Ladakh, India, Asia, Earth

Nepal Summer 2011

2011-07-13T23:32:00.003-04:00

After discussing education theory for the past year, my mind in an academic cloud, nothing felt better than to trek through an actual cloud with my students in Himalayan Nepal. We just completed the trek up to Kyangjin Gonpa in the Langtang region and are resting in Dunche for the day before heading out to Barbandi village tomorrow. We'll work for two weeks on an addition to the school there, staying in pairs between seven homes. After that we'll spend a few days in Baktapur and Boudha before the group flies back to the U.S. I'll remain in Nepal for a couple weeks before beginning the next year of grad school in Philly.

2010-08-22T21:50:00.002-04:00

View all photos here.

Koh P'dao

2010-08-22T20:49:00.005-04:00

Tagging the Koh P'dao school after painting it blue

The path near Koh P'dao, on a Mekong River island

Cambodia photos (first)

2010-07-03T09:35:00.003-04:00

No time for a blog yet. Here are a few meal photos...

Cambodia

2010-06-20T21:36:00.004-04:00

Okay now. This summer I'm going to be working with another organization running programs for teenagers abroad. Initially I was hired to lead a one-month summer program in Thailand, but that was changed due to the recent Red-Shirt uprising in Thailand. So I'll be in Cambodia with 15 students from June 26 through July 24, and then taking a week out there to kick around and decompress before returning to the U.S. for the month of August and then beginning grad school in Sept. ( at the Univ of Pennsylvania in Philly). A month in Cambodia is an exciting prospect. Mostly I'm looking forward to the experience of leading a group of students in a place I have not been--that being the case, I believe I'll be able to focus very clearly on creating a strong dynamic between all the group members without the temptation to over-explain my cultural observations. We can learn together.

Naturally, I'll throw some photos and further blogs up here during or after the Cambodia program. If you have any ideas about Cambodia you'd like to share with other followers of this blog I encourage you to post away.

2010-05-31T06:27:00.000-04:00

Link to all photos.

Parvati Valley

2010-05-29T07:52:00.004-04:00

McLeod Ganj

2010-05-21T10:15:00.012-04:00

McLeod Ganj is the seat of the Tibetan government in exile, located in the north Indian state of Himachal Pradesh.

Tibetans' demands, such as the release of the Panchen Lama, are visible everywhere.

Posting these types of messages would result in stiff prison sentences in Tibet.

As in many parts of India, signs of the British period still exist here, most notably in the form of St. John's church.

Many foreigners come to volunteer for a local Tibetan cause or take one of many courses offered here, such as cooking, yoga, dance, or massage. I took Hindi lessons with Kailash (above) and Rita (not pictured).

2010-05-09T06:00:00.003-04:00

Here's a photo of my co-leaders, Amy and Nick, during our recent trek in the Sham region.

We're in good old Delhi wrapping up the semester now. Breathing feels great, like something new altogether, after descending from the thin air of the big hills. The weather in Delhi isn't as bad as it could be and I'm enjoying the feeling of heat as if that too is an altogether new concept. More photos will come soon including some from the early May trek near Lamayuru, which blew my mind and recharged my love for Ladakhi landscapes and people.

Soon I'll be setting out for two weeks in Himachal Pradesh, for a visit to Dharamsala and Mcleod Ganj (finally), the seat of the Tibetan government in exile, and to the valleys of Lahaul and Spiti, just south of Ladakh. These are places I've had my sights set on for awhile and I'm excited!

Stok Range from SECMOL

2010-05-09T05:45:00.002-04:00

Changtang

2010-04-08T02:49:00.001-04:00

Ladakh Travel Information

2010-03-29T09:45:00.002-04:00

Check Kingfisher, Jet Airways, and India Air for flights from Delhi to Leh. Prices skyrocket in high season. (Rs 8,000+ vs. 3,000 in off season one-way). Road from Manali or Srinigar open around April, but always check on this before planning to ascend by road. It's a two-night trip from Manali (good place to hang out for a few days to break up the journey). Road travel should cost under Rs 2,000 (plus one night guesthouse/campsite) but book a room in Manali or wherever you stop in advance. Best time to come weather-wise: mid-April to mid-October. Many trekking options where travelers can stay in village homes (Rs 400 per night inc. 3 meals is the standard these days). Consult the Snow Leopard Conservancy India Trust website for homestay info. Treks vary in difficulty and length of time (1-2 days hike to 15 days or more). Plan for minimum 3-4 days for altitude acclimation before attempting to trek. Many doctors recommend Acetazolamide (Diamox) to artificially acclimate in the days before ascending. Drink lots of water. Consult a doctor before traveling to high altitude. I'm not a doctor.

A Day off in Rumchung

2010-03-29T08:33:00.003-04:00

When you live where you work, professional responsibilities can make their way into personal moments without detection. And vice versa. When a day off comes around it can be tempting to stay on campus (home) and lounge around, but then work will find it’s way into the personal time.

So on my day off I ventured over to Rumchung, a four-house village a few hours walk from the school, and found a family to crash with for the night. Aside from it being early in the season and me showing up alone, they weren’t all that surprised to see me. People occasionally make their way up to Rumchung in the summer if they’re trekking in the direction of Kanda-la or Stok-la, one of the 16,000 ft. passes in the vicinity, or if they’re hoping to spot the elusive snow leopard. For me this was just a nice little day-trip without anything steep to climb. A bottle of water lasted exactly the time it took for me to reach the stream, from which I refilled with clear, cool, glacial water, through the filter pump I had brought along. I also brought a bag of peanuts and M&Ms, some beef jerky, a Kurt Vonnegut book, and my Ladakhi practice notebook. The family I would stay with spoke next to no English—just as I’d hoped—so I would be forced to practice my Ladakhi in a real situation. From the village I could see the top of the SECMOL mountain in the distance, from whose peak I’d first noticed this little village tucked up into an unlikely valley. From that moment I’d said that one day I’d walk to Rumchung and see what’s over there. Once I arrived I found that its placement was not all that unlikely, as a stream runs right through it, something I should have known from the start, water being the reason for any settlement in Ladakh.

In Rumchung, the elders have their hands full with all of the village work. Grandparents and parents plow, harvest, irrigate, thresh, and store the barley and other crops. They care for the goats, yak, and dzos, they gather fuel in the form of wood and dried dung, and they perform all housework. This is one of the biggest changes taking place in Ladakh: kids leaving the village for the long-term to pursue higher education, government jobs or private work in tourism, or military careers. Families are recognizing the importance of higher education as the society moves away from community subsistence and toward individual successes.

There aren’t enough jobs for graduates who hope to return to Ladakh, though. The youth must start thinking outside of the usual career choices and carving their own paths if they want to thrive in the region. If development groups receive more funds from outside of Ladakh, jobs will be created. (Hopefully it will be the organizations working with sustainable and appropriate technologies that receive these kinds of funds.) Likewise, if cultural organizations supporting the arts received government allocations or outside donations, jobs would be created for cultural scholars and artists as seasonal teachers. Some feel that Ladakh is not properly represented in its state government based in Srinigar (i.e. state policy ignores Ladakhi culture, and not enough money makes it to the region). Those are the people who want Union Territory status for Ladakh, a branching off from the state in favor of direct representation in the Fed. Kinda like Washington D.C. That’s another story though.

2010-03-27T04:52:00.001-04:00

Stok

2010-02-26T01:07:00.005-05:00

Aerial Roots

2010-02-12T09:33:00.003-05:00

Link to all photos

McDelhi

2010-02-12T09:29:00.000-05:00

2010-02-09T02:23:00.001-05:00

Link to all photos

Rishekesh, Songtsen, Delhi

2010-02-09T01:57:00.002-05:00

After awhile the streets of Delhi wear on you. You can also get used to everything--walk out in the middle of the street knowing that any and all cars will honk at least once every four seconds to let you know they're there. Of course there are cows everywhere, kids climbing up electrical poles four stories onto balconies while they're friends play cricket in the alley below, blocking all traffic without a care. There are no lanes of traffic, only arbitrary lines in many minds' eyes, criss-crossing one another every while way as somehow, miraculously accidents are averted. It is both frustrating and amazing that the simplest things never seem to work exactly how they are meant to, while nothing is ever impossible and things will eventually work out in some circuitous way. No matter where I am or what time of day it is in this city, there is always some loud surprise, distraction, or some nonsensical thing happening next to me, like the giant box of bags of masala-flavored chips being dumped all across the floor of this cyber cafe with loud crinkling noises only to be immediately placed back in their boxes moments later. Boxes and boxes of these chips are being brought in and stacked in leaning towers all around me. Then there was the first auto-rickshaw meter I'd ever seen turned on in Tashi and my auto. I commented on it, and found out that it was on "just for fun." Our payment had nothing to do with the meter and was based on the negotiations we'd made before jumping in. Then there was the hotel attended who came into our room without knocking, walked into the bathroom, turned on the shower and left. You get used to these kinds of things here.

Our week near the Ganges was a string of non-stop activity but it all happened smoothly: hanging out with the students at the Manzil school in Delhi, seeing the first few pilgrims of the year trickle in to Haridwar to bathe in one of the holiest Hindu sites, swimming farther up river by Rishekesh during our rafting trip, lessons in Tibetan language and Buddhist philosophy at Songtsen near Dehradun. Everything is working out well. Even with the flights delayed everyone remains in good spirits.

2010-01-14T18:13:00.005-05:00

More photos! Click here.

Spring 2010

2010-01-13T18:18:00.000-05:00

It's almost time for the next trip! I'm enjoying some time with family and friends before I shoot up to Vermont for a few days of planning, and then off to Delhi! This year our group will be revisiting the Ganges rafting outing before spending a week at the Songtsen Library in the state of Uttarkhand for teachings in Buddhist studies and Tibetan language. We'll have a day in Delhi to meet with our friends at the Manzil school too. On around February 8th we fly to Leh, the capital of Ladakh for a couple days of altitude adjustment and an introduction to our new home at the top of the world. Please visit my blog often and keep me posted with news from your part of the world!

2009-10-05T16:36:00.000-04:00

Hello after awhile

2009-07-18T04:38:00.001-04:00

It's been more than a month since I've posted...

It doesn't seem like any time has passed. I've been in Ladakh this past month giving piano lessons and teaching English grammar at the campus in Phey. I do a lot of other tutoring as students request it on a casual basis. I've also been spending some time swimming, running, weeding, and sitting in a hammock reading. Six months has been the longest I've ever been away from the U.S. There have been moments of such profound joy that I could not at first bring myself to share my feelings with anyone else. There have been stressful moments when I've wondered why I'm even out here and wanted to express that to someone immediately. All of these things happen in the mind but then we forget them. The impermanence of any single thought is good reason to move ahead to the next one.

Laos

2009-06-16T01:02:00.003-04:00

First off, thanks for the photos Sarah! This month has been full of new friends and sad goodbyes. Just five minutes ago I stood outside my guest house wishing a bon voyage to my Irish, Maltese, American, and Swiss friends with whom I'd spent seven days riding motorcycles throughout the southern half of Laos. Had I not met Dominic and Colm, who convinced me that I'd be able to learn how to operate the clutch and balance on a bike (even though they themselves had never ridden) I wouldn't have had half of the experiences I will now cherish from these three weeks in Laos. And the fact that Sarah and Brenda, Cristina and Malia all decided that they should also learn how to ride on the spot and then our one experienced rider Kevin joined us made for a bad ass crew, cruising through villages that never see tourists. But my desire to get back to India for the next month made me abandon one last trip down to 4,000 Islands in the far south of Laos, which was my original idea behind staying in this country longer. Still, abandoning a plan to follow the heart is the best thing. Ladakh is waiting. I need to dedicate a nostalgic moment to a few unforgettable nights in Pai, Thailand where the backpackers convened at Edible Jazz by night, and buzzed around on mopeds by day. And a moment for the slow boat down the Mekong with the leg dangling off the side. One for Luang Prabang and the temple up on the hill and the French architecture. Even a moment for the stupidity of the tubing debacle in Vang Vieng. And Vientiane, where we rode bicycles to temples and markets and I said goodbye to my beloved travel partner Susannah, who will forever add an extra layer of sentiment to this whole trip. Susannah went to the southern Thai beaches while I decided to stay in Laos with the motorcycles. And how about a moment for the present, typing in Pakse, waiting for an overnight bus back to Bangkok, a flight to Delhi, a bus to Manali and one to Leh, Ladakh. Sweet Ladakh, where the valleys caress the soul and the mountains know your secrets.

2009-05-23T08:52:00.005-04:00

Outside of Pokhara, Nepal

Nepal

2009-05-23T07:45:00.001-04:00

Thamel is the most popular neighborhood for tourists in Kathmandu, which for me translates to a good time, plenty of relaxation, and interesting people to meet in a place that might as well be anywhere else in the world. A warped view of Kathmandu--a warped view of Nepal. Still, spending a few days here before venturing north to Pokhara (another heavily touristde area) reminded me that I am supposed to be slipping into vacation mode. My main problem is that I seem to have a knack for feeling relaxed even on the job, so when I'm not working it doesn't fel all that different and I look for little assignments I need to complete.

Heading up to Pokhara was a good experience, and felt a little like a summer camp. Getting away from the smog of Kathmandu was also nice. We went fishing, hiking, horseback riding, canoeing on the lake and bonded with some inspiring new people at night. One was a Quebecan (?) writer/lecturer/social worker, with whom we attempted to wait out a monsoon rain at our restaurant table. Finally the rain never stopped and we walked through it laughing. We also met a Nepali who'd moved to the states at age thirteen. He took us to natural hot springs unknown to foreigners and to a nearby home/restaurant for some local food. I haven't felt much better in life than I felt after those hot springs. The river they sit beside is called the Sethi (white) river, because it is white from the limestone it carries. Not the white of rapids, but really a rich silvery color. Sliding back and forth between the cool river and hot springs between lush green mountains and waterfalls in the distance, I think I finally embraced vacation mode fully. Our Nepali friend came to visit us at our guest house back in Pokhara later that night and we talked politics until sleep started knocking.

Politically it's an interesting time to be here. Nepal's congress got rid of the king's power in 2006, forming a parliamentary democracy. Last August a Maoist prime minister was elected but failed in the eyes of many Nepalis. Then three weeks ago he stepped down after the president vetoed his attempt to sack the army general and instate a Maoist to that post.

Sriram

2009-05-21T07:31:00.000-04:00

I realize that I'd felt a little overwhelmed after my first night in Varanasi, due to the crowds, the heat, the different world that I was in. Later I discovered that this feeling had something to do with being disconnected from the people I was surrounded by. I felt that I needed to try to connect. Varanasi is not a vacation town to just relax in--there is too much to learn. I felt fortunate to have contacts up the road in Sarnath, even if some of them weren't exactly local.

As I mentioned in the last blog, Sriram Jaiswal approached me as I was going for a light lunch. He asked if I was a student at the local university. I explained my circumstances and he said he'd written something in English and wanted someone to read it. I said sure, and shared my plate of momos with him. He brought his notebook out and what I read was something that I can't remember entirely, but will never fully forget. The simplicity and striking truth in his words made me forget where I was for a moment. He had written about a statue of a god under a banyan tree whose arial roots seemed to reach down to meet once again the earth from which they came. And the god statue sat composed through any weather, reminding him of that great one who sees over all things. This 75-year-old man from 60km outside of of Varanasi, whose circumstances had forced him to move from place to place around India, and who now feels estranged from the locals of Sarnath who view him with distrust and who cannot find a student to tutor, had written something that could have a great impact on many lives if they found the proper outlet. His words were plain and simple, but in command of the English language. Sriram had taught languages--English, Hindi, Sanskrit, and Pali--and was looking to share his knowledge for a living wage in Sarnath. But he couldn't find a student despite his incredible knowledge, and his simple way of explaining things. The books lining his walls contain rare works from the British period that you just couldn't find elsewhere. Yet they sit there virtually untouched, and Sriram sits beside them with his wife, wondering why things have always been so difficult for him. He had so much regret and sadness in his voice, yet when my rickshaw pulled off, he was waving with a broad smile from a chair at the side of the road, like that great one who sees over all things. I made a silent promise to find him again.

Varanasi (Banaras) Part Two

2009-05-16T21:42:00.001-04:00

I want to show you this place. I want to just say "look" and then walk through the alleys, because it's not just cows and sheep and dogs. It's something new around every corner. Some kids playing cricket while their mother throws a bucket of water out into the thin alley. A man placing flowers from a blue plastic bag onto the alter of a temple. A motorcycle navigating the thin alley and distracting a teacher and student, who are sitting cross-legged in front of a sitar. Incense pouring out from every shop, it's smoke bathed in the light angling down into the alley. Or the light that hits the Ganges from the corner of your eye when a thin side alley suddenly opens up to reveal a slice of the river. The boatmen gliding, bodies being sent off into the holy river, a bathing sadu, a cricket ball splashing into the water and a crowd of children jumping in after it. Sheep hopping up and down the ghats--the many sets of stairs along the river. Then as you duck back into the alley there are TV sets blaring from open doors with hoards of people crowded in front of them while cutting vegetables. And then the every-colored spires rising out of the darkness into the open air, carved gods crowded up to their tips.

Varanasi has a long history of silk weaving, and the owner of my guest house took me, on the back of his motorcycle, to the "Weaving Institute", which exists on the map, but in reality is a lot of people working out of their homes or other small spaces on the street. There is no one place you can call an institute, but rather a web of weavers working over a large area of the city. Some young boys were hammering holes into thick carboard for patterns-the patterns themselves had permanent metal patterns with the same holes. The weavers know that computers can do this job now, but they won't give up any part of the art and give away so many jobs. Also, there are government subsidies to keep businesses small--something I'm not entirely clear on, but it likely applies to the textile industry. Next door the patterns were strung together into longer cardboard sheets, which would later hang from the top of a huge loom. The loom is a giant, clacking beast moving back and forth madly with a little man like a troll hovering above it. And then the hand weavers, working in utter silence, meticulously weaving each gold thread through the fabric. The things they produced tempted me to leave everything and join the textile exporting business. I lounged on a floor covered wall-to-wall with pillows as the exporter (who sends much of his goods to Seattle under a fair-trade agreement) threw bedspreads, table runners and scarves out in front of me. Some were woven with silver and gold. All of them were jaw-dropping representations of a lot of hard work and many generations of perfecting a trade which still flourishes in Varanasi.

Next we went to the Mother India Temple. Ghandi, in 1918, had wanted to inspire nationalism in the Indian people. Women gave up their gold bangles to his Mother India (Baharat Mata) Temple project, something that would represent the solidity and spirit of the Indian people during the British rule.

I took a last walk along the ghats, watched all the prayers along the river in quiet contemplation as the bats flew into my shirt and ate the mosquitos so they couldn't eat me. I ended up in three guesthouses in Varanasi, one I'd booked in advance, overpriced (Rs650, or about $13) but close to the station and with AC, good for the first night. Last night I stayed at the Elvis Guest House (Rs 200 or$5) whose owner showed me those places I mentioned. There were more lizards on my walls than in other places, but they're harmless and probably get some of the mosquitos. Also the sheets were dirty but I had my own spread. But I need to talk about Sarnath, where I spent my second night. It's about 10km north of Varanasi, and a half-hour auto rickshaw ride...

In Sarnath, I found myself running in a big square near the deer park where the Buddha gave his first sermons, preached the Four Noble Truths (remember what they are?). There are excavated ruins from a monastery and a giant stupa built by Ashoka in 200 or 300 B.C.E. Antelope and spotted deer are still in the park. Buddhists from all over the world have set up monasteries. There are Cambodian, Thai, Chinese, Korean, Tibetan, Japanese, Sri Lankan, and other monasteries in Sarnath, which is also a sacred place for Jains. I stayed at a guest house ($2/night) where many Ladakhi people stay when they come in the winter time. Tashi's brother Konchok Rigzen is there year-round, and suggested I may not be comfortable ther with the heat. Actually the power did cut out that night so the fan stopped spinning, and my head was turning in the stifling heat, but it kicked back on again later, and Rigzen had provided me with a nice pink mosquito net so the bugs didn't get me. After my run and exploring the Buddhist sites, Rigzen's friend Thupten Choedak took me by bicycle to the Tibetan Institute, a campus as beautiful, but much smaller than the Banaras Hindu University 10 km back in Varanasi. Then, when I returned to eat at the little Tibetan Restaurant, I was approached by Sriram Jaiswal...

Varanasi

2009-05-15T03:34:00.002-04:00

There is smoke from cremations blowing off the river. There are men performing ablutions in the shallow waters near its banks. There are wild dogs, long-eared sheep and black cows roaming through the narrow alleys. As soon as an alley abruptly opens into a main road, five cycle rickshaw peddlers approach me and offer rides but I keep wandering through fruit and vegetable sellers spread out on the sidewalks, near-naked men and young children sleeping just beside the road, roasting in the sun. I think of the street kids in Delhi clawing at the window of our cars or reaching into the motor rickshaws at traffic signals, and how they made me think about my nephews of the same age. Two girls of about seven chase me for fifty meters asking for rupees and laughing. One of them bites my hand just before I jump into an auto rickshaw. The driver takes me to Banaras (Varanasi) Hindu University, one of the three largest residential universities in the world because I want to see what the campus looks like, and be inspired by academia. Later at my guest house, inspired, I drink my first beer in four months, a Kingfisher, with two orders of french fries, chicken curry and plain rice. The waiter asked if I wanted it spicy or non-spicy, and I knew I definitely didn't want it non-spicy. So I ordered, the result being the spiciest, most painful, water-makes-it-worse, hotter-than-hell thing that's ever passed through my lips. I slept until 10am, slowly got up and rode back down to the ghats.

After saying goodbye to my students at our guesthosue in Majnu Ka Tilla, Delhi (they would be leaving several hours later), Tashi dropped me off at the Delhi rail station. My train wasn't posted at any platform and five minutes before it was scheduled to leave a crowd of people helped me cut to the front of the enquiry line, where I was told that it was leaving from the Old Delhi station, not New Delhi. I ran to the metro, rode it two stops to the correct station and missed my train. So this was how my adventure would begin. I had to pay a bribe to get on another train, in a much less comfortable car, but was glad to be heading to my destination and the bribe cost less than it would have to go back to a guest house for another night in Delhi. Despite soldiers with huge rifles crowding into the car in the middle of the night and shouting freely to each other for several hours, I was able to sleep on the top platform six inches away from the fans blowing from the ceiling. After fourteen hours on the Varanasi Special, at around 10:30 the morning of the 14th, I arrived in one of the oldest cities in the world and a holy place for Hindus and Buddhists. The Ganges runs through Varanasi, and a lot of Hindus like to cremate and dispose of their dead at its banks. We witnessed this in Rishekesh way up river, but in Varanasi this is happening all the time. Also their are many sacred Hindu temples here, which one will accidentally run into while wandering through the city's many narrow, winding alleys. Tonight I'll move to Sarnath, where the Buddha gave his first sermon, to stay with Tashi's brother the monk until I leave.

There won't be photos for awhile. While tending to a student who had just fainted in Delhi, a crowd of people formed and one of them jacked my camera. Lightens my load and forces me to write more.

Ending...

2009-05-09T05:30:00.000-04:00

Last night was an emotionally-charged evening at the school as everyone said their goodbyes and we danced. Now we're in the Tibetan part of Delhi for four nights wrapping things up! This semester flew by faster than ever, and I'm truly going to miss this special group.

Khamzang ina lay?

2009-04-29T05:21:00.000-04:00

...means "are you well?" in Ladakhi. More travelers are arriving in Leh now that the weather is getting nice. It's good that we can see that happen and enjoy the good weather for a good while and then get out before it gets really crowded. We're looking forward to one last camping trek for four or five days, which will lead us right back to Secmol on the final day. Then we can chill on campus for a couple days before being swallowed by the Delhi Monster.

In light of my upcoming travels, I am changing the name of this blog from "James in Ladakh" to "James in Asia."

Peace.

Photos from Spring '09

2009-04-21T00:31:00.000-04:00

Emptiness

2009-04-01T04:25:00.000-04:00

Impermanence, interconnectedness, emptiness. Difficult concepts to explain, but let's see... For example, there is nothing we can call “I”. We don’t call our eyes and legs “me” but instead we say “my eyes” and “my legs”. Everything, in fact, is made of smaller parts and so the word that defines the whole is actually empty of any physical reality. The small parts are interconnected, but everything in its illusory “whole form” is impermanent. It is the understanding of these ideas that can deliver us from suffering, according to Buddhism (or help us get our priorities straight, to put it another way). Ask a lama “what is emptiness?” and your answer is likely to be preceded by a disclosure regarding the difficulty of that question, and maybe a smile with the head tilted back in thought. As I’ve come to understand, the concepts of emptiness, interconnectedness, and impermanence are interrelated.

Interconnectedness, the parts that make up the whole: body parts, species within an ecosystem, the particles of the universe. The acorn from which the oak has risen does not still exist somewhere underground. No, the acorn splits apart and resides in every small piece of the oak. The oak and the acorn are always one and the same, interconnected.

Impermanence: the oak will die and decompose, and eventually break down into parts so small that they will each inevitably become a part of everything else in the universe. (Once again interconnected.)

Emptiness: in and of itself, the thing we call the oak has no form. Again, it is only a product of its parts, so as a whole it is empty.

Our bodies are the same. When we say the word “I”, we can only describe that “I” as the sum of all our parts. That we are but a small part of something greater is also true.

Devoid of the form we attribute to ourselves, to this “I” that does not actually exist, our worries become absolutely meaningless and laughable. What is it that we are doing with that cash? Paying off an invisible debt, which came from where? A home and a car, which we return to after performing the work that lets us pay for them. We can’t enjoy our comfortable couch if we are working somewhere else to pay for it. Wouldn’t it be more comfortable not to work and pick up the free couch advertised on the community Internet space? Oh, but where do we put this couch, you ask? Where does the rent come from? But those of us from privileged backgrounds, have we not thought up a hundred ways to make some small amount of money without actually working? "But what about the bills?!" The car, that takes us away to the job we keep to pay for the comforts that await us at the home we drive away from. The car that removes us from the neighborhood that could be a community if we spent any real time as a part of it, instead of hidden somewhere in it. The community our compassion could be used on instead of wasted, leaving us in wonder about our lack of satisfaction. Do we not have a single neighbor who smiles at us, open to conversation? Maybe it’s the neighbor we talk about and suspect to be a little crazy, because he always seems to be home working on a silly project, instead of at a respectable job, suffering with the rest of us.

The cycle of suffering we create for ourselves can cease to exist the second we understand it’s utter lack of relevance to the thing we really care about. We can’t even spend a day with our loved ones unless we use a precious “day off” from the cycle we ourselves create. We--and expecially those of privileged backgrounds--don’t have a master. We begin with absolute freedom until we follow everyone else into self-sentenced slavery. We forget that happiness exists in every breath of air, every step we take. There is so much enjoyment to be had in every moment if we start taking control of our lives instead of passing up every last opportunity, like the connection we are bound to find in engaging our silly neighbor. For us, happiness always exists at the end of the day or week, after something else. We have to work up to it. In this sense we are always considering the sum of all our actions during the day that eventually lead us back home to happiness. But if we think about the emptiness that constitutes even abstract things like days and weeks, we are always left with smaller parts, and these are the moments that make up life. We can take control of these little moments, make each of them an active choice to do something. The moments too, are comprised of many parts: a step, a breath, a blink, a smile, a thought, and the pleasure only increases as we take the time to recognize, to be mindful of these smaller events.
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The concept of emptiness is difficult to explain, even in one’s native tongue. Down at Songtsen our Buddhist teacher, Konchok Temphel, gave us examples in his second language better than I could now attempt in my first. His cousin Dorjee is rekindling those ideas in our regular meetings. I meet with Dorjee from the monastery school up the road for English grammar/Buddhist philosophy lessons. I go over a few points of grammar. Then I press the record button and ask him a question about Buddhism, which requires him to answer in the present continuous or past tense for example, and then he answers slowly. We break and I address a recurring grammatical problem, sometimes rewinding the tape or having him record another version of a sentence for comparative purposes. I hope that through these sessions we will both be able to use the English language to effectively explain the notions of emptiness, interconnectness, and impermanence.

Howdy.

2009-02-27T00:51:00.000-05:00

Tsongma la Ju-le. Never would've guessed I'd be in India for the third time around, but here I am back in Ladakh, and my Ladakhi is getting pretty good! Each trip is different. This time around we got to go rafting on the Ganges and camp on it's banks (our first real night's sleep in India). Then we spent a week at the center of the Drekung Kagyupa school of Buddhism in Uttarkhand. Each day we had courses in Buddhism and Bodyik (Ladakhi/Tibetan script), and sometimes went to morning prayers and debates (between young monks in training). I asked Kenpo Tamphel what his favorite thing about being a Buddhist is and his answer was 'that we are encouraged to challenge the Buddha's teachings'.

I'm happy that I'll be able to share this Ladakh experience with a friend from home this spring, when Susannah comes to India from Athens, Georgia. It's always hard to come up with the anecdotes that really describe this experience, once I'm back home. I've tried to do that a little bit on this blog. But to be able to share the physical experience with someone will be so nice.

Till then, we've got a trek through Sham, a trip out to western Ladakh, and we need to build another greenhouse on the campus--one that I can stand up in. Also, it will be interesting to be in Little Tibet during the 50th anniversary of the Chinese occupation. Our unit on Tibet will coincide with that. Yesterday we read aloud chapter nine from The Dharma Bums during breaks from hiking up the mountain next to campus (it's a chapter about hiking up a mountain). So classes are going smoothly. I'm looking forward to a day off tomorrow...maybe a morning run, meditation on the Indus, read my book, practice Ladaksi/Bodyik, make a sandwich...ahhhh yes

Buddhism and the Philly Eagles

2009-01-19T19:04:00.000-05:00

Well, whaddaya know? The Eagles blew it again! And so did the Ravens, making way for a Super Bowl not worth watching. I was convinced that the Birds would pull it off this year, especially since I won't be able to watch the big game in two weeks. I figured not watching the Super Bowl might be my role in breaking the Eagles cycle of playoff anticlimax (the Phillies won the Series just before I last returned from India, and just before I was born in '80)--and a way of turning my back on one of the things that gets me most worked up. This all reminds me of Buddha's second Noble Truth, which says that suffering is caused by attachment. This applies to anything really: attachment to life, which will inevitably end; attachment to pleasurable experiences (also impermanent); attachment to a particular philosophy bound to be disproved or regarded as irrelevant in time. Attachment yields disappointment is what Buddha meant. The Eagles playoff run (and all the others) was impermanent, bound to come to an end. Even a Super Bowl win would produce only a 'temporary ultimate satisfaction.' Take Giants fans, less than a year after their championship--did they not suffer when Philly eliminated them from the playoffs this time around? But even attachment to detachment will yield dissatisfaction. Denying oneself of life's little pleasures altogether will not work either, for that is sad within itself. And that brings up Buddhism's Middle Path (everything in moderation). Maybe I'll write about that another time, in terms of the Flyers or the Sixers.

Viva Philadelphia!

Home for the Holidays & Gone Again

2009-01-08T12:17:00.000-05:00

Okay, here we go again. I am thankful to have had some time back in the states to relax and reflect, but really it's unsettling to be a couch-surfer. I'm ready to crawl up in my little greenhouse cell room in Phey village. Then I find myself talking about hitting the American road when I get back in the summer. I guess I'm trying to get settled in very very slowly. This whole thing has been a stepping away from American life to take a look at it from elsewhere, enter it again with a fresh perspective and frame of reference. It's been a reminder of how much money is the main factor behind so much stress. They say a fool and his money are soon parted, but I don't know. The less money I've had to speak or think of, the more I've committed to thinking and speaking with actual purpose, to looking out for opportunity, to finding out what true happiness is. When food and company are enough to warm the soul, happiness is never far off. Now I'm heading back out to Ladakh at the end of January and will be gone this time for a longer stretch. After the program ends and our students return to the U.S. May 13th I'll meet friend Susannah in Kathmandu and she'll show me what's what over there after she having volunteered at a non-profit healing center and then we'll feel our way through the monsoons in Burma Thailand Cambodia and maybe Bali and then I'm back to India for intense Hindi course and returning end of July with a whole hell of a lot of fresh perspective and frame of reference but no job and no money. But friends and food and shelter--a tent even if it goes that way, summer a good time to camp, go out west or northwest whatever. Or maybe I'll stay in the city and work in someone's brother's or aunt's restaurant or coffee shop, rent a tiny apartment and read a bunch. How could that be a bad thing, as long as there's every moment a breath and a smile from the inside, an awakening, awe.

Yardley, PA

2008-11-25T23:49:00.001-05:00

Having landed at 4:35am, 3pm India time, and then having slept at my parents' house for eight hours in the afternoon and evening, I don't feel much like I'm mentally present in the place where my body is. Traveling is so strange in that way. But slowly we'll catch up to ourselves. I've already watched the recorded game five of the Series, and ate a hoagie. Thanks to all our students this semester for being so cool and clever. And thanks to you Amy. I can't wait to work together again in the spring. Happy THanksgiving.

Philadelphia Phillies

2008-10-29T04:30:00.000-04:00

YES! I've been waiting my entire life for a Phillies WS victory. Can't wait to watch the recording... Go Phillies.

Nubra, etc.

2008-10-22T04:42:00.000-04:00

We returned from the Nubra Valley on Saturday, skidding along the highest motor-able road in the world and over Khardung-la (18,380 ft). While in Nubra, we had the misfortune of visiting hot springs, which turned out to be nothing more than a grimy stream channeled in two places into small concrete stalls for bathing or washing clothes in ankle deep water. On the way to the hot spring I'd been showing Kunzes some photos on my camera. Both of us were looking down at the screen when we came to a small bridge with a sign reading "photography strictly prohibited." The guards asked for my camera with someone in the back seat yelling "take the memory card out!" loud enough for the magpies to take flight. While the soldiers examined my family photos, we examined their mustaches (the size and shape of which the Indian army pay-scale is based), and waited tensely for them to either give up trying to work the camera, or realize that traveling with photos of the Bridge family doesn't amount to a terrorist plot. They gave the camera back and the driver gunned it. After the hot grime, we returned to Hundar and rode the double-humped camels abandoned by traders once upon a time in the Nubra desert. Strangest animal I think I've ever seen.

Since returning to Secmol, we hadn't left the campus until today, and I can't complain. The days have been full, yet relaxing. My eyes seem to shoot open at 6:15 before I walk to the toilet and try to get back to sleep without success. Before breakfast I often do push-ups and sit-ups and pull-ups in the poplar grove. After breakfast I absorb the sun outside while laughing with the Ladakhis and practicing some phrases. Everyone on campus works on something, whether gathering rocks, raking, picking or hanging vegetables to dry for the winter or building something, from nine to ten. Then we have English conversation, talking about culture in Ladakh, the U.S., and countries represented by other volunteers--a way for Secmol students to practice English, and for everyone to learn more about each other. Tea is at eleven, and then us VISpas ("pa"=person of, as in "Ladagspa") have our Ladakhi class. There might be some down time after that. Yesterday we had a meeting though, where VISpas shared their project goals for the next ten days before we do a mini-trek. Ideas are becoming pretty solid now: Thayer will interview NGOs about pollution before doing lessons and fun activities at schools; Ellen will volunteer at Mahobodi's school and possibly other facilities; Katy is searching for organizations to apply for grants for on behalf of a new AIDS project in Leh, and will probably help this project in other ways; Will is planning an event at the polo grounds to bring thousands of Ladakhis together to celebrate community with traditional dancers, NGOs, speakers, and art, while highlighting the concept of 350 parts per million of carbon in our air, a goal recognized by 350.org; Kayla will research health issues in Ladadkh with traditional and western practitioners; Howie will help with the dog sterilization project; and Sooner will collect traditional recipes from the region. And of course Amy and I are keeping nice and busy on the sidelines of all of these projects, while Amy tries to dive deeper into her understanding of solar energy, and I fumble around on the piano. By the way, I need to thank all of the people who donated to the music project, which has been an immediate success, and will only grow as we bring more equipment and books next spring. But where was I... After lunch the schedule is sometimes vague. Students have other campus responsibilities, from accounting to milking the cows, which are done either in the evening or as necessary throughout the day. I generally go for a run and teach music, practice my Ladakhi, and so forth. A great benefit lately has been karate classes with a German volunteer named Lara, whose class seems to grow each time. (While my mental balance teeters in thin air, my physical balance is at least stabilizing.) After dinner we might have a VIS activity, or the whole campus might have song and dance or game or movie night. And we're grinning ear to ear. Expect when the space bar in the internet cafe sticks word after word after word after...

Secmol

2008-10-08T05:47:00.001-04:00

I don't remember what I've mentioned about Secmol already, but I'm in love with the place and I want to talk about it now. Secmol is the place I spend half my time in Ladakh, and the place that feels most like home out here in the land of high passes. They say each year should feel shorter since each becomes a smaller fraction of the total time one has lived, but age 27 has without a doubt seemed longer than any other year in my life. I suppose in one sense it feels like a long year in the same way that we might call a particularly busy day a “long day”, but in anoter sense the place gives me the strange feeling that time is actually stretched out, that somehow I am not aging as fast. There is something about this particular stretch of the Indus valley that gives me the blissful feeling that I have time to do the things I want to in life, and at my own pace.

I need to explain another feeling, that I wasn’t quite able to place last spring, but which seems to be more clear this time around. It usually strikes me when I’m outside brushing my teeth or washing up before bed in some village or at Secmol. I look across a valley at the imposing outline of a mountain, sometimes iced by the moon’s reflection, and get a strange feeling which I’ve come to think of as “missing something that is right in front of me.” It was a difficult emotion to place, let alone to describe, but when I explained it to other members of my group, they enthusiastically related to the feeling. One student pointed out articulately that it could be the anticipation of missing something, and I think there is some reality to this. Impermanence is an important concept to understand in the Buddhist tradition, and one that can bring about a quiet sadness, but when it is understood that nothing lasts, including ourselves, the idea of impermanence can be comforting as we come to realize that we are all connected in this way, that we are never alone. Immortality, while perhaps dreamt about by everyone at some point in life, would certainly be a lonely fate, as we would watch everything else change or perish. Taking in the beauty here, it is not just the sense that I cannot stay in Ladakh that quiets me, but also the knowledge that my group, students in their late teens, are experiencing the same thing from a frame of mind that is in my past. It’s as if an illusory Ladakh of my teenage years is gone and missed.

In Ladakh and particularly at Secmol, to bring the idea back home, all of my younger years come back to me. I am young in age as it is, but I simply feel younger. The place makes it easy to be healthy and time slows to a crawl, and I know this because I have been unhealthy and watched precious time slip away. The air is clean, the work fulfilling and the energy positive. I can embody the youth that surrounds me. Surely this could be perceived as an unhealthy way of thinking--dwelling on years passed. But there is also the realization, in the Buddhist tradition, that we all carry with us everything we have ever been. It is in this way that I am still a child or a teenager. It is in the same sense that my time at Secmol has already passed, that I am an older version of me, who has lived to enjoy and come to miss this place. Like Siddartha’s river, we are like water, always at our source, our rapids and in the oceans we empty into.

There is work to be done here, but it’s fulfilling work, because the ends are visible and often immediate yet perpetually rewarding, and it’s relaxing and happy work done along side smiling faces. No one complains about their responsibilities because they are rotated between the students here. One might be the campus coordinator one month, sweep floors the next, and then switch to maintaining the solar panels and batteries. There is stimulation here when you want, and a peaceful grove of trees or a walk by the river when you want to relax. For me the place is like James Hilton's Lost Horizon, where a newcomer finds that no one ages quite like they would in the outside world. But while in that tale, age quickly catches up with those who leave Shangri-La, I do not plan to let this happen. I will carry with me the emotions I have come to realize here. I look forward to this Thanksgiving, home with the family on a crisp fall night, at which point all of these feelings will be sinking in deeper and taking on still new meaning. I look forward to returning to Ladakh in the spring of next year, and the return from traveling sometime next summer. But for now, the high passes of the present, and the music of Secmol calls. Ju-le.

Cows

2008-09-27T00:12:00.000-04:00

Where are all of the cows in the streets going? They all seem like they have a goal. Maybe this is a stretch, but it seemed a good closure to Amy and my conversation in the German Bakery this morning, a conversation about the future, grad school, Ladakh, travel, jobs, etc. Talking with someone coming recently from academia is encouraging for someone considering grad school, but who has been out for a little while. It seems daunting to think about getting back into it, but exciting in the same breath. But this is a speck on the horizon right now, for later today we will roll into Secmol with a working keyboard (the adapter has been fixed), a guitar, a handful of mouth harps and pennywhistles, and a broken accordion. We must discuss with Norgay (science teacher) what kind of project we can complete in our time there to benefit the campus and learn something new. Last spring our group built the solar water heater for the kitchen, and this time there is talk of fixing up solar showers for the washroom, though we'll definitely be active in the gardens and all other aspects of the beautiful Phey campus. I feel good. Up till now I've only had the mental capacity to recap the general events of the past month, and its been so frustrating, but last night I slept through the night (almost) and the old stomach feels a little closer to normal.

2008-09-26T07:02:00.000-04:00

Driving up the Suru Valley
View of Stok from Leh
Angmo and Kunzes

2008-09-26T06:26:00.000-04:00

Young Monk at Phuktal
The Harvest and our Tents
Tashi-Man (and Chimmy, our trek mascot)

2008-09-26T05:50:00.000-04:00

Gumbaronjon
Phuktal Monastery

The Fall '08 Crew at Tashi's
Apricots Drying in Takmachik

Back in Leh

2008-09-23T05:20:00.000-04:00

Last night we settled into the guest house in Leh, where we will be staying until finally arriving at Secmol this Saturday, exactly one month after our departure from Burlington, VT. Our extra bags were waiting for us in Leh, as well as hot showers, which, for most of us, were our first bathing experience in this time, save for an occasional splash of the face from a glacial stream. It's interesting to note that the streams are no warmer in the summer, since the sun merely melts more of the glaciers which feed them. They are only faster, an putting your head in there causes a sensation similar to brainfreeze from ice cream, but from the outside in. So now I am clean and clean shaven and am looking forward to seeing my friends at Secmol again, equipped with some music equipment. A frustrating note about that: Stupidly, I plugged the keyboard into an outlet (240 volts in India) with a plug adapter, but without a voltage convertor and the AC adapter for the keyboard is now shot. Of course it's difficult to get a 120 volt adapter in India, let alone Ladakh, so we'll have to wait on the keys until I can figure that one out. This is a big frustration for the time being as the piano was one thing I hoped to work with the students with most. But aside from this one letdown and some stomach trouble all around (similar to that of the spring crew, and seemingly everyone else who comes here), things are going pretty amazingly. Before coming to Leh we spent five nights in Takmachik, west of here and also in the Indus River valley, harvesting grasses for the animals and filling up on apricots. Every available inch of space in every Takmachik home was covered by drying apricots--bedrooms, beds, roofs, courtyards, everything covered. We ate thousands of them and shook walnuts down from trees each day. At the end of the week the village children dressed in traditional outfit and performed songs and danced for us.

Zangskar

2008-09-12T05:54:00.000-04:00

Hello from Padum! Our crew of seven students, two staff members, and Tashi have finished a ten-day trek through the Greater Himalayan Range, crossing a 16,500 foot pass through bitter snow in the Zangskar region of Ladakh, and camping beneath 20,000foot peaks. We've been shadowed by twelve ponies, three ponymen, a cook and a helper, to smooth out some of the rough edges of camping here. After the pass the weather gradually grew warmer and sunnier and today we enjoyed a day trip to the 700-yr-old Karsha Monastery wearing T-shirts and sandals. We've now been in India for two weeks, and will not reach our home at Secmol for another fifteen days. I couldn't handle the hair nappiness and decided to have a nice proper shave and haircut today in Padum. During the trek we covered about 80 miles with hardly any altitude problems at all. We harvested barley, played pony shoes, read Siddartha together and sort of adopted a dog for a little while. We visited the famous Phuktal Monastery, built into a cave and cliff above the Kargyak River. Over the next couple weeks, we're going to pass through Kargil in western Ladakh, stay at a nunnery in Mulbekh, and spend a few nights in Tashi's village before helping to harvest in the Sham region. The landscape is different from that I experienced here in the spring. Barley fields cast a golden glow over every village, and even the occassional patches of trees provide greens and yellows at least somewhat reminiscent of our autumn on the east coast, which we will all miss very much. Things couldn't be more beautiful here, but I'm most excited about my role here, and doing whatever I can to help this crew get as much as possible out of these three months here. And in the process I'm learning so much more about this land of intimidating mountains and gentle people, bright sun and glistening glaciers. More to come soon. I miss you all, and can't wait to see everyone at Thanksgiving time!

Making Dinner at Secmol.

2008-08-12T19:00:00.000-04:00

Another video I made at Secmol back in the spring. The kitchen is a fun place to chill, especially on mokmok (pronounced momo) night. Mokmoks are steamed dumplings.

Back in the USA

2008-08-11T23:48:00.001-04:00

It's been a great summer back in the USA, and I'm hesitant to post this on "jamesinladakh" but it's easiest to stick with one link so what the hell. For a few weeks the idea was to drive out west and visit friends while picking up occasional hours with my old employer Courthouse News Service. But then I was offered a job as a crew leader for Baltimore City high school students, maintaining parks. The Student Conservation Association interviewed and hired me two days before a training program in Pittsburg began, so I made a quick decision to abandon the road trip. Looking at my finances even after working a summer job, it's clear that that was the right move. Still, I managed a long weekend in Chicago over the 4th of July and a couple of Ocean City New Jersey trips. Together with a closing ceremony for the spring VIS crew in Vermont, I guess I got around a good bit this summer. And now I have some trail and footbridge building skills. Working with the Baltimore kids was amazing too, and forced me to be more authoritative than in my capacity as intern out in Ladakh. This, I think, will help me to better balance my teaching style in the long run.

Returning from Ladakh in May without a job, but with at least some security/fall back plans, gave me a great feeling of liberation. At the same time, the couch surfing was horrible. Nothing against my gracious hosts, but there's a lot to be said for personal living space. In this way, it will be nice to return to my little greenhouse nook at SECMOL (see early blogs).

This summer it was also nice to at least play one good show with MoBeano. It had seemed like we could fit a couple in, but this was unrealistic thinking on my part. I got really busy. Also musically, I managed to raise donations of new and used musical equipment to bring back to SECMOL. We've got keyboards, a new acoustic guitar, a violin, and even accordions. This is exciting for me and all of the Ladakhi students around the bend. Some of my favorite students will be at the campus again in the fall, which I am also incredibly excited about. So, the beginning of our fall experience will be an entrance into Ladakh on foot during a fifteen-day trek before we even get to the campus! But first, a few days in Delhi starting on August 28th! I seriously need to find some time to loaf. Anyway, the path continues to get carved out, deeper into Baltimore now, and deeper into Ladakh soon. Maybe the paths will meet somewhere in the middle. Keep in touch, my friends.

The Final Post?

2008-05-20T09:41:00.000-04:00

I've been back for one week as of today. I'm suffering a lack of stimulation, as well as residual jetlag and maybe some traces of Delhi belly issues. Still, it's good to be home among my family and friends, and where there are hot showers. As of now I am not working, nor am I residing anywhere in particular. The last two nights were spent at my sister's house in Towson, and the next two somewhere else. I've come home to overcast skies much of the time, and I'm told it's been like this a lot lately. In a way it's nice to see, as overcast means there could actually be rain, unlike in Ladakh where clouds are just clouds. I've been to two of my nephews' little league baseball/t-ball games, met my brand new tiny niece, and saw my newest nephew (8.5 months) who, since I left, has learned to prop himself up and has a clear gaze and a funny smile.

There are India pictures to go up, maybe on this blog, maybe some on the facebook/myspace, but my computer is getting fixed now so check back for those in a week.

The title of this blog reflects my indecision over returning to Ladakh in the fall. Considering the harder aspects I now understand about Ladakh (especially the isolation factor) this will be a difficult decision to make. I do want to return in the spring of '09 if possible, but it would be great to experience Ladakh during the harvest season, during a different time of year altogether. The fall is a gap-year program for high school graduates, so I wouldn't be so much a teacher as a resource person and advisor. The drawbacks of returning to Ladakh are obvious ones. Leaving my family and social circle is the biggest. When I consider that I would be gone for another three months, and then back (possibly in time for Thanksgiving) then I believe I could do it. I love it there, I love the program. I would miss my friends and family deeply, which is why they...ahem...you...need to visit me there. Then travel south Asia. Anyway, I have a few weeks to think about it and the whole summer here in the U.S.A.

Well, the Ladakh spring '08 semester has ended. What an experience. I am more at peace, I have checked a number of my own bad habits and tried to advance some of the good ones. I have had the great fortune of teaching eleven of New England's most promising scholars and artists, philosophers...people. I have learned more about teaching...in one of earth's highest and most remote regions. Right now, I fear, this when I could fall into some kind of rut. Idle hands are the devil's playground. Something like that. Got to stay busy...What to do...

?

Western Ladakh/Kashmir Valley

2008-04-29T02:02:00.000-04:00

On April 14th we drove to Tashi's village in western Ladakh. Actually, our group was split between his village of Chiktan and another one down the road called Pargu. Tashi's family is the only Buddhist family in either village. All the rest are Muslim, as is usual in the western district. Methods for farming and house styles are quite similar, but instead of chortens and prayer walls, and elderly folk quietly chanting mantras, there were muzzeins blasting prayers out of megaphones from mosques. We helped in the fields and I gave my host a hand in repairing part of a wall that had fallen. I'm pretty sure I ate a piece of sheep intestine at one point. Like angels of our dreaming, three young girls in our household in Pargu brought tea and biscuits into our room each morning before 7:00 and said "excuse me...tea." They put the saucers next to the three of our heads and we drank and ate from a still-horizontal position in sleeping bags, then went back to sleep sometimes until breakfast. The life! Plus our host gave me a pashmina hat he'd made after I helped him with work one day.

From Chiktan, we moved to the Mulbek block where SECMOL's former director Norbu is now the principle of a private school in his home village. After visiting the school and breaking into groups with the students there for games and conversation, we headed to a nunnery in nearby Wakkah for the night. In the morning we all went into Kargil, the western district's (Kargil district) main town and took a little walk around. Everyone except for Bennet and I returned to the nunnery in the late afternoon. The two of us waited until midnight to catch a car to Kashmir.

Occasionally we caught a few winks on the ride, but the full moon gave us glorious glimpses of Zoji-la, the main pass between Leh and Srinigar. Luckily for us the pass had opened just a week before, earlier than ever. Arriving in Srinigar at 5:15, we found our way to Dal Lake and hopped into a Shikara (long boat with canopy) for an early morning float out to the vegetable market in the lake. As we floated back, Abdul called my cell phone. VIS teacher Sam had met Abdul when he was in Srinigar back in January and recommended I get in touch with him. Abdul was a good resource and friend. Bennet and I stayed in the home of his sister and ate meals with the family, and Abdul showed us the sights of new and old Srinigar, including many mosques and the site where some believe Jesus was buried. We had lhasi and fresh bread at little shops on the street and popped into Abdul's houseboat for tea in the afternoons. Though Srinigar is a beautiful city, with its Mughal gardens, mosques, and many green parks, it is also a dirty and chaotic city. We were constantly approached by houseboat owners wanting us to stay in their guest houses, and Abdul pointed out the difference in color between the river and the water flowing into it from a canal connecting to Dal Lake. The darkness from the canal represented a lot of waste. Also, there is no proper sewage system in Srinigar, except in maybe one small area. Getting out of Srinigar into Pahalgam was quite a contrast, and let me see some of the Kashmir I had imagined--lush, green mountains covered in trees and laced with quiet streams. Here we lucked out on the sleeping quarters as well. We stayed with an amazing cook. Since Abdul's sister is equally amazing at the stove, we enjoyed kick-ass Kashmiri cuisine all week. Our host in Pahalgam as well as Abdul and his brother Rashid told us a lot about the time during the insurgency from 1989 to 1999, when the military held their guns at the hip with a finger on the trigger. Though the military is still everywhere (we were searched once crossing a bridge), their guns hang to their sides and they seem in good spirits, leaving us to marvel at their mustaches (for which they are paid by size, or so says Rashid). Abdul pointed out at least one building riddled with bullet holes from that unfortunate time in Kashmir. Abdul embraces the "cell phone" culture, new to Srinigar, with open arms. "Better cell phone culture than gun culture." He is optimistic about the future (even though there'd been a small bombing a week earlier), and is constantly smiling. This was not the general sense I got from Kashmiris, however. In my short time in the region, I picked up on a lingering sense of fear...and maybe anger, which a new optimism must muscle through. Like a shaft of light shining through a big cloud in the late afternoon, the Kashmiri smile may be emerging after a long period of turmoil. One of the biggest challenges for Kashmiris may be the corruption that persists in politics. Bennet and I also noticed that during several conversations we were given a similar shpiel about how "Kashmir is the most beautiful place in the world with the most friendly people and beautiful women" like some verbal business card. On the way back to Leh we saved some money by taking a two-day bus trip (10 hours each day), spending one night in Kargil. It was painful, and I thought my life was about to end when the bus driver momentarily lost control at Zoji-la.

Here, back in Leh and Phey, our students are wrapping up their exhibition work and will give presentations for the school and other visitors later this week. I've got to write evaluations of students and of the program, and maybe pick up a few things to bring home from Leh town, where I am currently sitting in the good old internet cafe for one of the last times. Well, time to meet Tashi across the street and get lunch! Adios amigos, and see you in a few weeks!

video

2008-04-11T03:43:00.001-04:00

Check out my video, which i posted on the student blog. I'll put it up here soon, too.

James

Rumbak, Rellay, and Rinchen

2008-04-08T08:24:00.000-04:00

Y'all?

Apologies for the delay in writing. Since the last post, much has happened and seeing as I have a little time in the internet "cafe" in Leh at the moment, I'll try to recap things on the spot instead of on my laptop back at Tashi's.

Tashi Angchuk is our guide here. He's helped VIS in years past and is now an official employee. Tashi knows almost everyone in Ladakh. For instance, I came here with one name--the name of a friend from Baltimore's professor's friend. Tashi knew who I was talking about. Jansyn had a picture of someone she needed to deliver ice skates to, on behalf of a relative or friend from home. Tashi knew him by his picture. He knew another student's contact and where to find him. Tashi is a good man, and an excellent guide.

This week us teachers are based at the home of Tashi and his wife Dolkar as our students have left the SECMOL campus in order to research for their independent exhibitions. Each of our eleven Vermonters/Massachusites have chosen a topic and are staying with different families in order to get hands-on experience. In the next few days we'll be checking in on them. Lately I've taken to editing my short film clips and setting them to music and there should be a lot of good opportunities for footage during these visits:

Jansyn is staying in Choglamsar, a Tibetan refugee community. As you've seen in the news, this should be a particularly interesting time to study the Tibetan issue. Tess is staying with nuns, focusing on women's roles in Buddhism. I'm fascinated in this topic as well, and gave Tess a poem by Milarepa, a great Boddhisatva and one of the most important figures in Buddhism, called Women in the Dharma. In it, a woman acknowledges having been born into an "inferior body." (Many Buddhist sects maintain that in order to become enlightened, one must first be born as a male.) Duncan is studying with a Ladakhi drummer. Musicians are traditionally of lower caste, and that will be part of his focus, though he is putting a lot of energy into the musical aspect with two hour lessons each day. I'll be visiting Jansyn, Tess, and Duncan this week since they are my three advisees on this project. Also, in order to have a male perspective, I'm joining Ashleen in the classroom of a private and public school Thursday as she speaks to students about sexuality. Today, on Ashleen's first day in the classroom of the private school, students wrote down many questions and placed and folded them up anonymously for her to look over and bring back another day. It's a great way to learn about what Ladakhis are taught, how open they are, how generations vary from one to another, and local myths. I think it's a brave topic for a student to pursue, and we were a bit surprised at how open the Lamdon school's principal was to having her talk with the students. We're excited about her day-one success. Every student has an interesting topic and hopefully there will be some aspect of their research posted on the VIS blog later on.

Since the last post, I've taken a few days off to trek to Rumbak, through a narrow canyon in snow leopard country. (Keep up with the VIS blog for a student article about these elusive cats). We also had our second group trek, which included two nights in Rellay, probably the most beautiful place I've seen so far in Ladakh. One student called it a "Lord of the Rings shire." My group of three was lucky to have stayed with family of Kunzes Dolma, a college student who stays at SECMOL. It was comfortable and her family is most friendly. It was also nice to have meat for a change, of the local variety (though my meat appetite has waned a good bit). Rellay is a yak and goat herding village, and during a day hike we passed nomadic tents tended by Kunzes' brother and a companion about an hour up the valley. They were tending yak and goats, letting them graze away from the village. Two of Kunzes' other brothers are lamas, and one is married. This type of situation is typical in Ladakhi families, and is part of the reason the population doesn't increase faster. (Polyandry had been another, but is now illegal and rare except, I'm told, in some of the more remote villages).

Earlier in the trek I stayed in the home of another SECMOL friend Gyaltson, though he was back at the campus. We abandoned the second part of our trek due to high snows on the pass into the Nubra valley. There was another unfortunate experience: one of the Ladakhi students who had been trekking with us was possessed for a few minutes in the car ride, by the ama-le (mother) from her homestay. This combined with some car sickness of other students and waiting at a 17,000 ft. pass for other vehicles to get "unstuck" made for an interesting journey.

Next week we're heading to the western, and predominantly Muslim part of Ladakh, to the village where Tashi comes from, and to Kargil, the main town out there. From Kargil, I'm breaking off from the group to explore Srinagar with Bennet, a volunteer with VIS. We will return to SECMOL a couple days after the rest of the group, at which point exhibitions will be coming to a close and presentations will happen. (Then we will try a mini-trek maybe, head to Delhi for a few days, and I will fly home.)

Since we're staying with Tashi in Leh now, this is a good week to do some shopping when I'm not catching up on student research. I dropped off some material to have some pants tailored this afternoon, to a guy named Rinchen who has been making stuff for Daniela and some of our students. He is said to be one of the better tailors around.

I've also continued teaching another Rinchen (from SECMOL) about music, and giving piano lessons from his small keyboard. If I return next year I absolutely must bring a nice set of keys out to SECMOL...maybe I should start a fund drive for this. One thing that's very absent from SECMOL is musical instruments.

Instead of saving this I think I'm going to just stop writing and post this blog to get something up. It's been too long. Later!

Ways of Life Versus Lifestyle Choices

2008-03-23T18:29:00.000-04:00

Living in Ladakh has increased my aversion to the word “sustainability.” My aversion has nothing to do with the principle behind the concept. The problem for me is that the word wraps so much into such a small package that its driving ideas are simply passed over by many people. When confronted with a single word, a similarly quick response is natural and allows one to pass over the things that matter.

We need words behind this movement toward environmental responsibility and it pleases me to see the media giving attention to the movement, no matter what the motivation. In the same breath, while popular culture confronts us with these principles it legitimizes the denial of these principles for many people. We live in a society where so many ideas are presented as an all-too-simple right or wrong, where a yes or no choice can be made and that’s that. And in the process of turning everything into a two-sided debate, we undermine ideas that have already been proven to work.

Looking at our own society we see lifestyle choices everywhere: clothing, building materials, transportation, diet. All of these represent the many choices we have thanks to the resources at our disposal. Take a place like Ladakh though, a high-altitude desert where choices are diminished due to climate constraints and isolation, and people are presented with a way of life that creates no choice but to live in harmony with the environment. Lack of rain and altitude present two large challenges to agriculture and animal grazing, creating the need for a simple diet. Development and tourism widen the paths of trade and bring about imports which threaten the delicate balance in Ladakh, and turn a way of life into a lifestyle choice. In the process, the need for conscious decisions regarding environmental responsibility is created in a place where formerly an environmentally sound choice was no more than a choice to survive.

Maybe it isn’t just the word “sustainability” that irks me, but rather the newness of it, the fact that it tells us that only now must we make a decision regarding our future—that only now should we make such decisions. Yet it is true: only recently have we become aware of the damage that we must now try to limit, and eventually reverse, thus necessitating such a word and the choices that come with it. Perhaps the more choices we have the more opportunities we give ourselves to argue about them, and the more we forget about the basic necessity to live in harmony with our surroundings.

So Much to Tell

2008-03-12T12:19:00.000-04:00

I enjoy writing these blogs. Approaching them by category gives me the chance to process many different aspects of this experience with some kind of organization, even if I drift between ideas a good bit in the process. There are a lot of other things I would like to blog about specifically, some requiring more learning on my part. The Kashmir valley to our west, for instance, is a place that people might associate with the pashmina wool trade (cashmere sweaters), or think of as a sort of paradise, or maybe with the Led Zeppelin song Kashmir. Bill Clinton referred to Kashmir as one of the most volatile places on earth, a region most likely to engage in nuclear warfare, yet there is so much to understand about the Kashmiri people and the nature of the relationship between India and Pakistan in order to have a decent sense of the conflict. Tibet, on the other side, might bring to mind Buddhism, the phrase “the rooftop of the world” and some vague idea of a people oppressed, though there are many who fail to realize the vastness of the place that is Tibet, and the reality of its greater history and the struggle for freedom during the past century. Ladakh is touched by both of these places, geographically and culturally, and has played a part in both conflicts, yet the Ladakhi people maintain their own strong and unique cultural identity, and within Ladkah there are specific political debates unrelated to the Kashmiri or Tibetan issues. I’d to blog on this some more.

I’d also like to blog on the “sustainability” deal. While the term has become popular in the U.S. in recent years, it has been a way of life and a necessity for survival in Ladakh for hundreds. Only in recent decades since Ladakh has experienced tourism, an increasing military presence, and resulting development, has there been a need to specifically evaluate the environmental issues that arise from such changes. For example, to us in the U.S. the composting toilet is a novel technique and even cause for some joking while the composting toilet here in Ladakh is simply the toilet. Interestingly, signs on the doors often explain the use of the “Ladakhi toilet,” obviously an addition made to accommodate tourists.

Tourism itself would be an interesting blog topic. For some reason, I’m told, westerners started coming in greater numbers before tourists from the Indian subcontinent. It should be noted that most western tourists here are the kind that are culturally sensitive, open to the idea of a composting toilet or a bucket bath, adventurers not in need of the comforts of a resort-style vacation. Ladakh was opened to tourism in 1974. Since then many villages have opened a few homes to trekkers for around 200-250 rupees per night, a fee which generally includes three meals and unlimited tea, and warm chats with families around a stove.

I’d like to blog about the landscape some more, scattered with rocks that seem to give entire mountains a purple hue, and strange orange and purple mixture in the evening hours that I find difficult to explain. I’d like to blog about the friendliness of the people here—the shy combined with the smile. I want to write about the family structure—often involving three generations under one roof, and the dwindling polyandry here. The difference between the traditional farming family and nomadic villages, both very much realities. I’d like to write about the top of the food chain, the elusive snow leopard.
There are so many things to tell, and I’ll be happy to get around to a few of them during my remaining two months here. In the meantime I invite you to visit our blog for student work, linked from this page (if you’re reading this on Myspace, go to jamesinladakh.blogger.com to find the link). On the student work blog you will find a mix of creative pieces perhaps inspired but not always directly related to Ladakh itself, and pieces specifically devoted to things Ladakhi. Our students are choosing topics for their big exhibition pieces, many of which I’ve mentioned in the above paragraphs. There will be written components of these exhibitions, which we might post on that blog, but before then there will be other posts of shorter pieces. I am happy to be able to share Ladakh with you, through my own experience, and through the eyes of our inspired and talented students.

Today we visited an artificial glacier (only one in the world?) and the hydro electric plant in Leh. Tomorrow I’m heading off campus to trek solo to Rumbak, a village 4-5 hours walking from here, to take a little time off to think and read and write for a couple days. I’ll return Saturday, and then the whole group is off again Monday for our second big trek, which will last one week.

Last night I spoke during dinner. Everybody must take a turn to speak about anything, and most Ladakhi students talk about their village or school. The VISpas talk about their hometowns, making maple syrup, snowboarding, many things. I chose to talk about my family. I’m thinking of you. Friends, you as well. Lovingly…

Trek #1: Likir to Temisgam-Ang

2008-03-07T12:22:00.000-05:00

Our first trek involved five home stays in a different village each night, where we were accepted as family and treated like honored guests. During down time in villages everyone read Herman Hesse's Siddhartha, and we found time to discuss it a few times along the way— once under the prayer flags on a rooftop in Uley, once over chow mein in the village of Nyima… The hospitality shown to us reminds me of Siddhartha’s revelation, that we must revere the Buddha in everyone and everything, saint or sinner, river or rock, because all things are one and everything. We were honored as divine guests in each home along the way.

Each morning we set out at about ten and picked up a trail or dirt road leading between Likir, Yanthang, Uley, Hemis Skukpachan, and Temisgam-Ang. Three horses with bells on their necks followed our group of nineteen through the passes, through snow, dirt, clay, mud, and a strange stretch of broken slate. We saw Tibetan characters, mantras thirty feet high carved into reddish brown rock. Sheep and goats grazed on the mountainsides. Immaculately maintained rock walls lined the fields between villages along the river.

Approaching from the distance, we saw that each village was tucked uniquely into its own valley at some clever angle. Between homes (sometimes there were ten, sometimes fifty or more) rock walls channeled streams deliberately through patches of short trees, terraced fields and pastures. Inside the homes, packed earth formed the floors, which led through dim halls and into rooms heated invitingly by similar wood and dung burning stoves in every village. (Cow or dzo dung takes about a year to dry and becomes a surprisingly effective and fine smelling fuel. [The dzo is a yak-cow hybrid well-suited to tasks such as plowing or thrashing at high altitudes.]) Tradionally families congregate in the kitchen in the evening, around the stove on floor mats, which often double as sleeping spots for some family members. Each night we sat around the stove, ate and talked with our families, and sometimes read our books.

During homestays our group was split between anywhere from two to eight homes. On all but the last night, we were accompanied by at least one Ladakhi student or Tashi our guide, hugely helpful since English was spoken either sparsely or not at all. In Temisgam-Ang, I had two mini Ladakhi teachers, ages six and eight. They worked with me on learning the alphabet.

In Hemis Skukpachan, we stayed at the home of a former Ladakh Scout border patrolman. In broken English he managed to tell us the story of ama skukpa, a juniper tree bearing a striking resemblance to a Ladakhi woman in traditional dress, which traveled from Temisgam to Hemis Skukpachan overnight. This was during the time when leprosy was taking many lives in Ladakh, but after ama skukpa, or mother juniper, made her mysterious move, no more lives were lost. The friendly couple their gave us a spicy Thukpa, a kind of noodle soup. In Ladakh, it is common for a host to wait before eating until guests themselves have eaten. In our case, we ate Thukpa and then were forced to join our host couple when they had their own meal half an hour later. It didn’t matter how often we declined. Declining things at first is considered polite here, so that presents another communication challenge.

We tried many traditional foods, some of which are made only on special occasions, as well as cold chang, sort of a fermented barley beer. I’ve never been much of a Kit Kat fan, but there is something different about the Kit Kats here, something that makes me ravage them. In bulk. At ten rupees apiece they could present my biggest health challenge in Ladakh. After trekking I picked up a box of 24 on the way through Leh. Granted some went to Sam, slung like bricks of contraband, but most of them I consumed ravenously. Maybe it’s me that’s different here.

back at campus...

One of our students reflected that it was strange to refer to SECMOL as “home”, but it is our home out here and when we returned from trekking we had a nice welcome from the Ladakhi students. Things are happening much faster on campus now. Things are more organized. There are all kinds of projects happening. Though many things are simply inefficient or just don’t work, I see a lot of good in that, since it allows future generations of students to learn from hands-on projects. The campus could use another expert or two in some areas though…

The other day Bennet and I went with Dorje toward the spring where most of our water comes from. Along the way part of the pipe was situated under an overhang, and the day before Dorje had recruited some help to built a kind of retaining wall to help prevent erosion and to cover the pipe. While we were there I heard a slight shifting in the rock wall, which was about nine feet tall and composed of many large rocks which had required two people to move. I shushed them, and we put our ears to the wall. Dorje had to restrain hiumself from giggling as we heard the rocks shifting again, and then again. He took off running in one direction, Bennet and I in the other, and a few seconds later the whole thing collapsed and we had a good laugh.

Inefficient as this project was, these are the kinds of comical incidents that seem to make things work around here in the long run. There is an element of fun in every moment. Once I saw Tundup and others walking along the road toward the spring when the pipes were frozen. I asked Tundup what he was doing and his reply was “getting water and having fun.” And having fun. Not just getting water. And it was obvious that they were having fun. (Tundup in particular is always smiling.) That there are always many projects here reminds me of the work that needs to be done in my own town, and in any American city. Sometimes I think of Baltimore in terms of its many problems. It’s unfortunate that many projects there are geared toward profit and not social progress, but it gives one a sense of productivity to see certain things getting done on a daily basis, and reminds me that we can make things work for us with the right decisions and right attitude.

In a week we will set off from Pangong Lake at the Tibetan border, heading north and west for five or six days. This trek will involve some camping, and supposedly a 14-hour day over one pass. Until then we’re here at SECMOL, where the sun has been shining every day and short sleeves are even coming out in the afternoons. One of our many guest speakers came to campus this week: the head of the Leh chapter of the Tibetan Youth Congress. He told of the movement for Tibetan independence and efforts to spread awareness worldwide (there are 84 chapters internationally). This year in Dharamsala (home of the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan Government in Exile) the Tibetan Olympics will coincide with the 2008 Olympics in Beijing, a way to give Tibetans a chance to compete, while protesting the continued Chinese occupation. There are also protests this Sunday, March 10, the anniversary of the Tibetan uprising and the day the Dalai Lama was forced to flee the country in 1959.

What else…I played a game of cricket today but couldn’t tell what was going on ninety percent of the time. We’ve got a visit to the “artificial glacier man” next week and a day hike this weekend, I’m continuing to give piano lessons to Rinchen on his mini keyboard, and the running is still happening. My body seems to have adjusted fully to the food. My hair is getting long, and the only time I’ve used my beard trimmer was to help in the process of mohawking Toben’s hair.

I am curious about what is happening back home, I am disappointed that Obama didn’t seal the deal, and I’m trying to come up with some plan for the summer. Keep me posted, and thanks for reading.

Health/Running to Phey

2008-02-21T22:42:00.000-05:00

Phey [pronounced pay] is the nearest village to our little campus here in Ladakh. It is three kilometers away along a winding, occasionally rocky road one hundred meters above the Indus River. When I run I stare at the mountains ahead of me—there is less snow on them each day as the sun starts to poke through the winter.

People have written about the spiritual aspect of running and exercising, and I must put in my part here because running has given me an immense boost on this level, as well as on a physical and mental plain. I’d never been a runner until the last couple months before my flight. The four-mile goal I had set in Baltimore was big for me, but I didn’t manage to reach it because a cold caught me in the last few weeks. Nevertheless, running there gave me serious momentum in many ways, and after a couple days in Delhi I was ready to take to the dusty road.

Daniela knocked on my door at the crack of dawn and we found a path from the guest house down to the river and the dirt road which crossed it via a small bridge. Mantras emerged from a thick of trees near the river as I angled my path past the occasional cow or bike. I felt stares from the faces, from people squatted next to shacks along the road, and the smell of sage grew stronger with each dusty breath. Sometimes I find myself smiling when I’m alone, when everything just adds up, when the winds are blowing my way. In those moments on the dirt road as my pace slowed to a walk I couldn’t help myself, even though the cart pullers, even though the bridge crossers, even though the gods of the Indian morning were watching me. They smiled back I think, as I panted back up to the guest house to prepare for our last day in crowded Delhi.

Adjusting to Ladakh was different. There was the horrible altitude sickness as I mentioned, and the emergence of a new cold. But this was a cold I could ignore with the help of some vitamin-C and pure circumstance. Three weeks into this trip the altitude adjustment is as good as done and the other day I’m running on this bending road, the two miles to Phey, then turning around and running back, and a bus is passing me along the way and I know who it is because the only traffic on this road is from campus. In the passenger seat smiling beamingly is the monk from Lamayuru who came to speak for us earlier in the afternoon. The van is driven by our guide Tashi’s friend Morop. Tashi yells “Ohh Ju-le!!” out the window. That and the monk’s smile cause me to laugh and almost lose my breath. But when the laughter is done the feeling that remains lifts me up and my legs are moving without me, my mind emptying.

My body is working through some things up here. I’m pushing through the thin air, shedding the anxiety from my skin, focusing on the run, the road, the river below, the mountain and the mission ahead. This week I ran four or five miles each day at 11,500 ft. and there is talk of getting dropped off in Leh and running the eleven back to campus before this is over. Daniela told me I should enter the lottery for the New York marathon. I don’t know about that, but it excites me that it would even be a possibility. I guess this is becoming a note of personal celebration, but it a big part of my day here—my thinking time, my head clearing. One part of me wants to say that I have not been this healthy since eighth grade. This may be partially true, but there are a few challenges.

Immediately, there was the altitude and water to consider. The altitude simply took a few days, and the water is easy enough to boil or filter. Then there is the food in eastern Ladakh—while it’s nutritious, it does leave us with certain cravings. Many of these I am happy to ignore (or attempt to), because I know they are the result of poor eating habits of the past. But I can’t help but to wonder if my diet is complete. Except for on certain occasions I never ate very large amounts of meat recently, but still I wonder about the protein. There is soy incorporated into certain stews, and there are lentils. Ohhh there are lentils. But I have only consumed meat once since arriving in Ladakh. It was at the Leh View Restaurant. I ate spicy mutton. I devoured it. I ate with zest, and then piled on another plate full. It was a mistake that came back to haunt me at 3am, and then it’s a bitterly cold walk to the compost toilet.

On campus there is no meat to speak of, but plenty of dairy. The sweet tea is always milky. That reminds me: the other day the two campus cows came trotting by, chased by our student Ashleen and her Ladakhi work partner. Somehow they had slipped out of the cow shed and I guess they took off down the road toward Phey. Good clean fun at SECMOL. Anyway the milk is from these cows, and is boiled, but yesterday I decided to lay off the sweet milky tea, delicious as it is. Sometimes the soup is oily and this can be dangerous for those with weak stomachs. All in all I’ve been fine with the food, but there are one or two meals per week that are difficult to eat with good humor, and on those days I’ve taken to raiding the VIS stash box for a peanut butter and honey sandwich. We need to stock up in Leh. I’m a skinny man, yet I just may be losing a little bit of weight. From conversations with previous VIS people, this seems like a given out here. It’s quite possible that my beard and bulky coat are concealing that trend, but I don’t often see a mirror, so its hard to tell. I think it was Daniela who said I look healthier out here, with more color in the cheeks. I’ll go along with that.

Aside from the food, there is the question of close quarters—when one of us gets sick, it seems, at least a couple will follow. There has been an interesting assortment of minor illnesses. Nothing serious. Quickly passing digestive things, and colds. Mine is waning. Almost gone.

So the food is quite plain, its easy to get sick initially, oh and it’s not quite as easy to bathe (but easy enough if you don’t mind fetching your water from a spring when the pipes are frozen, which only happens when it’s the coldest winter in Ladakh in 45 years). But…the food is nutritious, and there’s every opportunity to exercise. Some mornings I opt for yoga before breakfast, led by Sam. If not there’s always the high-altitude running, trekking and general labor around campus. And of course, we’re in Buddha land.

…and Other Goings-On

Daniela and Sam mostly, as well as the students themselves and this very place, have all been teaching me how to…teach. The English assignments are working out well, but I think I can do better during the actual classroom time. But it’s getting there. I’m also an advisor for three of our eleven students. Each week we sit down for a chat or take a hike or something, just to talk about anything at all. I’m feeling good about the academic things, and have been able to do some music sessions with the Ladakhi students in addition to the language stuff. Norbu, the director here, and I have been passing music back and forth on a flash drive, which I’m very excited about. Today I went scrounging for scrap materials to assemble a half basketball court with our student Otto. That project looks promising—plenty of scrap wood and metal, and already a post set up. Will keep you posted.

The days are full. Some of this week’s more interesting events included spinning Sonam and Dadul 360 degrees while they tried not to spill water from a cup, shoveling manure from a composting toilet, and getting blessed by an oracle (a possessed lama) at the Matho Nagrang festival. “They all relate somehow,” Sam says. And I’m sure they do…

Saturday we have an all-day meditation, and I’ll try for another blog post on Sunday. Monday though, we head off for our first trek—five days in five villages. Then back here to SECMOL, and hopefully a day or two off! Ju-le! Obama ’08.

Feelings Here

2008-02-16T23:36:00.000-05:00

Feelings Here

Walking from our office to the lower dining hall for lunch this afternoon I was struck with a feeling I hadn’t realized previously—the feeling that all was as it should be. Walking around campus this past week I’ve been constantly aware of my surroundings, which I don’t think is a bad thing, but which created the sense that I might not be able to fully relax or simply be in these new surroundings. But today on the way to the kitchen I caught myself simply walking, simply moving and being here, enjoying a sense of unawareness which of course ceased to be the second I noticed it, but which I can reflect on nevertheless, and take as a sign that I will be able to feel somewhat at home here during these few months. It occurred to me then to use this as a concept for the next essay assignment for class. I want to create contexts within which our students can write informative pieces about SECMOL and Ladakh. Their last assignment was to reflect and write on where they are from, through the use of a particular object, place or concept from any point in their past—touching on the idea that leaving a place puts that place into a much clearer perspective. The results were beautifully executed reflections on family life, childhood, friends—using simple symbols like cars or trees or tomatoes. Now, I think our students have been here long enough to think about some of the things that make them feel “at home” here in Ladakh, and the things that make them feel far from home. I hope this would produce some more pieces full of emotion and color, and some information about life here that couldn’t be obtained through simple brochures or the like.

What makes me feel at home? The smiles from the Ladakhi students and staff here—rarely can I spot so much as a trace of hesitation in a smile when my ju-le or hello is returned in the greenhouse, by the cow shed or on the way to the dining area. The willingness of the local students to include all of us in their music and dancing on Thursday nights, their singing of traditional Ladakhi songs during dinner, and their excitement about our idea to throw a Valentine’s Day party in the big hall just for fun—these things make me feel at home. That I could give a piano lesson today—one of my points of satisfaction back home—let me feel appreciated for what I can share. (It is simple enough to share what you already know, but not always easy to recognize the value in this to someone else.) The very nature of living here, virtually free from the risk of waste and every opportunity to lead a healthy lifestyle—this way of living makes me feel comfortable, and though this lifestyle is different from mine at home, it captures some of the things I had been striving for with much greater difficulty. The mountains around us, the Indus winding through them, the transplanted poplars by its banks, the snow blanketing the poplars’ roots—this is the landscape in which I will experience the feelings of being and doing what I should.

But inevitably, this is the backdrop of my fears, my pain, that which I could not leave behind no matter where I traveled. The sense that I am here as one person with a vague goal and no straight path, the knowledge that I am surrounded by unfamiliar faces, no matter the depth of the creases that seem to ripple outward from all of their smiles. The idea that I am accepting my food on a plate that passes through the hands of so many others each week—this is an idea which I accept well enough, but reminds me that I am living on a campus—yes, in a community full of positive spirit and growth—but not in the community I have become a part of during the last eight years in Baltimore, and not a short drive from my family.

Last week there was a feeling—I’m not even sure I realized that it was there until after it was gone. After I had responded to a few e-mails, composed a blog, and posted a few photos, I had a great sense of relief at having managed contact with “the outside world,” and realized that I had been experiencing a feeling of helplessness in my position. I’ve since come up with a better plan for composing blogs and such, I don’t feel so disconnected, and can more fully enjoy my position.

And there’s the nagging feeling of time tugging at my sleeve, sometimes when I turn the page of a book and simultaneously experience the satisfaction at having absorbed another page of knowledge, and the unsettling sense of wonder at what else I could have achieved in those minutes. Again, a balance is achieved in the acceptance of our own limitations along side the realization of our potential.

Ju-le!

2008-02-15T00:03:00.000-05:00

Ju-le from Ladakh. I’ve had less internet access here than I thought I would (none, in fact) so I’m doing my best now to type something to post the next time I make it to town, which should be this coming Friday, 2/17.

I think I’ve been in India for twelve days now, but as one of my students recorded, “time passes strangely here.” The days blend together, and so far there has been little reason to keep track of days of the week. We arrived in Delhi in the early hours of February 2^nd, boarded a bus, and fumbled our way through a dark alley of the Tibetan Refugee Colony in Old Delhi, making our way to the guest houses we’d be split between over the next three nights. Our introduction to India in Delhi was absolutely something I need to blog about, but I’ll backtrack later since my true purpose here is in Ladakh…

Ladakh, “land of high passes” is one of three regions in India’s northernmost state, Jammu and Kashmir, and sits snugly between the vast Tibetan Plateau and the Kashmir valley. A former Tibetan Buddhist kingdom, it has only been open to tourism since the 1970s. Some scholars here believe that tourism has renewed a sense of self-appreciation in Ladakhis, after they were made to feel “backward” and “inferior” by Indian army and administration stationed in the area as a result of conflicts with China and Pakistan. I am here as one of three teachers during a semester abroad program for American high school students, and will be based at an alternative institute, a solar campus twelve miles outside of Leh, eastern Ladakh’s main city.

Since we flew into Leh airport instead of driving, the altitude change was sudden. Everyone suffered minor headaches, fatigue, and confusion. Looking back, the experience in the airport seems surreal because of the general confusion, especially when recalling the two Ladakhis draping our shoulders with traditional white scarves of honor (Kataks). We took a few days to acclimatize in Leh, during which neither students nor teachers were required to do much of anything. Many of us experienced worse symtoms of altitude sickness—nausea, vomiting, and downright confusion of time and place. But these effects were lightened by the hospitality provided at our guest house—we were given tea and meals virtually any time we pleased and warm Ladakhi smiles, an unmistakeable part of the landscape here.

Just bumming around the guest house grounds was an experience—at all times a light brown calf skipped around the walkway leading between buildings, occasionally kicking its back legs out playfully. An old man seemed to be forever spinning a prayer wheel on the same walkway, while little Ladakhi girls rode tiny three wheeled bikes behind him. These scenes will be cemented in my mind forever. Feeling ambitious on day three, some of us went for a very short (and short-winded) run up the hills around the guest house, overlooking the town of Leh, its five-colored prayer flags everywhere, and commanding peaks across the valley. Afterwards we made our way to SECMOL, our home for the next three and a half months.

The Students Educational and Cultural Movement of Ladakh (SECMOL) was formed by former Ladakhi students as part of a movement to reform the education system here. In short, students weren’t being taught the things that they could directly benefit from in this very unique part of the world, and were further handicapped by language requirements ill-suited to the region. Ladakh is unique for many reasons, one of them being that its villages are some of the highest and most remote in the world. Living conditions are therefore similarly specialized and it is impressive that humans have survived here for so many centuries. The food is basic—lots of tsampa (barley) butter tea, root vegetables, rice, lentils—nothing to write home about, but nourishing. Ladakhis young and old have a great appreciation for their traditional music, although younger generations have added poppy beats behind traditional melodies. Over many centuries, until the border was closed, Ladakhi culture was inspired directly by Tibet, although by now the languages of the two places are mostly unintelligible. Interestingly, there is now a controversy over whether or not the written form of Ladakhi, known locally as Bodyik, should be taught and used in the media, since formerly only high lamas were literate and they use only the traditional Tibetan script. Here at SECMOL, Bodyik is taught and used in the campus’ own publication, Ladags Melong and the trend across Ladakh is generally in favor of the colloquial tongue.

A bit more about SECMOL. This is a solar campus—all energy is supplied by the sun, and water is heated by solar heat. The Ladakhi toilet, the composting kind, is the norm here. Also, very little of anything is wasted. Near our kitchen there are eleven bins for dumping, labelled according to material, as well as a larger general re-use bin. The campus is situated at about 11,500 feet. Fortunately all of us have become fairly used to the height, and have been able to exercise and even take long jogs along a scarcely travelled road above the Indus River. The students here are almost entirely responsible for running the campus, and each one has a specific responsibility, for which they will team up with one of our students. Since we arrived, the top priority has been unfreezing the pipes. I’m told this has been Leh’s coldest winter in 45 years, and it has been unusually cloudy, thus preventing the solar equipment from functioning maximally. We are in a high altitude desert so solar technology is normally ideal, but now, in mid-February when the sun should be shining all day, snow still sits on all of the mountains around us. The past two days have been promising though, and things seem to be normalizing. I’ve never been so thankful to be able to pour a glass of water so much as this morning.

Living here is beautifully simple, and I think we are all gaining a greater appreciation for simple things like cooking and bathing. I should walk you through a typical day for me here at the campus. The schedule for the Americans is not the same as for the Ladakhis, but it overlaps in several places, giving everyone ample time to interact and learn from one another. This schedule refers to our time at SECMOL only; we’ll be off trekking or at other events about 40 percent of the time.

6:00—Ladakhi morning exercises (optional for our students). This takes place in the “big hall” but will move outside when it warms up. The temperature has been around Zero Fahrenheit, but the sun is coming.

7:00—optional VIS exercises (oh yeah, our program is called Vermont Intercultural Semesters. It’s based out of Vermont and most students are from there. One is from Massachussetts, and the program is open to all other states but the word isn’t out everywhere).

8:00—breakfast. Usually some kind of bread or roll, leftovers and tea

8:45—VIS morning meeting

9:00—first class

10:10—second class

11:10—tea

12:30—third class

2:00—work hour (anything that needs to be done around campus)

3:00—open schedule until 5:30

5:30—responsibilities (milking cow, solar maintenance, water heater, etc.) divided between students

6:00—English conversation with Ladakhis (whose English is pretty good as is)

7:00—Ladakhi language (Khamzang ina-le?)

7:30—dinner

8:30—evening activities (T/Th only for VIS students)

This schedule seems to be altered at least slightly every day for many guest speakers, treks, festivals, and other events. This Friday, for instance, we’re going to the Stok Festival. The following week we depart on our first trek and homestays in Ladakhi villages.

There’s a handful of college students here, but most Ladakhis on campus are those who failed their tenth year exams and are taking time to study before returning to local schools. It is hoped that SECMOL, not just comprised of this campus, can have a large impact on the education system in all of Ladakh, a goal that has been achieved in many ways already.

It is refreshing to be in a place where one needn’t worry about violence. It pleased me to read that when conflicts do arise in Ladakh, the parties in disagreement often look to the nearest other person—even if it’s a young child—to resolve the issue objectively. I look forward to diving deeper into this fascinating culture. Sadly, Ladakhi traditions have been whittled down a bit by exposure to the outside, although one can’t ignore the benefits the trend has brought at the same time, concerning health and energy practices for example. It is hoped that a good balance between tradition and modernization can be achieved as development inevitably works its way through Ladakh.