Small girl; big country

On the way to Manali from Dharamsala, we stopped in the small village of Rewalsar. An extremely important place in terms of spirituality, it houses two gompas, one from the Nyingmapa sect of Buddhism, and the other from the Gelukpa order. Rewalsar Lake is supposed to have holy properties... and I have to admit, there is a strange atmosphere surrounding the whole place... it is a village literally plonked in the middle of nowhere, but has a calm importance about it. We are staying in a beautiful gompa surrounded by partying monks (I'm not even joking, I was in bed at 1130 and they were outside playing pool)

I woke up at 5am to the sound of a giant bell being smacked pretty forcefully, the hum of prayers resonating in the air, and the sound of monkey unsuccessfully trying to mangle the local cat. Beautiful, but not at 5am. I pulled my pillow over my head and tried to drop off... not happening.

Just as a bit of a history lesson, Tenz was explaining to me the differences between some of the Buddhist orders of monks (he's an actual library on all things spiritual). The Gelukpa order is the one belonging to the Dalai Lama and the Kamapa... but interestingly, one of the other sects, belonging to the lama Dorje Shugden is directly opposed to the Gelukpa sect. Thousands of years ago in Tibet, (this is all from my poor poor memory) the lama heading the Shugden sect was murdered (for a reason that I can't remember of the top off my head) by a member of the Gelukpa sect... the Shugdens retaliated, and in modern day Buddhism there are alot of stories surrounding the powerful magic of both orders, with the Shugdens directly opposing the Dalai Lama. For me of little knowledge, I find it interesting that within such a peaceful belief system, it is permeated sometimes by violence and dislike... I suppose though, after all, we are all human. To read more about Shugden I;ve googled it! http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dorje_Shugden

My thoughts from Dharamsala to Manali...

DHARAMSALA, July 14th

Arghh! I got a nose stud yesterday and just realised that I've bought one of those comedy Indian nose studs that once you put in, you can enevr take out.

July 15th - NICK's ITALIAN KITCHEN (as frequented by Richard Gere) DHARAMSALA

Next to me, a lady is playing a small Tibetan guitar. The string reverberate and send out vibrations that swell and fill the air, circling and enveloping the landscape in sound. The mountains rise high and silently in the background, exposed rock faces, jagged and blanched, juxtapose the softness of the trees and vegetation pepperred with multicoloured prayer flags dancing delicately in the breeze. In the centre, the valley slopes lazily downwards; dotted with precariously balanced houses tucked between tall alpine trees, at 90 degrees to the mountain side. It all feels so vast and wild.

I think I just swallowed a bug. Yum.

Sitting on the mountain side, sunning myself on the balcony of Tenzin's family guest house drinking Tibetan butter tea.

Tibetan butter tea is an acquired taste. It's less tea, more butter... really rich and creamy with a salty aftertaste..
Apparently, people drink it by the bucketful every day... hardcore.

I love the road to Dharamsala from McLeod Ganj, it is like one of those fantasy trails; on the left it hugs the mountainside, the right levelling off and falling away to a sheer drop, lined with traders, their tables gleaming with treasures - silver bangles, necklaces encrusted with turquoise and coral; row upon row of wooden prayer beads and silver prayer wheels inscribed with mantras. Old Tibetan women, their faces wrinkled with laughter lines, shuffle up the road in their aprons; their long chubas sweeping against the dusty road. They clutch their shopping bags and amble along, calmly, relaxed, with the self satisfaction of someone who has all the time in the world... maybe they do.

In comparison, cars race around the hairpin bends, horns blazing, leaving a trail of petrol and disturbed dust. Maybe its my G-town upbringing, but when someone hoots behind me, I always get the urge to give them the finger... it amazes me how unruffled people are about madcap traffic, cars fly within an inch of someone and they barely even flinch.

9pm - NICK's

There's a room full of people having a psy-trance rave, and we're having tea and cake and reading. Surprisingly and unsurprisingly, Dharamsala attracts alot of ravers.

After finishing our tea and cake, we followed the lasers and sauntered down to "The Himalaya Restaurant"

:Guys, this can';t be right!" I yelled, as a monk stepped ceremoniously out of the front door. About a minute later, 3 Tibetan guys, completely off their faces, ran out inviting us
"Please come, dance!"
"Come in and dance with us, its a wedding!"

A pretty happening wedding, full of green lasers, psychadelic trance, grungy hip hop and a bunch of hammered Tibetans dancing on a roof. In Dharamsala, someone obviously gets married every Saturday night.... party on matrimony. You know something's obviously wrong, when the monks have a better social life than you.

This is the new generation... it reminded me of a Tibetan guy I met this morning, who was sat contentedly crosslegged on a heap of rocks, grinning in his wrap around fake Ray Bans, chilling and clutching his portable tape recorder. I asked him what he was listening to:
"Hindi hiphop."
Bangin'. Whenever anyone walked past, he'd turn, nodding to the neat and grin, making Westside signs and being supaflygangsta.

The enxt day we went to the Dalai LAma's gompa, impressive because of its significance, beauitful thangkas hung on the walls, but full of tourists and very simple, obviously built in haste, with the aim of being a temporary structure. Sadly, temporary has translated into 57 years.

So. Today we had another intrepid adventure; this time to Bhagsu waterfall, where we scrabbled over rocks, I totally fell in love with a beautiful Tibetan monk I met who was doing his laundry, and we tried to climb up the side of a mountain and almost broke our necks (whilst the locals shouted and made signs that we were crazy, and the Indian tourists took pictures). I'll type up more when I have the energy, but right now I think I'm suffering from mild pneumonia after running inside a waterfall and wading across some rapids. And I sliced my finger open on a rock and most probably have tetanus. Just don't worry.

Sorry bz the waz, if this is superly incoherent, this keyboard is set to Israeli... all the super hardcore people that just come out of the armz are the token backpackers around here, and I[ve got Hebrew stuck all over the kezs! Anzwazs, thats the news for now, Tenzin has invited us to do an 5 hour hike up a mountain today, but I dont think we[re feeling that energetic... instead we[re going to check out the Tibetan Governments building and the Dalai Lama[s residence and nearby Gompa. I bought a beautiful hand painted Tibetan thanka yesterday... I[ve bought up nearly half of Dharamsala so far, but nevermind. This avvo Amelia and I are going for Tabla and Sitar lessons as well, we[re going to start an ironic Western Eastern music band Ë)

Weeeeeell. Because Amelia, Ed and I are super intrepid pro-rambling Lowe Alpine endorsing people (and I don't even own a pair of walking boots, so just don't worry), we decided to walk from McLeod Ganj, to Dharamsala (about 10 km.... people who know how much exercise I do, try not to faint with shock). Anyways, in true comedy style, we got totally lost on this "short cut" that some Indian guys sent us on and ended up blissfully sauntering into an army barracks. Whoops. Then, we wandered down a beautiful valley, strewn with cows contentedly munching on the grass, and two wisened old Indian men, with henna red hair, sat leisurely smoking a hookah. So we toddled down what looked like a track and came across the most amazing thing... several families of monkeys hanging out on the side of the mountain. It was so amazing, Amelia and I scrabbled behind a rock to video them and take some pictures...very David Attenborough BBC 2 Nature-esque. The monkeys were absolutely gorgeous running about, tumbling over each other, furry bodies swinging through the branches and slithering down tree trunks. It really was amazing seeing animals like that in the wild, that normally you're only used to seeing from the comfort of your sofa, Doritos in one hand, remote control in the other. It was very special.

Seeing monkeys and clambering down the hillside and crossing a few narrow rivers all made us feel super confident when we came to a heowge thundering 11 ft wide beast of a river... In my Dorothy Perkins Gola trainers I shouted: "Just don't worry, it's fine guys!"
Ed tentatively stepped forward; "Lets cross here..." before almost tumbling head first over the side of a cliff.
Needless to say, we abandoned that plan to cross a bit further down... before bumping into an Indian guy that gave us the look that we've come to know and love so well: 'What the bloody hell are those crazy Westerners doing?'
After much explaining to us in broken English that it really wasn[t the best plan to try and climb down the side of a gorge when we didn[t actually know where we were going and with mutterings about snakes that "cut the leg"... At which point I totally lost all sense of adventure, we decided against it. I felt a strange sensation on the back of my leg, felt up my trouser and had a leech! A LEECH! attached to the back of my leg... I yelled seventy kinds of blue murder and ripped it off. The man walked away, comforted in the knowledge that we were all clinically insane.

Last night, we watched a film in Dharamsala's mini cinema (basically a widescreen plasma tv and dvd player with curtains and comfy seats... it works well) called Born Into Brothels, about the children of prostitutes in Calcutta's red light district. An amazing American photographer from New York gave the kinds cameras and lessons on how to be a good photographer, some of the pictures they took were amazing. There is not much hope for these poor children, stigmatised by society, with many girls forced into prostitution at 11 by their mothers. This is a side to India that I previously wasn't aware barely existed. It was such a moving film, the realities of what these children face, especially compared to our cushy lives in the West, really hit me. We are so lucky. I know I keep saying that, but my god we are. The other day, I met this Sloanie girl who sent her backpack back to england after 3 days because it was "too heavy" she spent 30,000 rs doing. 30,000! Thats 2/3 people's yearly salary. Its disgusting. We take for granted our position in England, our automatic access to education, sanitation, food, water, child protection. When I get back to England I am going to buy that DVD and show everybody, it is so moving. As equally as it may depress you, it will also make you so happy and appreciative of what you have. I'm reading The Art of Happiness by the Dalai Lama at the moment (cue hippy mocks :P!) and he says that one of the keys to becoming happy within yourself is through comparison. As humans, we naturally compare ourselves to others, what breeds unhappiness and covetousness is comparing ourselves to those who have more than we have, or what we dont have... it leads to dissatisfaction.

Charlee's thought for the day: The next time you find yourself comparing yourself to others, compare yourself to those less fortunate than yourself: the poor, the handicapped, the lonely... and then look at all that you have and be thankful that you don't have to live in a rubbish heap, drinking water from sewage pipes to survive, that you don't have leprosy and your arms aren't falling off your body, I guarantee you will feel instant satisfaction with yourself

Sorry for being super self righteous, I just wanted to point it out. I promise, alot less of me harping on and alot more about how wonderful India is and how much fun we're having, coming up

Yes it is.