China's up so far...more to come later
www.flickr.com/taschebrook/sets
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Invisibility Cloak
Guess what?
I brushed my teeth with sink water.
I took a hot shower.
My clothes don't smell.
I walked up the street and NO one tried to stop me, tell me where I was, sell me something, show me something, ask where I was from or try to touch me.
I did not nearly get run down by a taxi, auto-rickshaw or cow.
I did not have to worry about stepping in human excrement.
No one wanted to take my photo.
I was even wearing a tank top.
I was even showing my legs.
I even had my hair down.
No one even looked at me.
I'm home.
I brushed my teeth with sink water.
I took a hot shower.
My clothes don't smell.
I walked up the street and NO one tried to stop me, tell me where I was, sell me something, show me something, ask where I was from or try to touch me.
I did not nearly get run down by a taxi, auto-rickshaw or cow.
I did not have to worry about stepping in human excrement.
No one wanted to take my photo.
I was even wearing a tank top.
I was even showing my legs.
I even had my hair down.
No one even looked at me.
I'm home.
Some old mausoleum....
Statement of his love? No, this guy was nuts. 20 years, 20,000 workers all for a grave for his dead wife. My favorite story is that the King who started this whole thing tried to then build ANOTHER mausoleum across the river for himself (this one would be black). He never got to finish it: his son imprisoned him in order to take the throne.
More fun than seeing the Taj itself is watching all of the tourists who have come to see it and take the perfect symmetrical photo.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Nirvana
It's Tuesday afternoon, I am drinking my third cup of masala chai of the day, my entire body is wonderfully sore from morning yoga, and it's raining on the streets of Mcleodganj. Monkeys are sheltering under the eaves on the rooftops, and six magenta-robe-clad monks are sitting on a couch in this cafe, watching CNN international.
I love the north of India. We awoke on Saturday in our private room on an overnight train, and drank chai from the chai wallahs until we arrived at Pathankot, from which we took a 4-hour taxi ride, occasionally stopping for cows in the road, through the greengreen hills up here, which is the location of the Tibetan government in exile. The temperature is lovely. So many amazing things have happened, I don't know where to start writing.
This is a smallish village, with hill paths to other small villages. Our hotel room's balcony looks out over a valley, giving us a bird's eye view into the Dalai Lama's temple and residence, about 1/2 mile away. When we arrived, we found out that the Dalai Lama would be arriving on Sunday, and giving a (rare) three-day public talk at his temple starting on Monday. We are so lucky.
As we walked out of town on Sunday morning for a hike, throngs of people lined the streets, waving Tibetan flags. About a mile into our hike (though the woods, past the monkeys, across the waterfall), we could hear the cheers from the town as the Dalli Lama drove up.
Our hike was fantastic - we were caught in this tremendous rain storm, but luckily found a small improbable shelter on the side of a cliff, with a man who had chai, soup, and woolen items for sale. Two hours later, once the rain turned to a small drizzle, we walked back down, wearing Tibetan woolen shawls, hats, socks and carrying umbrellas, our stomachs full.
Monday morning we woke early to go to the temple, with (as instructed) blankets, mugs (for tea) and FM radios (to hear the English translation of his teachings). Though we arrived an hour early, there was not much room. Finally we found a small hallway sort of behind where the Dalai Lama was going to sit - we didn't have a view of him, but we did have a flatscreen tv to watch it live. We sat there, waiting, surrounded by hundreds of excited monks in cranberry and mustard robes, listening to chants. Suddenly, the monks started whispering and kneeling. In walked the Dalai Lama, two feet away from us. My heart started pounding. Just as he is always described, he looked like an intensely curious and happy child. He stopped and chatted to the monks sitting next to us. Watching their faces (they were positively glowing) made me cry. I couldn't get over the energy in the room. After a moment, he continued walking, and we settled in for the lecture.
It took us a while to find the correct station on our cheap FM radio for the English translation, and even then it was a little difficult to understand. We kept losing the station, and at one point the band Nirvana came on a station, which I found wonderfully amusing. It didn't matter. We sipped the (yaak butter?) tea that was passed around, nibbled on the bread, and watched the monks fidget, pass notes, lean on each other.
Later in the afternoon, back on our hotel porch, I sipped red wine and looked over the valley. The Dalai Lama's voice drifted over the trees as he ended his afternoon lesson and was soon replaced by chanting. The moon was visible through the prayer flags hanging outside the hotel, and we left for evening yoga.
It's peaceful up here, though cars continuously beep as they drive through. As beautiful as this area is, it is bittersweet. This is not home for so many of the people who are here. I'm so glad we were in China before this. Seeing the Tibetans here makes my feelings about China that much more intense. I don't think I can ever buy a Chinese-made product again. (We'll see how that works out.)
Tomorrow we'll get on an overnight train back to the sexually repressed, dirty, smelly hellhole that is Delhi and then onto Agra to see the Taj Mahal before Mike leaves on Friday...I'll try to post some pictures in a bit.
xo
I love the north of India. We awoke on Saturday in our private room on an overnight train, and drank chai from the chai wallahs until we arrived at Pathankot, from which we took a 4-hour taxi ride, occasionally stopping for cows in the road, through the greengreen hills up here, which is the location of the Tibetan government in exile. The temperature is lovely. So many amazing things have happened, I don't know where to start writing.
This is a smallish village, with hill paths to other small villages. Our hotel room's balcony looks out over a valley, giving us a bird's eye view into the Dalai Lama's temple and residence, about 1/2 mile away. When we arrived, we found out that the Dalai Lama would be arriving on Sunday, and giving a (rare) three-day public talk at his temple starting on Monday. We are so lucky.
As we walked out of town on Sunday morning for a hike, throngs of people lined the streets, waving Tibetan flags. About a mile into our hike (though the woods, past the monkeys, across the waterfall), we could hear the cheers from the town as the Dalli Lama drove up.
Our hike was fantastic - we were caught in this tremendous rain storm, but luckily found a small improbable shelter on the side of a cliff, with a man who had chai, soup, and woolen items for sale. Two hours later, once the rain turned to a small drizzle, we walked back down, wearing Tibetan woolen shawls, hats, socks and carrying umbrellas, our stomachs full.
Monday morning we woke early to go to the temple, with (as instructed) blankets, mugs (for tea) and FM radios (to hear the English translation of his teachings). Though we arrived an hour early, there was not much room. Finally we found a small hallway sort of behind where the Dalai Lama was going to sit - we didn't have a view of him, but we did have a flatscreen tv to watch it live. We sat there, waiting, surrounded by hundreds of excited monks in cranberry and mustard robes, listening to chants. Suddenly, the monks started whispering and kneeling. In walked the Dalai Lama, two feet away from us. My heart started pounding. Just as he is always described, he looked like an intensely curious and happy child. He stopped and chatted to the monks sitting next to us. Watching their faces (they were positively glowing) made me cry. I couldn't get over the energy in the room. After a moment, he continued walking, and we settled in for the lecture.
It took us a while to find the correct station on our cheap FM radio for the English translation, and even then it was a little difficult to understand. We kept losing the station, and at one point the band Nirvana came on a station, which I found wonderfully amusing. It didn't matter. We sipped the (yaak butter?) tea that was passed around, nibbled on the bread, and watched the monks fidget, pass notes, lean on each other.
Later in the afternoon, back on our hotel porch, I sipped red wine and looked over the valley. The Dalai Lama's voice drifted over the trees as he ended his afternoon lesson and was soon replaced by chanting. The moon was visible through the prayer flags hanging outside the hotel, and we left for evening yoga.
It's peaceful up here, though cars continuously beep as they drive through. As beautiful as this area is, it is bittersweet. This is not home for so many of the people who are here. I'm so glad we were in China before this. Seeing the Tibetans here makes my feelings about China that much more intense. I don't think I can ever buy a Chinese-made product again. (We'll see how that works out.)
Tomorrow we'll get on an overnight train back to the sexually repressed, dirty, smelly hellhole that is Delhi and then onto Agra to see the Taj Mahal before Mike leaves on Friday...I'll try to post some pictures in a bit.
xo
Friday, August 1, 2008
Namaste
Remember when you first got your license, and suddenly had the freedom (apart from the $4 in your pocket) to go anywhere? That's what it feels like walking around Delhi with a man. Mike is here (yay! yay! yay!), and suddenly the number of men bothering us has been reduced by at least 80 percent.
It's not that ALL of the men are bothering us, per say. Some just want to randomly declare to us where we are ("You are on C Block. Shopping is there.") and walk away, but most follow us for a bit. It's tiring. It's hot. It's full of beeping. But oh, with a man...well, it's still hot, it's still full of beeping, but you can actually take your eyes from the pavement (lest you make eye contact with anyone) and see what's going on.
Tonight we are going on an overnight train (so exciting!) up north, and then will somehow figure out how to get the last 80K to Dharamsala.
I won't miss Delhi. But there are a few wonderful things here: 25 cent samosas; fantastically terrifying motor-rickshaw rides; and 6 o'clock, when seemingly everyone in the city gets on their roofs and flies kites.
It's not that ALL of the men are bothering us, per say. Some just want to randomly declare to us where we are ("You are on C Block. Shopping is there.") and walk away, but most follow us for a bit. It's tiring. It's hot. It's full of beeping. But oh, with a man...well, it's still hot, it's still full of beeping, but you can actually take your eyes from the pavement (lest you make eye contact with anyone) and see what's going on.
Tonight we are going on an overnight train (so exciting!) up north, and then will somehow figure out how to get the last 80K to Dharamsala.
I won't miss Delhi. But there are a few wonderful things here: 25 cent samosas; fantastically terrifying motor-rickshaw rides; and 6 o'clock, when seemingly everyone in the city gets on their roofs and flies kites.
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