Yakity Yak

If anyone needs a yak-pun-themed embroidered t-shirts, let me know. Ladakh has plenty. You know, "Hard Yak Cafe," "Yakkin' it Up in Leh," "My Best Mate Went to Ladakh and All I Got Was This Bloody Yak T-shirt. "

Up again yesterday at the crack of dawn, pre-dawn in fact. Delhi still sleeping, which was really strange. Dogs laying under trucks and cuddled up to slumbering cows, rickshaw drivers curled up in their cycle-rickshaws, others asleep just in doorways. The flight itself was easy, and 100% tourists, mostly French (as usual, and with their noses buried in their guides routards.) Got to Ladakh bright and early and found a lumpy-bedded guest house for next to nothing, and tried to nap. Little success, so I set out for breakfast to plan my day. The altitude was definitely noticeable, but not terrible, just a mild headache. So about Ladakh: Its a small town about 10,000 feet up in the Himalayas bordering China/Tibet. Culturally, its mainly Tibetan- technically in fact a part of Tibet and pre 20th century basically fell under the Dalai Lama's jurisdiction before borders were as clear as they are today. In the 1950's, as China moved to Tibet, the Indian army zipped up a few brigades to plant Indian flags and snag the Ladakh region to keep it out of Chinese hands, though border disputes remain. What this means is that Ladakh is basically a little Tibet- often described as the last Shangri-lah, though this apparently also describes Bhutan in travel brochures- which I suppose makes it the penultimate Shangri-lah, and Sikkim- the antepenultimate (is that correct latin scholars?) Shangri-lah. The language and script are Tibetan, and the people are ruddy cheeked like ethnic Tibetans and dress in wool robes, sort of like woolly shalwar kineezes with wooden sandals. Also many monasteries around, so lots of robed monks. However, lots of Muslims are here as well, many refugees from the troubles in Western Kashmir and Jammu, many are green-eyed and fine featured, said to be descendents of Alexander the Great's conquering army. The other people that are everywhere are the indian army- there is an enormous base here that guards the sensitive Chinese and Pakistan borders that are extremely close. In fact, permits are needed to basically just leave town and head a few miles toward Tibet/China. Which I will do later in the week.

So yesterday after no sleep and no sunscreen and no altitude adjustment, I decided to head to the Leh palace (above photo) similar stylistically to the Potala Palace in Lhasa, and perched dramatically above the town. Not much inside, but great views. I ascended further, and against better judgment to a small Gompa (Tibetan Temple) atop the mountain-like hill that was fluttering with prayer flags. Now, I think probably everyone has seen the little greeting-card sized prayer flags commonly found in Tibetan restaurants and hippie dormitories, but some of the actual ones here fluttering in the mountain breeze are the size of bedsheets, and just beautiful when they catch the wind. The little Namgyal Gompa (seen in back of first photo, and in this other photo) was very cool, and as I read about it my book warned not to do the hike on the first day at altitude. Oops. I then became paranoid for the rest of the afternoon- paranoiacally trying to parse out the symptoms of altitude sickness from my sunstroke, dehydration, and general exhaustion from waking at 3:45 AM. I guess the light-headedness was not a sign of enlightenment. Stumbled down to explore a few more temples and look around the town, before becoming overwhelmed with exhaustion and headache, I fell asleep for the night at 6PM, not to wake until the muezzin's morning prayer call at sunrise, then asleep again till about seven.

Got up today and took a taxi ride to Phyang and Spituk, Tibetan style Gompas. I realize there is little more boring than reading about architecture, but they were pretty cool. Elaborate white-and-red monasteries perched on cliffsides, with incredible murals inside the main temples, many dating back hundreds of years. Many of the artifacts inside were smuggled in from Tibet after the Chinese invasion, and the places were mostly to myself and the literal hunchbacked dwarf monk who hobbled around and opened the temple prayer rooms and chapels for me at Phyang. The silence and serenity was lovely, just the sound of the spinning prayer wheel bells, the rushing of the Indus river and the birds. Oh, and in the valley below the sound of AK47s at firing range of the massive military base that sprawls across the valley below.

Hopefully the pictures can capture a bit what my description cannot. The afternoon I spent wandering the town, exploring the Old City- a mud-brick and wood pile of traditional tibetan style houses and alleyways that is slowly being restored by the tibet heritage fund. (Sort-of pictured here with standard veggie garden.) It will be truly incredible when its done- probably by the end of the summer- the houses will be painted brilliant whites and yellows, with bright red windows in the tibetan style. and probably the guesthouses and restaurants will migrate there soon after...

Also got my permits in order to visit the Nubra Valley region for tomorrow and the next day, so will be updating then, and likely incommunicado. After than, doing a short stint at a meditation center for the weekend, and then not sure after that....