The beauty of this mountain range... It will seriously lay you out.
Watching the sun rise over a stark horizon line, illuminating the craggy Himalayan skyline beginning to poke up and creep ever higher to the north... I watch from above the clouds as we fly towards it on a very empty airplane.
We woke up in Delhi at Cottage Yes Please, to a 2:30am wakeup call. Our taxi arrived shortly after.
We rode to Delhi airport again in the dark on quiet unflustered streets. Dogs meandered in roundabouts, unafraid of buzzing motorbikes and cars... Intelligently maneuvering to avoid the traffic.. Barking for US to get out of the way.
India seems to reflect this sentiment displayed by the dogs.
Compassionate yet confrontational...
The beggars in the Delhi street walk into you, pushing you into oncoming tuk-tuks and streams of wild traffic.
India is politely unapologetic.
I pondered the poetic symbolic comparison between the culture and climate- reflecting on the artistic illustration of indo culture through the dogs, streets and people...
Indonesia is beaten... Battered... Structureless & lawless...
Roundabouts don't exist- just junctions where 5 mangled beaten down streets meet and everyone just goes at the same time... There are no traffic lights or rules.
Dogs are abused... Considered competition to humans who harrass them because there is not enough to go around. They seem braindead and lifeless in Padang due to lack of nutrients and sustenance.
The dogs in Delhi are noticeably healthier - clearly better fed due to the mass amount of people and therefore endless scraps to eat. They're bigger, meatier and more confident, though still stray in the third world way.
The weather too, like the dogs in a region, can illustrate a cultural comparison... In indo the conditions are harsh and the islands take a beating from nature with earthquakes, tsunamis, floods, malaria, dengue, a myriad of infections that spread like wild fire in the humid tropical heat.
India has every climate, terrain and weather condition known to man.
(case in point- this dry desert landscape that is dropped inside a ring of dramatic snow capped mountain peaks up here juxtaposed to the tropic-like beaches of Goa or Kerala to the south)
In a postcard to my parents I described Delhi as "colorful & claustrrphobic... Spicy & sweet..."
It's everything all at once.
Truman Capote once said "Venice, Italy is like eating an entire box of chocolate liqueurs."
I think perhaps India is like eating an entire box of Altoids- those self proclaimed "curiously strong mints"
... I would imagine eating an entire box of altoids at the same time would blow your head off-yet taste intensely delicious while confusing the senses with the curious strength.
Though it would also sooth the breath (once you were able to catch it, that is)
India is like this.
- the home of Pranayama breath-work and home to a place where dust and dirt coat the inside of your lungs... A place where the pollution is so thick, this sunrise looks like a red hot firey Phoenix rising up from ash-like smoggy haze that coats the lowlands.
I'm so glad we are going higher, even though I have been forewarned of altitude sickness by many sources and friends.
They say flying is the worst way actually because you just are there BAM up on the moon, versus the gradual climb by train and bus...
We couldn't take that option because the roads coming up from Jammu are dangerous and close often prohibiting our ability to climb into the arms of Ladakh.
So we descend into this other world-like atmosphere by airplane... Glued to the windows... Snapping hundreds to photos that can't even come close to capturing the rugged majesty of it all.
---
8am
Homestay in Ladakh
Another world... Lifting me higher.
The chemical brothers album "Further" seems like the appropriate soundtrack up here for me in this Leh, Ladakh moment.
We stepped into dry 0 degree Celsius temperatures- everyone's faces covered with warm scarves but still, we could see the looks of horror at our flip-flopped feet.
Thankfully there were still vestiges of my hipster LA style vibe tucked in my suitcase and I retrieved out my fingerless gloves and knitted beanie that have been dormant and unused for the last 8 months.
The thin air and super high altitude was dizzyingly palpable immediately stepping off the plane into the little airport.
The sparsely inhabited arid streets wind tightly through and around the little village that lays in a crater between bright cosmic looking cliffs... The foreground of the panoramic views are softened by faded prayer flags seemingly strung up everywhere.
Our new driver friend speaks English very well and offered to take us on a driving tour tomorrow.
Today we just want to chill. Re-adjust... And find some yak boots.
We stumbled through the cast-iron gates and up into the Traveller's Guesthouse - a little eco homestay with an organic garden in the middle of a few modest rooms.
Waiting for our room to be made up we sat on the balcony in the early morning sunlight silence.
"Holy shit--- it feels like we're in a library." JohnE said as we let the sunlight kiss our frosty fingertips.
All I could hear was the sound of a stick broom sweeping a dusty concrete corner somewhere nearby and the occasional shy tweet of a bird.
I leaned over the ledge of the balcony ledge to pick us delicious little crab apples that were hanging off a big tree in the morning light - it seemed they were begging to be eaten as our breakfast.
Crabapples in hand, we were ushered down the stairs to sign in the guestbook.
We found that the last guest who signed in and stayed was over 2 weeks ago... And that nobody speaks a lick of English.
They speak Ladakhi... A beautiful sounding language.
The dogs in Leh are fluffy, friendly and so mellow... Lounging on the streets and welcomed inside homes with peaceful acceptance and reverence of spirit.
A fluffy, chubby white poodle/golden retriever looking doggie (like an albino Abby) lives at our homestay. She just kicks it inside the living room, sitting upright on the paisley pillows watching us sip our Ginger tea and nibble on dried lentil snacks...
This living room where we drink our cup of welcome tea and warm up feels like a grandma's house... Blue and white china dishes are displayed through glass cabinets, bookshelves host various random books and framed photos adorn the walls beside potted plants and layered mismatched rugs and carpets litter the floor.
"I can't believe how quiet it is." John said again.
We found the rooftop by navigating a little hallway and essentially crawling through a 3foot opening.
It was everything I could have asked for in that moment.
180 degree views, sunlight and silence.. A perfect place to dive back into our books and chill in the most epic way.
Our plump, smily hostess signals to us instead of speaking as she beats the dust from carpets in the garden.
We think we ordered breakfast but aren't really too sure until she arrives with it an hour later.
We sit on the flat roof overlooking the palace and this surreal Tibetan kingdom.
As in Delhi, nothing would open until 11:00am-ish so we sat in the sunshine, bundled as much as possible until the shops were open and we could go wander Leh and buy some killer yak wool hats and gloves... Some fake ugg boots (for about 10 dollars)
And explore the village.
Everyone here seems so present.
The energy of the atmosphere is exactly like the people- Crystal clear, present and breathtakingly beautiful.
The air is crisp and the sky bright blue.
The consciousness of this place blows me and John away.
They have water conservation efforts (since believe it or not looking up at the glaciers hanging above us) we are in a desert.
There is NO plastic...
Purchases are given to you in paper or cloth bags...
There is no take-away....
A cup of chai or ginger tea means you sit and speak to or just be in the energy of the shop-keeper and sip from their glasses or mugs.
There is no rush for anything here.
Every store seems to have a water fill up station where they will fill your reusable bottle with filtered cleaned Himalayan glacier water.
Reaching the end of the Bazar, we sat on a step to rest for a moment on some steps that seemed away from everything so we could take it all in and catch our breath (even level trekking is exhausting at this altitude!)
And a tiny little man in red and orange robes with no teeth but the most beautiful smile you have ever seen came and snuggled up right next to us... Looking in our eyes and smiling and laughing joyously.
he wore many necklaces and beads- one had a photo of the Dalai Lama.
He spoke no English but his eyes were 100% with us as we sat together and smiled and rested for about ten minutes.
When we stood to leave and shook his hand I said "Om Ma Ni Padme Hum" - he hugged my hand tightly and smiled hugely and repeated it back to me.
In Delhi and Padang and even big cities in first world countries, it seems like an energy zapping vortex where you have to work hard not to get all your energy stolen by the crowds of people.
Here it seems like a fountain of youth or something- an endless abundance of clear beautiful energy that everyone shares and exists together side by side infusing one another with peace.
The Mani wheels are placed all throughout the city... Big jewel encrusted golden wheels that spin clockwise for luck... There are rolled up scrolls inside each mani wheel with mantra written in Tibetan script.
Mani wheels are sold everywhere at the little booths selling yak wool, prayer beads, coral and turquoise jewelry, sculptures and prayer flags...
Little beautiful old women with deeply creased skin like melting butterscotch, sit in their stalls upon their stacks of wool socks and blankets spinning their hand held mani wheels clockwise with closed eyes and peaceful smiles.
I feel my soul spinning clockwise and find myself sleeping soundly in this place, that already has me feeling the closest to "enlightenment" as ever before.
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