point for the last 40 minutes of the ride up to McLeod Ganj, as the bus made it's way higher and higher along a narrow winding road. From the top of the bus I could see magnificent views of the mountains, and as well I could marvel at how the bus driver managed to get the large vehicle up and around the narrow turns--at any of dozens of spots, had he driven a couple of feet closer to the edge, the bus would've plunged down the mountainside, ensuring mayhem and carnage for us all. Several times as well we encountered vehicles that forced all traffic to a halt while the respective drivers of our bus, military vehicles, or tourist vans negotiated who would back up or squeeze a little closer to the non-existent shoulder so somehow each one could pass by (seems like the largest vehicle dictates the right of way over here). And being up on top required a lot more ducking to get out of the way of tree branches and streamers strung between buildings than I and my comrades riding up above the bus had counted on.

 

 

Finally we arrived at the bus stop in McLeod Ganj and began to unload. I'd struck up a conversation with a British guy (Terry) up on the top of bus; he and his Iranian girlfriend Shadan and I were the only non-Israelis on the bus (we all made quite a good-spirited and harmonious group along the way, I might add). Terry and I helped each other get our bags off the top of the bus, and started talking to a Kashmiri guy who was a guesthouse operator looking for a couple of people to rent rooms to. We walked through one of the busy streets in McLeod Ganj and settled into the hotel, fairly weary from the trip, which in all took about 18 hours from departure in Rishikesh. As it turned out there was only one room immediately available since there was a sick traveler in the room intended for me, but the Kashmiri guy, Ghulam, offered to let me stay for free for a night in his living room common area on the roof; I accepted that offer. Turns out that was also the room he and his cousin slept in, which I only discovered at about 10pm that night as I was going to sleep! One of the funnier scenes I'll remember from this trip is hanging out with those two and watching WWF wrestling on satellite TV. Good to know American culture has made a contribution to Indian life.

Being in Dharamsala

Dharamsala/McLeod Ganj really is an awesomely beautiful place way up high at the top of India, with the snow-capped Himalayas visible just beyond. The air is clean and fresh and there are forested hills and mountains all around. This time of year the sun has been shining every day, without so much as a drop of rain. Temperature-wise it's hot during the day but not really uncomfortable; Rishikesh was warmer, and most of the rest of India is baking now.

 

 

Dharamsala is a Tibetan community as much or more than it is Indian. They call this place "Little Lhasa" as it is the center of a valiant struggle to save a Tibetan way of life that's systematically being eradicated by the Chinese government in Tibet. You know, I've heard about the "Free Tibet" movement before, as so many of us have in the states; I knew it was for real, but it almost seems like a pop culture fad, when you hear about Richard Gere and the Beastie Boys doing benefit concerts and the like. Even walking around Dharamsala, it's easy to get lulled into a state of mind where you think, "oh, this is very nice, all these Tibetan monks and Tibetan people are very nice, the food is great and this is such a nice comfortable place in India." But then I visited the Tibet Museum. It's located in the Dalai Lama's official residence called the Tsuglakhang Complex, which also contains two beautiful temples, one of which is called the Tsuglakhang, with some large, elaborate Buddha statues, and the other being the Kalachakra Temple which has an exquisite mural of the Kalachakra, or Wheel of Time, mandala--a treasure of Buddhist art depicting the universe. At the museum I saw the documentation of the tragedy of China's conquest and destruction of what is a very ancient, wise, beautiful and sacred culture--it's very sad and sobering. In some ways the history of India (and the world) is filled with conquest after conquest, bloodshed, enslavement, and slaughter, mankind's great capacity for inhumanity towards those we deem to be "the other." Everybody knows about this, but especially for us at home in the states it's a far away concept to read about in newspapers and books. But when you come here to Dharamsala (if you're not too busy partying and enjoying the restaurants and the pleasant scenery), you realize this Tibetan community is here because of the dark side of history and humanity which is unfortunately still such an active force in our world today.

Sorry guys, didn't mean to get political on you all. Back to the travelogue.

 

 

The Dalai Lama has been in town while I'm here, having gotten in the day before I did for a 10 day retreat with his monks. I was hoping he'd give a public audience for the many people staying here who'd like to see him but it doesn't sound like that's going to happen, and he's off to Europe Sunday morning. Even though I probably won't be able to see him speak or give an audience to the public, there's a sense of special energy in Dharamsala when His Holiness is here. I think I may go stand outside his complex on Sunday at 8am to catch a glimpse of him in the car on the way out--I'm not a big celebrity-watcher, but it feels like his being here has been part of my trip and so I guess I'll say goodbye that way.

 

 

The food really is amazing here, all different kinds of food, including of course delicious Tibetan cuisine--lots and lots of fine and funky little cafes and restaurants, many with dining areas on the rooftops. There's also Indian of course, as well as some incredible homemade pasta you can get some places--in fact all the food is freshly made for you. One can buy a tremendous amount of food for your money here, the equivalent of a couple of bucks in rupees will buy you a feast! It's a good thing I'm doing a lot of walking and yoga, or I'd be putting on weight. There are some wonderful little shops and bookstores, and the merchants are more relaxed and friendly (not quite as aggressive as they were in Rishikesh or Delhi).

 

 

I've really enjoyed getting to know other travelers here too. Terry and Shadan had lots of interesting stories to tell, between his life in Cornwall, England and hers in Tehran (they met on the beach in Goa, and spent a month doing yoga training together in a town nearby called Dehra Dun). Just as in Rishikesh, where I enjoyed befriending several individuals and groups of traveling companions, it's been easy to meet like-minded souls in the course of my comings and goings around town. It really blows my mind how many people, mostly pretty young (but not all young), are out traveling around the world for extended periods of time. Although I've traveled a bit before, I've never really done the backpacker thing this way; and it feels really good to finally be doing something myself that I've heard about and envied others for doing for so many years. Better late than never.

 

 

Northern India has some great natural beauty to be enjoyed outdoors. Earlier this week I went on an overnight trek up on a mountain above Dharamsala to a place called Triund, elevation 11,400 feet. I went up with a good-hearted Brit, Chris, who it turns out does the same kind of work I've been doing, computer graphic prepress, and two female yoga teachers, Erika from Costa Rica, who's been traveling for several years now, and Michelle from Vancouver, a kundalini yoga teacher who told us some Yogi Bhajan stories around the campfire (a little aside for my yoga buddies out there). We camped out overnight and slept in a cave, and walked up even further to the snow line the next day, must've been well past 12,000 feet in elevation--just an awesomely beautiful mountain environment. Another day Chris and I found a waterfall up on another side of the same mountain, complete with a pool of incredibly cold glacier-fed water.

 

 

I'm realizing that Dharamsala is not like the rest of India, it's a bit more comfortable and peaceful, with more options in the shops and restaurants. I probably ought be moving on soon; there's so much more of India to see. My next stop may be another town in northern India called Manali; that'll be a 10 hour bus ride from Dharamsala. But I'm still mulling it over. I've found a couple of good yoga schools here, and it could benefit me to spend as much as a week or two more taking classes. I've also really been enjoying doing yoga on my own here; the warm temperatures and, shall we say the mystic yogic resonance of India have my body (and spirit) feeling more and more open; feels like I'm having lots of breakthroughs. The first week I had a place to do yoga on the roof of the Kashmiri guys' guesthouse with a breathtaking view of the valley sweeping below me, Dharamsala's hills to the sides, and the Himalayas behind me, beneath the bright sun and a powerful blue sky. Awesome. I'm feeling truly blessed.

 

 

I've also heard from D., who was to meet me up here last week. Before I left Rishikesh she'd decided not to come here to Dharamsala but to go back to Agra to continue her sessions studying with an Indian astrologoer-guru figure she's met through a friend of hers. At that time it sounded like she'd do that for a week or so and then we'd get together, but since then she's told me, with apologies, that she feels it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that she needs to see through and so will most likely not be meeting me during our time in India (initially we were planning to spend 3 weeks traveling together). That has honestly been very dissappointing and challenging for me to wrap my mind around. I can totally respect her decision to have an important spiritual experience. But I feel left out; it sounds from her emails like she's having a really meaningful time (she said that she's going to be making a trip with the teacher and other devotees to some special place in the Himalayas to study), and it could be I'm jealous as I imagine she's having the classic experience of coming to India and receiving great teachings and wisdom from a guru. As a friend I totally understand she's got to follow her heart and intuition about this stuff. But when we'd planned this trip there was a romantic aspect to it, and then after we broke up over the winter and subsequently got back together this spring, part of whatit was going to be about, for both of us, was seeing if we had what it takes to continue in relationship together. D's a great person — a generous and adventurous soul, and I really wish the best for her. The truth is I wouldn't be in India right now if it wasnt' for meeting her. I have to say though that the intrigue regarding whether or not we're going to rendezvous this month has been an emotional distraction during the first weeks of my time here. Well, people told me that stuff happens in India that you can't anticipate and you just have to roll with it.

 

 

Hey, by the way, for what it's worth, did you all notice that there's been a change in the leadership of the Indian government while I've been here this month (not that I had anything to do with it!); the Gandhi family came back into power, with a twist--the Congress Party led by the Italian-born widow of Rajiv Gandhi, Indira Gandhi's son, won an upset over the incumbent prime minister's Hindu nationalist party, the BJP; then Sonia Gandhi declined to become prime minister, citing her conscience, and so a relatively unknown finance minister, Manmohan Singh, who is also a member of the religious minority of Sikhs (India is 80% Hindu) is becoming the new prime minister. But Sonia will still be a force behind the scenes. It's actually a really interesting time in Indian history--just in case you wanted to know!

If you're still with me at this point, I thank you, fair reader. I know this is a long email.

I hope everyone is well, wherever y'all are. Be well, be at peace.

Namaste (the divinity in me bows to the divinity in you)
Sol

Previous

Back to Top

Next