No Way Norgay...

Awoke again at the crack of dawn, this time to visit Thikse monastery in time for the morning prayers and pujas- offerings. Thikse is yet another grand tibetan-style gompa outside of Leh, and arrived there in about a half hour, just in time to hear the end of the prayers. The main hall, covered in ancient murals of demons and boddhisatvas, was thick with incense and the rhythmic chanting and signing of the elementary school aged monks, who were chanting prayers while under the strict eyes of the older monks, who would point at them whenever they became unfocused, as children naturally do. The sounds were wonderful, and the children adorable. But the chanting soon ended, and so spent some time wandering the other temple rooms within the huge complex- more like a mini-city than a monastery. It was a prayer week, so all the monks were making offerings and chanting in each prayer room, making the gompa seem far more active and alive than any of the others. We also ran into a bollywood star and his beautiful starlet girlfriend, which was vaguely interesting- though funny that and Indian probably would have been absolutely thrilled. He was probably unsure what to make of our lukewarm interest. Over breakfast some monks tried to teach us the low incantation of their chanting, which was extremely difficult, but we all had a good laugh. Flagged down a car and hitchhiked bay to Leh, in time for the bicycle descent of Khardung-La, highest motorable pass in the world (18,380ft).

Got to the bike shop in time to have no good choices of bikes left- ragged chains, flat or bald tires and cracked frames abounded. I kept bitching until finally they "found" a trek, or at least the same indian piece-of-shit bike with a legitimate looking trek decal on the side. Secured our permits (going to border zone again) and rode up in a jeep with a few folks from the retreat, as well as some crazy danish kids who were raving about how cheap travel in america is, and one american girl.

The descent began on the one-lane road that though "motorable," hardly meant "paved." The first few kilometers were mostly dirt, anxiety producing in terms of skidding on my mediocre brakes next to sheer drops. The views were spectacular- snow capped peaks leading into desert mountainsides and into green stupa-dotted valleys. The ride somewher between an adrenaline and an anxiety rush. All in all, I do think Bolivia's World's Most Dangerous Road ride (see July 07 entry) was more fun and more beautiful. Eventually reached old Leh, (pictured) the old part of the city where I finally had to pedal. (What- I paid 15$ to pedal this bike?) Shortly after trying to switch gears to go up hill the grinding began, and suddenly my deraileur snapped off. At least it wasn't on the major part of the descent. Unfortunately, took a few wrong turns in Old Leh (where its so steep that many of the streets are just stairs- a la cuzco, peru) and the dregs of ladakhi society- men in towels soaped up and showering from buckets and children literally shitting on the street next to them. Finally made it back to the bike rental place, where, while we stood around chatting, it became apparent that the bike was all messed up. They called me over and started yelling. "What happened, what have you done?" A crowd started to form and more of their friends appeared, including some nine-foot tibetan guy who was yelling in my face "you foreigners, you lie, you crash the bike, now you must pay us!" I tried to explain that their shitty bike and lack of maintenance caused the problem, and that I'd not signed any contract, that I could have been injured, but to no avail. "We have your passport number, we call your embassy!" Norgay, tenzing, Lobsang and the gang were now furious. Someone else tried to calm them down and while their attention was diverted, I started to sneak away.. I was partway down the street when one caught up to me.
"You talk to my boss, you come backhere and talk to my boss!!" "No, I am leaving, I did not break your bike..." "I tell your embassy! I have your passport and visa number!!" (Which they did, because of the crazy beaurocracy/security in this country) Finally I told him to tell the embassy and they would work it out, pointed for him to go back to the office, turned the corner and ran as fast as I could back to my hostel. Spent the next hour panicking every time someone came or went from the guesthouse that it was the guys from the bike shop. I replayed every scenario- the permit office has my hotel name, but I think the permit office is closed, so they won't find out until tomorrow... The embassy wouldnt possibly care... would they? What if they tell a police friend to stop me at the airport..." I finally showered and changed into my glasses, changed outfits, put on my hood and scarf and ventured out to use the internet. Ran into Jim, and had dinner with him then met up with some other folks to say goodbye to Leh. Someone showed me the beginning of a shortcut to my guesthouse that avoided the bike shop. Very helpful until I became hopelessly lost trying to make my way through pitch black dark alleys with only my headlamp. Eventually I stumbled out onto a road, and made it back to my place, terrified of running into Norgay and his bike shop mafia...

Allow me to explain a few things about Indian transportation. I'll start with airplanes. Noow granted, there have been literally dozens of bombs found in the last fwe days, and tensions are running high with Pakistan... Arrived at the airport after cab was thoroughly vetted by cops and military at parking lot. Enter airport, have to explain "e-ticket" for five minutes to the security guard, which I had just watched the westerner in front of me do. Then, walk through a metal detector WITH my bags, followed by metal detecting wand and pat-down. Put bags through x-ray and am told no carryons. Get bags again, this time with stickers on them, told carryons okay, just no batteries. Now go to get my boarding pass. Get boarding pass, get bag stickers stamped, send checkin through. Go through another metal detector and wanding, this time told no carryons, explain that I was told carryons were okay, (and note that everyone else has them). Go through detector and wanding, have bag x-rayed and wanded, then sticker is re-stamped, after perfunctory search of bag. Sit and wait. Then everyone called to tarmac to idetify their checked bags, which are then stamped again. Hurry up and wait. Get in line to go onto tarmac to get onto bus. Get metal detected again. Board bus. Drive bus for ten feet to aircraft. Board aircraft, feel relief that Norgay and the gang didn't track me down. Open bag and notice extra camera battery and multiple tubes of suntan lotion...

The flight over the himalayas was gorgeous...