Meditation Informs Healing Facilitation

Pilgrimage to Ladakh – Manjukatilla

This material is copyrighted by Kirby Moore. Reproduction without permission is prohibited. To support my business and blogging efforts, please visit my website. More recently, I have begun teaching Astrology classes on Trauma-Informed Astrology, see http://www.traumainformedastrology.com for more! Thank you for visiting!

Farewell Ladakh! I woke up at 5 am, to catch the customary “butt crack of dawn” flight (as a friend of mine was in the custom of crassly describing ungodly-early events… don’t worry, the literary content improves from here on out). Thankfully no problems flying out of Ladakh, and I must say, if I thought the flight in was incredible, which it was (is!!!), the flight out was equally breath-taking. I say this because I was lucky enough to catch the sun rising over the Himalayas, with a “bird’s eye view” as it were. WOW!?! And then seeing the snowy, jagged edges poking up through the occasional clouds is really a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Landed in Delhi, where, if I had not been met by Peter Sonam again – the less-than-tall but incredibly kind-hearted Tibetan guide for the Indian segment of our journeys – I might have had an aneurysm. Let’s just say that the airport in Delhi, despite having been upgraded (now the hawker / taxi-drivers have to wait in a slightly restricted area), they still use every trick in the book to get you to come with them. But there was Peter holding a sign with my name on it – very special!

Well I now had over 36 hours until my flight out of India, so Peter checked in with me to see what I wanted to do. I had already been told about Manjukateela (spelled: “Manjukatilla”), so I did not require much persuasion to go there. Affordable hotels, people speaking Tibetan, some fun shops to explore – “hey why not?” And of course there is always the unplanned for, extracurricular adventure that you can never plan for. I had a couple of these present themselves.

First, let me briefly explain my experience of this Tibetan slum.. I mean “settlement.” I would never say slums unless I meant it, and I mean no derogatory slight again Tibetans, but you may get the idea here in a minute. We pulled off the crazy-busy highway (all roads in Delhi seem busy and / or crazy, and the road near the settlement was no exception) into what seemed like a small pull-off. At first, I thought we were having car trouble and that the driver needed to take a look. Because there was no way there were any hotels nearby… Uhhh well… Not so fast. Peter told me we had arrived! Haha! Good joke! But then he got out and started unloading my backpack.. Well I carried my pack and he insisted on carrying my duffel. We walked through what could have easily been someone’s backyard (my point is, this entrace to Manjukateela was extremely casual – no sign saying where we were) and then entered a small tight avenue bordered on both sides by large sandy-brick buildings. This tight thoroughfare was the main path of the settlement. The little side “streets” were even more claustrophobia-inducing. There were little shops on either side of the main “street” and many vendors hawking trinkets, food, religious items and more.

Peter told me he would take me to a hotel that was both affordable and that offered A/C. Well, he got one part of that right. And bless Peter Sonam’s heart, he is obviously a very busy man who is doing his best to be a good father as well. But this hotel did not seem to have any A/C rooms. I’m not complaining though! For 400 rupees a night ($10 U.S.), I have no foot to stand on for complaints. My room consisted of two beds, a funky contraption in the window which LOOKS like an A/C unit, but which only seems to blow air across dripping water, which I guess cools it a little, and a side table. I had a separate bathroom which was nice. Slight tangent: New Delhi is probably more hot than anywhere else in the world during the month of July. I am from Virginia, where the temperatures can peak in the low 100’s (degrees Fahrenheit) and the humidity is extreme. Yeah, well India proved that to be a drop in the bucket. I would take Virginia’s weather any July over Delhi’s – at least the threat of malaria has not made it to the mid-Atlantic States yet. (When I landed in Delhi at 1 AM, the temps were at least 90 degrees with high humidity. Yes, one AM…)

Oh, and did I mention that the hotels in Manjukateela operate illegally? Yeah, luckily I found out later that the Indian government turns a blind eye on the settlement’s “hotels” which are not able to pay the taxes (I think that is the reason). I’m hoping it is not because they are unable to pass sanitation standards! Somehow India still benefits from having the settlement there, so a deal has been struck: we don’t see you, provided you don’t go and do anything really stupid..

Yes, this is where I landed for a short stint of my pilgrimage. Oh – and by the way, in case I forget to mention this – I would stay in Manjukatilla again at the drop of a hat. Maybe I would choose a different month, but I enjoyed my stay and I look forward to exploring it further. So, to continue, the main “street,” which shifts – sometimes slightly wider, more often than not, narrowing or forking to become two tiny paths around a building – probably extends a mile from one end of the settlement to the other, at most. At the far end from where I entered, there is a pleasant Buddhist temple, which I explored that afternoon with new found acquaintances as well as a monastery, which seemed to be locked, temporarily.

I stayed in a hotel which was near the entrance. As I mentioned, it was affordable and adequate. Plus I could turn on the strange box in the window to create a loud dripping / blowing noise which truly distracted from the heat (and eventually you get used to the high temps!). 🙂 Downstairs, the hotel had a delicious restaurant where I ate several meals – including Tibetan dumplings, known as momo(s).

The balcony near my room looked out over a river, which was lined by tiny farms and little shacks or tarps which had been put up to shelter people. It seemed to be a poor area, plus there was quite a bit of refuse scattered between the hotel building and the river. I’m not sure, but I think there was a wall between the hotel and the shanties.

I met an intelligent and lively couple from France in the restaurant, and we had a pleasant conversation. I shared what little I know about Tibetan Buddhism with them, and then they asked to be shown around the settlement. It was my first time, so we all just went exploring. We found the above mentioned temple and monastery, plus numerous shops, vendors and beggars. Afterward, they wanted to explore Delhi before they were off to Ladakh – so I shared some about my experiences up north. I was exhausted from all of my adventures, so I chose not to go with them. Chance of combating disease-ridden mosquitoes + testing out unknown public transportation + crossing Indian equivalents of hyper-busy interstate highways = Kirby wants to rest and not think about it! Had I been more resourced, I definitely would have gone exploring, but as it was my adrenals needed a healthy break.

This is getting long, so I will wrap up shortly. Across the tiny alley (side street) from my hotel, I happened to stumble in after the French couple left, was a treasure: the Drikung Kagyu Institute of Manjukatilla. Imagine! An entire (very small) bookstore dedicated to the tiny lineage of Tibetan Buddhism that I practice, being right across the street from my hotel. What are the odds?! In the entire Manjukatilla complex there was only one other bookstore that I found and it was very general. Well guess what?

I drank a lot of Tibetan tea and caught up on Drikung Kagyu lamas from the owner, Tsondu Senge. He is a very kind-hearted, attentive and generous man! He had his family members keep bringing tea for us. I purchased several books and upon doing so, he threw into the “package” several beautiful religious trinkets (I say trinkets for lack of a better word) – for instance little double vajra key chain, etc etc. He also gave me a picture of His Holiness the Dalai Lama holding hands with the Drikung Holinesses under a picture of Milarepa – very precious indeed! Thankfully his English was very good (because my Tibetan was and is still not up to snuff!).

It was a very small world. It turned out Tsondu Senge’s brother had gone to secondary school with Khenchen Rinpoche, Konchog Gyaltsen (the first Tibetan lama who I took refuge / Bodhicitta vows with), so they were good friends and hence Tsondu laa had many stories to share about (any) this or that Drikung lama and where he was at the moment. He was very connected (not that it is an extensive lineage). But I must have chatted with him for three or four hours. I had questions about the numerous texts he had in his shop – about half of which were in Tibetan. I asked what had been translated into English, what people were working on. I asked about the Thangkas he had – which deity was holding what implement, etc. Plus he had incredible Drikung statuary which I was too light in the pocket to afford – gold statues of 4-armed Mahakala, Achi Chokyi Drolma and Jigten Sumgon.

So there I was, in a little Dharma paradise, in the Tibetan “settlement,” resting and waiting for my flight back to the West.

Pilgrimage to Ladakh – final day in Leh

Well believe it or not, several potent variables came together and I experienced some strong emotions on this last day in Ladakh. In one way I was very happy and full, having experienced multiple, extraordinary events and energetically charged, serene monasteries.

Oh – side note in case I forget to mention it – if you are traveling to Ladakh on your own, as in without a travel company’s advice or guidance, schedule your return trip out of Ladakh a day early. That is what I did, and I was very thankful for having done so, because I would have missed my international connection in New Delhi otherwise. This is due to high winds coming over the Himalayas – these force the “normal” flights to only come in by 9 AM and take off by 6 AM. If a particularly bad wind day comes up, the handful of daily flights are canceled. Apparently this happens several times a month, even during the summer. So… you can either take your chances or leave an extra day for R & R in Delhi.

Nothing too outlandish on this day, but a few curious glimpses into Leh’s mundane lifestyles. First, I had wanted to hang out with my new-found Tibetan friends, but apparently they don’t set up their tables when there is a Tibetan holiday or Day of Mourning – I later found Tamding sitting elsewhere with dozens Tibetans having a meeting / tea. Afterward, he told me it was a day off because a nasty Chinese attack had occurred on that date in recent history (somewhere around July 7th to the 9th?). So that was strike one.

On the way back from trying to find Tamding, I stopped in a roadside tea stall. Which may not have been the greatest idea… I ordered a ginger tea, for my stomach, which turned out to be black tea with a touch of ginger flavoring. After witnessing the gentleman’s (I’m making an assumption here) sanitation or terrible lack thereof, I drank just a touch of it and prayed I would not get even more sick than I had been. Strike two. I had wanted to people-watch but I went back to the Guest House for a brief nap. Instead I listened to a monk performing what sounded like protector practice in the family shrine room (I was outside in the sitting room), I assume it was protector practice because there were many instruments played – cymbals, the drum and bells.

I did a little practice, lay down and did some reading, only soon thereafter to discover a fuming, steamy, red-hot resentment welling up in my belly. No, believe it or not, I was not sick. Rather, I was Pissed Off and I know not what at. That feeling stuck around for a little while – strike three! It might have been the fact that no matter where I went (restaurants / guest houses) I could only order food in Ladakh that was incredibly spicy (for my sensitive taste at the time). That was starting to rub me the wrong way. The feeling might have just been a visceral manifestation of my desire to get the heck out of the country – several things were starting to grate on me:

1) mentioned the spicy food above, where at every restaurant I went to, knowing my issue with spicy food, I would ask, “please show me what is not spicy.” The waiter would point to a few things. Proceeded by me asking them if they were sure! I would choose what seemed to be the most innocuous but then later leave the restaurant breathing fire, again… and again…

2) I was getting tired of every (!) Kashmiri / Pakistani shop keeper telling me I was their friend and asking if I wanted to come into their store. It effectively made trying to get into the bazaar in Leh, where I would be subject to more of the same, like running a gauntlet – several times daily… normally I am a cool cucumber but by this point I was having difficulty (in case it was not obvious). Luckily I had the natural boundary set up of having an empty wallet.

3) these few days in Ladakh without the containment of the pilgrimage group were like being on a retreat where you know it is “working” because every one of your vices and buttons are coming up and being pushed. I was doing a little practice each day but not pushing too hard. Maybe I was doing too much nonetheless, maybe it was just enough.

And finally, on a separate subject, Ladakhi’s incredible hospitality: last night Stanzin Phuntsok (Tenzin in Tibetan, Stanzin in Ladakhi), the shop owner and Thangka painter from a shop in Leh came by to drop off my already purchased Thangkas. He had wrapped them up and I was very happy with my purchase. About the hospitality, the Guest House owners did not know Stanzin from Adam, seriously – he had to ask me very specifically where the Guest House was located because he had never been there before, but nonetheless, they offered him butter tea. He declined. They pushed a cup into his hand any way, as he was attempting to walk out the door. He said he had somewhere else to be. 🙂 I love it. The same thing happened with Namgyal (the owner of Yama Trekking – a very generous and excellent guide), except, because they knew Namgyal, the server / helper-14-year-old body, Sonam blocked the door and they “forced” Namgyal to sit and have tea. It was very comical.

Pilgrimage to Ladakh – compassion or pity?

Just to make certain I portray both sides of the road here. In past posts, I briefly touch on the poverty that you will notice when you travel to Ladakh, but previously, I did not mention much in the way of specifics.

Okay, for those readers interested in my take on some of the suffering that goes on, read on. I think my inability to digest and process all of this information led to my being sick some of the time – when I was with the pilgrimage group, it was easier to turn a cold shoulder to. However, when I was on my own in Ladakh, everything was vividly in front of my face. I was reminded constantly of how easy we have things in the West.

One day, the group saw the cutest puppy playing in a field. It was very fluffy and cute indeed. However, when I was alone and walking up the street one day, I saw that it was nosing after every little thing in the same field, obviously searching for food. It continued doing so in the street until I got close. Then, when I tried to slowly approach it, despite my being good with animals, it got frightened and ran away. So much isolation and fear at a young age – ouch!

Then, while I was attending the Dalai Lama’s birthday celebration, I saw a beggar woman, who was very short – maybe 4 feet tall. And this little woman had a tiny screaming baby. Oh my word! If I had had some extra spending money at that point, I would have given her some (and then possibly had all the beggars descend on me). But it was heartrending to hear that child. And then to think that it might, hopefully not, have been her child? Hard to process… Ooph!

In my journal I wrote that the wild animals seemed to be happiest, if I might anthropomorphize a moment. The dzos we saw (hybrid yak / cows) in Nubra Valley were rampant and playful, chasing each other around the streams. Jumping lightly despite carrying such bulky bodies.

Back in Leh, there were several occasions when car horns would spook cows and they would run into parked vehicles or slip as they stepped in the deep gutters. On one occasion I passed a cow whose tail was dripping blood. Sure, these instances could happen anywhere, but I guess I was hypersensitive by the end of my time in Ladakh – spiritually full and emotionally overwhelmed.

Pilgrimage to Ladakh – Spituk Monastery

July 7th, 2008 – I was sick. I wrote in my journal that I lay in bed (or near the head) from 10 pm to 4 pm with a break for breakfast. Ugh! I tried to motivate myself to go out and grab lunch but to no avail.

July 8th, I took the initiative, despite still feeling a little under the weather, and I went out to see Spituk Monastery (Gompa) – it is the monastery on the hill which you see as you land at the airport. It is above both the civilian airport and an Indian air force base. I truly appreciate how the spiritual life overlaps the military presence in India. Back to the story, Spituk is a Gelugpa Gompa, fairly large with two sections (two buildings with large and smaller shrine rooms) plus a protector shrine up some steep stairs. I found it unusual considering the protector shrine has images of Shiva – therefore it is considered both a Hindu and Buddhist monastery (at the time, I had difficulty rectifying this, however now I realize Shiva is also a protector of the Gelugs and the Dalai Lama – Yay! We can share deities).

First I will describe the Gonkhang (Protector Shrine) as there were more Hindu pilgrims there than Buddhists (me). I assumed they were Hindu because they tended to have a red dot between their eye brows. But I could be off. This was a very fancy, and therefore very well off, protector shrine. There was plush carpet in the entrance room, fabric on all the walls and the ceiling, and monks were handing out little spoonfuls of blessed food (forgot what it was and did not write it down – but I recall it being spiced and flavorful) and the protector deities were all covered. If you stand facing the statues, then there are a few masks behind you – a nice touch.

In the monastery, there were many little shrines – 21 Taras, Shakyamuni and attendants were in one of the main halls, 1000 arm Chenrezig, 16 Arhats, 8 close disciples of the Buddha and tiny statues of Bodhisattvas. There were dogs running around, along with a mother cat and her kittens. In the primary meditation hall, the Dalai Lama’s throne was very ornate, along with Bakula Rinpoche’s (just a touch lower of course). Bakula Rinpoche’s previous incarnation was very politically active, and he was one of the few monks / politicians – he was an ambassador to Mongolia (from India). We had the great fortune to receive blessings from the current incarnation while we were in the Nubra Valley – only thing is he was about 4 years old at the time – probably a few years away from politics.

I happened to walk into the other meditation hall accidentally. Later I realized it was kind of cordoned off. There were a few monks in there carrying on – laughing and talking and one was working on a sand mandala when I walked in. However, once they realized I was a tourist or Westerner (not sure which or both) they all quieted down and started moving things around the mandala’s table. They were working on the outline – done in pencil first – before the sand goes down. They told me it was to be a Yamataka mandala. I wish I could have seen it.

This monastery has a nice view of the large Indus River Valley, where Leh and the airports are located. From the monastery you can see many tiny buildings, villages and houses. I would recommend seeing this monastery if you have some extra time, as the protector shrine is a bit unusual, however I thought other monasteries had more to offer in terms of statuary. Plus this monastery is only 15 minutes from Leh.

On a side note, the taxis in Ladakh do very well. Not because they stiff you, but because they are unionized – at least the ones dealing with travel agencies are. Therefore the drivers do well and you know what to expect to pay, even if the price is a little steep. It will be steep everywhere you go in Ladakh.

Pilgrimage to Ladakh – winding down

There is something abundantly satisfying to the pace of life in Ladakh. I did my laundry by hand, again, and it feels so good to be physically involved in my well-being. The day after the Dalai Lama’s birthday was a tidying up day – needed to get some things taken care of. Wrote postcards, spent some leisure time reading, ate a huge breakfast, filled my water bottles at the purified water station and then went to the post office. One note – you must assert yourself at times in Ladakh, which of course makes sense, I was still in India. There was a line in the post office.. however.. half the people who entered paid no attention to it! Therefore I eventually saw this pattern, held my own and got to the front for stamps, which cost, wait for it!….. Eight rupees. Hold on a second! For less than 20 cents U.S., I can send a postcard from Ladakh to anywhere in the United States? Wow!! If you count all the stops, I bet it travels 12 – 15K miles… Of course, sometimes things get lost in the mail, or delayed for a few months – only to arrive way after you do… But for eight rupees I could scarcely believe my luck. However, in glancing through my journal, this was actually a surprisingly full day, so onward!

I met with Tamding and then his brother, who showed me their apartment. Oof! In Tibetan, Tamding described it as being large and adequate. Well I would say it was more on the adequate side. It had a dirt floor, cement walls and wooden rafters, with a single “window” and door. The lock was on a hook on the door (no doorknob). They shared a large communal bathroom which I was a bit scared to enter (to be frank). In the apartment, they (Tamding, his wife Drolkar and his brother Chopha) had put down mats, put up a thangka and other decorations so I found it quite pleasant. Note, I would definitely be more of a social butterfly if I lived there. 🙂

Anyway, I gave Chopha a Craniosacral session. It was good for me to share my skills. Although it was a little exhausting (remember my anxiety and adrenals were running loop-de-loops) and I did not speak to him about an exchange, so I felt a little disappointed. But overall glad to be gifting some bodywork in Ladakh.

Then he and I went to his table in a Tibetan market and he showed me his CD’s for sale. I listened to about a dozen of them before deciding on a few. In the process, several foreigners came by. Two of them stood out – two Israeli women tried to strike a bargain, but neither side would budge so they did not purchase any CDs. I mean hey – with me standing right there, not bothering to talk them down, why should they acquiesce to the bargain hunters? Or maybe I should learn to ask for the bare minimum in the future and see what happens.

Visited Namgyal again (not sure why), where I met a Canadian woman who looked really familiar. Went through the rigamarole for exchanging money – beware and bring your money from Delhi! They charged a five percent commission. Finally I rounded out my day by visiting the Amchi, the Tibetan doctor, again.

She repeated several pieces of advice from the previous visit, however, she also mentioned some new advice. What blew me away is that she had not touched my wrist for three seconds when she stated, matter of factly, “no more apple juice. Don’t drink anymore!” Wow that was quick and it must be so obvious in my pulses. The same thing happened previously to another pilgrim – she yelled at him for drinking apple juice. This time she told me, to remedy my extreme Loong (Tibetan word for WIND) and Lung (the English word for the organ which manages respiration) disorders, I needed to avoid the following: roasted food, salty food, spicy food, apple juice, heavy exertion like running, cold water (I should drink warm water), anything which requires me to breathe hard, dessert type foods (ah no more sweets), caffeine and finally she recommended I keep my chest warm – no going out unprepared.

Pilgrimage to Ladakh – H. H. the Dalai Lama’s birthday in Ladakh

We visited Ladakh in June / July of 2008, which was tragically after the Chinese crackdown on Tibet. This was the year of the Chinese Summer Olympics, so there was more attention on China (and Tibet) and people tried to take advantage of this. Anyway, what does this have to do with Ladakh? Well, if Tibetans are suffering in Tibet, they are suffering everywhere – Tibetans in exile have a strong sense of solidarity for their country-people. Therefore, His Holiness’ birthday was commemorated in Ladakh but I would not say celebrated. There were no dancers and aside from long life prayers for the Dalai Lama, there was very little singing if at all. It was still an enjoyable experience however.

I went with Tamding and Chopha. They hailed a taxi, whose driver looked at me (white, obvious Westerner, probably a touch naive) and demanded more money. Therefore some negotiations arose, luckily it seemed that Tamding was up to the challenge and got his desired rate. It was a few miles to the east of Leh, passing through a couple of villages and near some military installments. I knew the place, having passed it on multiple occasions heading toward monasteries in that direction (Chemray, Stakna, Hemis, etc). When there is no Tibetan holiday occurring, it is just a large empty field, with multiple stupas (see my photos), an obvious temple and audience building (it has no walls in the front), and then a little beyond that, slightly hidden in the trees is His Holiness’ Ladakhi palace.

Wow – as I mentioned in an earlier post, going to His Holiness’ palace in Ladakh is almost like going to a monastery, and of course it makes sense that it is a definite pilgrimage site – although I don’t believe there is often public access to it. Therefore, if you are ever in Ladakh on July 6th, go and visit! You will not be disappointed. Unfortunately I did not take any photos of the palace… (duh! I think I was caught up in the rush of pilgrims and the novelty and privilege of entering one of the Dalai Lama’s palaces).

We were dropped off in front of the palace, having planned to arrive an hour or two early (which according to laid back “Tibetan time”, could be different!) before the speeches were set to start. There were already lines out the door, with children running around, people climbing trees to hang fresh prayer flags, with the majority of people seeming to be of Tibetan origin, however there were a few Westerners dotting the landscape. We joined the line of pilgrims entering the palace.

Incredible or breath-taking just barely come close to describing His Holiness’ northern palace (in Ladakh). I may have been slightly affected by the discernible devotion which was practically pouring out of every pilgrim’s pores, including my own, but it is a beautiful building. The palace has three floors with shrines on each. Downstairs is the Dalai Lama’s throne room or reception room. There is a shrine with many statues of Gelugpa masters. The stairs seemed a little narrow, however if there were not hundreds of pilgrims slowly meandering in line, up and down them, I’m sure they would do fine. I recall there being a separate 21 Taras shrine, a shrine with Shakyamuni Buddha as the prominent figure and then upstairs, ahhhh…. I still sigh. There is a gorgeous 1000-arm Chenrezig statue, which is about eight feet tall – life-like. I found it fitting that the statue of Chenrezig was featured and in a venerable location in the palace of Chenrezig’s emanation.

The building is made of glass and wood, which seemed imported. It was a lighter colored wood than I was used to seeing in Leh. All the glass allowed ample lighting into the rooms, which seemed to glitter with all the golden statues and exquisite thangkas (paintings). Oh – and if that weren’t enough, the line also proceeded up a few stairs to an elevated room that had a tiny bed – seriously, it was two feet by four feet or less, no way His Holiness did any comfortable sleeping. I was told this was the Dalai Lama’s “bedroom” but I am now even more convinced that His Holiness does not need to sleep. It had all glass walls, so attendants or anyone else on that top floor could see into it. Aside from the bed, it was very spartan in its furnishings. There was a small shrine against one wall and a chair, and that seemed to be it.

We wandered down the few hundred yards path, through the trees with fresh prayer flags flapping in the breeze, toward the plain I had seen earlier, which was now full of Tibetans. There were several large Tibetan tents set up, along with dozens of smaller ones. We also went through the second temple, which is near His Holiness’ audience area. This was very pleasant, if a little less well decorated than the palace. However, there were statues of Tsongkapa and a couple of large thangkas – I guess I was a little spoiled from visiting the palace first.

Then we sat in the grass, chatting with other Tibetans. There were about 60-plus monks present, and they chanted prayers for a long while – I asked and Tamding thought they were doing long life and aspiration prayers for His Holiness. Finally, early in the afternoon, some dark, official looking cars drove up. Senior monks and government officials got out and, after a bit of who-is-the-most-senior-monk-shuffling happened, they gave speeches. One was the Dalai Lama’s representative in Ladakh – he talked about the tragedy occurring in China and how the Tibetans were concerned for their country-people’s safety and well-being.

We wandered around for a little while longer and then I got antsy. I asked Tamding if we could go soon and it seemed he was also ready to leave. They got a good laugh out of me however, when I tasted some of the spiciest Tibetan corn noodles I have ever laid my hands on. Tamding ordered a bowl for me and for himself. There was a group of Tibetans around me watching my eating process, and after I put the first bite in my mouth I knew why. Oh my word! I think the spicy peppers must have been the 2nd most plentiful ingredient – more than the water in the broth I am sure 🙂 Tamding later told me the recipe – corn noodles, soy sause, kefir, saipan (spiciness) and sugar. Very simple and yet very potent. My taste buds were complaining for the rest of the day – wait, what taste buds?

I saw many beggars and people who appeared to be suffering at the Dalai Lama’s birthday commemoration. I had to develop a lot of compassion or ignore them. I suspect that they receive some form of charity at these events. We drove back to town without further incident.

The rest of the day was spent playing cards with Sonam – the small, 14 year old boy who acts as server, porter, cleaning person and gardener. He also sings some uplifting Ladakhi songs – high pitched voice but soothing nonetheless. Sonam calls Angchuk and Chorra his parents despite the fact that they are not. I wonder if he is adopted – I can easily see the Cinderella dynamic going on. Or he may just work in the big city during the tourist season and then head back to his village during the rest of the year.

I was doing a little bit of practice on these days off as it were. However, one distraction arose when I met the daughter of the house. Whoa.. I must say that in Ladakhi women you can find a mixture of several beautiful lineages – Persian, Baltistani, Indian and Tibetan – and the resulting blend is enigmatic and elusive, on top of enticing. But I digress. She speaks very clear English but it seemed that she did not want to say too much – not that she was shy, but rather it did not seem customary for her to speak with the guests. So that was that and I was able to go back to reading and resting. Altogether, a good day.

Dixie-Lee Peas: A Southern Adventure begins

Recently, I met a friend of a friend, and he is quite a character. Eccentric would not do him justice, but it is a start. Let me tell the story from the beginning and see what you think.

A few months ago, I heard of him, a fellow I will call David, from my friend. I heard that he had a house built into the side of a hill, he hunted or grew all of his own food and that he was an avid church-goer. As everyone knows though, hearing a story rarely ever sheds the proper light on all the many facets that make life so interesting. Well, as luck would have it, I got a chance to meet this character – farmer, hunter, gun-collector, hermit, Southern gentleman and sworn Christian…

Yes, it was a hot day in late August. My friend had originally invited me over to do some yard work, but when I got there, she said, “you know Kirby, I’m heading out to David’s farm to pick some peas. Do you want to join me?” Not having anything better to do at the time, I said, “Sure.”

We hop in her fancy-schmancy hybrid Toyota Highlander, which practically drives for you – a camera that turns on when you are backing up? Wow! Anyway, I only mention this vehicle to set the bizarre dichotomy which is about to befall when I meet David and then get a chance to walk through his hobbit-like home. We drive about twenty minutes outside of Charlottesville, coming to some back roads and then driving a long, private driveway. I am told to keep my eyes peeled as we are looking for the second garden.

Sure enough, we pass the first one – I could tell it was a garden due to the fence and the organized corn rows sticking over it. And within a couple minutes I pointed out the second garden, where more corn could be seen. We had brought a basket for each of us, and extra bags just in case we got really zealous with the picking. My friend called David to let him know we had arrived. He told her to park in the shade, but as far as we could tell, there was no shade anywhere near the driveway. And then we got to picking.

We first walked through a hedge of corn stalks, passed through a row of tomatoes, stepped over a row of low vines which were plump with full green bean pods (turns out they were black-eyed peas). And then we got to our query: a long row of dixie-lee peas. These plants aren’t much to look at – wide green leaves, a huge tangle of vines and the occasional green pod of varying ripeness.

Let me just provide some context. I am no farmer, in fact, aside from picking veggies out of my mother’s garden and planting some flowers for friends off and on, I have no experience with farming or picking anything. Well there were a few years when we would pick our own strawberries, but again, nothing to write home about. Well, I had my hat and sunscreen on and I was ready.

We started on opposite sides of the row, my friend telling me a little about David. She said that one time they were going for a little walk around his farm and he made a point to lock his house. She said, “Now David, we are not going to be gone that long are we?… I mean, do I need to lock my car??!!” If you can imagine being two to three miles down a twisting, curving driveway with extremely narrow bridges over creeks, and then seeing this scenario, it gets more comical. David said, “Well no.. but I have my gun collection inside and I always lock my house when I leave.” Well there you go – not that it was a “bad neighborhood,” as a matter of fact, I’m not sure how many miles away the nearest neighbor might be – seriously!

Well we got to picking. I was finding all sorts of pods, and it was only on hindsight that I realized I was taking a few that were under ripe – only pick them if they are plump and loose. I learned that the odd colored pods, sometimes with a few brown spots, produce the best beans (yes, beans, despite being called “peas” once you shell the bean, it looks more like a brown bean than a pea).

Then David arrived. I knew he was a character as soon as he greeted my friend. He seemed standoffish around me, and when I tried to go up to him to introduce myself, he turned his back on me and said, “Yeah yeah, in a bit, I’ll come over there!” And that was that, so I went back to picking. I mean he is in his mid to late seventies, so I minded my elders.

Despite his seeming abruptness toward me, he bantered with my friend, asking about her family, giving her a hard time about inheriting some money, and picking on her in a good-natured way about various things. He said, “Yep, I’m gonna pick you a mess of black-eyed peas to take back with you. Oh, and do you want some melon to go with that?” He was very generous with her.

When he finally made his way to us, he introduced himself and showed us what we should and should not be picking – because if you leave the smaller pods on the vines, they will be ripe within a few weeks. He told me, “Yeppers, these peas are the best protein, even cheaper than beef!” He seemed proud of his garden, and I would be too if I had put that much work into something. He had an unusual accent – difficult to place. Not southern per se, definitely not British, but an unusual conglomeration of several I’d say. Oh – and his laugh was classic! You could instantly tell he spent a lot of time alone, because if he said something that he considered to be funny, he would throw his head back and howl. Literally howl, yes, I’m serious, or maybe it was more like a cackle. It was great!

[update May 2021: my friend mentioned that his accent was more like what “true” Virginian would have sounded like 100 – 150 years ago. His ancestors have been in Virginia for several generations apparently.]

Next installment: Wrapping up at the farm and seeing his underground “house”

Pilgrimage to Ladakh – If in Leh with time to spare…

On the Saturday of my being alone in Ladakh, or at least feeling that way, I decided to get out a bit. Leh has several attractions which you may want to consider visiting if you have some time to spare, and I am hoping that these locations still exist after the tragic floods.

I stopped by Namgyal’s office on my way up the main street, which heads toward the Ecology Center and the Women’s Alliance. His employees are so funny, standing up when I entered, opening the door for me, basically treating me like nobility. What a good feeling! I borrowed a book from him which I read over a few days, which turned out to be quite a tale – Sherlock Holmes and the Mandala – basically a mystery about Sherlock Holmes in Tibet, a fictional tale involving a Dalai Lama.

The Ecology Center is an indigenous non-profit organization which seeks to benefit Ladakhi welfare and improve their standards of living. It has a nice little library and I spent several hours looking through a book detailing the artwork and history of Alchi Gompa, which we had visited previously. I really regretted not going in – that day I was feeling sick. It was one of two monasteries I decided to skip out on. Apparently some of the artwork in Alchi is the oldest in Ladakh, and it discussed how Alchi was founded around the time of Tsultrim O, Kalden Sherab and Rinchen Sangpo (the great translator, Lotsawa). There were numerous little inventions laying around outside the Ecology Center – including the Solar Cooker pictured below.

The Women’s Alliance is a group that focuses on bringing women’s rights up to par in Ladakh, selling their crafts and handiwork. I purchased some nice fabric from them and spoke with several European interns who were working there at the time. Oh – on the way I kept seeing signs for the Sanctuary for Helpless Donkeys – pretty funny.

I stopped by the Tibetan Doctor’s office again and I made an appointment for the following week. Oh and I gave out some glasses which we had collected – this is one of the altruistic deeds we had planned on before going. In Tibet, and Ladakh as well, people do not have easy access to quality reading glasses, so we had asked for donations ahead of time and I handed out several sets. It is very heart warming when people light up like that – plus some can read again for the first time in years. Wow!

Later, I spoke with the owner of the Guest House – his English was actually pretty decent. He had not spoken much previously so I was unsure. His name was Angchuk and we discussed winter in Ladakh and how recently some newer technology made its way over the Himalayas to them: radio got to Ladakh in 1971, TV in 2002 and they did not see the first cell phone until 2003. I believe it was the late 1980’s when they saw their first plane land – and actually when it happened, the people of Ladakh, having never seen anything like it before thought that a miracle was occurring. They treated the plane and the people getting off of it like high lamas – offering white scarves. Angchuk said that in the winter, the temperatures can drop to negative 35 Celsius. He said when that happens, their family all gather in the kitchen around the stove, and sleep there too. He said they normally have snow on the ground from November through March, with some early snowfall in October and late snow in April.

Pilgrimage to Ladakh – Surprising Hospitality

My newfound friends in the fellow pilgrims left on July 5th, at 5 am. Therefore, I woke up, but it was chilly and I was in my PJs, so I waved goodbye to them wrapped in a blanket.

A bit of context, as I mention in a previous post, my kidneys / adrenals were really on over-drive on this pilgrimage. Anytime I leave my comfort zone this is a pattern I have noticed, but it was also being sick nearly every third day. Thankfully not really sick – it may have been a form of purification as we were visiting monastery after monastery. Plus for the first half of the pilgrimage I was having a difficult time laying my hands on meat which my system needs (all you vegetarians out there don’t respond please because I have a health issue which requires that I eat meat, at least for now). So, long story short, I was feeling chilly and fearful at times and I did not expect a huge out pouring of generosity, but then again, maybe I should have.

It was my plan to stay in Ladakh for an extra week, even though I had no formal plans and I had used up most of my spending money buying items for friends back home plus thangkas for myself. Therefore I did not want to get too far away from Leh, with visiting distant monasteries or the like. However, I did visit one that we had driven by on several occasions previously and the following day I went with Tamding and his brother to the celebration of H. H. the Dalai Lama’s birthday. This was basically like a visit to a monastery.

Namgyal laa, the trip guide / travel company owner who lived in Ladakh called the guest house on this day to see if I wanted to join an English couple to take a trip to Phyang Monastery. On hindsight, I probably should have said yes considering I had not taken many photos where we were there previously. As it was though, I was feeling pretty exhausted and declined, which at least allowed me to read, do a little practice and wander around Leh some more. Plus I ate some delicious momos.

I was surprised by the cut rate the Guest House gave me. It makes sense when you consider how much they had probably just made on having all of us stay there, and it was a very pleasant house. Plus breakfast came with the stay! Yummy! I sat out in the beautiful gardens around the Guest House some too, very comfortable and perfect for my pace. I think that the owners were a little concerned about me – they tried to urge me to go out more. But I had just had a full dose of Ladakh for 21 days straight.

Oh and check out these photos of their gardens – the Ladakhis only have three or four months to have really productive gardens but they definitely make the most of them! Their gardens were well irrigated and producing many greens.

Pilgrimage to Ladakh – back in Leh

This was the last day of the group of pilgrims being together. The rest were heading back the following day (provided the winds were good for planes to take off – this can be a problem and actually I would recommend taking it into account in your plans and leaving Ladakh a day early as a result). After the busy past few days off travel and Lama Yuru Gompa and festivities, we took this day pretty much off and explored the markets of Leh. A group of us went back to the Thangka painter, others went to a fancy Tibetan furniture shop. I also visited my new Tibetan acquaintance, Tamding. Here is a picture of Tamding and his brother.

Tamding’s life seemed challenging but he was content with what little he had. He had a stall in one of the central Tibetan markets, his wife had a stall in another one and his brother had a table in an outlying market, selling CDs. He sold some typical Tibetan ritual objects – musical instruments, the little scrolls with His Holiness the Dalai Lama’s sayings on them, little stupas and more. I purchased some things from him previously and on this day he introduced me to his wife. Actually… funny story here.

I love how the Tibetans are more traditional – they don’t show affection in public, in fact I rarely, if ever see them hug each other. (With my Venus in Aquarius, I’m not a big fan of PDA’s.) Therefore, Tamding told me he was taking me to meet his wife and other friends. So we get to this other market, and we head toward a table. There is a beautiful woman nearby but Tamding does not seem to acknowledge her, and of course, my being a slightly bone-headed Westerner… I go and ask where is his wife! Laugh out loud! Well that’s what he did because he said, she is right there, indicating the beautiful woman standing not too far away. Talk about feeling embarrassed. Luckily he quickly offered me some limeade followed by Tibetan tea. I negotiated with his wife for some malas to bring back – it seemed like they were giving me a deal but I’m not so sure. However, they more than made up for it later.

I arranged to meet Tamding the following Sunday (two days forward) to go to the Dalai Lama’s birthday celebration. I was looking forward to that, plus it was nice having made a local friend once my pilgrimage group people left. Tamding later told me that he spends most of his time in South India where he has a similar experience selling Tibetan items in markets. He spends the summers in Ladakh because of how hot India can be. Well at least this isn’t so bad.

The thangkas ended up being less than I expected so I was able to purchase two of them – one of Droljang or Green Tara (Drolma Jangku) and one painting of the wheel of existence – the six realms of samsara or Si Pa’i Khor Lo. Talk about a deal – I spent about $80 US for each where as in the US, each would cost a minimum of $250.

We ate dinner with the family of the guest house, which provided a nice sense of closure. There were about twenty of us at a long table and we shared many Indian / Ladakhi dishes. MMmm good!