Leh, Ladakh is a small city tucked into a valley of the Ladakh mountain range which stretches 230 miles into Pakistan and more than 20,000 feet into the sky. This region was first developed as a safe mountain pass on a trade route from Southern India to Kashmir to the middle east region. From our week in Leh, it was obvious that it's culture-connecting history has contributed to the very diverse current population: from Buddhist monks waiting to return to Tibet, to Pashmina weaving tribes, to generations of Nepalese trek guides, and Israeli tourists fresh out of the military. Our hotel was tucked away and surrounded by beautiful rocky tan mountains in every direction. I was so excited to be in a small remote town, to breathe clean air and hear nature sounds. A gnarly bout of altitude sickness (12,000 ft above sea level) nearly dulled my enthusiasm to be in the mountains the day we arrived. Luckily, I recovered within a day and didn't scare my roommate too much. Other than getting winded from going up stairs, I felt great during the rest of our week there. I, comically to some, lugged my mat from Boston just so I could practice yoga during my 30 days of routine-less traveling. Finally, in Leh I could peacefully stretch outdoors in the strong rays of the morning sun with incredible views, bird chirps and crisp air tickling my senses. My yoga mat was a three-pound investment I'm so glad I was crazy enough to make.
Our time in Leh was busy. We had full days of touring monasteries, climbing to stupas, exploring markets, trespassing to see rare double-humped camels, and of course doing lots of homework. I loved visiting the Buddhist monasteries and monuments. They were all so colorful with bright red and orange buildings, pink and blue and green ornaments decorated with auspicious symbols, and gigantic golden buddhas. We got to sip butter tea next to monks during their lunchtime (mounds of rice and stewed lentils). Butter tea is not my favorite, being that its basically veryyy buttery weak black tea (yak butter!), but it's a local staple and I wasn't going to waste their generosity.
The visit to Thikse monastery was insightful. Observing the monks in their element and learning from our tour guide about their different traditions and customs was fascinating. For instance, we learned about how they view meditation as "scientific research of the mind" and also how the monks gather for group prayer in a specific room where there are designated seats for each monk; these seats are varying heights which represent a level of wisdom assigned to the monk. I'm not sure who assigns the status but the highest man in the room is the Dalai Lama. His holiness the Dalai Lama is believed to be a reincarnation of the bodhisattva of compassion, the highest honor in Buddhism, said to be "born from enlightenment". Once the existing Dalai Lama dies, the spirit of this bodhisattva (Buddha nature) is said to take on its next monkly host! Young monks at Namgyal Monastery in India are then given various tests to express and identify their Buddha nature and potential Dalai Lama destiny. This appointment of the succeeding Dalai Lama only occurs at this specific monastery because it is where the Dalai Lama now safely resides after being exiled from Lhasa during the 1950 Chinese takeover of Tibet (7 Years in Tibet is a great movie if you want to learn about this place/time/culture…and also watch young brad pitt*). Personally, I find it strange to place so much importance on a young child in this way. Even if it is in the name of enlightenment and awakening from the ego's suffering, delegating one boy to be "inherently more awake" than any other monk or human IS status, no? Or maybe the presence of misguided ego because Buddhists also believe that there is no person better or closer to god/the divine than another. So when any faith or belief system tries to induce worship of someone or something greater than the believer, I question the power structure that is then built. Which in the case of the Dalai Lama, donations and publicity and even political influence/engagements (such as promoting the covid vaccine like movie stars and athletes did) are included in his status-awarded duties. I understood Buddhism, like Taoism, to respect elders' wisdom- but the hierarchal effect of assigning enlightenment seems paradoxical to Buddhist philosophy. The hierarchy of closer-to-god leaders in Christianity like the pope is definitely not the same dynamic as in Buddhism but could draw some similarities. Maybe the tradition is a good reminder/challenge to older monks to revere even the young for their reincarnated wisdom. Maybe all the monks are so at peace with their egos that they feel no such disdain or desire towards this election process; maybe its just simply tradition and an honor bestowed by "the universe" ... not understandable through human ego. I recognize I am an outsider going off some observations. From seeing the little boys dressed in red robes, heads shaved, but running with the energy of any other young child, I began to wonder what their honest opinion of growing up in a monastery might be. All of their needs are met and their soul is being nourished by daily meditation and prayer in community. Do they ever wonder and wish to wander into other walks of life? Is their spiritual connection genuine or is it a host of beliefs that they know to feel but didn't feel to know? Do monks have fun? Do they dance! I guess I need to interview a monk…or reincarnate as one!
Leh is a magical valley. Rich with ancient rivers, historical palaces, and wholesome villages. Our tour guide, Tom, brought us to the Indus River after visiting the monastery. I stood on the banks and shivered as the freezing glacier melt swept over my barefeet. This river granted so many ancient civilizations to survive and thrive. It is a vein of life that paints swaths of the valley green; from afar these highlighted oases are easy to spot even when the river or other water streams are not. Our ancestors understood water proximity well: water = green = life. But like our new friend Danish remarked one day after hiking up a dusty mountain face, "I like mountains, but not naked ones like these". A barren landscape is inherently unattractive and formidable for human life. Leh is naturally a dry place with usually dependable water sources year-round. But in recent years, locals have needed to start extracting groundwater because river levels diminish during certain parts of the year. This doesn't seem like a terrible transition but changing the human interaction with a delicate ecosystem can have dramatic effects. For instance, in a panicked effort to improve water supply in the valley, monks insisted that locals plant as many trees as possible. Good idea right? Well trees take a large initial water investment before they help the soil retain water. The soil in Leh is also not covered in grass which then prevents water absorption. The valley is also not suited for tree cover. It's ecosystems have not evolved to include certain natural aspects for a reason. Changing an ecosystem creates a clear domino effect: precipitation increases from climate changed weather patterns and transpiration (evaporation off of these newly planted trees) in Leh are now causing devastating land slides and flooding. During our visit, Leh was experiencing a 10,000% increase in precipitation. So unfounded for this region that our hotel's roofs leaked and the town market flooded. It is sobering to see how a good intention without proper research can cause more harm than good. Seasoned monks may be able to control their thoughts, but they should leave climate strategy to the experts who even find it difficult to predict and control climate change's devastating trajectory. During our class debates we focused on two approaches to climate change: Mitigation and Adaptation. Mitigation encompasses all efforts to prevent further global warming and climate changes from occurring whereas adaptation accepts the inevitability of climate change and focuses on initiatives to lessen its impact on vulnerable human populations through social, political, economic, and environmental projects. My takeaway from our thorough wargame roleplay exercise is that every single country needs to cooperate and take responsibility for their negative contributions in order to protect their own citizens and fellow humans across the globe. Climate change does not stop at borderlines and neither do ozone holes or polluted waters. A developing nation like India's pollution is also the UK's problem in one way or another, now or later- especially when considering the 50 year head start in industrial development that the UK US and EU all had on the nations they invaded and suppressed. Each debate ended with monetary negotiations: which country needs/deserves what and who can/should fork it over? The general conclusion: every developing country needs A LOT of money to become stable and resilient to climate changes, but no developed country holds firm to their funding promises made during climate conferences. The dog chases its own tail: trapped in a misguided blame loop until the one in power realize its action (or lack thereof) causes its own pain.
Our hotel was a 20 minute walk from town, so when we weren't digging through climate conference briefs or making presentations, we seized our freedom and explored the shops and restaurants often. I think I enjoyed this market most of the many we meandered during the month. The shops had such unique handcrafted knickknacks to offer; hand embroidered pillow cases and purses, such gorgeous jewelry- my favorites being the antique silver medallions with turquoise and coral stone inlay (traditional style of the tribes in the region), silky soft shawls, funny wool hats, traditional shoes that looked like elf slippers, delicate paintings on scrolls, "I got Leh'd" T-shirts, dried apricots and apricot balms, elephant themed wind chimes, and infinitely more treasures. The wide pedestrian-only market streets branched off into winding alleys so entrancing that if you weren't careful about tracing your steps, would keep you from returning in the group taxi on time. The shop owners were so kind and patient and would pull out literally hundreds of shawls or rings for us to try without a second thought. My brain broke a few times while shopping there from the sheer amount of incredible options. Having a friend to keep me comfortable and sane was important on these shopping adventures, especially when haggling was involved. Otherwise I got so lost in the options that I'd either buy something I regret or regret buying nothing at all! I found a cute vegan café on the rooftop of a building one day (Give me a day and I'll find the one place that sells green juices no matter where I go). There I met some lovely Israeli travelers who were enjoying a long backpacking trip throughout India and Southeast Asia since they've completed their military service and before they return to Israel to begin college. Leh is a popular destination for adventurous Israelis so I continued to meet more of them! All very friendly and genuine and uncannily beautiful people. We compared lifestyles and hobbies and even rent prices over a pot of ginger turmeric lime tea. Seems Tel Aviv is the NYC of Israel!
One day our group's guide/travel agent Prasanna was headed into town for lunch. Two of my friends and I asked to join him because he was a kind interesting person we wanted to get to know better…and because we knew he'd only eat the best authentic Ladakhi food. He graciously invited us along and showed us a delicious spot in town we would never have found on our own. We sat on cushions on the floor and excitedly scanned the menu of unrecognizable dish names. Luckily, Prasanna ordered a smorgasbord for us all to share. We sat in hungry anticipation and inquired about Prasanna's passion for birding and wildlife photography. He grew up near Darjeeling, where darjeeling tea is grown! Even though we had tried some of the traditional foods before like momos and thukpa, this restaurant made everything fresh to order. The momos were soft and bursting with umami flavor. The thali featured so many flavors my tastebuds had never experienced before- sour pickled okra, spicy sweet sesame paste, and a bunch more unidentifiable delicious sides to season the mound of rice on the silver platter. I will miss the diversity of ingredients and fun of trying of new flavors so much.
Taxis in Leh drive with a vengeance, hitting speed bumps at 20 mph and taking roundabouts like nascar drivers. They beep at every turn to notify oncoming traffic of their presence and swerve to avoid cows and dogs by inches. Car horns and dog barking tended to bother my ears our first few days, but eventually my brain learned to ignore the disruptions of peaceful mountain silence. They are horn happy here - but Indian honking denotes "be careful, don't step out into the road, I don't want to hit you" whereas in the US, honking is usually a form of aggressive warning that would sound something like "move over dumbass or else I'm going to hit you" or the best, "the light turned green .25 seconds ago, go already!". I may not be walking away from this trip with any Nepali or Hindi vocab, but at least I'm fluent in Asian beephonk.
On our way to the airport, our suitcases were simply laid on top of the car in a short metal cage, unrestrained and sliding dangerously close to the edges. Like so many situations I’ve witnessed or experienced during this trip that have the potential to go very wrong, but they just never do here. Caution is thrown to the wind, not by ignorance but a casual confidence of “this is how it’s been done and it works fine”. America is a very cautious place. Maybe it’s because Americans are lawsuit happy or because enough people have claimed to be trustworthy who aren’t and have caused enough harm to make safety regulations necessary. For instance, in Kathmandu the traffic was crazy, but the drivers were vigilant. There were no lanes and few stop lights. During my 10 days there, I never once witnessed a near collision. Each person drives to protect themselves and their vehicle, but there is also an unspoken mutual agreement to not drive recklessly to protect each other. Parents feel secure enough to bring their children along for rides, no seatbelts no helmets. I think there is a paradox between overly regulated and very unregulated countries. The more regulated a place is, the less personal responsibility those residents take on. Whereas in a place where there are few regulations to help you with injury and material recovery (insurance), the individuals take a very active role in protecting their own resources and having mutual respect for strangers in a similar position of risk.
Overall, I loved this leh'g of the trip (: I would definitely return to trek and explore the epic mountain terrain that has beckoned so many before me.
Comments