I am nearing the end of my time in Ladakh. Tomorrow I will take a walk to a village and spend the night and then return. The following day I spend two days in the Nubra Valley, a part of Ladakh northeast of Leh reached by a very high pass. Then on the 8th I start my way down to the plains through the Spiti and Kinnaur Valleys.
After the acupuncture treatment I wrote about in my last blog, my left leg was sore. It is better today. I rested a day, then had a fairly strenuous day of clambering around the palace. Now I have rested for two days and am ready to take my three or four hour walk to the village
A few days ago, I joined a French family who is staying at the same guest house as I am and we went to Phyang Monastery where they are having their annual festival. It was very hot and crowded and there were a lot of other tourists there. We stayed a couple of hours. In better conditions, I would have stayed longer. I liked the dancing. It is very simple and very repetitious, but the costumes and masks are great, and given more time and less distraction from the audience, I could have entered into the spirit of it. As we left other tourists were leaving and more local people were arriving so maybe it is better in the afternoon. The music consists of Tibetan trumpets (they sounded like reed instruments) and lots of cymbals and some drums. It was amplified and did begin to get in the blood.
The French family is three-generational and very sympathetic. I even spoke a little French which was fun if terrifying. I am calmer about speaking Hindi although my Hindi is worse than my French.
After the dancing, I came home, took a long nap and then read. I am reading five books right now. All more or less about Ladakh. I have almost finished Andrew Harvey's Journey to Ladakh, which is a description of a trip of spiritual discovery he took to Ladakh in the early eighties. It frequently makes me crazy, but there are good things in it.
Helena Norborg-Hodge's Ancient Futures: Learning from Ladakh also makes me crazy. She arrived in Ladakh when tourism first opened in the 70's and she has done a lot of good work here including founding the Women's Alliance of Ladakh. However, she has a simplistic view of the separation of East and West and somewhat distorts Ladakhi history to make her point. While the difference in scale is enormous, Ladkh has been a trading crossroads throughout its history and has never been the unified, almost Utopian society she depicts. Nevertheless, she has good things to say and her account is an interesting of one traveler's response to Ladakh and of what the rest of us might learn from this area.
Then I am reading two books about travelling in the Central Asian mountains. One is about "The Great Game," the competition between Russia and Great Britain for control of Central Asia and India. At the end, Russia got Central Asia and Britain kept India. The game involved Russian and British spies, often in native dress, wandering around the mountains, surveying and investigating the local economy and looking for a route between Central Asia and India that an army could cross. The only possible route, it turns out, is the one between Pakistan and Afghanistan, which is still a source of contention, although with different parties in play. The other book concerns trans-Himalyan trade routes centering on Ladakh. Ladakh has never been as isolated as we sometimes think. There has always been local trade between Tibet and the plains, and the long-distance trade routes connected Ladakh with St. Petersburg, Shanghai and Teheran.
I've been purifying my own water since I came to Ladakh and have been congratulating myself on my success. I have not been sick. Now I discover I have been drinking "government water" which has had some sort of treatment, the locals are unclear as to exactly what it is, but it is what everyone drinks, although my landlord filters it again. I am not stopping my purification treatments. Somehow drinking "government water" does not inspire me with a lot of confidence.
The longer I am in Ladakh the more time I spend just sitting looking at the garden, at the mountains, at the women yesterday who were stripping leaves from a leafy plant. They then spread the leaves on the roof outside my door, drying them for use in the winter.
Two nights ago, my landlord called me into his kitchen and fed me butter tea and "local food." The local food was a mutton stew with potatoes, spinach, and whole-wheat noodles that looked like and were about half the size of bow ties. It was very tasty. Half-way through he poured a white liquid in it which I think was thinned, partially fermented yogurt. He said "delicious" as he poured, and it was.
I waited in line for half an hour at the ATM. Locals, probably working for hotels, take five cards at a time into the booth. I understood this by listening to two men speak Hindi. I was very proud of myself, though between Hindi, French and English, I am barely able to speak or understand at all.
I hope to blog one more time before I leave Leh. Then for a week, I will be in fairly remote mountains and I don't know if there will be Internet access or not. I will try to blog briefly from my friends' apartment in Delhi.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
Three-day Sightseeing Bachanalia
More or less, by accident, I have gone far over my sightseeing quota.
Saturday morning I was going to climb up to the palace, have a leisurely look around and call it quits for the day, but I my way I passed the Lala Cafe. There is a poster on the door of my guesthouse advertising walks of the old town starting from the Lala Cafe but I could never find the Cafe. Suddenly, there it was so I went in and a walk was about to start in a half an hour so I waited. The walk is conducted by LOTI, Leh Old Town Initiative, which is a local non-profit dedicated to the preservation and renovation of Old Town in Leh. Old town is built on the hill below the palace and has been crumbling into ruin since owners were leaving their houses and living elsewhere. LOTI will renovate their houses for them on a fifty-fifty cost basis but leaving the owners with full title to their property. Many owners have taken them up on this. LOTI tries to keep the exterior as it was while making the interiors inhabitable. They also have renovated other buildings such as an early traders' mosque. They are also installing covered drains throughout the old town. The drains are just channels in the middle of the sidewalk, and LOTI has deepened and cleaned them and covered them with a metal grill which in addition to improving drainage makes walking safer.
The walk is great. Their is a a lot of clambering and climbing up steep hillsides on only the faintest of paths, but I got to see the insides of many buildings I never would have seen and I learned a lot about Old Town's past, present and possible future. The towns are built on the hillsides to preserve as much arable land as possible. The chapels, and other religious edifices are beginning to blur but I took a lot of pictures until my camera broke and I hope they will jog my memory.
Yes, my camera broke. It suddenly stopped responding to any commands, and no troubleshooting has helped. So even though my landlord offered to loan me his camera I decided to go cameraless for at least two days. On Sunday, I joined an Israeli couple I met and their Israeli Chinese Medicine Doctor for a tour of Shey Palace and Hemis and Thiksey Gompas. It was my first ride outside of Leh and the landscape is stunning. The mountains seem taller than in the city and they go on, range after range. I believe Shey Palace has not been an official residence since the mid-nineteenth century when the Dogras, I believe, invaded Leh and deposed the king and moved him to Stok. Before that the king divided his town between Shey and Leh. I remember little of Shey Palace except the climb to the roof and my first panoramic view of the Indus Valley. Up until this time I had been impervious to the landscape of Leh. I thought it was beautiful, but it didn't get under my skin. That morning, the green fields along the river, the bare ground beyond and the variegated mountains worked together to lift my spirits and make me happy to be alive. Hemis is perhaps the most famous of the monasteries in Ladakh. It has a spectacular setting in a deep canyon with steep walls splotched with red from lichens. As we approached it we passed some women sitting by the road spinning thread and selling very small socks that wouldn't even fit the smallest of us. They were friendly and the children were charming and we went on our way. The monastery is many-storied and it was the first place I saw Tantric paintings of a demonic looking male being holding a female being across his hips in an intercourse position. It turns out these are usually in rooms where the guardians of the temple are kept but they can turn up anywhere. There was a set in a room that was basically a library. Here Talma suggested that we mediate for 15 minutes which was a great idea. I was beginning to flag and sitting for 15 minutes cleared my mind and gave me enthusiasm for the rest.
If Hemis is the most famous monastery, Thiksey is the most photographed. It is right and pours down the hill like a small Portola. In Thiksey there is a great room where the guardians are kept. It is small and dark and all the images are veiled and it looks very ancient, very elementary.
By the end of the day, I was exhausted but I signed on for another palace and two more monasteries the next day. The palace is at Stok where the king and his family are now resident. There is a great museum which includes the state rooms. It is not as spectacular as the museum at Hemis monastery, which is the best museum I have been in in India, but being laid out in the palace rooms, it is very interesting and some of the objects, especially the jewelry are very beautiful.
Then there were two more monasteries to go. Up until now we had been southeast of Leh, now we headed west on the Srinigar road. We saw Spitok and Phiyang. The sounds and images that are most present now are from Phiyang were a group of monks were in the middle of a seven day prayer sequence with drumming and small boy monks blowing trumpets from time to time. The wall paintings here were dark and hard to see but worth looking at with the sound of the chanting in the background.
Then back to Leh, where the Israeli doctor gave me an acupuncture treatment for pains I have been having in the hip area. He has a great beside manner. He has been traveling for months finding clinics to volunteer in where ever we go. He was at the monastery school at Spitok for a month so the head of the school invited us in for tea and we met some of his patients in the monastery. Yesterday, he didn't go with us into monastery but stayed at the cafe which is by a small dispensary and he helped treat a monk who had sprained his ankle playing football and another patient and then he went out and treated our driver.
Tomorrow I am taking it easy. All I have on my schedule is the Women's Association where they show a film on Ladakh in the afternoon and the Ecological Center which has information on Ladakh and a shop with articles from local craftspeople.
Saturday morning I was going to climb up to the palace, have a leisurely look around and call it quits for the day, but I my way I passed the Lala Cafe. There is a poster on the door of my guesthouse advertising walks of the old town starting from the Lala Cafe but I could never find the Cafe. Suddenly, there it was so I went in and a walk was about to start in a half an hour so I waited. The walk is conducted by LOTI, Leh Old Town Initiative, which is a local non-profit dedicated to the preservation and renovation of Old Town in Leh. Old town is built on the hill below the palace and has been crumbling into ruin since owners were leaving their houses and living elsewhere. LOTI will renovate their houses for them on a fifty-fifty cost basis but leaving the owners with full title to their property. Many owners have taken them up on this. LOTI tries to keep the exterior as it was while making the interiors inhabitable. They also have renovated other buildings such as an early traders' mosque. They are also installing covered drains throughout the old town. The drains are just channels in the middle of the sidewalk, and LOTI has deepened and cleaned them and covered them with a metal grill which in addition to improving drainage makes walking safer.
The walk is great. Their is a a lot of clambering and climbing up steep hillsides on only the faintest of paths, but I got to see the insides of many buildings I never would have seen and I learned a lot about Old Town's past, present and possible future. The towns are built on the hillsides to preserve as much arable land as possible. The chapels, and other religious edifices are beginning to blur but I took a lot of pictures until my camera broke and I hope they will jog my memory.
Yes, my camera broke. It suddenly stopped responding to any commands, and no troubleshooting has helped. So even though my landlord offered to loan me his camera I decided to go cameraless for at least two days. On Sunday, I joined an Israeli couple I met and their Israeli Chinese Medicine Doctor for a tour of Shey Palace and Hemis and Thiksey Gompas. It was my first ride outside of Leh and the landscape is stunning. The mountains seem taller than in the city and they go on, range after range. I believe Shey Palace has not been an official residence since the mid-nineteenth century when the Dogras, I believe, invaded Leh and deposed the king and moved him to Stok. Before that the king divided his town between Shey and Leh. I remember little of Shey Palace except the climb to the roof and my first panoramic view of the Indus Valley. Up until this time I had been impervious to the landscape of Leh. I thought it was beautiful, but it didn't get under my skin. That morning, the green fields along the river, the bare ground beyond and the variegated mountains worked together to lift my spirits and make me happy to be alive. Hemis is perhaps the most famous of the monasteries in Ladakh. It has a spectacular setting in a deep canyon with steep walls splotched with red from lichens. As we approached it we passed some women sitting by the road spinning thread and selling very small socks that wouldn't even fit the smallest of us. They were friendly and the children were charming and we went on our way. The monastery is many-storied and it was the first place I saw Tantric paintings of a demonic looking male being holding a female being across his hips in an intercourse position. It turns out these are usually in rooms where the guardians of the temple are kept but they can turn up anywhere. There was a set in a room that was basically a library. Here Talma suggested that we mediate for 15 minutes which was a great idea. I was beginning to flag and sitting for 15 minutes cleared my mind and gave me enthusiasm for the rest.
If Hemis is the most famous monastery, Thiksey is the most photographed. It is right and pours down the hill like a small Portola. In Thiksey there is a great room where the guardians are kept. It is small and dark and all the images are veiled and it looks very ancient, very elementary.
By the end of the day, I was exhausted but I signed on for another palace and two more monasteries the next day. The palace is at Stok where the king and his family are now resident. There is a great museum which includes the state rooms. It is not as spectacular as the museum at Hemis monastery, which is the best museum I have been in in India, but being laid out in the palace rooms, it is very interesting and some of the objects, especially the jewelry are very beautiful.
Then there were two more monasteries to go. Up until now we had been southeast of Leh, now we headed west on the Srinigar road. We saw Spitok and Phiyang. The sounds and images that are most present now are from Phiyang were a group of monks were in the middle of a seven day prayer sequence with drumming and small boy monks blowing trumpets from time to time. The wall paintings here were dark and hard to see but worth looking at with the sound of the chanting in the background.
Then back to Leh, where the Israeli doctor gave me an acupuncture treatment for pains I have been having in the hip area. He has a great beside manner. He has been traveling for months finding clinics to volunteer in where ever we go. He was at the monastery school at Spitok for a month so the head of the school invited us in for tea and we met some of his patients in the monastery. Yesterday, he didn't go with us into monastery but stayed at the cafe which is by a small dispensary and he helped treat a monk who had sprained his ankle playing football and another patient and then he went out and treated our driver.
Tomorrow I am taking it easy. All I have on my schedule is the Women's Association where they show a film on Ladakh in the afternoon and the Ecological Center which has information on Ladakh and a shop with articles from local craftspeople.
Friday, July 25, 2008
First Days in Ladakh
Ladakh is one of those places everyone tells you that you are going to love, so I came here with a bit of a chip on my shoulder, but it has quickly fallen off. Ladakh is beautiful, Ladakh is interesting, Ladakh is seductive and it is comfortable. However, it is hard not to feel at least a little guilty about being here as one of the tourists who is rapidly changing Ladakh.
Leh is in a valley surrounded by mountains that don't look all that tall because the valley floor is already at 12,000 feet. But behind the first circle, one can see the tall Himalayas and they indeed to look tall. The valley is a desert with an ancient system of irrigation that keeps parts of it green. The rest of it looks rather like the bleaker parts of Nevada, except there are people here and the incredible mountains.
The first day here, I slept most of the day adjusting to the altitude.
The second day, I saw one stupa. I took what was supposed to be a short walk and extended it to see a stupa from either the 11th or 15th century. It is in ruins although the it has been surrounded by a modern retaining wall. I resisted clambering up the crumbling stairs and passageways in the upper part because I was alone and I didn't fancy spending the night with a broken leg there. It seemed like a haven for all sorts of creepy-crawly things.
Today, I saw two gompas as the Buddhist monasteries are called here. I was tempted to see a third, but decided that might be stretching it in my present condition. Tomorrow, I might be ready to see three of something. Or maybe not. My rule as a tourist is always to avoid seeing one thing a day. Today, I avoided seeing the palace. I walked up there to see a cultural performance that the owner of my guest house dances and sings in. The performance is just outside the palace so I am saving it for another day.
The palace is amazing it is 7 or 9 stories tall, attached to the palace. It was built about 30 years before the big monastery in Lhasa whose name is at my fingertips, but I can't produce. It climbs up the hill in the same fashion. I have a good view of it from my room at the guest house, but the side from the town is even better. I'll write more about the palace once I have seen it.
I saw my second gompa by accident. I was climbing up the rather steep hill to the palace when I heard drumming coming from the gompa and decided to take off my shoes and sit in the doorway and rest while I listened to the monk chanting. Eventually a young boy came up and sold me a Rs 20 ticket so I felt free to stay and wander around. The main room of this gompa is large, high and unadorned except for paintings of the thousand Buddhas on the walls, and a large gold statute in the center. Tibetan Buddhism is too complicated for me. There is an endless procession of Buddhas and other beings. I am not going to worry about it. I wasn't sure I was going to like gompas, but after seeing two, I think I do. I just don't want anyone to explain them to me right now. When I get home I might do some reading, but now I just want to sit and look and take the occasional picture.
The sky is very blue here. The clouds are very white. The sound of water is everywhere from the small channels of water running down from the snow melt to provide drinking water, washing water, and irrigation water. Yesterday morning, my landlord was watering his garden. He broke down the wall of the irrigation channel so that some of the water flowed into his garden and then by taking away a pile of dirt here and putting a pile of dirt here, he guided the water through channels in the garden until it was all water. I had read about this, but it was amazing to see. It is very simple and very effective.
It is not all ancient. I heard a power saw yesterday, something I never heard in India although I saw men sawing huge beams by resting them at 45 degree angles against a sawhorse and then slowing sawing down the middle from the top, a process that takes days. There is a lot of money now in Leh from all us tourists and and an amazing amount of building going on. I wonder where the sustainability point is. There is no longer any East and West. We are all now having to make the same choices about what we need, what we want and sustainability. My landlord is very concerned about his twin daughters and the other children in Ladakh. He teaches elementary school and he is afraid the culture might be lost in a generation.
I am more optimistic. There will be changes, but I suspect Ladakh is a place like Bali that will be able to sustain its culture while still entertaining hordes of tourists. However, Bali is geographically better situated to handle the onslaught.
Enough politics. Today for lunch I asked the men from Manali to make me dal, vegetables and rice. It was delicious. I had been missing that simple meal. In the evenings I have been having chicken biranyi which is really chicken fried rice. It is very sustaining and very good with whole cardamom pods in it -- o.k., it's not exactly chicken fried rice.
Leh is in a valley surrounded by mountains that don't look all that tall because the valley floor is already at 12,000 feet. But behind the first circle, one can see the tall Himalayas and they indeed to look tall. The valley is a desert with an ancient system of irrigation that keeps parts of it green. The rest of it looks rather like the bleaker parts of Nevada, except there are people here and the incredible mountains.
The first day here, I slept most of the day adjusting to the altitude.
The second day, I saw one stupa. I took what was supposed to be a short walk and extended it to see a stupa from either the 11th or 15th century. It is in ruins although the it has been surrounded by a modern retaining wall. I resisted clambering up the crumbling stairs and passageways in the upper part because I was alone and I didn't fancy spending the night with a broken leg there. It seemed like a haven for all sorts of creepy-crawly things.
Today, I saw two gompas as the Buddhist monasteries are called here. I was tempted to see a third, but decided that might be stretching it in my present condition. Tomorrow, I might be ready to see three of something. Or maybe not. My rule as a tourist is always to avoid seeing one thing a day. Today, I avoided seeing the palace. I walked up there to see a cultural performance that the owner of my guest house dances and sings in. The performance is just outside the palace so I am saving it for another day.
The palace is amazing it is 7 or 9 stories tall, attached to the palace. It was built about 30 years before the big monastery in Lhasa whose name is at my fingertips, but I can't produce. It climbs up the hill in the same fashion. I have a good view of it from my room at the guest house, but the side from the town is even better. I'll write more about the palace once I have seen it.
I saw my second gompa by accident. I was climbing up the rather steep hill to the palace when I heard drumming coming from the gompa and decided to take off my shoes and sit in the doorway and rest while I listened to the monk chanting. Eventually a young boy came up and sold me a Rs 20 ticket so I felt free to stay and wander around. The main room of this gompa is large, high and unadorned except for paintings of the thousand Buddhas on the walls, and a large gold statute in the center. Tibetan Buddhism is too complicated for me. There is an endless procession of Buddhas and other beings. I am not going to worry about it. I wasn't sure I was going to like gompas, but after seeing two, I think I do. I just don't want anyone to explain them to me right now. When I get home I might do some reading, but now I just want to sit and look and take the occasional picture.
The sky is very blue here. The clouds are very white. The sound of water is everywhere from the small channels of water running down from the snow melt to provide drinking water, washing water, and irrigation water. Yesterday morning, my landlord was watering his garden. He broke down the wall of the irrigation channel so that some of the water flowed into his garden and then by taking away a pile of dirt here and putting a pile of dirt here, he guided the water through channels in the garden until it was all water. I had read about this, but it was amazing to see. It is very simple and very effective.
It is not all ancient. I heard a power saw yesterday, something I never heard in India although I saw men sawing huge beams by resting them at 45 degree angles against a sawhorse and then slowing sawing down the middle from the top, a process that takes days. There is a lot of money now in Leh from all us tourists and and an amazing amount of building going on. I wonder where the sustainability point is. There is no longer any East and West. We are all now having to make the same choices about what we need, what we want and sustainability. My landlord is very concerned about his twin daughters and the other children in Ladakh. He teaches elementary school and he is afraid the culture might be lost in a generation.
I am more optimistic. There will be changes, but I suspect Ladakh is a place like Bali that will be able to sustain its culture while still entertaining hordes of tourists. However, Bali is geographically better situated to handle the onslaught.
Enough politics. Today for lunch I asked the men from Manali to make me dal, vegetables and rice. It was delicious. I had been missing that simple meal. In the evenings I have been having chicken biranyi which is really chicken fried rice. It is very sustaining and very good with whole cardamom pods in it -- o.k., it's not exactly chicken fried rice.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Luke in the Big City
After an uneventful ride down the mountain and a very noisy train ride filled with returning vacationers, Anna and I arrived in Delhi. It was hot and muggy, the scene at the train station was as chaotic as usual, but once the hotel man picked us up and we were driving the short distance to the hotel, I became very happy. I love big cities. I love Delhi.
This is spite of the fact that when I arrived at my friend's apartment where I was staying until I left for Ladakh, the houseboy had had a family emergency and I had to wait on a very hot stairwell until my friends arrived. Once they arrived, I went to sleep as quickly as possible only to be awakened in what felt like the middle of the night to be told we were going to a party. I dutifully got up, made myself as presentable as I could and went off to a gay party where I remet some of the people I had met a year and a half ago on my earlier trip. They are activists of various sorts, very bright, very well-educated, very energetic and very inspirational. They give me some hope for the future of India.
I had two days in Delhi. The first day I just got some business done and then we had a great meal at my friend's house. The second day I did some shopping, had a great massage from my friend's masseur and a talk with the houseboy about being gay in India if you don't belong to the upper middle class (and even there it is not easy).
Then I had a nap and headed out for the airport to meet my friend Caroline so we could go to Ladakh together. Unfortunately, she had failed to get a visa so was turned back at the airport. Fortunately, a Swiss Air representative found me and I got to talk to Caroline by phone. Then I made my way to the domestic airport and waited for my 5 a.m. flight. I was a bit of a wreck, but the flight is spectacular. My window faced the rising sun so my pictures didn't turn out well, but the mountains are very close, very clear and very big.
I was met at the airport and taken to a very nice guest house. I have a room apartment with a great view of Leh palace. But the Ladakh story will have to wait for the next blog.
P.S. This is the report on the great Kashmiri dinner I had in Mussoorie at my friend Anna's friend Vikram's parents' house. There was awide range of dishes. My favorite were potato balls which I think were steamed and then deep-fried so they had a crispy exterior and soft interior. They are a very sophisticated version of French fries. Anna and I had been eating simply for five weeks and this was a great change. The food was great, the house was beautiful and filled with amazing objects, and the hosts were very cordial and charming.
This is spite of the fact that when I arrived at my friend's apartment where I was staying until I left for Ladakh, the houseboy had had a family emergency and I had to wait on a very hot stairwell until my friends arrived. Once they arrived, I went to sleep as quickly as possible only to be awakened in what felt like the middle of the night to be told we were going to a party. I dutifully got up, made myself as presentable as I could and went off to a gay party where I remet some of the people I had met a year and a half ago on my earlier trip. They are activists of various sorts, very bright, very well-educated, very energetic and very inspirational. They give me some hope for the future of India.
I had two days in Delhi. The first day I just got some business done and then we had a great meal at my friend's house. The second day I did some shopping, had a great massage from my friend's masseur and a talk with the houseboy about being gay in India if you don't belong to the upper middle class (and even there it is not easy).
Then I had a nap and headed out for the airport to meet my friend Caroline so we could go to Ladakh together. Unfortunately, she had failed to get a visa so was turned back at the airport. Fortunately, a Swiss Air representative found me and I got to talk to Caroline by phone. Then I made my way to the domestic airport and waited for my 5 a.m. flight. I was a bit of a wreck, but the flight is spectacular. My window faced the rising sun so my pictures didn't turn out well, but the mountains are very close, very clear and very big.
I was met at the airport and taken to a very nice guest house. I have a room apartment with a great view of Leh palace. But the Ladakh story will have to wait for the next blog.
P.S. This is the report on the great Kashmiri dinner I had in Mussoorie at my friend Anna's friend Vikram's parents' house. There was awide range of dishes. My favorite were potato balls which I think were steamed and then deep-fried so they had a crispy exterior and soft interior. They are a very sophisticated version of French fries. Anna and I had been eating simply for five weeks and this was a great change. The food was great, the house was beautiful and filled with amazing objects, and the hosts were very cordial and charming.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Studying Hindi at Landour Language School
Although I regret not being able to finish the Hindi course at Nolunna, I am grateful that I had the chance to study two weeks at Landour School. Landour is a town contingent to Mussoorie which during the Raj was a hill station where government employees could avoid the summer heat. Landour attached itself to Mussoorie and was one of the two hill stations in India that attracted Americans. The Americans were usually missionaries so there are many churches here.
I am staying at Ivy Banks from which the school is a very steep walk up the hill. After a little not so subtle coaching from Anna and myself, we have abolished international food in the evening and have very tasty Indian food at both lunch and dinner. The other day I saw fresh ferns in the market and bought them and the cook (who is also the manager) prepared them very well. Last night we had potatoes which a very thin bean mixed in. They seemed even thinner than Chinese long beans. I didn't detect much flavor but their crisp texture was a good contrast to the potatoes. Last night we had taro leaves wrapped around dal flour dough and steamed and then fried with spices. That was very good too.
I like the teaching here। I have two teachers। One is Mr. Datt. He is the director of the school and is very soft-spoken. He often uses philosophical examples to illustrate grammar points, which I like. The other teacher is Mr. Rai. His unfortunate duty is to drill me on verb tenses. I know the grammar but I cannot make the correct words come out of my mouth. My most common mistake is saying "मैं है Main hai," instead of "मैं हूँ Main huun." This means "I " and you learn it on the first day of Hindi, but I still cannot make the verb agree with the subject when I am speaking. Both of the teachers are just a little younger than me and we get on very well. Although the majority of students here are of college age there are a number of us who are over forty and there is one other, who like me, is almost 70. Those people who are hit by the India bug are hit hard. Everyone here has an interesting story about why they are studying Hindi. Many people are going to work in India, but others, like me, just want to know a little more about India.
Landour is beautiful, even though it is very wet. It has rained, at least a little, every day I have been here and some days it pours. This morning while I was washing my clothes after my shower, I looked down and there was what I thought was a leech on my leg. It didn't look like the leeches that attached to me at Nolunna, being browner, longer and with small horns like a slug, but I thought it was a different bread. I ran to Anna's room, collected her, and we went down to the kitchen for salt. We went outside and the staff gathered around and Anna applied the salt. The creature fell off and Anil, the manager/cook, announced that it wasn't a leech, and indeed there was no blood. After a leech falls off there is a lot of blood because they contain an anti-coagulant. So it was a slug after all. I didn't know slugs crawled on to people. I got one leech sitting in the garden at Nolunna studying, and the other when I went hiking in the mountains. I thought I had covered myself well the second time, but the leech found a way in. It had fallen off before I discovered it, but my leg and pant leg were all bloody. The fortunate thing is that flies and mosquitoes don't seem to like me as much as they do others.
I started to talk about the beauty of Landour and became distracted by leeches. There are tall deodar pines (I thinks that what they are) and some of the paths wander among the steep, green forests. The clouds come and go. One is supposed to be able to see the Himalayas from here, but so far all I have seen in the distance is clouds. Once or twice it has been clear toward the plains and I have seen Dehra Dun and, in the distance, the Ganges flowing out from Hardiwar. In the other direction, one is supposed to be able to see the Yamuna, but it has never been clear enough when I have been looking over there.
It is very quiet and clean up here. I will probably come back some time and spend longer here and polish my Hindi. I am not sure if I will ever speak it well, but I am approaching a reading capability in the language.
In three days, I leave for Delhi, and then go to Ladakh. Tonight my friend Anna and I are going to a friend of hers house for dinner with his parents. I am looking forward to it. In Delhi, I am staying with friends at there apartment. The break from hotel and guest house living will be welcome.
I am staying at Ivy Banks from which the school is a very steep walk up the hill. After a little not so subtle coaching from Anna and myself, we have abolished international food in the evening and have very tasty Indian food at both lunch and dinner. The other day I saw fresh ferns in the market and bought them and the cook (who is also the manager) prepared them very well. Last night we had potatoes which a very thin bean mixed in. They seemed even thinner than Chinese long beans. I didn't detect much flavor but their crisp texture was a good contrast to the potatoes. Last night we had taro leaves wrapped around dal flour dough and steamed and then fried with spices. That was very good too.
I like the teaching here। I have two teachers। One is Mr. Datt. He is the director of the school and is very soft-spoken. He often uses philosophical examples to illustrate grammar points, which I like. The other teacher is Mr. Rai. His unfortunate duty is to drill me on verb tenses. I know the grammar but I cannot make the correct words come out of my mouth. My most common mistake is saying "मैं है Main hai," instead of "मैं हूँ Main huun." This means "I " and you learn it on the first day of Hindi, but I still cannot make the verb agree with the subject when I am speaking. Both of the teachers are just a little younger than me and we get on very well. Although the majority of students here are of college age there are a number of us who are over forty and there is one other, who like me, is almost 70. Those people who are hit by the India bug are hit hard. Everyone here has an interesting story about why they are studying Hindi. Many people are going to work in India, but others, like me, just want to know a little more about India.
Landour is beautiful, even though it is very wet. It has rained, at least a little, every day I have been here and some days it pours. This morning while I was washing my clothes after my shower, I looked down and there was what I thought was a leech on my leg. It didn't look like the leeches that attached to me at Nolunna, being browner, longer and with small horns like a slug, but I thought it was a different bread. I ran to Anna's room, collected her, and we went down to the kitchen for salt. We went outside and the staff gathered around and Anna applied the salt. The creature fell off and Anil, the manager/cook, announced that it wasn't a leech, and indeed there was no blood. After a leech falls off there is a lot of blood because they contain an anti-coagulant. So it was a slug after all. I didn't know slugs crawled on to people. I got one leech sitting in the garden at Nolunna studying, and the other when I went hiking in the mountains. I thought I had covered myself well the second time, but the leech found a way in. It had fallen off before I discovered it, but my leg and pant leg were all bloody. The fortunate thing is that flies and mosquitoes don't seem to like me as much as they do others.
I started to talk about the beauty of Landour and became distracted by leeches. There are tall deodar pines (I thinks that what they are) and some of the paths wander among the steep, green forests. The clouds come and go. One is supposed to be able to see the Himalayas from here, but so far all I have seen in the distance is clouds. Once or twice it has been clear toward the plains and I have seen Dehra Dun and, in the distance, the Ganges flowing out from Hardiwar. In the other direction, one is supposed to be able to see the Yamuna, but it has never been clear enough when I have been looking over there.
It is very quiet and clean up here. I will probably come back some time and spend longer here and polish my Hindi. I am not sure if I will ever speak it well, but I am approaching a reading capability in the language.
In three days, I leave for Delhi, and then go to Ladakh. Tonight my friend Anna and I are going to a friend of hers house for dinner with his parents. I am looking forward to it. In Delhi, I am staying with friends at there apartment. The break from hotel and guest house living will be welcome.
Nolunna - Part 2
I have reread my posts about Nolunna and I am not satisfied. It was a very intense experience which I am finding it hard to describe. Since the Hindi instruction was truncated just as I was beginning to get the hang of simple communication, it is going to take me some time to see what I have salvaged from the Hindi experience. Whatever that turns out to be, the human experience makes the time I spent there memorable and valuable.
As I have said before, the Ganges Valley at Nolunna is very narrow. The buildings are built close to the road and form a wall on one side as the ground is dropping down to the river. On the other side the mountain rises very steeply. Nolunna is in a curve of the river so from the property, I could not see either up or down the river. In one of the dictionaries that I was using I came across the word "inspissated" which means "concentrated" as in "concentrated mango juice." The experience at Nolunna was very inspissated. First of all there is Yogendra, my teacher. He lives in Australia most of the year, but usually comes to India in December/January and July/August and teaches here. He has owned the property on the Ganges for at least ten years, I think, and has become a figure in the life of the villages surrounding him. He also has much more responsibility for his employees than an employer has in the United States. It is a semi-familial relationship. Also, since Nolunna is shut up for much of the year, there is always maintenance work to do on the buildings and property. In addition to this, he has family responsibilities in his family village outside of Delhi which he takes care of when he is in India. Anna, the other student, and I, became interested in and concerned about many of these responsibilities so there was always something to talk about at mealtime.
Then there was the staff. Devindra, his brother Budri, and his niece and nephew Rajma and Hansmukh, all came from the same village a two hours walk on the other side of the river. Anil, who served as a teaching assistant and gave us conversation lessons, was also the main contact with Uttarkashi which was our contact with the outside world. Devindra was in charge of the staff and was the chief cook. He made amazing vegetables. Nothing was fancy. He fried them in a little oil, added a few simple spices and steamed them. They were amazing. While we were there, Budri built an outside clay stove in an open sided hut that faced the river. The first time it was used we had khari (from which the word "curry" comes). Khari is made of lentil flour and yogurt with a few spices and vegetables added. It takes a long time to cook and we all took turns stirring. With it, Devindra made thick chapattis by hand, without rolling them out. They were great. It was wonderful to sit at the table facing the Ganges and eat delicious food. While the food was being prepared, Devindra played the harmonium and sang Garwahli songs accompanied by Anil on a drum.
There were frequently Garwahli song fests either before or after supper, with Rajma sometimes singing, and everyone joining in on percussion.
One evening out by the clay stove we had jackfruit for which I have not yet acquired a taste. It is in season now and it is in all the markets, big, green and prickly.
Rajma was the only woman there. She is about 14 and she started high school while we were there so there was an expedition to Rishikesh to buy her a school uniform and books. Yogendra bought her brother shoes. Her brother, Hansmukh, can neither hear nor speak, but he has a very expressive face and has a repertory of idiosyncratic signs with which he communicates very well. He would often come and talk when Anna and I were sitting out on the veranda in front of her rooms. All of the staff would pass by from time to time, and the others would speak to us in Hindi which was very helpful.
Well, I'm still unsatisfied with this blog. The remoteness, the vitality, the strong sense of village life, the power of the Ganges, all of this is left out. One afternoon, Anil gave me my conversation lesson while we sat next to the Ganges. He said, in simple Hindi, that at the source, Gomukh, the Ganges is a baby, when it skips by us at Nolunna it is a child, at Rishikesh it enters puberty and reaches adulthood at Hardiwar, as it crosses the plains it matures until it reaches old age at Calcutta and finally dies into the ocean. It is a sense of powerful, childlike beginnings that I am left with when I think of Nolunna.
As I have said before, the Ganges Valley at Nolunna is very narrow. The buildings are built close to the road and form a wall on one side as the ground is dropping down to the river. On the other side the mountain rises very steeply. Nolunna is in a curve of the river so from the property, I could not see either up or down the river. In one of the dictionaries that I was using I came across the word "inspissated" which means "concentrated" as in "concentrated mango juice." The experience at Nolunna was very inspissated. First of all there is Yogendra, my teacher. He lives in Australia most of the year, but usually comes to India in December/January and July/August and teaches here. He has owned the property on the Ganges for at least ten years, I think, and has become a figure in the life of the villages surrounding him. He also has much more responsibility for his employees than an employer has in the United States. It is a semi-familial relationship. Also, since Nolunna is shut up for much of the year, there is always maintenance work to do on the buildings and property. In addition to this, he has family responsibilities in his family village outside of Delhi which he takes care of when he is in India. Anna, the other student, and I, became interested in and concerned about many of these responsibilities so there was always something to talk about at mealtime.
Then there was the staff. Devindra, his brother Budri, and his niece and nephew Rajma and Hansmukh, all came from the same village a two hours walk on the other side of the river. Anil, who served as a teaching assistant and gave us conversation lessons, was also the main contact with Uttarkashi which was our contact with the outside world. Devindra was in charge of the staff and was the chief cook. He made amazing vegetables. Nothing was fancy. He fried them in a little oil, added a few simple spices and steamed them. They were amazing. While we were there, Budri built an outside clay stove in an open sided hut that faced the river. The first time it was used we had khari (from which the word "curry" comes). Khari is made of lentil flour and yogurt with a few spices and vegetables added. It takes a long time to cook and we all took turns stirring. With it, Devindra made thick chapattis by hand, without rolling them out. They were great. It was wonderful to sit at the table facing the Ganges and eat delicious food. While the food was being prepared, Devindra played the harmonium and sang Garwahli songs accompanied by Anil on a drum.
There were frequently Garwahli song fests either before or after supper, with Rajma sometimes singing, and everyone joining in on percussion.
One evening out by the clay stove we had jackfruit for which I have not yet acquired a taste. It is in season now and it is in all the markets, big, green and prickly.
Rajma was the only woman there. She is about 14 and she started high school while we were there so there was an expedition to Rishikesh to buy her a school uniform and books. Yogendra bought her brother shoes. Her brother, Hansmukh, can neither hear nor speak, but he has a very expressive face and has a repertory of idiosyncratic signs with which he communicates very well. He would often come and talk when Anna and I were sitting out on the veranda in front of her rooms. All of the staff would pass by from time to time, and the others would speak to us in Hindi which was very helpful.
Well, I'm still unsatisfied with this blog. The remoteness, the vitality, the strong sense of village life, the power of the Ganges, all of this is left out. One afternoon, Anil gave me my conversation lesson while we sat next to the Ganges. He said, in simple Hindi, that at the source, Gomukh, the Ganges is a baby, when it skips by us at Nolunna it is a child, at Rishikesh it enters puberty and reaches adulthood at Hardiwar, as it crosses the plains it matures until it reaches old age at Calcutta and finally dies into the ocean. It is a sense of powerful, childlike beginnings that I am left with when I think of Nolunna.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Studying Hindi at Nolunna
As you know, I came to India to study Hindi for five weeks at a place called Nolunna above Uttarkashi which is about two-thirds of the way from Rishikesh to Gangotri near the mouth of the Ganges. As you also know, my stay there was truncated, but I had a great time and now I am going to tell you about it.
A couple of years ago my friend Ben Teller found this place called Himalaya Hindi House on the Internet. It seemed too remote for him, but to me it seemed perfect. It is located on the banks of the Upper Ganges and is taught by Yogendra Yadev, who teaches at the Australian National University in Canberra. He owns this property called Nolunna. Unfortunately, this is probably the last year he will teach there as his program is now accredited through ANU and he will teach in a more accessible location that can accommodate more students. I feel very fortunate to have been there.
The drive up was long and winding. Anna, the other student, became ill the night before we left Rishikesh to head up the mountains, but she bravely decided to come with us. We started a little before 11 in the morning and arrived at Nolunna just after 6 p.m. having traveled a little more than 90 miles or not quite 15 miles an hour. Because the monsoons are here, landslides are frequent in the mountains. We had to take a detour to go around one, and two days after we arrived there was a bad one just down the road from us in which the driver of a vehicle was badly injured. Coming down the mountain, we passed a bus that he slipped off the round in a bad patch and plunged into the river with only two survivors.
Although we were very tired by the time we reached Nolunna, I knew at once I had come to the right place. The buildings are about 200 feet from the river and the roar is constantly in our ears. The grounds are filled with a great garden filled with flowers, vegetables and fruit trees. Nolunna is small, sandwiched between the river and the road. The road is the only way up to the mouth of the Ganges so as I sat at the dining table I could see the tops of the heads of saddhus going up and down the road. The far side of the river is a hill that goes straight up for a few hundred feet. It is covered with ferns and low bushes and tall conifers that only have branches at the top. The river is not wide here but very fast and when it is not raining, it is a cloudy grey as it comes from a glacier. When it rains, the river turns a muddy brown. I can see the river from the veranda of my room. The valley we are in is so steep it doesn't get much direct sun, so I spend most of the day an the veranda, studying Hindi and swatting flies.
The first three days it rained almost constantly and clothes were taking two days to dry but after that we had only intermittent rain and some days when it was actually sunny for an hour or two.
I quickly settled into a schedule. I woke about 5, meditated for half an hour and then tea arrived at 6. After tea, I usually took a walk unless the rain was too bad. Mostly we walked the road because the one time I walked the path in the hills, I got a leech. We kept waiting for dry weather dry weather so we could walk the hills, but it never came. I had already had another leech find me when I was studying in the garden. Both times I didn't find the leech until it was full and fell off. The first time it fell into my sandal and I thought it was a big bug, but Anna recognized it immediately being an experienced mountain woman who has lived in Colorado for 20 years although she grew up in England. Leeches are painless and carry no diseases but they are repulsive and messy. After they fall off the wound bleeds for quite a while.
By the time I came back from my walk and the hot water had arrived in a bucket. I washed myself and then my clothes, and then we had breakfast at 7:45. Breakfast was either a whole wheat version of cream of wheat or semolina with hot milk and tea. I usually had a banana with my second bowl. Then I had an hour class from 8:30 to 9:30 and two half-hour sessions, one at 11:00 and another at 12:00. In between I did my homework and then we had lunch at 12:30. Lunch was rice, roti, dal and a vegetable. Most of the garden vegetables weren't ready but the green beans were delicious. We also had ferns and tree mushrooms gathered from the forest. Both were great. We frequently had ferns, but the mushrooms were harder to find and there never seemed to be enough of them.
At 1:00 it was nap time. Then after my nap it was more study until 3:45 when I had an hour conversation practice with Anil, one of the staff. By this time I was usually tired and I loafed until supper and 6:45. We hung out together and Devindra, the head of staff and main cook, sometimes played the harmonium and sang Garwalhi songs accompanied by Anil on a drum. The only woman on the staff, a girl of 14 sometimes also sang. Then about 8 I headed down to my room and was asleep before 9.
I really liked the routine and sleeping with the sound of the river in my ears. At night, beneath the roar, I could hear a low, thundering sounds which was made by rocks pounding against each other as they were carried along in the stream.
I promised my son to keep each blog to about 800 words so I will stop here, but I have more to say about Nolunna.
A couple of years ago my friend Ben Teller found this place called Himalaya Hindi House on the Internet. It seemed too remote for him, but to me it seemed perfect. It is located on the banks of the Upper Ganges and is taught by Yogendra Yadev, who teaches at the Australian National University in Canberra. He owns this property called Nolunna. Unfortunately, this is probably the last year he will teach there as his program is now accredited through ANU and he will teach in a more accessible location that can accommodate more students. I feel very fortunate to have been there.
The drive up was long and winding. Anna, the other student, became ill the night before we left Rishikesh to head up the mountains, but she bravely decided to come with us. We started a little before 11 in the morning and arrived at Nolunna just after 6 p.m. having traveled a little more than 90 miles or not quite 15 miles an hour. Because the monsoons are here, landslides are frequent in the mountains. We had to take a detour to go around one, and two days after we arrived there was a bad one just down the road from us in which the driver of a vehicle was badly injured. Coming down the mountain, we passed a bus that he slipped off the round in a bad patch and plunged into the river with only two survivors.
Although we were very tired by the time we reached Nolunna, I knew at once I had come to the right place. The buildings are about 200 feet from the river and the roar is constantly in our ears. The grounds are filled with a great garden filled with flowers, vegetables and fruit trees. Nolunna is small, sandwiched between the river and the road. The road is the only way up to the mouth of the Ganges so as I sat at the dining table I could see the tops of the heads of saddhus going up and down the road. The far side of the river is a hill that goes straight up for a few hundred feet. It is covered with ferns and low bushes and tall conifers that only have branches at the top. The river is not wide here but very fast and when it is not raining, it is a cloudy grey as it comes from a glacier. When it rains, the river turns a muddy brown. I can see the river from the veranda of my room. The valley we are in is so steep it doesn't get much direct sun, so I spend most of the day an the veranda, studying Hindi and swatting flies.
The first three days it rained almost constantly and clothes were taking two days to dry but after that we had only intermittent rain and some days when it was actually sunny for an hour or two.
I quickly settled into a schedule. I woke about 5, meditated for half an hour and then tea arrived at 6. After tea, I usually took a walk unless the rain was too bad. Mostly we walked the road because the one time I walked the path in the hills, I got a leech. We kept waiting for dry weather dry weather so we could walk the hills, but it never came. I had already had another leech find me when I was studying in the garden. Both times I didn't find the leech until it was full and fell off. The first time it fell into my sandal and I thought it was a big bug, but Anna recognized it immediately being an experienced mountain woman who has lived in Colorado for 20 years although she grew up in England. Leeches are painless and carry no diseases but they are repulsive and messy. After they fall off the wound bleeds for quite a while.
By the time I came back from my walk and the hot water had arrived in a bucket. I washed myself and then my clothes, and then we had breakfast at 7:45. Breakfast was either a whole wheat version of cream of wheat or semolina with hot milk and tea. I usually had a banana with my second bowl. Then I had an hour class from 8:30 to 9:30 and two half-hour sessions, one at 11:00 and another at 12:00. In between I did my homework and then we had lunch at 12:30. Lunch was rice, roti, dal and a vegetable. Most of the garden vegetables weren't ready but the green beans were delicious. We also had ferns and tree mushrooms gathered from the forest. Both were great. We frequently had ferns, but the mushrooms were harder to find and there never seemed to be enough of them.
At 1:00 it was nap time. Then after my nap it was more study until 3:45 when I had an hour conversation practice with Anil, one of the staff. By this time I was usually tired and I loafed until supper and 6:45. We hung out together and Devindra, the head of staff and main cook, sometimes played the harmonium and sang Garwalhi songs accompanied by Anil on a drum. The only woman on the staff, a girl of 14 sometimes also sang. Then about 8 I headed down to my room and was asleep before 9.
I really liked the routine and sleeping with the sound of the river in my ears. At night, beneath the roar, I could hear a low, thundering sounds which was made by rocks pounding against each other as they were carried along in the stream.
I promised my son to keep each blog to about 800 words so I will stop here, but I have more to say about Nolunna.
Sudden Changes
I believe this was posted without any content. Here is the real thing.
Last Tuesday evening, my Hindi teacher, Yogendra Yadev, heard that his brother in Delhi was very seriously ill and he needed to be with him. 14 hours later, Anna, my fellow student, Yogendra and I were heading down the mountain toward the plains. Everyone was in shock and I had no idea what I was going to do with the next two weeks. When we heard the news, Anna and I decided we would go with Yogendra as far as Rishikesh, at the foot of the mountains, stay in a comfortable hotel, and decide what to do. Anna was hoping to stay with friends in Mussoorie but had to hear from them if they could accommodate her. I had no idea what I was going to do.
Yogendra dropped Anna and I off at the Hotel the Great Ganga in the mid-afternoon and proceeded on to Delhi. We heard from Yogendra later in the day and by then he had heard that the doctors had ascertained that his brother has cancer in both lungs and in one the tumor was fast-growing and already so large that it has collapsed his lung on that side. Anna and I took hot showers, appreciated the dryness of our air-conditioned rooms and had very tasty paranthas (fried bread) stuffed with fresh cheese. Then we had a walk through Rishikesh. Once you escape the usual hurlyburly of an India city, Rishikesh is a very pleasant town on the Ganges with pleasant tree-shaded walks along the river and holy men of every description everywhere. After the mountains, Rishikesh, which is at the foot of the hills, seemed very warm and the moist-heat drained me so we retreated to our air-conditioning.
By the next morning by head had cleared somewhat and I decided to go with Anna to Mussoorie. She arranged with her friend who manages a hotel there for me to stay in it. The Padmini Nivas Hotel was built in 1840 by an English colonel and then went into the hands of a maharajah of a small independent state and now is a heritage hotel with animal heads glumly down at us from high on the walls of the public rooms. The public rooms are in a pleasant state of decrepitude but the hotel rooms are very comfortable. Mine had an enclosed veranda with a basket swing from which I had brief glimpses of the lights of Dehra Doon between the clouds.
After I settled in, Anna took me to the language school and I had an interview with Mr. Datt, the Head of the school. He is very charming and fit me in to an already busy schedule. I will have one hour with him and one hour with someone else if that can be arranged. I will know my class times Monday morning. The school is in old stone buildings next to an old stone church which is being remodeled to hold more class rooms.
Then she took me to Ivy Banks Cottage a short way down the hill from the school. This is important because the hill is very steep and my sea-level lungs are not up to them yet. They could fit me in and I have a very clean, dry, large bedroom, a bathroom with hot water from a geyser (pronounced "geezer"), and a small but light and airy sitting room that looks out on a garden which should look out on a great view if the clouds ever lift. I have three meals a day for $17.50 a day. After four meals, I think the food will be good. Lunches are great. They are simple India food: some variety of beans or lentils ("dal"), a vegetable, rice and rotis (also called chapattis, plain whole-wheat flat bread baked on a griddle and then toasted in front of an open flame). The evening meal seems to be international and will probably be more of an adventure. Last night we had momos (Tibetan steamed, stuffed won tons), a spicy noodle dish with cabbage, and a tasty chicken soup made with cilantro and canned chicken (much better than it sounds). The Korean students at the next table asked (in Hindi) what the noodles were called, and the waiter said "chow mein." We all laughed. They weren't quite out vision of chow mein. I have to work on breakfast. Today I had an omelet and porridge. The porridge was good and the omelet so-so. I will have to see if they do anything Indian in the morning.
Today is Sunday and I have been in Mussoorie for two days. I am getting used to the altitude and I am looking forward to classes on Sunday. I realize this blog plunged right into the middle of things, but I am back in civilization and have easy access to Internet (if a half-mile hike down a steep hill and then back up can be called easy). My next blog will describe my experience at Nolunna studying Hindi.
Luke
Last Tuesday evening, my Hindi teacher, Yogendra Yadev, heard that his brother in Delhi was very seriously ill and he needed to be with him. 14 hours later, Anna, my fellow student, Yogendra and I were heading down the mountain toward the plains. Everyone was in shock and I had no idea what I was going to do with the next two weeks. When we heard the news, Anna and I decided we would go with Yogendra as far as Rishikesh, at the foot of the mountains, stay in a comfortable hotel, and decide what to do. Anna was hoping to stay with friends in Mussoorie but had to hear from them if they could accommodate her. I had no idea what I was going to do.
Yogendra dropped Anna and I off at the Hotel the Great Ganga in the mid-afternoon and proceeded on to Delhi. We heard from Yogendra later in the day and by then he had heard that the doctors had ascertained that his brother has cancer in both lungs and in one the tumor was fast-growing and already so large that it has collapsed his lung on that side. Anna and I took hot showers, appreciated the dryness of our air-conditioned rooms and had very tasty paranthas (fried bread) stuffed with fresh cheese. Then we had a walk through Rishikesh. Once you escape the usual hurlyburly of an India city, Rishikesh is a very pleasant town on the Ganges with pleasant tree-shaded walks along the river and holy men of every description everywhere. After the mountains, Rishikesh, which is at the foot of the hills, seemed very warm and the moist-heat drained me so we retreated to our air-conditioning.
By the next morning by head had cleared somewhat and I decided to go with Anna to Mussoorie. She arranged with her friend who manages a hotel there for me to stay in it. The Padmini Nivas Hotel was built in 1840 by an English colonel and then went into the hands of a maharajah of a small independent state and now is a heritage hotel with animal heads glumly down at us from high on the walls of the public rooms. The public rooms are in a pleasant state of decrepitude but the hotel rooms are very comfortable. Mine had an enclosed veranda with a basket swing from which I had brief glimpses of the lights of Dehra Doon between the clouds.
After I settled in, Anna took me to the language school and I had an interview with Mr. Datt, the Head of the school. He is very charming and fit me in to an already busy schedule. I will have one hour with him and one hour with someone else if that can be arranged. I will know my class times Monday morning. The school is in old stone buildings next to an old stone church which is being remodeled to hold more class rooms.
Then she took me to Ivy Banks Cottage a short way down the hill from the school. This is important because the hill is very steep and my sea-level lungs are not up to them yet. They could fit me in and I have a very clean, dry, large bedroom, a bathroom with hot water from a geyser (pronounced "geezer"), and a small but light and airy sitting room that looks out on a garden which should look out on a great view if the clouds ever lift. I have three meals a day for $17.50 a day. After four meals, I think the food will be good. Lunches are great. They are simple India food: some variety of beans or lentils ("dal"), a vegetable, rice and rotis (also called chapattis, plain whole-wheat flat bread baked on a griddle and then toasted in front of an open flame). The evening meal seems to be international and will probably be more of an adventure. Last night we had momos (Tibetan steamed, stuffed won tons), a spicy noodle dish with cabbage, and a tasty chicken soup made with cilantro and canned chicken (much better than it sounds). The Korean students at the next table asked (in Hindi) what the noodles were called, and the waiter said "chow mein." We all laughed. They weren't quite out vision of chow mein. I have to work on breakfast. Today I had an omelet and porridge. The porridge was good and the omelet so-so. I will have to see if they do anything Indian in the morning.
Today is Sunday and I have been in Mussoorie for two days. I am getting used to the altitude and I am looking forward to classes on Sunday. I realize this blog plunged right into the middle of things, but I am back in civilization and have easy access to Internet (if a half-mile hike down a steep hill and then back up can be called easy). My next blog will describe my experience at Nolunna studying Hindi.
Luke
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