I am so relieved that I wrote that long entry and now I can go into a bit more detail about things that happen. I wanted to write about the nunnery Dickyi and I went to visit because it was very touching. We went there because Dickyi had a specific nun that she had been very close to as a child. We asked all around for her when we arrived at the nunnery and we waited on one of the walkways in the nunnery compound for her to come out. When she came out, she was so happy to see Dickyi, but sad somehow, maybe because Dickyi couldn't stay for long. She was crying and I wondered what her life is like there, at the nunnery. And I wondered what her life was like before that--if it had been soaked in sorrow and what it was like now. Dickyi told me later that she had had a hard life and didn't have a family. I wondered if entering the nunnery was one of many choices for her or if it was her only choice. Another nun was very sad because she missed Dickyi's father, who used to run the nunnery. She said she couldn't eat because of it. While we were there they gave us mountain dews and bowls of vegetable with rolls that are ubiquitous in northern Chinese cuisine as well.
The food here in McLeod Ganj is different from in the rest of India. At TCHRD, they have a cook that makes everyone lunch. We always have dal and rice, some kind of salad made from cucumbers or onions, and either a potato or a meat dish. They often use turnips in their cooking, like us, but their spices are different. A Tibetan dish that I've had few times is this noodle soup. The noodles are shaped like flat nuggets and there are vegetables or meat in the stew. It's pretty good. Dickyi's cousin cooks at home and she cooks really well. The only thing is that I can't eat onions or too many beans, which kind of limits the food I can eat. I also stay away from curd and raw foods. Some things I really like here are the breads--I love Tibetan bread which comes round and flat but not without yeast--it is a very simple bread, but very good. I like the parathas, especially those made by Dickyi's cousin. Again, though, the parathas tend to have onions in with the potatoes. I really love the momos, or dumplings, here. That's probably my favorite. They have potato momos which are delicious and of course the meat momos are really good. The other thing I always get here is hot honey lemon ginger tea. It is the tourist drink because it's good for your throat but it's really good.
Sometimes Dharamsala feels kind of ghostly. There is one murder story in particular about three Punjabis that were beheaded at this hotel that is right by Last Chance. This actually happened not too long ago. Apparently the girl who was beheaded (along with two guys) was a prostitute. And there are a lot of ghost stories here that were, I guess, spread among the kids in boarding schools. There are a lot of stories here in general. People really like telling stories about how they got in trouble as kids and what kinds of beatings they were given and it's pretty interesting. Kunjodorje (sp), Dickyi's brother's best friend, told us a story about when he was small at TCV (the boarding school here that everyone goes to). There was an apple orchard near them where they used to go pick apples illegally all the time as young boys. One time, he and his friend went to go steal some apples and the owner of the orchard ran after them. K. kept running, but realized he lost his friend when he got back to the school. He was missing during class and at the meeting. The teachers kept asking K. where he was, but he didn't say anything. Finally, at night, I guess he told the teachers and K. and a couple of the teachers went back to the apple orchard. And strapped around a big tree in the middle of the orchard was K.'s friend. He had been there the whole time. Some punishments I heard of are literally picking you up by your feet and hitting you every which way, making you rub stinging (REALLY stinging--I know because I was stung) nettles all over your body. People were beaten arbitrarily for playing marbles outside or something ridiculously innocent. Nowadays, they say that there are nowhere near the number of beatings there used to be. But you kind of get a sense of how these people were brought up and why they are so like whatever and rarely surprised or pained by things.
But back to ghost stories--A couple days ago we went to the waterfall and after that me and Dickyi went to buy momos and noodles to take to Tenam's house to eat while we watched Pirates 3. T. made shakes and we just watched the movie. Then afterwards we were sitting outside and we were telling ghost stories. Tenam had like 900 ghost stories at the ready. He told this one story that is from a Korean horror movie he saw where this guy has a pain on his neck and no one can figure out what it is except when someone takes a picture of him and there's this like freakin scary looking girl all in white crouched on his neck all the time. There's another one they used to tell in boarding school about a teacher at the school who walked down the road and saw a student crying. He shook the student and asked why he was crying and when the student raised his head, the teacher saw that he didn't have a face. The teacher ran away as fast as he could to the gate of the school. He was so relieved when he reached the gate and he told the gatekeeper about it. When the gatekeeper looked up, he didn't have a face too! I was totally freaked out. There's one more--the story is that someone is walking down athe road and stops in at this house. While he's eating dinner, the lady of the house sits down and she starts telling this story about a lady who died and was buried. Her husband, for one reason or the other, dug up the grave and cut off her finger with her marriage ring on it and then threw her into a well. The person listening to the story realizes that the lady is dripping water and missing a finger and the lady grabs you (the person telling the story grabs you here) and is like "why did you take my ring?" There was this other story where a guy gets out of bed at night to go to the bathroom and when he gets back, there is someone in the bed and it's himself. Then we started imagining what would happen if you were walking down the road at night and saw yourself. Needless to say I was totally freaked out by this point.
Then Dickyi suggested we all take a walk and that it was light enough not to have a flashlight. Meanwhilst it was pitch black. And the walk was kind of scary, but it was ok. When we got back Tenam gave us a ride back to our house and we were like omg what if you were all alone on the bike in the dead of night on these mountain roads and you turned around and there was someone on the bike behind you?
It was surprising that I could sleep at all that night, but I slept fine.
Yesterday I met up with Rinzin to walk down to work and in the middle of the morning it started raining so heavily it was crazy, but it really cleared the air because it had been oppressive. We were a little disappointed because we were going to go to the waterfall yesterday after work. We left work fifteen minutes early. I didn't know why we left work so early, but I was told later that someone died in Ghanki yesterday so all the governmental offices got the afternoon off. After work I met up with Tso mo, Dickyi and Japan at a cafe but I was tired even after drinking tea so I went back to rest, but instead decided to do all my laundry. So let me just describe the layout of the house. Our floor, like all the floors has a little balcony where there's a clothesline. We face a little ravine and a small hill. After the small hill there is a road and then a continuation of the hill, which is where Tenam's house is. This whole area is a bit bizarre because in the middle of all this trash and stuff in the middle of the hill is this old Indian guy's like shanty house, where he's always banging around on pots or something. It's odd. That road below Tenam's house is the most dangerous one, he says, in McLeod. And one night, I heard all this commotion outside. There's always commotion because there are giant packs of wild dogs all by our house, but this was human commotion. Dickyi wasn't in so I was scared to go out and check, but when I peeked out, I thought I saw people in a fight. The next day I asked Tenam and he said that actually someone on a motorbike had fallen down the hill. He wasn't injured, but he was very worried about his bike. Typical. Ok, anyways, this Indian guy has a little shack and a little makeshift fence that I guess encloses a kind of backyard in the ghettoist sense of the word. So i was wringing out clothes over the balcony when I saw A LEOPARD prowling around this guy's backyard. I think it was a leopard. It was a sandy color and its spots weren't totally bright, but they were there. It was not a dog, but more like a cat. But it was like nothing I've ever seen. It was the size of a large dog, but flatter and longer. It was stealthy, oh it was stealthy. I was totally excited and ran into the room to get my camera. Of course it was out of batteries. When I ran back outside, the leopard wasn't in the backyard anymore and I thought I had imagined the whole thing. I was tired and I hadn't taken a nap like I was supposed to. But then I saw it again! It was winding up the hill in its stealthy fashion. I ran downstairs and told Dickyi and we tried to see it again but couldn't. Momo wasn't sure it was a leopard because there were dogs nearby and they hadn't run away, but Tenam said that leopards come down here sometimes and if they are very quiet, the dogs don't know they're there.
Monday, June 11, 2007
When It Rains in Dharamsala
This is a poem by Tenzin Tsundue, a pretty famous Tibetan youth freedom struggle leader. Dickyi is good friends with him and I've met him several times.
When it Rains in Dharamsala
When it rains in Dharamsala
raindrops wear boxing gloves,
thousands of them
come crashing down
and beat my room.
Under its tin roof
my room cries from inside
and wets my bed, my papers.
Sometimes the clever rain comes
from behind my room,
the treacherous walls lift
their heels and allow
a small flood into my room.
I sit on my island-nation bed
and watch my country in flood,
notes on freedom,
memoirs of my prison days,
letters from college friends,
crumbs of bread
and Maggi noodles
rise sprightly to the surface
like a sudden recovery
of a forgotten memory.
Three months of torture,
monsoon in the needle leafed pines
Himalaya rinsed clean
glistens in the evening sun.
Until the rain calms down
and stops beating my room
I need to console my tin roof
who has been on duty
from the British Raj.
This room has sheltered many homeless people.
Now captured by mongooses
and mice, lizards and spiders,
and partly rented by me.
A rented room for home
is a humbling existence.
My Kashmiri landlady
at eighty cannot return home.
We often compete for beauty
Kashmir or Tibet.
Every evening,
I return to my rented room;
but I am not going to die this way.
There has got to be some way out of here.
I cannot cry like my room
I have cried enough
in prisons and
in small moments of despair.
There has got to be
some way out of here.
I cannot cry,
my room is wet enough.
When it Rains in Dharamsala
When it rains in Dharamsala
raindrops wear boxing gloves,
thousands of them
come crashing down
and beat my room.
Under its tin roof
my room cries from inside
and wets my bed, my papers.
Sometimes the clever rain comes
from behind my room,
the treacherous walls lift
their heels and allow
a small flood into my room.
I sit on my island-nation bed
and watch my country in flood,
notes on freedom,
memoirs of my prison days,
letters from college friends,
crumbs of bread
and Maggi noodles
rise sprightly to the surface
like a sudden recovery
of a forgotten memory.
Three months of torture,
monsoon in the needle leafed pines
Himalaya rinsed clean
glistens in the evening sun.
Until the rain calms down
and stops beating my room
I need to console my tin roof
who has been on duty
from the British Raj.
This room has sheltered many homeless people.
Now captured by mongooses
and mice, lizards and spiders,
and partly rented by me.
A rented room for home
is a humbling existence.
My Kashmiri landlady
at eighty cannot return home.
We often compete for beauty
Kashmir or Tibet.
Every evening,
I return to my rented room;
but I am not going to die this way.
There has got to be some way out of here.
I cannot cry like my room
I have cried enough
in prisons and
in small moments of despair.
There has got to be
some way out of here.
I cannot cry,
my room is wet enough.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Dharamsala
I’m here in Dharamsala and I’m not quite certain I ever want to leave. But let me start from where I left off. We boarded the bus for Delhi with our Uncle chips, water, candied hibiscus flowers (courtesy of Trader Joe’s), melty chocolate bars and I-pods. Just before we had left we had walked in the heat around Janpath once more and then to a Tibetan market to buy a watch for Dickyi and a torch for Dharamsala nights because there are few street lights on those twisty mountain roads. The Tibetan market was a little ways away from the major bus terminal in Delhi and a lot aways from the metro stop, or so it seemed to me. I could not breathe on the walk—everytime I tried to take a deep breath, nothing but thick, hot air, exhaust, and pungent odor filled my nostrils and seemed to stop before it could get to my lungs. Man, I was glad to board that bus because I was half unconscious the whole time we were in Delhi. The bus was like a greyhound bus from the 60s that has seen better days. No AC of course, but at least the windows opened.
It was the best bus ride I can remember, and Dickyi agrees. I slept for the first couple hours and woke to find it dark outside and time to take our first bus stop. We stopped at a roadside cookhouse and Dickyi bought snacks for us to eat—she ate dahl and chapatti, but I thought I would stick with packaged foods. Ah, the return of the delightful bourbon biscuit. As soon as we sat down, I guess the tones of our English carried throughout the rest stop because almost immediately, the three empty tables around us filled with white people dressed in rucksacks and hemp. I mean, to each his own and everything but I’m a little taken aback by that breed of American/French/Isreali/German/British who, dread-locked within an inch of his or her life, feels the need to wear a full on rucksack layered over some kind of lungi (sp?) with a sari scarf draped about their shoulders whilst talking loudly about how comfortable he/she is eating Indian food. It’s especially interesting when all the Tibetans and Indians around us are dressed in jeans and t-shirts that say “Boston University” or “A & F” on them. People get really into the culture, and I guess it’s good but I don’t think I could change everything about how I dress or talk or eat so easily.
I was dazed at the bus stop, but regained a bit of consciousness and Dickyi and I listened to music and talked when we re-boarded the bus. We would sleep intermittently and always would wake up at the same time. But there are no words to describe the beauty of the moment when I was roused from hot, dreamless sleep, with my clothes stuck to every inch of my body to a cool, light breeze. It felt actually unreal and had I not been looking forward to that moment for 24 hours I think I would have thought I was dreaming. The breeze blew through me and it smelled woody and smoky and it felt like nothing else I’ve ever felt. Because usually when I go somewhere it is on a plane and as you move from A to B, flying above the weather, no change can be felt because by the time you step off at B, you’ve forgotten what A feels like. And so little wonder can ever be mustered. Although I, who ought to have by now grown blasé about traveling, will never stop feeling the really very simple feeling of being elsewhere, being not where you were. Or thinking the even simpler thought that “I was there and now I am here and it is different and I am different in it”.
I was very aware that we were passing into Himachel Pradesh from Delhi and Hariyana because you could simply feel it in the air and see it in the landscape, which changed from flat and dusty to bulbous and craggy and moist somehow. And what I thought about it was that it seemed that the land and the air were pushing and pulling on each other, that they necessarily felt the other’s elements and properties and that they would respond accordingly. And it seemed that the land was craning upwards in protestation as the air gave way and waned and thinned. And it seemed that the air, collapsing through itself, breathed and in that breath gave up its molton qualities of fire and heat. The air passed them, so it seemed, to the land. And so the land grew bulbous and craggy, mass upon mass seeping out from under and on top and from places we don’t even know exist, craning and crawing and growing with the properties of heat, as a hot air balloon grows pompous and uppity when it begins to breathe in the hot air. And that’s how the mountains seemed to form as we came into Himachal Pradesh.
It didn’t seem possible that mountains like this can exist, so varied they were in their makeup, some stretches lined with neat steps growing tea or rice or I’m not even sure. And it seems even unlikelier that these mountains, bursting with evergreens and other trees that are so lush they seem drenched in something wet and sweet, can exist here in India which has always been so hot and dry and dusty to me. Apparently these mountains, at the foothills of the Himalayas, are, further up from us, filled with leopards, foxes, panthers, monkeys galore, of course, and other wildlife. I’ve already seen a mongoose, goats, rats, countless monkeys, and you can’t throw a stone here without hitting a dog or three or four of them.
The population of Dharamsala is around 25,000. The vast majority are Tibetans. They are in self-exile and, against the odds, have whittled a life for themselves out of these mountains and in it, they have built a community that is a community in every sense of the word. And as much as the freedom struggle will break your heart, so the kindness of the people here and the way they feel and fulfill their community will fill it to its tipping point. We got off in McLeod Ganj at the depot, which is the square where the three major roads meet. Tenzin Norgay, my contact at TCHRD and Dickyi’s cousin, came to meet us. We would stay with him and this family at their house, which is a three story, three-unit house that they rent out to a few families. Dakpa, Dickyi’s cousin by marriage, and his wife, Yangzhin (sp) gave up their room on the second floor for us, and are staying on the first floor with the rest of their family. Beside us lives a young family—the husband and the wife are very young and beautiful, and they have three little girls. They are always singing and playing with their friends, painting in their coloring books, or running up and down the steps. Dakpa and his wife have a baby, Norzin. They also have the most adorable white puppy called Kartouk. Momo and two Popos live there as well. The three main streets of McLeod are beautiful—they are dripping with bright woolen Tibetan blankets, turquoise and pearl jewelery, chupas, salwar tops, beaded bags, fur-lined vests, carpets, scarves. Even after being here for a week and a half/a couple weeks, I’m always enthralled when we walk along the streets.
Let me talk about work first—I work in Gankhi (I have idea how to spell it, all I know that it is pronounced “Kanki”). The actual address is Top Floor, Narthang Building; Gangchen Kyishong, Dharamsala H.P-176215, India. I’m working at the Tibetan Center for Human Rights and Democracy, which is not affiliated with the government, though we are in the government’s International Affairs building. We are on the top floor which means it is HOT and it is even hotter when the power goes out, which happens quite a lot. There are two ex political prisoners here in the office and both of them speak Chinese so we talk in Mandarin. The others can speak English, but speak Tibetan to each other. Norgay was here but he is gone now, in a conference in Switzerland. The director is a short, stout man and very jolly. There are a few young people in the office, and even more when I first started here. Four girls are university students who are my age—they are all Tibetan and they all go to school in Chennai.
These four girls are interesting because they each have something tragic about them. My favorite one, Cho Mo (sp) has the saddest story. She lived in Tibet with her family until she was 11, when she crossed the Himalayas with her cousin, but with a guide and in a larger group. This girl, 11 years old, crossed the Himalayas without telling her parents. She planned it out with her cousin like it was a game and she has not seen her family since. Only a few years ago did she start talking to them on the phone. She misses them, but she can’t go back to Tibet because she has no papers. No one has papers here and many people are desperate to leave. The man who lives with his family on our floor, for example, is unemployed, and his profession is pretty much trying to get to America. He goes and tries for a VISA at every chance he gets. After two consecutive tries, you must wait for a year or two. So this is what he does. His wife is a cook. It is hard to live in your means here, Dickyi says. A normal salary is 10,000-20,000 rupees and food costs are quite high. People rely heavily on relatives or friends in America. Pema, my other friend, has a similar story to Cho Mo’s, except her parents knew she was coming over. The other girl, Rin Zin, was born in India, but her mother is gone and her father is terribly strict with her. She can’t go out after dark at all and she can’t go out on the weekends. The last girl, whose name I can never remember, is quite desperate to go to America. She does not want to get married and settled down. What she wants, it seems, and believes she can only get in the West, is freedom to do what she wants and go where she wants.
Work is good—I am writing about the Regulations on Religious affairs in China and the measures for implementing them in the TAR. I am learning a lot.
I’ve been to a few talks since I have been here. One was a debate on the mining issue in Tibet and how China is bringing in Canadian companies to destroy the mountains and look for resources. It was a massacre because one side (the side that supports mining) was horribly prepared and said things like “there’s no good trying to stop the Chinese”. I was embarrassed the whole time. One was a talk by Tenzin Tsundue who Dickyi is quite good friends with. He was on the cover of Newsweek or something ridiculous like that and he gave a talk at Sara (sp), a school for Tibetan youth to relearn the Tibetan language, culture, and religion. He spoke about youth responsibility and the importance of knowing the Tibetan language so that the culture and the heritage do not die out. The students were incredibly attentive and had lots of questions. Tsundue is a published writer and many students bought his works after the talk. The talk, however, was way too long and I fell asleep. The third talk I went to was a couple days ago. I don’t remember who was speaking, but he is quite a famous Tibetan as well. We went to this talk after spending a whole day in the sun at a pool resort further up from upper TCV (a school) so I was heat-drunk and half unconscious. I fell asleep. Last week, the Dalai Lama gave three talks on three consecutive days to Tibetan students. I went two of the days. I’ve seen the Dalai Lama about four times now.
Now I want to talk about some of the places we go to:
Kanki (sp) is where I work and it is the headquarters of Tibetan Government in exile. It’s essentially a compound with a couple cafes, a huge stupa in the middle, and many many governmental buildings. The library is here too. The prime minister of Tibetan gov. in exile is here too. I walk to Kanki in the morning because it’s a nice walk and there are other girls that walk. We meet at the temple/monastery and walk down
Namgyal temple/monastery—it is at the end of Temple road which is one of the major roads. It is beautiful and huge. We have been quite a few times, once to get blessed by one of the three highest lamas. I’ve seen lots of interesting things there, such as the monks practicing their debating skills, which is awesome (and loud) to watch, with all the belligerent clapping one could hope for. I’ve done the Kora a few mornings, which is basically a holy route around the temple that people do early in the morning while praying. It’s nice.
Lower Dharamsala is very fun, but I’m the only one who seems to think so—it’s like half an hour from Kanki. Being in Lower is like being in India again after being in little Tibet. It reminds me of Saudi a lot—lots of cloth shops, bata, sugarcane juice stands, sweet shops, shops selling kitchen wares etc., fruit stalls.
Norbulinka, which is a drive and a walk from Lower Dharamsala. It’s a beautiful garden with Tibetan flags draped all over the place, a temple, a museum, and a gift shop. The time we went there we timed it badly and could only spend like 10 minutes there but it was ok.
Norbuling is the nunnery that Dickyi’s dad used to run and where Dickyi used to live on holidays. It was truly beautiful—the buildling were clean and had red accents that were really nice. The gardens were beautiful and everything was just very clean. Visiting there was quite sentimental, since the nuns were so happy to see Dickyi again and grew sad when she had to leave.
Forsyth Ganj is about twenty minutes walk from here and there’s not much there except a church, but the mountain roads are beautiful. We’ve been there once or twice.
Last Chance—this is like five minutes from our house and it is a very breathtaking view. Young kids go there in the morning to study and memorize. There are benches and places you can sit further down the mountain. Me and Dickyi like going there.
Bhagsunad (sp)—it’s a kind if Israeli settlement like 15 minutes from us and there is a pool there. Me and Dickyi and Tenam went there one night and Dickyi and Tenam went swimming. Further up is a waterfall that we went to yesterday—it was amazing. It’s a beautiful waterfall and on the weekends all the monks go there to bathe and clean their clothes and play monk games. The water is clean and icy cold and filled with minnows.
TIPA—Tibetan Institute for Performing Arts. I’ve been there a few times. Last night we took a walk there, but I’ve been there for two shows now—one traditional dance and song show that was really good and one concert by a local band, the “Buddha boys”.
Ok, on to the people. Dickyi’s family is amazing and so kind. Her cousin is a great cook—the food is really good. Dakpa, her husband, is so nice as well. He hangs out with us sometimes and snacks and shows us Tibetan music videos. He is always smiling. Momo is Dickyi’s grandma type person and she is in excellent shape. She does three koras every morning. One of the Popos is a monk and prays all the time, and one of them just kind of hangs out. Norgay was so much fun to hang out with and like a complete encyclopedia about everything.
Dickyi has so many friends. Question mark, who got his name because his head is literally shaped like a question mark, Thum Thind (sp), youdon, japan (who got his nickname because he looks like he is Japanese), Palmo, Tenkyi, Khewang, Tenam, Kunjodorje, and so many others. We’ve hung out with them a few times and they are all very nice. QM is kind of bellig and likes to argue, but he does it in Tibetan and about Tibetan independence and Buddhism, so it doesn’t really affect me. Everywhere we go we run into Dickyi’s friends—everywhere.
The two that I hang out with the most are Tenkyi and Tenam. Tenkyi I know well because she stayed with us in Boston for a few weeks--she is really beautiful. I haven’t hung out with her that much because she had a few little cousins here and has to take care of them One of them is very small and speaks Chinese randomly. One of them was a dirty little thing with lice and for the first few days, she was so quiet you would think she was mute. The last time I saw her, though, she was talking a blue streak. The oldest is in high school but looks very young—she is very sweet. Jigme is Tenkyi’s boyfriend and he lives here too and he is really nice. He, like Tenkyi, went to school in the states and his parents and family are there. He left last week to visit Tibet. Tenkyi is awesome because she’s so chill and fun and easy to be around. She works at TWA, the Tibetan Woman’s Association. Dickyi’s helped out there a bit since she has been here. Now, Dickyi goes to Tibetan language classes at the library quite early in the morning and visits people during the day.
Tenam's this guy around our age, and Dickyi and I actually met at the same time. He is Khewang’s very good friend--Khewang is special because he is Dickyi’s very oldest friend in the world. They were babies together and were best friends until middle school or something. Khewang was here for a few days for the Dalai Lama's teachings, but he has gone back to Bir, where both he and Tenam are from. So I haven't seen much of Khewang, but he is very sweet. Tenam is cool and fun to hang around with and pretty much has the in on everything. He has lived here since he finished at DU and kind of knows everything and everyone in Dharamsala. He, like so many locals, do things we would never dream of doing in North America, like strolling into the kitchen to order food straight from the chef and just generally being all up in the thick of things. He speaks really good English because he had lots of friends at Delhi U who were from nagaland or Bhutan or something and that’s what they speak He’s friends with a bunch of dickyi’s friends besides Khewang too, like people from SFT (students for a free Tibet) who we hang out with sometimes. Through him I got to meet people from Nagaland, who look Chinese but they are actually Indian..it’s weird and crazy but very cool. It’s unclear who Tenam lives with--i think he technically lives with one other guy but it seems that the whole neighborhood is always there at his house. His house is like a giant, extended balcony, except for one room and the kitchen that are indoors and there are always like 7 random people hanging out there. We go to his house now and then because he's our neighbor. He also works like one minute from me, in kanki as well. Sometimes me and dickyi will meet him for lunch at this café--let me just talk about this cafe--it's the one that everyone goes to so I have to go, but I'm deathly afraid of it because the woman who runs it looks and acts exactly like Jade Fox from Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon and frankly it’s scary.
Let me just talk about the life-style here. I absolutely love it. People just hang out here. They hang out a lot. It’s a very different lifestyle and a very relaxed one. People are chill about work and don’t let it stress them out and at the end of the day it’s just work and they get on with their real jobs, which appears to be hanging out. Everyone knows everyone and you can't walk down the street without seeing someone you know. This goes for me as well and I've been here only like two weeks. Everyone is constantly just hanging out—I can’t stress that enough. I really like Tibetans and their culture—they are just very kind. People are generous with what little they have. One thing that’s odd and takes some getting used to is the class divide here. Tibetan people are very much a higher class than Indians here in Dharamsala—they have more money, in short. Basically it’s all about who has more money. It's weird to see the nicest Tibetan in the world treating an Indian waiter a little bit rudely. But Dickyi said that's just what it is like. Tibetans in general have a lot of complaints about Indian manners and etiquette. I think that is one reason why they feel they can treat them with such little courtesy. Another thing that's strange is that in Tibetan houses, people don’t have couches or chairs really. They have beds or mattresses on the floor in the living room. I’m pretty sure it’s because there are like 12 people crammed into a space at any given time and beds and mattresses give more sitting room than couches.
There have been a few hard things here--one is the incredibly heart-breaking stories. The stories are very very sad and what breaks your heart is that at the end, the person telling it will say "but I'm very lucky" and then you feel ashamed and spoiled and generally just like a bad person because you didn't trek across the Himalayas, away from all your family forever, when you were 11. Another is the fact that I am Chinese and that that part of me won't go away and I wouldn't want it to because I like being Chinese and I am proud of it. I am not proud of how the Chinese government is making its decisions. I feel a little bit guilty but then I get angry because I should not feel that way and I know that. This feeling is compounded by the fact that many things are very political here. People have forged their identities out of the freedom struggle and much conversation and activities center around this. Work, of course, for me, is entirely political and it took some adjusting and some thinking to be able to not take things at all personally. I think I'm there because I haven't felt bad for awhile. That is why I like hanging out with certain people more than others--I like hearing stories about the culture and the lifestyle more than people's thoughts on the freedom struggle, which I think about everyday at work. Another negative thing has been the language barrier, which is lessening everyday. Tenam and Tenkyi are both really comfortable with english and talk english almost entirely around me, which is probably why I enjoy their company so much. I've reached the point, though, where I can kind of tell what's going on by picking up a few words here and there and just knowing the general contexts of situations. It's pretty cool and makes things considerably less isolating.
Another thing that scares me is how happy I am here and why the hell do I have such an itchy foot and a thirst for experiencing communities and cultures of which I am not a part and never will be? I'm really sad that I have to leave so soon. Boo.
It was the best bus ride I can remember, and Dickyi agrees. I slept for the first couple hours and woke to find it dark outside and time to take our first bus stop. We stopped at a roadside cookhouse and Dickyi bought snacks for us to eat—she ate dahl and chapatti, but I thought I would stick with packaged foods. Ah, the return of the delightful bourbon biscuit. As soon as we sat down, I guess the tones of our English carried throughout the rest stop because almost immediately, the three empty tables around us filled with white people dressed in rucksacks and hemp. I mean, to each his own and everything but I’m a little taken aback by that breed of American/French/Isreali/German/British who, dread-locked within an inch of his or her life, feels the need to wear a full on rucksack layered over some kind of lungi (sp?) with a sari scarf draped about their shoulders whilst talking loudly about how comfortable he/she is eating Indian food. It’s especially interesting when all the Tibetans and Indians around us are dressed in jeans and t-shirts that say “Boston University” or “A & F” on them. People get really into the culture, and I guess it’s good but I don’t think I could change everything about how I dress or talk or eat so easily.
I was dazed at the bus stop, but regained a bit of consciousness and Dickyi and I listened to music and talked when we re-boarded the bus. We would sleep intermittently and always would wake up at the same time. But there are no words to describe the beauty of the moment when I was roused from hot, dreamless sleep, with my clothes stuck to every inch of my body to a cool, light breeze. It felt actually unreal and had I not been looking forward to that moment for 24 hours I think I would have thought I was dreaming. The breeze blew through me and it smelled woody and smoky and it felt like nothing else I’ve ever felt. Because usually when I go somewhere it is on a plane and as you move from A to B, flying above the weather, no change can be felt because by the time you step off at B, you’ve forgotten what A feels like. And so little wonder can ever be mustered. Although I, who ought to have by now grown blasé about traveling, will never stop feeling the really very simple feeling of being elsewhere, being not where you were. Or thinking the even simpler thought that “I was there and now I am here and it is different and I am different in it”.
I was very aware that we were passing into Himachel Pradesh from Delhi and Hariyana because you could simply feel it in the air and see it in the landscape, which changed from flat and dusty to bulbous and craggy and moist somehow. And what I thought about it was that it seemed that the land and the air were pushing and pulling on each other, that they necessarily felt the other’s elements and properties and that they would respond accordingly. And it seemed that the land was craning upwards in protestation as the air gave way and waned and thinned. And it seemed that the air, collapsing through itself, breathed and in that breath gave up its molton qualities of fire and heat. The air passed them, so it seemed, to the land. And so the land grew bulbous and craggy, mass upon mass seeping out from under and on top and from places we don’t even know exist, craning and crawing and growing with the properties of heat, as a hot air balloon grows pompous and uppity when it begins to breathe in the hot air. And that’s how the mountains seemed to form as we came into Himachal Pradesh.
It didn’t seem possible that mountains like this can exist, so varied they were in their makeup, some stretches lined with neat steps growing tea or rice or I’m not even sure. And it seems even unlikelier that these mountains, bursting with evergreens and other trees that are so lush they seem drenched in something wet and sweet, can exist here in India which has always been so hot and dry and dusty to me. Apparently these mountains, at the foothills of the Himalayas, are, further up from us, filled with leopards, foxes, panthers, monkeys galore, of course, and other wildlife. I’ve already seen a mongoose, goats, rats, countless monkeys, and you can’t throw a stone here without hitting a dog or three or four of them.
The population of Dharamsala is around 25,000. The vast majority are Tibetans. They are in self-exile and, against the odds, have whittled a life for themselves out of these mountains and in it, they have built a community that is a community in every sense of the word. And as much as the freedom struggle will break your heart, so the kindness of the people here and the way they feel and fulfill their community will fill it to its tipping point. We got off in McLeod Ganj at the depot, which is the square where the three major roads meet. Tenzin Norgay, my contact at TCHRD and Dickyi’s cousin, came to meet us. We would stay with him and this family at their house, which is a three story, three-unit house that they rent out to a few families. Dakpa, Dickyi’s cousin by marriage, and his wife, Yangzhin (sp) gave up their room on the second floor for us, and are staying on the first floor with the rest of their family. Beside us lives a young family—the husband and the wife are very young and beautiful, and they have three little girls. They are always singing and playing with their friends, painting in their coloring books, or running up and down the steps. Dakpa and his wife have a baby, Norzin. They also have the most adorable white puppy called Kartouk. Momo and two Popos live there as well. The three main streets of McLeod are beautiful—they are dripping with bright woolen Tibetan blankets, turquoise and pearl jewelery, chupas, salwar tops, beaded bags, fur-lined vests, carpets, scarves. Even after being here for a week and a half/a couple weeks, I’m always enthralled when we walk along the streets.
Let me talk about work first—I work in Gankhi (I have idea how to spell it, all I know that it is pronounced “Kanki”). The actual address is Top Floor, Narthang Building; Gangchen Kyishong, Dharamsala H.P-176215, India. I’m working at the Tibetan Center for Human Rights and Democracy, which is not affiliated with the government, though we are in the government’s International Affairs building. We are on the top floor which means it is HOT and it is even hotter when the power goes out, which happens quite a lot. There are two ex political prisoners here in the office and both of them speak Chinese so we talk in Mandarin. The others can speak English, but speak Tibetan to each other. Norgay was here but he is gone now, in a conference in Switzerland. The director is a short, stout man and very jolly. There are a few young people in the office, and even more when I first started here. Four girls are university students who are my age—they are all Tibetan and they all go to school in Chennai.
These four girls are interesting because they each have something tragic about them. My favorite one, Cho Mo (sp) has the saddest story. She lived in Tibet with her family until she was 11, when she crossed the Himalayas with her cousin, but with a guide and in a larger group. This girl, 11 years old, crossed the Himalayas without telling her parents. She planned it out with her cousin like it was a game and she has not seen her family since. Only a few years ago did she start talking to them on the phone. She misses them, but she can’t go back to Tibet because she has no papers. No one has papers here and many people are desperate to leave. The man who lives with his family on our floor, for example, is unemployed, and his profession is pretty much trying to get to America. He goes and tries for a VISA at every chance he gets. After two consecutive tries, you must wait for a year or two. So this is what he does. His wife is a cook. It is hard to live in your means here, Dickyi says. A normal salary is 10,000-20,000 rupees and food costs are quite high. People rely heavily on relatives or friends in America. Pema, my other friend, has a similar story to Cho Mo’s, except her parents knew she was coming over. The other girl, Rin Zin, was born in India, but her mother is gone and her father is terribly strict with her. She can’t go out after dark at all and she can’t go out on the weekends. The last girl, whose name I can never remember, is quite desperate to go to America. She does not want to get married and settled down. What she wants, it seems, and believes she can only get in the West, is freedom to do what she wants and go where she wants.
Work is good—I am writing about the Regulations on Religious affairs in China and the measures for implementing them in the TAR. I am learning a lot.
I’ve been to a few talks since I have been here. One was a debate on the mining issue in Tibet and how China is bringing in Canadian companies to destroy the mountains and look for resources. It was a massacre because one side (the side that supports mining) was horribly prepared and said things like “there’s no good trying to stop the Chinese”. I was embarrassed the whole time. One was a talk by Tenzin Tsundue who Dickyi is quite good friends with. He was on the cover of Newsweek or something ridiculous like that and he gave a talk at Sara (sp), a school for Tibetan youth to relearn the Tibetan language, culture, and religion. He spoke about youth responsibility and the importance of knowing the Tibetan language so that the culture and the heritage do not die out. The students were incredibly attentive and had lots of questions. Tsundue is a published writer and many students bought his works after the talk. The talk, however, was way too long and I fell asleep. The third talk I went to was a couple days ago. I don’t remember who was speaking, but he is quite a famous Tibetan as well. We went to this talk after spending a whole day in the sun at a pool resort further up from upper TCV (a school) so I was heat-drunk and half unconscious. I fell asleep. Last week, the Dalai Lama gave three talks on three consecutive days to Tibetan students. I went two of the days. I’ve seen the Dalai Lama about four times now.
Now I want to talk about some of the places we go to:
Kanki (sp) is where I work and it is the headquarters of Tibetan Government in exile. It’s essentially a compound with a couple cafes, a huge stupa in the middle, and many many governmental buildings. The library is here too. The prime minister of Tibetan gov. in exile is here too. I walk to Kanki in the morning because it’s a nice walk and there are other girls that walk. We meet at the temple/monastery and walk down
Namgyal temple/monastery—it is at the end of Temple road which is one of the major roads. It is beautiful and huge. We have been quite a few times, once to get blessed by one of the three highest lamas. I’ve seen lots of interesting things there, such as the monks practicing their debating skills, which is awesome (and loud) to watch, with all the belligerent clapping one could hope for. I’ve done the Kora a few mornings, which is basically a holy route around the temple that people do early in the morning while praying. It’s nice.
Lower Dharamsala is very fun, but I’m the only one who seems to think so—it’s like half an hour from Kanki. Being in Lower is like being in India again after being in little Tibet. It reminds me of Saudi a lot—lots of cloth shops, bata, sugarcane juice stands, sweet shops, shops selling kitchen wares etc., fruit stalls.
Norbulinka, which is a drive and a walk from Lower Dharamsala. It’s a beautiful garden with Tibetan flags draped all over the place, a temple, a museum, and a gift shop. The time we went there we timed it badly and could only spend like 10 minutes there but it was ok.
Norbuling is the nunnery that Dickyi’s dad used to run and where Dickyi used to live on holidays. It was truly beautiful—the buildling were clean and had red accents that were really nice. The gardens were beautiful and everything was just very clean. Visiting there was quite sentimental, since the nuns were so happy to see Dickyi again and grew sad when she had to leave.
Forsyth Ganj is about twenty minutes walk from here and there’s not much there except a church, but the mountain roads are beautiful. We’ve been there once or twice.
Last Chance—this is like five minutes from our house and it is a very breathtaking view. Young kids go there in the morning to study and memorize. There are benches and places you can sit further down the mountain. Me and Dickyi like going there.
Bhagsunad (sp)—it’s a kind if Israeli settlement like 15 minutes from us and there is a pool there. Me and Dickyi and Tenam went there one night and Dickyi and Tenam went swimming. Further up is a waterfall that we went to yesterday—it was amazing. It’s a beautiful waterfall and on the weekends all the monks go there to bathe and clean their clothes and play monk games. The water is clean and icy cold and filled with minnows.
TIPA—Tibetan Institute for Performing Arts. I’ve been there a few times. Last night we took a walk there, but I’ve been there for two shows now—one traditional dance and song show that was really good and one concert by a local band, the “Buddha boys”.
Ok, on to the people. Dickyi’s family is amazing and so kind. Her cousin is a great cook—the food is really good. Dakpa, her husband, is so nice as well. He hangs out with us sometimes and snacks and shows us Tibetan music videos. He is always smiling. Momo is Dickyi’s grandma type person and she is in excellent shape. She does three koras every morning. One of the Popos is a monk and prays all the time, and one of them just kind of hangs out. Norgay was so much fun to hang out with and like a complete encyclopedia about everything.
Dickyi has so many friends. Question mark, who got his name because his head is literally shaped like a question mark, Thum Thind (sp), youdon, japan (who got his nickname because he looks like he is Japanese), Palmo, Tenkyi, Khewang, Tenam, Kunjodorje, and so many others. We’ve hung out with them a few times and they are all very nice. QM is kind of bellig and likes to argue, but he does it in Tibetan and about Tibetan independence and Buddhism, so it doesn’t really affect me. Everywhere we go we run into Dickyi’s friends—everywhere.
The two that I hang out with the most are Tenkyi and Tenam. Tenkyi I know well because she stayed with us in Boston for a few weeks--she is really beautiful. I haven’t hung out with her that much because she had a few little cousins here and has to take care of them One of them is very small and speaks Chinese randomly. One of them was a dirty little thing with lice and for the first few days, she was so quiet you would think she was mute. The last time I saw her, though, she was talking a blue streak. The oldest is in high school but looks very young—she is very sweet. Jigme is Tenkyi’s boyfriend and he lives here too and he is really nice. He, like Tenkyi, went to school in the states and his parents and family are there. He left last week to visit Tibet. Tenkyi is awesome because she’s so chill and fun and easy to be around. She works at TWA, the Tibetan Woman’s Association. Dickyi’s helped out there a bit since she has been here. Now, Dickyi goes to Tibetan language classes at the library quite early in the morning and visits people during the day.
Tenam's this guy around our age, and Dickyi and I actually met at the same time. He is Khewang’s very good friend--Khewang is special because he is Dickyi’s very oldest friend in the world. They were babies together and were best friends until middle school or something. Khewang was here for a few days for the Dalai Lama's teachings, but he has gone back to Bir, where both he and Tenam are from. So I haven't seen much of Khewang, but he is very sweet. Tenam is cool and fun to hang around with and pretty much has the in on everything. He has lived here since he finished at DU and kind of knows everything and everyone in Dharamsala. He, like so many locals, do things we would never dream of doing in North America, like strolling into the kitchen to order food straight from the chef and just generally being all up in the thick of things. He speaks really good English because he had lots of friends at Delhi U who were from nagaland or Bhutan or something and that’s what they speak He’s friends with a bunch of dickyi’s friends besides Khewang too, like people from SFT (students for a free Tibet) who we hang out with sometimes. Through him I got to meet people from Nagaland, who look Chinese but they are actually Indian..it’s weird and crazy but very cool. It’s unclear who Tenam lives with--i think he technically lives with one other guy but it seems that the whole neighborhood is always there at his house. His house is like a giant, extended balcony, except for one room and the kitchen that are indoors and there are always like 7 random people hanging out there. We go to his house now and then because he's our neighbor. He also works like one minute from me, in kanki as well. Sometimes me and dickyi will meet him for lunch at this café--let me just talk about this cafe--it's the one that everyone goes to so I have to go, but I'm deathly afraid of it because the woman who runs it looks and acts exactly like Jade Fox from Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon and frankly it’s scary.
Let me just talk about the life-style here. I absolutely love it. People just hang out here. They hang out a lot. It’s a very different lifestyle and a very relaxed one. People are chill about work and don’t let it stress them out and at the end of the day it’s just work and they get on with their real jobs, which appears to be hanging out. Everyone knows everyone and you can't walk down the street without seeing someone you know. This goes for me as well and I've been here only like two weeks. Everyone is constantly just hanging out—I can’t stress that enough. I really like Tibetans and their culture—they are just very kind. People are generous with what little they have. One thing that’s odd and takes some getting used to is the class divide here. Tibetan people are very much a higher class than Indians here in Dharamsala—they have more money, in short. Basically it’s all about who has more money. It's weird to see the nicest Tibetan in the world treating an Indian waiter a little bit rudely. But Dickyi said that's just what it is like. Tibetans in general have a lot of complaints about Indian manners and etiquette. I think that is one reason why they feel they can treat them with such little courtesy. Another thing that's strange is that in Tibetan houses, people don’t have couches or chairs really. They have beds or mattresses on the floor in the living room. I’m pretty sure it’s because there are like 12 people crammed into a space at any given time and beds and mattresses give more sitting room than couches.
There have been a few hard things here--one is the incredibly heart-breaking stories. The stories are very very sad and what breaks your heart is that at the end, the person telling it will say "but I'm very lucky" and then you feel ashamed and spoiled and generally just like a bad person because you didn't trek across the Himalayas, away from all your family forever, when you were 11. Another is the fact that I am Chinese and that that part of me won't go away and I wouldn't want it to because I like being Chinese and I am proud of it. I am not proud of how the Chinese government is making its decisions. I feel a little bit guilty but then I get angry because I should not feel that way and I know that. This feeling is compounded by the fact that many things are very political here. People have forged their identities out of the freedom struggle and much conversation and activities center around this. Work, of course, for me, is entirely political and it took some adjusting and some thinking to be able to not take things at all personally. I think I'm there because I haven't felt bad for awhile. That is why I like hanging out with certain people more than others--I like hearing stories about the culture and the lifestyle more than people's thoughts on the freedom struggle, which I think about everyday at work. Another negative thing has been the language barrier, which is lessening everyday. Tenam and Tenkyi are both really comfortable with english and talk english almost entirely around me, which is probably why I enjoy their company so much. I've reached the point, though, where I can kind of tell what's going on by picking up a few words here and there and just knowing the general contexts of situations. It's pretty cool and makes things considerably less isolating.
Another thing that scares me is how happy I am here and why the hell do I have such an itchy foot and a thirst for experiencing communities and cultures of which I am not a part and never will be? I'm really sad that I have to leave so soon. Boo.
Friday, May 25, 2007
You can feel the air change
It has been a week to remember. Boston was amazing and it was great to see everyone, EVERYONE again. It was Shia Laboeuf's balls to the spring break walls and I had a blast multifisting boston.
Then I went to New York and stayed with Dickyi for a couple nights before heading to India. Dickyi and her brother live in Jackson Heights in India/Tibetan town and their apartment is huge and a veritable free for all. There are always people in and out, visiting or dropping something off--it's social and it's friendly. Dickyi showed me around New York--we walked all over Central Park and Soho and Union Square. We wandered around Soho like paupers eating Cozi bread and my favorite part was probably going to Strand, which is the most amazing bookstore ever. I was really impressed by New York--I think I'd like to live there for a little while some day. New York is dense in every sense of the word, but I was shocked by just how commercially dense the city is--the amount of stores packed into tiny blocks took me by surprise.
Our trip to India went really smoothly besides luggage fiasco which I will not go into because I was just informed that I have 10 minutes left. When we got to India, Dickyi's friend was supposed to pick us up but forgot/was sleeping because it was 5 am in the morning, so we got to MT (the Tibetan district, where our hotel is) ourselves and checked in. We took showers and proceeded to multi-fist Delhi such that every of its orafices contained a corresponding one of our appendages. We explored the area we were in which is rife with Tibetan culture and people and the most amazing, self-sustained little walled community. We met up with Dickyi's friend and then went to Janpath by metro! The metro system in Delhi is new and beautiful, smooth and very very clean. I was accosted, however, when I took a picture of it and was yelled at by a menacing police guard who was not amused. When we got to Connaught place, which I went to last time I was in Delhi, we went to Palika Bazaar which reminded me a lot of Al-shula in Saudi before it burned down--lots of fake names, lots of cheap stuff, lots of pirated dvds. We went shopping in Janpath and ate lunch at this South Indian restaurant, which took me back to the days of Chennai. We had thali and it was really good but I am trying to be careful of what I eat so I couldn't eat much of the curd, which is my favorite part. We went to an eyeglasses/contacts store for Dickyi and then decided to watch "Metro" with Dickyi and two of her friends who live in Delhi. BUT when we bought the tickets we realized we couldn't bring our backpacks into the theater so Dickyi's friend brought us to his apartment to drop off our backpacks. It was a long rickshaw ride and I was uncomfortably and probably dangerously hot by this time. I mean the heat in delhi is unbelievable right now. It is an impenetrable heat and it seeps into every corner it can find and stays there. It's hard to take a deep breath. On the rickshaw ride back I kind of started falling asleep and the heat was making me a little delirious. I found myself longing for trees because when we would drive past groves of trees/tree lined streets, the air got noticeably cooler because of the vegetation. I slept through most of the movie because the movie theater was lovely and icy cold, but I got the gist. A very modern Hindi movie with a bunch of new stars I've never heard of. After the movie we went all the way back to Dickyi's friends' place (they were all SO nice) and took a two and a half hour nap. I could not keep awake--it was a mixture between the oppressive heat and the jetlag me thinks. When we woke up,I felt a little out of it and a little bit sick from the change in food? But I sucked it up and we went clubbing anyway! We went to Gorgow (sp?) district, which is a compound-like community where all the young IT people live. It's modern there with lots of high, commercial buildings, beautiful apartment buildlings, shopping malls, and a TGIF. Haha. Apparently they treat it like a bar, not a restaurant. We went to the Metropolitan Complex and went to a club there, which apparently is a "last resort" club, but it was still pretty cool to see what it's like to go out in Delhi. Their laser lights were really impressive, I have to say. There was a suprising amount of people for a Thursday night and they music was good and we stayed out until about 3 or so. I was glad we were there with a couple guys, but people seem to generally leave each other alone here. There was a couple fights between guys but I felt pretty safe.
We took a taxi back (the taxi guy who had dropped us was waiting around for us for like four hours!) to get our stuff and then Dickyi and I headed home. Her friends were SO helpful and nice and insisted on paying for things--I felt grateful to have them around showing us the ropes. Not to mention that it was an incredibly exciting change to see how people who live and work in Delhi actually live since last time I came everything was touristy. Their apartment was pretty cool and in an area with lots of young, working Tibetans.
The auto ride home was nice--the air was cooler and where there were trees, the air was actually chilly. It's incredible how thick the heat is and the palpable difference a few leaves can make. We got to bed around five, but only slept for a couple hours, I guess because of the jet lag? Today we're going back to Connaught Place and then we're going to hop on a bus to Dharamsala! The bus ride is 11 hrs with a couple stops and I am really looking forward to getting out of Delhi, I have to say. Tendor, Dickyi's brother says that you can feel the air change as you ride in Himachal Pradesh to Dharamsala--it gets colder and clearer and more beautiful.
I really have to go--I'm sorry if this blog is boring but I just needed to get everything down before I forget. I'll revise with details later.
Then I went to New York and stayed with Dickyi for a couple nights before heading to India. Dickyi and her brother live in Jackson Heights in India/Tibetan town and their apartment is huge and a veritable free for all. There are always people in and out, visiting or dropping something off--it's social and it's friendly. Dickyi showed me around New York--we walked all over Central Park and Soho and Union Square. We wandered around Soho like paupers eating Cozi bread and my favorite part was probably going to Strand, which is the most amazing bookstore ever. I was really impressed by New York--I think I'd like to live there for a little while some day. New York is dense in every sense of the word, but I was shocked by just how commercially dense the city is--the amount of stores packed into tiny blocks took me by surprise.
Our trip to India went really smoothly besides luggage fiasco which I will not go into because I was just informed that I have 10 minutes left. When we got to India, Dickyi's friend was supposed to pick us up but forgot/was sleeping because it was 5 am in the morning, so we got to MT (the Tibetan district, where our hotel is) ourselves and checked in. We took showers and proceeded to multi-fist Delhi such that every of its orafices contained a corresponding one of our appendages. We explored the area we were in which is rife with Tibetan culture and people and the most amazing, self-sustained little walled community. We met up with Dickyi's friend and then went to Janpath by metro! The metro system in Delhi is new and beautiful, smooth and very very clean. I was accosted, however, when I took a picture of it and was yelled at by a menacing police guard who was not amused. When we got to Connaught place, which I went to last time I was in Delhi, we went to Palika Bazaar which reminded me a lot of Al-shula in Saudi before it burned down--lots of fake names, lots of cheap stuff, lots of pirated dvds. We went shopping in Janpath and ate lunch at this South Indian restaurant, which took me back to the days of Chennai. We had thali and it was really good but I am trying to be careful of what I eat so I couldn't eat much of the curd, which is my favorite part. We went to an eyeglasses/contacts store for Dickyi and then decided to watch "Metro" with Dickyi and two of her friends who live in Delhi. BUT when we bought the tickets we realized we couldn't bring our backpacks into the theater so Dickyi's friend brought us to his apartment to drop off our backpacks. It was a long rickshaw ride and I was uncomfortably and probably dangerously hot by this time. I mean the heat in delhi is unbelievable right now. It is an impenetrable heat and it seeps into every corner it can find and stays there. It's hard to take a deep breath. On the rickshaw ride back I kind of started falling asleep and the heat was making me a little delirious. I found myself longing for trees because when we would drive past groves of trees/tree lined streets, the air got noticeably cooler because of the vegetation. I slept through most of the movie because the movie theater was lovely and icy cold, but I got the gist. A very modern Hindi movie with a bunch of new stars I've never heard of. After the movie we went all the way back to Dickyi's friends' place (they were all SO nice) and took a two and a half hour nap. I could not keep awake--it was a mixture between the oppressive heat and the jetlag me thinks. When we woke up,I felt a little out of it and a little bit sick from the change in food? But I sucked it up and we went clubbing anyway! We went to Gorgow (sp?) district, which is a compound-like community where all the young IT people live. It's modern there with lots of high, commercial buildings, beautiful apartment buildlings, shopping malls, and a TGIF. Haha. Apparently they treat it like a bar, not a restaurant. We went to the Metropolitan Complex and went to a club there, which apparently is a "last resort" club, but it was still pretty cool to see what it's like to go out in Delhi. Their laser lights were really impressive, I have to say. There was a suprising amount of people for a Thursday night and they music was good and we stayed out until about 3 or so. I was glad we were there with a couple guys, but people seem to generally leave each other alone here. There was a couple fights between guys but I felt pretty safe.
We took a taxi back (the taxi guy who had dropped us was waiting around for us for like four hours!) to get our stuff and then Dickyi and I headed home. Her friends were SO helpful and nice and insisted on paying for things--I felt grateful to have them around showing us the ropes. Not to mention that it was an incredibly exciting change to see how people who live and work in Delhi actually live since last time I came everything was touristy. Their apartment was pretty cool and in an area with lots of young, working Tibetans.
The auto ride home was nice--the air was cooler and where there were trees, the air was actually chilly. It's incredible how thick the heat is and the palpable difference a few leaves can make. We got to bed around five, but only slept for a couple hours, I guess because of the jet lag? Today we're going back to Connaught Place and then we're going to hop on a bus to Dharamsala! The bus ride is 11 hrs with a couple stops and I am really looking forward to getting out of Delhi, I have to say. Tendor, Dickyi's brother says that you can feel the air change as you ride in Himachal Pradesh to Dharamsala--it gets colder and clearer and more beautiful.
I really have to go--I'm sorry if this blog is boring but I just needed to get everything down before I forget. I'll revise with details later.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Accountability in the Administration
I have decided to write in this blog from India to record my trip, whenever is possible. I'm announcing this to the readership so that I may be held accountable should I fail to do so. Lets hope I'm a bit better at this than W.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
HPPavilion dv9000
I almost forgot--I have gotten two new computers since I last wrote. That's right--two. The first one I got had faulty software and after a week on the phone with HP people (resulting in a comfort level with employees that did not preclude answering the phone with a "hey, what's up" and knowledge of when each employee worked his shift at the helpline). It got to the point where I was poised over the bottom of the computer, screwdriver in hand, having allowed the HP guy to talk me into taking apart my computer and fixing it myself. Wiser counsels prevailed, however, and I decided that the best course of action would be to just use the two-week exchange policy and get a new one. Of course there was a huge kerfuffle over that which I really don't have the energy to go into suffice it to say it ended with me kicking the walls beside the elevators and punching the air.
The Light Life
I have not done this blog right.
I have shirked my blogging duties and grossly and selfishly let down my readership (population: 2)
What have I been up to, what have I been up to.
On the record, I've been looking for an apartment for next year, finishing up financial stuff for law school, planning the boston/india/ny trip, having family visit/visit family.
Off the record I've been watching movies, lazing around on the balcony, eating twizzlers and m and ms, and reading all the P.G. Wodehouse I can get my hands on from North York Public Library. I don't remember how I started--it's all been a blur. But I've moved on from Jeeves and Wooster to embrace anything Lord Emsworth/Blandings Castle and Psmith. I am enamoured. I enjoy it the way I think I'm supposed to enjoy chicklit and don't. P.G. Wodehouse's writing is so light and frivolous and I think he's the best comic writer I've ever read. Very rarely am I able to laugh out loud at books, but the dry British humor actually kills me.
Somehow I'm keeping busy and really enjoying life and what's incredibly exciting right now is my trip to boston on the 16th and then off to India! I am SO excited to see everyone in boston and stay with becky and live it up for a few days. And I've been looking forward to this for so long I'm surprised that it's right around the corner. I'll be volunteering in India but probably taking side trips to Dharjeeling and Amritsar EXXCCIIITTTINNGG.
I'll be perfectly honest--not a lot has been going on because I am a dorky bookworm who is obsessed with the antics of Bertie Wooster, Gussie Fink-Nottle and Catsmeat Potter-Pirbright. Although--my sister visited last weekend and it was really fun. We cooked a complicated meal, chilled around, watched movies, and went shopping. My grandparents, aunt and uncle and cousin also visited so it was a crazy weekend and we all went to see spidey 3 on imax which was awesome (the imax, not so much the movie).
I'll just put all the cards on the table--I'm probably not going to write in this for a long time but I will try to write from India. Even this entry was hard to write, probably since I have not been very contemplative but rather idling away the hours in blissful sloth. Ah well.
I have shirked my blogging duties and grossly and selfishly let down my readership (population: 2)
What have I been up to, what have I been up to.
On the record, I've been looking for an apartment for next year, finishing up financial stuff for law school, planning the boston/india/ny trip, having family visit/visit family.
Off the record I've been watching movies, lazing around on the balcony, eating twizzlers and m and ms, and reading all the P.G. Wodehouse I can get my hands on from North York Public Library. I don't remember how I started--it's all been a blur. But I've moved on from Jeeves and Wooster to embrace anything Lord Emsworth/Blandings Castle and Psmith. I am enamoured. I enjoy it the way I think I'm supposed to enjoy chicklit and don't. P.G. Wodehouse's writing is so light and frivolous and I think he's the best comic writer I've ever read. Very rarely am I able to laugh out loud at books, but the dry British humor actually kills me.
Somehow I'm keeping busy and really enjoying life and what's incredibly exciting right now is my trip to boston on the 16th and then off to India! I am SO excited to see everyone in boston and stay with becky and live it up for a few days. And I've been looking forward to this for so long I'm surprised that it's right around the corner. I'll be volunteering in India but probably taking side trips to Dharjeeling and Amritsar EXXCCIIITTTINNGG.
I'll be perfectly honest--not a lot has been going on because I am a dorky bookworm who is obsessed with the antics of Bertie Wooster, Gussie Fink-Nottle and Catsmeat Potter-Pirbright. Although--my sister visited last weekend and it was really fun. We cooked a complicated meal, chilled around, watched movies, and went shopping. My grandparents, aunt and uncle and cousin also visited so it was a crazy weekend and we all went to see spidey 3 on imax which was awesome (the imax, not so much the movie).
I'll just put all the cards on the table--I'm probably not going to write in this for a long time but I will try to write from India. Even this entry was hard to write, probably since I have not been very contemplative but rather idling away the hours in blissful sloth. Ah well.
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