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Published: June 11th 2007
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beautiful mountains
so so beautiful! Quel joli spectacle Français la prochaine fois ---To enlarge photos simply double-click on them
Today we drive on steep very narrow dirt roads. we drive 7 hours to cover 120 km. The road is arduous and not so comfortable but the views are magnificient and well worth the ride. Down in the valley and high up in the mountains, I can see villages shinning like beautiful gems. Old woodden houses with slated roofs. It seems time has stopped here. The air is so pure, the sky so clear, the clouds so white and the peaks are covered with beautiful white snow. They say this road we are travelling on is the most terrifying in India. I believe it. It's worse than most of the roads I travelled on in Africa! Fortunately our 2 drivers are real pros and all goes well. Sangla is supposedly the largest village of the valley. Well it is very small to my western eyes. One can walk up and down main street in 10 minutes maximum. We are at 2680 meters and going up stairs or hills is a bit of a challenge. Huffing and puffing I was a bit worried about being so out of shape
is it the rockies? les rocheuses peut-être?
No, it is the Himalayas. L'hymalaya dans toute sa splendeur but realized that we were getting quite high and that breathing difficulties were normal. Thank God! or shall I say thank Buddha!
After exploring Sangla and a good night sleep we are up early to go to Chitkul, a village at 3450 m altitude. It is the last village on the road to Tibet which is very close (about 30 km) and there are a grand total of 610 inhabitants, says the sign at the beginning of the village. I walk on my own through the village. Saying hello to everyone I cross. People look at you in the eye here and always say hello. When I use my limited hindi to greet them and ask them how they are, they are always pleased, stop and take time to exchange, with words and sign language. They let me take photos as I wish and it's always a pleasure to show them, especially the kids and the older people what they look like on my small camera screen.
I walk in the streets, stumble upon a group of women talking while a big huge pot of water is starting to boil on an open fire. I sit with them
women wearing kinnaur cap
Sitting there talking while a big pot of water is slowly heating up on an open fire behind them for a while. Smiling just being there with them. Contact is established with hand gestures and the few words of hindi that I know. These people don't talk english. Women work hard here. Carrying heavy loads on their head up and down the village. We are in the mountains, don't forget and what goes down must come up. hard life. The women wear the green felt Kinnaur cap, as do the men. their faces are old, wrinkled by the sun and wind and harsh conditions. Faces with life, with character, faces that know hardships but a smile and twinkling eyes like there is no better place to live.
then we are off to Batsuri, another tiny village only accessible by foot. it seems deserted. There is a beautiful temple here apparently. Unfortunately it is closed. The outside of the temple is however quite beautiful with marvelous wood carvings of Kama sutra. Wood chimes surorund the building roof and the noise is quite soothing. Some guy appears out of nowhere asking for a donation for the temple which was destroyed by fire and rebuilt. After giving him a few roupies, he opens a door of the temple, letting us peak
Me wearing kinnaur cap with old women
Spending time with local women. Un moment avec les villageoises. inside where to my utter surprise I find a man (pujari = prayer man) reading a holy book and praying here all alone, locked in, without any light but that of the sun.
The people in the mountains are of tibetain origin. There are very few indians here. The tibetain colours and prayer flags float on top of houses, and of course around the temples.
I sit alone looking at the snow-capped mountains. This is a very shanti place (shanti= peaceful). The view is magnificient. The sun is hiding behind some beautifully white clouds clouds and it's rays penetrating through them look like a pathway to heaven. Serenety is here all around me. Beauty is here surrounding me and my heart is filled with emotions. Tears swell out of my eyes for no other reason than this being such a beautiful place, bringing me inner peace. There has to be a God for such beauty to have been created. Jesus, buddha, or allah whoever he is is not so important but believing in him (or her) is I guess. More than all the Gods in the temples I have visited on my journey,I truly feel God's presence by
Child and old man - enfant et viellard
Le temps s'est arrêté ici. Time has stopped. People take time to be. my side, I can almost feel him cradling me in his arms. We are after all in the valley of the Gods, in the arms of the Gods or so they say around here. I cry, grateful for these moments. I am so very lucky to be here. To breathe this moment. To feel it and experience tears of joy rolling down my cheeks. What a privilege.
As I go down my mountain and walk through the village, I come across some women who are picking up cow shit made into patties. They fill huge bags, close them and carry them downhill to the roadside for selling. God also does not make life easy and enjoyable for all. These people and the people of India work very hard, struggling to survive in a crazy but beautiful country. The country of contrasts and contradictions: beauty and ugliness, richness and poorness, kindness and it's opposite. Everything is here in India, India is everything.
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