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Published: December 20th 2009
Delhi Belly - Sam's version
I'm dating this entry for our first day in MCleod Ganj, but come back with me to Delhi first.
Perhaps you have had this reaction to a totally foreign situation: you look for the familiar. Delhi is a big stinky overcrowded dirty third world city with insane traffic and is where (to my ears) everyone speaks mumbo jumbo. All tourist hot spots are encircled by vulture-like characters, intent on tricking or scamming or stealing especially from those fresh-off-the-boat. I knew some of the counter-tricks from my experiences in Thailand, and was myself intent on using them! But this meant that my image of Delhi was overlaid with my memory of Bangkok (I only see the past, ya?). The road lanes in Bangkok are just as subjective, and the con(wo)men just as devious (pretending to be your pal) and aggressive (MADAM! You BUY! You BUY NOW!) and/or guilt inducing (PLEASE Madam! Money for doctor! Chapati for baby! Just ONE RUPEE please Madam!). I drove Daniel completely bonkers by my constant comparisons ("in Thailand this, in Thailand that"), before I started to get a taste of India for India. Some superficial differences: the cows on the road, the dogs are friendly (though mangy), people smile less, and there are more heartbreaking sights per square mile. Delhi is more congested and more polluted than Bangkok; it makes you want to hit some 'start over' button and redesign the whole city. We got lost in the slums of Old Delhi trying to walk to the famous historical 'red fort'... by the time we got there we were so physically and emotionally exhausted we just went back to our guesthouse. Delhiites are scrambling to bring their infrastructure up to host the Commonwealth Games next year. We wish India's capital good luck!
Did Daniel mention getting sick? He did. In Paharganj, Delhi's backpacker neighbourhood. We had planned to meet with Keely's family friend Pinkie that day. She sent her driver to pick us up in a limo-like ambassador classic. It was an absurd sight on the dirt-packed street with its shiny white paint and draped windows. We were so glad to leave behind the chaos, if only for a few hours! Pinkie treated us to a feast (well not Daniel, he couldn't eat at the time), during which we were embarrassed to share that the only Hindi we'd learned was "No" and "Go away." From there, we moved to a all round more pleasant part of Delhi.
Refuge in Tibet-town
While Daniel was incapacitated, we moved to Majnu-ka-tilla, Delhi's Tibetan refugee community. From the outside, it's a tall tight-knit maze of buildings topped with faded prayer flags. On the inside, this became
our own refuge. It's not really a tourist destination, and so no tourist-related pandemonium. From the dog-eat-dog (literally?) chaos of Paharganj, we relaxed into an environment with fewer beggars, streets so narrow they choked out most motorized traffic, and shopkeepers that would trust you to pay later if you didn't have the right change on hand. When business is slow, these vendors count their mala beads,
recite mantras, and cluster the Dalai Lama sharing his latest on TV.
In the mornings in a central square outside the modest neighbourhood temple, some gather for prayers and chanting while others pass along the periphery to pick up their daily bread and other staples. The rest of the day, this is the hang out for Tibetans of all ages, monks and laypeople chatting, kids playing, dogs napping in the sun. I commented about the one-big-family vibe to one woman who nodded saying, "Yes, we are refugees, we must stick together."
The river was another story - over the walls of Majnu-ka-tilla grows a crop of leafy greens before a sandbar dotted with straw huts and in between is a riverside path flanked with giant heaps of garbage (sometimes burning). Children playing in the cow shit (or begging), whole sheets of Tide labels, and a dead dog were among the other goodies. You know, in Canada we have beggars and homeless people and pollution and trash and animal crap and corpses, but you just don't
see like you do here. You can't smell the filth of humanity, you don't step in it, have it in your face, demanding a response. It's hard not to keep your head down and your heart closed.
In Majnu-ka-tilla, Daniel got better, then Keely got sick. Then Keely got better, and I got sick. I finished puking just in time for our train ride to leave this cramped little Tibetan quarter for the big Tibetan city (relatively speaking): Dharamsala.
The Dalai Lama's HQ
If you've seen the movie the Darjeeling Express, please wipe this idea of what trains are like in India from your mind. Our train to Dharamsala, home of the Dalai Lama, was much bleaker: tiny compartments of stiff bunk beds and not much else. However, it was smooth and timely (left about on time and arrived an hour late) and we slept well and we didn't miss our stop (the city of Pathankot) in the wee hours of the morning. We then had a very bumpy bus ride to Mcleod Ganj, which is actually closer to the D.L. than Dharamsala proper.
This was another big shock to the senses, or rather, an anti-shock! There were hills upon hills of this green stuff (which I think I remember from a past life being called 'trees') and we could breathe deeply without caution or reserve or fits of coughing! Without wondering how many years we were knocking off our life span with every inhalation!
I'm sure you get the idea.
We didn't get to see the Himlayas proper for a few days as "McCloud" Ganj was pillowed in with fluffy tufts that would blow over the roads, leaving the snowy peaks to peek only for moments here and there. The town itself was exhibit 'A' for the now familiar Tibetan culture, as well as bits of Nepali (a lot of Nepalese people work seasonally in India in tourist areas - many from small villages were there is reportedly no work), and Kashmiri (i.e.: carpet vendors) culture. We met many intra-India tourists, often Punjabis, who loved to swarm us with hugs and cameras ("Please, one snap!"). I'm not sure if we felt more like celebrities or zoo animals, as groups as large as twenty people would gather to have their photos taken with their arms around us. We mostly smiled and played along - here we are in these so apparently different bodies with apparently different stories, it's all quite ridiculous, isn't it?
The services of McCleod Ganj are an interesting spiritual smorgasbord: you can take classes in meditation (many types), yoga, ayurvedic astrology, crystal healing, body resonance, and even reiki, as well as traditional Tibetan massage. Our eyeballs stretched to take in new-ager quartz and amethyst healing wands beside images of Bodhisattvas and Hindu deities - what a trip! Daniel and I took advantage of the low season prices to score some Kashmiri home decor, while Keely learned Nepali folk music from a friendly flute maker. Temple Road, which leads to said temple (there's only one), is dotted with European-style cafes (lattes and all) where pseudo-hippies mingle with red-robed monks.
We appreciated Tibetan food: hearty soups and steamed dumplings called 'momos' which never made us sick (but brought us out first "Waiter, there's a fly in my Thenthuk" experience).
A small museum in town effectively tells the horror story of Tibet's last 50 years, through personal stories from community members about the carnage brought on by China's takeover and the cultural revolution. I was reminded of the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia. So many countries have histories where suffering seems to reach the ultimate maximum - pure insanity, complete dehumanization, the most terrifying aspects of the ego manifested. China did it to Tibet, Japan did it to China, Japan with the nuclear bombs, the US with its own genocides and slavery etc... Do all cultures take turns playing victim and persecutor?
The courage of the Tibetan people is moving; How much effort is made to release the hate they must feel for the Chinese who raped their sisters and murdered their brothers, tortured their holy people and destroyed their sacred places! How beautiful to see their commitment to overcoming reaction and instead wish peace upon all beings, to pray for release
of the Chinese from suffering and ignorance, to see their faith point beyond "enemies" and "revenge" to the peace we all truly want, underneath all the confusion.
There's a beautiful walk around the Dalai Lama's residential area, through a forest with canopies of prayer flags, rows of prayer wheels and stupas, and plaques inscribed with prayers for all sentient beings. We found out too late that this ritual prayer walk is done clockwise... so we actually walked it backwards. But we were so inspired that we looped around and did it properly the next day, in step with the monks and children and parents and grandparents, all clicking their mala beads, every motion a movement towards peace. The T-shirts may say "Free Tibet," but it's clear that Tibetans are already freeing themselves, on a deeper level than what we may normally understand.
Then in the chilly evenings, we relived the sounds of school children reciting their lessons, the melodies of Tibetan chants, and tourists playing guitar on our guesthouse balcony, overlooking the lights of the valley, the stars beginning to appear, promising a better view of the Himalayas in the morning.
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anonymous
non-member comment
Hello Nice to hear your stories about India...I just came back from 5 weeks in Mexico and Guatemala. I had to postpon my trip to India because of a flood in my house. I am sorry to hear that all 3 of you got seek. I guess you know that already: Do not brush your teeth with tap water and only drink bottled water. Do not eat raw vegies. I hope the rest of your trip will get better and better. I suggest you try Kovalam, a beautiful warm beach on the Indian ocean, and also the Amma's ashram...warm and magic! Try to get a room on the 16th floor, the ocean view is unbelievable...for $ 4.00 a day, including food. Namaste, Yves