Friday, August 18, 2006
Bradford on Avon, Wiltshire
On 8th July I finally made it out of the heat of the plains and into the foothills of the himalayas. I'd originally planned to do this as soon as I arrived in India, but it had taken me two and a half weeks. I went to a place called McLeod Ganj. The exiled Tibetan government is based here and the Dalai Lama lives here. In 1959, the Chinese crackdown on Tibetan culture was worsening and the Dalai Lama feared for his life. He took a small entourage and started walking across the mountains. They kept walking for weeks, through hostile and desolate high passes, until they arrived in McLeod Ganj.
That first evening was the first time I'd been able to sleep under a duvet, in a cold room, for as long as I could remember. You cannot imgine how good it felt.
The next morning, I went to see some Tibetan stuff. On the way down I got lost, and it started raining. Soon, I was 100% saturated, as if I'd just jumped into a swimming pool, so I guess the rain didn't matter after that. When I found the complex, I went to see the main temple. It was a Buddhist temple - Tibetan culture is based on Buddhism - but it was a very different style from those in Japan and Thailand. The walls were covered in intricate, colourful paintings, and there were images of lots of scary looking spirits with fiery hair and many eyes. I really liked the style of the art.
Next, I went to the Tibet Museum. Before this, I hadn't known anything about Tibet or the Chinese invasion. As I walked round and read the displays, I became filled with outraged, open-mouthed horror. The Chinese invaded in 1949. This was followed by a systematic campaign to crush and eliminate the Tibetan culture, all in the name of communism. It's a culture that had existed in the region for over 1000 years. In the short time I'd been in the village I'd already been immensely impressed by the quality of the art and the richness of the culture . . . the idea that it could have been lost forever horrified me. After the invasion, Chinese people were forcibly relocated to Tibet to give legitimacy to the occupation, so the Tibetan people became a minority. I read the account of a nun who'd fled and come to live in McLeod Ganj. She'd refused to stop practicing Buddism, and was brutally tortured as a result.
I also learned what a great man the Dalai Lama is. How many similar situations are there in the world where the stuggle for independence is characterised by violence and terrorism? But the Dalai Lama is totally committed to a peaceful resolution. He's also been realistic and accepted that Tibet will never be fully independent, so is advocating a compromise, with Tibet remaining in China but having some autonomy. This is such a big concession and so reasonable that it would only be polite for China to start negotiating with him. But they're totally ignoring the issue. Unfortunately, this suggests to me that terrorism is more effective than dimplomacy and reason to get what you want. Here are some links:
www.dalailama.com
www.tibet.com
I planned to spend just two days in McLeod Ganj, and leave on the night bus on the second eveing. But when I went to book the bus, it was already full up. Never mind: I decided to take the early morning bus, which left the next day at 6.30. I asked one of the guesthouse staff to wake me up at 6. "Yeah yeah no problem. " The next morning I heard a knocking and "wake up...it's 6.30". Damn. I got up, packed as quickly as possible and ran to the bus stop just in case the bus was running late. But it had already gone. So I had to spend ANOTHER day there. (This might not seem like a big deal, but I was so ridiculously short of time that I had each remaining day planned out, and had to rush to see everywhere I wanted). This time, I did manage to get a place on the night bus, but only just. All the seats were already booked, so I had to go in the front cabin with the driver!
McLeod Ganj was unlike anywhere else I'd been in India. In the other places I'd barely seen a white face, and I felt very out of place. Here, it seemed that most people were tourists. The streets were wall-to-wall souvineer shops, western style cafes, internet cafes, hostels and even theatres showing films on big screens (rather too small to be called cinemas). Therefore, although there wasn't much to do, it was quite a pleasant and easy place to stay for 3 days. On day 2 I watched the World Cup final in one of the theatres.
The remaining space in town was taken up by Tibetan organisations; for example the Tibeten Welfare office, the Tibetan Childrens' village and the Tibetan Medical and Astrological institute. There were also numerous charities serving Tibetan refugees, and plenty of opportunites for volunteering, which helps to explain the huge number of tourists there. Obviously, the Tibetan refugees haven't had the easist life, but in terms of the charitable attention they get, they're extremely lucky compared to poor Indians in other regions. I helped the cause by donating some clothes I didn't want, which absolutely incensed my mother when she heard about it.
The village clings to a hillside - here's a picture of it from the roof of my guesthouse:
When I got onto the bus, I found I was sharing the drivers cabin with about 4 other people. Then someone else got on. It was now quite a squash and there was certainly no chance of lying down or getting comfortable - we just had to sit. Then an Indian woman turned up and wanted to come on as well - I assume she needed to travel at the last minute. For a few minutes we refused to move . . . but then gave up. So we were even more squashed. I couldn't even lean back to get comfortable: behind me was the hard, vertical, plastic divider that seperated us from the rest of the passengers. About halfway up, a metal ridge dug into my back. There was clearly no chance of getting any sleep that night. All I could do was sit there, look out of the window . . . and wait for the journey to be over.
We arrived in Manali in the morning. Manali is slightly further into the Himalayas and the scenery is more mountainous and beautiful. It's also very popular with tourists.
I only spent one day there and left the next morning. Apart from general wandering around, I decided I really wanted a lesson on some Indian musical instruments. I was hoping to just have a casual play around on some for an hour. But the man who was teaching me was VERY serious about his playing. He showed me how to play some notes on the tabla (a type of drum). Hitting it with your finger in different ways is supposed to give different sounds. When I tried, I couldn't get the beautiful resonant sound that he could manage. So I sat there, practicing hitting the tabla in two different ways, over and over again, for about an hour.
On 8th July I finally made it out of the heat of the plains and into the foothills of the himalayas. I'd originally planned to do this as soon as I arrived in India, but it had taken me two and a half weeks. I went to a place called McLeod Ganj. The exiled Tibetan government is based here and the Dalai Lama lives here. In 1959, the Chinese crackdown on Tibetan culture was worsening and the Dalai Lama feared for his life. He took a small entourage and started walking across the mountains. They kept walking for weeks, through hostile and desolate high passes, until they arrived in McLeod Ganj.
That first evening was the first time I'd been able to sleep under a duvet, in a cold room, for as long as I could remember. You cannot imgine how good it felt.
The next morning, I went to see some Tibetan stuff. On the way down I got lost, and it started raining. Soon, I was 100% saturated, as if I'd just jumped into a swimming pool, so I guess the rain didn't matter after that. When I found the complex, I went to see the main temple. It was a Buddhist temple - Tibetan culture is based on Buddhism - but it was a very different style from those in Japan and Thailand. The walls were covered in intricate, colourful paintings, and there were images of lots of scary looking spirits with fiery hair and many eyes. I really liked the style of the art.
Next, I went to the Tibet Museum. Before this, I hadn't known anything about Tibet or the Chinese invasion. As I walked round and read the displays, I became filled with outraged, open-mouthed horror. The Chinese invaded in 1949. This was followed by a systematic campaign to crush and eliminate the Tibetan culture, all in the name of communism. It's a culture that had existed in the region for over 1000 years. In the short time I'd been in the village I'd already been immensely impressed by the quality of the art and the richness of the culture . . . the idea that it could have been lost forever horrified me. After the invasion, Chinese people were forcibly relocated to Tibet to give legitimacy to the occupation, so the Tibetan people became a minority. I read the account of a nun who'd fled and come to live in McLeod Ganj. She'd refused to stop practicing Buddism, and was brutally tortured as a result.
I also learned what a great man the Dalai Lama is. How many similar situations are there in the world where the stuggle for independence is characterised by violence and terrorism? But the Dalai Lama is totally committed to a peaceful resolution. He's also been realistic and accepted that Tibet will never be fully independent, so is advocating a compromise, with Tibet remaining in China but having some autonomy. This is such a big concession and so reasonable that it would only be polite for China to start negotiating with him. But they're totally ignoring the issue. Unfortunately, this suggests to me that terrorism is more effective than dimplomacy and reason to get what you want. Here are some links:www.dalailama.com
www.tibet.com
I planned to spend just two days in McLeod Ganj, and leave on the night bus on the second eveing. But when I went to book the bus, it was already full up. Never mind: I decided to take the early morning bus, which left the next day at 6.30. I asked one of the guesthouse staff to wake me up at 6. "Yeah yeah no problem. " The next morning I heard a knocking and "wake up...it's 6.30". Damn. I got up, packed as quickly as possible and ran to the bus stop just in case the bus was running late. But it had already gone. So I had to spend ANOTHER day there. (This might not seem like a big deal, but I was so ridiculously short of time that I had each remaining day planned out, and had to rush to see everywhere I wanted). This time, I did manage to get a place on the night bus, but only just. All the seats were already booked, so I had to go in the front cabin with the driver!
McLeod Ganj was unlike anywhere else I'd been in India. In the other places I'd barely seen a white face, and I felt very out of place. Here, it seemed that most people were tourists. The streets were wall-to-wall souvineer shops, western style cafes, internet cafes, hostels and even theatres showing films on big screens (rather too small to be called cinemas). Therefore, although there wasn't much to do, it was quite a pleasant and easy place to stay for 3 days. On day 2 I watched the World Cup final in one of the theatres.
The remaining space in town was taken up by Tibetan organisations; for example the Tibeten Welfare office, the Tibetan Childrens' village and the Tibetan Medical and Astrological institute. There were also numerous charities serving Tibetan refugees, and plenty of opportunites for volunteering, which helps to explain the huge number of tourists there. Obviously, the Tibetan refugees haven't had the easist life, but in terms of the charitable attention they get, they're extremely lucky compared to poor Indians in other regions. I helped the cause by donating some clothes I didn't want, which absolutely incensed my mother when she heard about it.
The village clings to a hillside - here's a picture of it from the roof of my guesthouse:
When I got onto the bus, I found I was sharing the drivers cabin with about 4 other people. Then someone else got on. It was now quite a squash and there was certainly no chance of lying down or getting comfortable - we just had to sit. Then an Indian woman turned up and wanted to come on as well - I assume she needed to travel at the last minute. For a few minutes we refused to move . . . but then gave up. So we were even more squashed. I couldn't even lean back to get comfortable: behind me was the hard, vertical, plastic divider that seperated us from the rest of the passengers. About halfway up, a metal ridge dug into my back. There was clearly no chance of getting any sleep that night. All I could do was sit there, look out of the window . . . and wait for the journey to be over.We arrived in Manali in the morning. Manali is slightly further into the Himalayas and the scenery is more mountainous and beautiful. It's also very popular with tourists.
I only spent one day there and left the next morning. Apart from general wandering around, I decided I really wanted a lesson on some Indian musical instruments. I was hoping to just have a casual play around on some for an hour. But the man who was teaching me was VERY serious about his playing. He showed me how to play some notes on the tabla (a type of drum). Hitting it with your finger in different ways is supposed to give different sounds. When I tried, I couldn't get the beautiful resonant sound that he could manage. So I sat there, practicing hitting the tabla in two different ways, over and over again, for about an hour.# posted by Alex @ 12:19 AM 
