Tien Chiu

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Hello from San Francisco!

Hello from San Francisco! where I have been sleeping off jet lag and travel fatigue…a sixteen-hour flight is no joke, although considerably cushier than, say, a twelve-hour bus ride to Delhi, in the back of the bus. Sixteen hours of jet lag is nothing to sneeze at, either…

SARS (the pneumonia virus thing) was very much in evidence on the flight out, as about 1/4 of my fellow passengers were wearing surgical masks, presumably in an effort to protect themselves. This struck me as rather odd–SARS has only killed about 60 people worldwide, which makes it considerably less dangerous than, say, driving. But unknown dangers always seem scarier, I suppose. Me personally, after a month of taking cramped jeeps and buses over Indian roads, a mysterious deadly virus seems rather blase.

Indian bus drivers, you see, have the happy habit of trundling at high speed around narrow windy mountain roads. This in itself is not so bad, but when you’re coming up on a blind curve next to a sheer dropoff, and your driver selects this moment to (what the hell) pass a giant dump truck (six inches to spare), it does provide whole new insights into reincarnation. Unfortunately, this is pretty much normal behavior for Indian drivers. (It’s not a case of they’re better drivers: they just have more accidents. A Jeep plunged down the mountain the week before I was traveling, killing all five people on board.)

And then I got to Delhi Airport and discovered armed soldiers crawling all over the airport…three at each gate, and six or seven in the airport lounge, plus a pair of sandbag bunkers out in front of the airport, with two rifle-bearing soldiers in each. Compared to all that, wearing a little surgical mask for a disease that’s killed sixty people worldwide, seems, well, silly.

Similarly, once I got to San Francisco Airport, there were lots of signs everywhere proclaiming an orange level terrorist alert, but no actual evidence of additional screening. compared to delhi airport, the whole thing seemed sort of amusing.

On to San Francisco:

San Francisco is an interesting place. It appears to have been completely overrun by Westerners. The U.S. dollar appears to be in widespread use–in fact, to the point where I haven’t seen any other currency. The streets are extremely wide, with no cows, water buffalo, or people. I am somewhat puzzled by this, especially since there seems to be a total lack of tuktuks, pickup-taxis, and in fact regular taxis, but undoubtedly it will make more sense eventually. People have to get around somehow, after all.

There are also no hotel touts, which caused me some puzzlement at the airport. Usually there are crowds of people standing around when the bus comes in, ready to cart you off to their guesthouse in exchange for a suitably inflated rate to pay for their commission. (One solves this by switching to a different guesthouse the following day.) But in fact there was no one standing outside the curb.

Fortunately, I’d made previous arrangements for a homestay, so I was met at the airport by a cute blond guy, who helped me drag my luggage into the car, and down a curiously empty, curiously broad, and curiously well-paved highway. (No dirt roads in evidence.) After I dumped my bags and fell over dead for awhile, my host appeared, a tall blonde (Western) woman who…

…oh. Hi, Carolyn.

It’s good to be home. 🙂

Tien

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Hello from Bangkok!, retrospective on India

Just a quick note to let you all know I’m OK…I made it to Bangkok, after 36 hours of travel hell in India. I now understand why the Delhi airport is crawling with soldiers, armed with rifles and submachine guns: after 36 hours of dealing with double-dealing taxi drivers, extortionate bus drivers, and clamoring beggars, not to mention the WONDERFUL people at Air India, terrorism seemed like a perfectly rational response. (Heck, even the bathroom attendant tried to cheat me.) However, I managed to navigate my way through all the various travel hazards, and landed in Bangkok yesterday morning at 2am. There I promptly fell over dead, having not slept for two nights and eaten exactly one meal in 36 hours.

It is said that India is one of the most difficult countries in which to travel. This is entirely true, although it depends, of course, on what part of India you’re in. The current India covers far more territory, and encompasses many more cultures, than any historical government of the region. So traveling from one region of India to another is almost like going to a totally different country.

That said, my experience with Delhi, and Himachal Pradesh province generally, has been that any Indian shopkeeper, taxi driver, etc. who interacts with tourists regularly, will not hesitate to cheat or lie to you; and that anyone who is being nice and solicitous to you, should be treated with grave (but polite) suspicion. Also, talking to any Indian male for more than ten minutes (or sometimes five) is generally considered a sexual invitation, if you happen to be female and single.

There are, of course, exceptions to this rule–the hotelkeeper where I stayed in Delhi, and the thangka shop owner, were both perfectly sweet, decent, and very nice guys–but I think, in general, it’s a good idea to be on your guard at all times in India. Especially since many of the people who lie, are very smooth and scrupulously honest right up until the point where they decide a lie would serve them better. This is apparently extra-true for Kashmiri merchants. So, if you go to India, do take care.

It was interesting talking shop with the Kashmiri merchants: I know a lot about fiber arts, of course, and can distinguish most fiber contents by feel (it’s not that hard). So, after one or two bad encounters, I started playing dumb to test people. It was pretty hilarious: guys were swearing to me that polyester and cotton were silk, rayon was wool, and shatoosh was spun duck feathers (!). The last was really funny–shatoosh, as you may or may not know, is the finest, softest fiber in the world, way softer than cashmere. It’s also illegal. This is because it’s made from the fur of an endangered antelope–two or three chiru must be killed to make a single shatoosh shawl.

So it was really funny watching this guy swear up and down that it was made from the feathers of a very special duck, not from antelope at all (“that’s just propaganda”). He even went so far as to explain to me that the feathers were from big downy tufts on the ducks’ throats, and that not only were the ducks not hurt, but villagers had to go down to the stream every morning to collect the few feathers that had fallen from the ducks’ throats the previous night. Then they took these downy feathers and spun them into yarn. He was so smooth, I almost would have believed him despite knowing all about the chiru–except that I *know* fiber, and if that shawl was spun from duck feathers, I’m gonna start quacking.

Of course, the same guy also assured me fervently that pashmina (i.e. cashmere) was sheared from the throat of a kid goat, and that adult goats couldn’t be used. (Cashmere actually comes from the downy undercoat of adult goats, and is combed out, not sheared.) So I’m not sure if he had absolutely no clue (his supplier could have been cheating him), or if he was merely trying to put me on. In either case, it was a masterly performance, especially since the rest of his stuff was precisely “on”, and he even went out of his way to point out some of the cheats “other Kashmiri merchants” use on hapless tourists.

(Pointing out other people’s cheats, it turns out, is a favorite tactic of people who are trying to cheat you–the idea being to get you off your guard. It can nonetheless be useful–first, because it’s a danger sign in itself, and second, because it tells you what *other* people are likely to try pulling on you. Of course, honest shopkeepers will point out cheats as well, so it doesn’t automatically mean you should walk out. Caveat emptor.)

A pause here for a testimonial: while I rarely mention particular merchants, there is one Indian merchant in Dharamsala who, in my experience, is both totally dependable and quite reasonably priced. He’s the guy who runs Mementos India, on Temple Road, in McLeod Ganj. He also, not entirely coincidentally, has the finest collection of Tibetan handicrafts in the entire Dharamsala area. So, if you are in the area, definitely check out his shop. It’s right near the bus station in McLeod Ganj, and straddles both Temple Road and the road that runs parallel to it; from Temple Road, the sign reads Mementos India, from the other road, it reads Namaste India. He has the wonderful thangka that I was raving about earlier (I later went to see other vendors’ thangka and discovered that they were much poorer quality and much higher priced), *gorgeous* hand-carved silver and bronze Buddha statuettes, and Damascan steel daggers with beautifully silverworked handles, from Punjab. Antique silver prayer mills, exquisite gold jewelry, etc. (Lots of etc.) He is also totally honest about his stuff. So, if you’re ever in Dharamsala/McLeod Ganj, do not miss this shop. It has the best handicrafts I’ve seen in India, or indeed anywhere else. You will not go wrong buying there.

My experience with Tibetans, by the way, is that they are generally honest and helpful, one of the best Asian peoples to deal with. There are, of course, exceptions to this, as to every other rule.

Also, a caution to other travelers: at the moment, traveling as an American is a little dicey. I gather support for the war is strong in the U.S. and Britain, but that is not true for the rest of the world; from my encounters with locals, most of both India and Thailand thinks the U.S. invasion of Iraq is unjustified, evil, and a serious breach of international law. (I can’t say I disagree with them.) In other words, Americans are not exactly popular right now. This has caused me some discomfort, since everyone always asks where you’re from, so I have to identify myself as American some four or five times a day, and deal with the reactions. I’ve never thought about mentioning it before, but now it causes me some hesitation.

(No, I’m not going to lie about it. As a general principle, I won’t lie unless my life is actively in danger–which, by and large, it isn’t. Not only that, but despite the fact that I don’t support the war at all, think we’ve committed a serious act of aggression, and agree wholeheartedly with the many people who are upset at us, I’m still an American, and I’ll stand with the rest of my country. Even if it means I spend the rest of this trip apologizing for our behavior–which I probably will.)

At any rate, I have now revised my nationality to “American-the-war-is-stupid-Bush-is-crazy”, which seems to help somewhat. It is not that people hate Americans (at least, not yet). But there is a hesitancy here, and a latent hostility, that wasn’t there before. (No one, incidentally, is talking about anything *but* the war, either in Thailand or India.)

So, if you had planned on going abroad, I would consider delaying it, or thinking carefully about exactly where you’re going. (I’m very grateful I didn’t go to Kashmir, by the way: 24 people were blown up in a Kashmir terrorist action a few days ago, the border has flared up again, and there have been some pretty nasty anti-American protests.) You could lie and say you’re from Canada, but if this drags on, I don’t think anyone on the American continent is going to be popular, either.

Tomorrow I’m going to meet with the editor of Farang! magazine, and the body painter, and then…well, we’ll see what happens. 🙂 In general this next few days will be “quiet time”–I plan to write some travel retrospectives, and maybe a few pieces on the Dalai Lama’s teachings–so you may or may not hear from me. But I’m in Bangkok, and I’m OK. 🙂

signing off from Bangkok–

Tien

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Back in Dharamsala, Dalai Lama's teachings

Well, I’ve been back in Dharamsala for a couple days now, and have been going to the Dalai Lama’s teachings. These are three and a half hour affairs, 1-4:30pm, and are quite interesting…he teaches at many different levels at once, from very basic introduction to deep philosophy. (It’s impossible to tell how deep since the higher levels are way over my head, but I know enough about, hmm, logical structures to see that he’s thought things through on a very deep level. It’s very unusual for nuance, sequence, and structure to line up completely, but his do.)

Structurally, the teachings start with chanting Tibetan prayers, then an offering, both of thrown rice, and something more complicated that the Dalai Lama does. (I have no idea what those are about, since they aren’t translated.) Then His Holiness teaches for three and a half hours, with a short break in between. Translations are available by FM radio in four or five different languages…the English translation is quite good, but it clearly leaves out a great deal. I wish I understood Tibetan.

(On the other hand, a Tibetan friend of mine says that she doesn’t understand half of what he’s saying, either…apparently a lot of the vocabulary is specialized religious words, which she doesn’t know–so, oddly, it’s easier for her to listen to the English translation–more accessible.)

Listening to the Dalai Lama speak is very different from reading his books…the books are consistent, but not nearly as complex. It’s wonderful to watch him go straight from “It’s a good idea to practice compassion” into a precisely presented discussion of the philosophical differences, history, and source of the split between Theravada and Mahayana Buddhism. (Actually he talked about much more subtle differences than that, but I can’t cite them, because they went right over my head.) So people of pretty much any philosophical depth can get something out of the teaching, and I’m certain this is deliberate…he has a beautifully complex and self-consistent mind.

(I’ve developed the odd ability to “read” people’s minds–which is to say, by talking to someone for a couple of hours, I can develop a pretty good idea of the world they live in, their internal “rules”, and how deeply they interact with their worlds. Some people have complex minds, some have relatively simple ones, some people look at things in depth, some don’t. The Dalai Lama has one of the most complex, well-structured, and well-balanced minds I’ve seen in a long while…which, of course, one would only expect, given his reputation. Nonetheless it’s a delight to hear him speak. I’d love to talk to him sometime over dinner–not that I’m likely to get the chance, of course. But you never know. 😉 )

The Dalai Lama also has a great sense of humor, which isn’t as obvious in the books…for example, he was discussing impermanence, in particular how age destroys youth and beauty. He said, “As the great sage _____ remarked once, the only thing to be said for aging is that it comes on gradually…I mean, if you were young and beautiful one day and woke up the next day wrinkled and ugly, you’d probably die of a heart attack. So it’s good that it comes on gradually.

“In my case, I used to run up the mountain back behind the monastery in my youth, and leave my attendants far behind. This worried them of course, because the mountain was quite steep, and if I had fallen, I might have died, which would have been bad for them. But now, of course, my knees aren’t so good…my eyesight is okay, at least right now, but then, my hairline is receding, and you can see the gray hairs coming in…I joke sometimes that my gray hair is racing my receding hairline. But being bald is okay, since there’s a Tibetan joke that baldness, goiter, and [missed the third] are the beauty marks of a monk. This makes some sense, if you’re a skinny monk with a skinny throat…”

That’s a pretty good example of his speaking style…funny, memorable, rambling, humble, and deep all at the same time, plus full of illustrative stories. It’s wonderful sitting and listening to him.

That’s not to say that the teachings are all fun and roses. They’re absolutely *packed*–the courtyard of the temple is completely full, you have to arrive an hour or two in advance to get good seats–and the sun can be blazingly hot. It’s incredibly crowded, too–I had to crouch for an hour once because there wasn’t even enough space to sit. (Fortunately, I finally found a space big enough–my legs were *killing* me.) It’s difficult to pay attention for three solid hours, too. But it’s been fantastic, and I’m staying as long as I can before flying back to Bangkok. Next year, I may come back to Dharamsala, just for the teachings.

(Mind you, I’m still not a Buddhist. The deeper points of Buddhist philosophy make no sense to me. But there is something very powerful about the Dalai Lama’s message, that transcends theology…he very clearly and squarely puts compassion first, and the rest of the theology is philosophical window-dressing. (Not to say that they aren’t important, but they take a definite second place to compassion.) This dedication to compassion shows up not just in what he says, but in the way he teaches, and the way he presents his arguments…he doesn’t just believe it intellectually, but practices it on every level. Very beautiful. Also really, really, really cool. 🙂 )

I suppose at this point it would be irreverent to say that he also looks really cool in shades. 😉 But, in fact, he *does* look really cool in shades. 😉

In other news, I went by the Norbilinga Institute this morning to watch thangka being painted…it was, of course, amazing. The artists paint with incredibly fine brushes, and can spend a month or more just laying out the outlines. They train for at least six years before they are fully qualified to paint for Norbilinga…and the detail on some of the thangkas is absolutely fantastic. I was looking at a thangka of the Dalai Lama today (Buddha of Compassion with a thousand hands and some large number of heads)–you couldn’t get a computer to print at that resolution, let alone paint it with a brush. And the thangka at Norbilinga are supposed to be the best of the best.

I must say, I really like the better thangka. (Tonight I spent two hours looking through the shopkeeper’s private collection…the “good” ones that he keeps at home…woo. I mean, woo. Woo woo woo. Words cannot describe. 😎 ) Thangkas have incredible detail and elegance in the artistic lines. They’re less about rampant self-expression (the basic composition is fixed), more about grace in painting a fixed theme. I’m tempted to study painting them, if there’s anyone teaching in the Bay Area. (Not that I’m going to devote six years of my life to learning thangka-painting–that outlasts my attention span by a good 4.5 years, thank you very much 😉 –but it would be nice to learn something about that kind of brushwork.)

It turns out there are actually two kinds of thangka…the non-painted kind are made of fabric, and make the eighteen months I spent on my wedding dress look simplistic. They’re hard to describe, but basically they cut out pieces of silk along the basic outlines of a thangka, then border the edge of each piece with a fine silk-wrapped horsehair cord (about the same thickness as fine florist’s wire), then embroider the finer details. It takes an incredibly long time and costs the earth. I watched them wrapping the silk around the horsehair, and carefully couching the resulting cord with nearly invisible stitches in incredibly fine thread…wow.

It looks like the Internet cafe is now closing, so I’m off…more later, if I get the chance.

I’ll be in Dharamsala through the 24th…I take the night bus to Delhi Monday night, and fly out to Bangkok Tuesday evening. I fly back to San Francisco March 31.

I look forward to the hot showers. 🙂

Tien

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off to Dharamsala?, Tibetan prayer flags, Hindu festival!

Well, I spent last night sleeping with a guru…

No, no, I didn’t do anything that would mess up my karma. I spent last night up in the caves, and since there’s a puja going on, the place was packed–so the only place for me to sleep, was the main cave, with the shrine to Guru Padmasambhava.

It was pretty neat actually, it’s a big cave, paved in marble tiles, and has three separate shrines in it. The first one is a shrine to various Tibetan gods (which I can finally recognize! having spent four solid hours looking at thangka), the second is a shrine with a 10-15 foot statue of Guru Padmasambhava, and the third is a shrine to an Indian princess who was supposed to have been his disciple. I was sleeping in the outermost area, on a Tibetan carpet, under a rock overhang. Very quiet, very peaceful, good for meditation in the morning, too. I liked it very much.

I saw Tibetan prayer flags being printed yesterday, too. These are available all over Rewalsar, and Dharamsala too–I had assumed they were printed using standard printing presses, but it turns out a lot of them are hand-printed! using elaborately carved woodcuts. One nun takes a scrub brush (like you’d use to clean your bathtub) and scrubs India ink all over the woodcut, another lays the fabric over the wood and scrubs over it with a wadded-up plastic bag. The print appears as if by magic. 🙂

(I must admit, I’ve always had a soft spot for hand-printing. One of my fondest childhood memories was printing the family Christmas cards (actually Chinese New Year cards)…we silkscreened them in two colors, using Chinese papercuts to make the designs, and we’d run all over the house, laying the cards out to dry. Probably the most fun we had all Christmas.)

I may leave for Dharamsala tomorrow, I haven’t decided yet. I have found a friend who has a friend who is close to the Dalai Lama, who probably can’t get me in (too busy right now, with the public teachings going on, and anyway there’s no real reason for me to waste His Holiness’s time), but who can get my thangkas blessed–so I may go back to Dharamsala with her tomorrow. I may also wait a day or two and then go–I haven’t quite decided yet. I’d like a few more days of peace in Rewalsar, but there are some interesting possibilities in Dharamsala…Tenzin (the woman I’ve met) has a cousin who paints thangkas at the Norbilinga Institute, for example. Ooh. 🙂

(The taxi driver who wants to marry me also runs an antique Tibetan musical instruments business on the side…while I am not up for the first proposition, the second one sounds intriguing…more gorgeous handcrafts? sign me up…. 😉 )

Today, by the way, is Yet Another Religious Festival (!). One of the wonderful things about India is that there are so many different religions and cultures, that almost every day seems to be a holiday or cultural event of some sort. I’ve been here for exactly a month now, and we’ve had Losar (Tibetan New Year), a ten-day festival to Shiva’s wife, Tibetan Uprising Day, the puja (which is a monthly event commemmorating something that happened on the 10th of the month, but I forget what), and this festival, which appears to be a spring festival to Krishna. (I’m having a hard time getting a really straight answer–language problems, again.)

This festival is more colorful than many of the others–it appears to involve a lot of dancing, parades with Hindi music and drumming, and (most importantly) smearing and splashing people with paint, especially on faces. (My face is now red. And blue. And pink. And yellow. And, at that, much less colorful than most folks’. 😉 ) I’d take photos, except that going outside puts you at imminent danger of being squirted, splashed, etc….which is not good for the camera…so I have been hiding in the Internet cafe. It’s pretty neat to watch, but at a distance.

I had a weird moment of culture shock yesterday, mostly around competencies (or lack thereof). Tenzin, the Tibetan activist woman who’s befriended me, was horrified to find out that the hotel hadn’t actually done my laundry, as they were supposed to. She said, “Didn’t you tell them you needed it immediately?”

I said, “Well, the kid didn’t speak English.”

She said, “Oh.”

Then I mentioned that I’d dropped my clothes off at the cleaners, and she said, “hmm, the weather was bad yesterday, they may not be ready yet. Do you have their number? We could call them…”

I said, “No, I didn’t get their number.”

She said, “You should always get their phone number! Then you can call them and find out…”

I said, “Well, the person on the other end of the line doesn’t speak enough English for me to ask anything…and I don’t have access to a phone…It’s easier just to show up, and come back later if it isn’t ready.”

The funny thing was, the world she lives in isn’t all that different from the world I was in, jut six months ago. I mean, once upon a time, I could do miraculous things like ask for laundry in a hurry, request bus schedules, and so on. I’ve just gotten so used to not being able to communicate, that her (completely logical) suggestions came as a total shock. Of course, she was amazed by my incompetence, too.

I was then culturally astonished to discover that many of the nuns can’t write. (They can all read, or most of them anyway.) It had never occurred to me that anyone could live without writing, but of course if one’s spending one’s life meditating…

One of the most interesting things about traveling has been seeing how required skills shift from culture to culture…an Akha, for example, who can’t handle a 15″ knife is going to have serious competency problems, whereas being able to read and write is considerably less necessary (though still useful). Conversely, in the U.S., it’s reversed: no one knows how to use a machete, but literacy is essential. Different context.

Anyway, it’s going to be really interesting getting home and being culturally competent again. I suspect I’ll go into massive shock, the first time I actually have a conversation (!) with a shopkeeper. 😉

Incidentally, someone asked me what things I missed from the U.S., while traveling…After two or three weeks of thinking about it, I’ve come up with two things: guaranteed hot water, fast Internet access, and my favorite toothpaste. (I *dream* of T-1 lines.)

Speaking of which, I’m almost out of my favorite toothpaste (I brought a six-month supply), so it’s definitely time to come home. 😉

I have had a flight change, incidentally; i’m now coming back March 31. Yes, I’m routing through Bangkok. Yes, I’ve heard about the killer pneumonia thing. We’ll see what happens.

Good luck with the war–I hope everything goes all right, back at home. (I’ll be safe, in Dharamsala.)

Tien

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Back in Tso Pema (Rewalsar)

Well. I hardly know what to say…

I mean, I’ve joked a lot about selling off the excess guys who’ve approached me in my travels, but as it happens, I’ve actually been handed one to sell. Anyone want a househusband?? He’ll do the dishes, wash the laundry, and change the diapers…and pay you to boot. All you have to do is get him into the country. 😉

——— So, yesterday, after two frenzied days of shopping and trying to get my thangkas (religious paintings) blessed by various Tibetan personages, I went back to Rewalsar. I missed the rest of my travel companions through a foulup in communications, so wound up having to get my own taxi, for the princely sum of 1600 rupees ($34). (To put this in perspective, that would pay a month’s rent on an apartment in Dharamsala.)

However, to prevent getting ripped off (a white American friend was quoted 2200 rupees for the same trip), I trekked back to the Tibetan handicrafts shop, where I’d made friends with a wonderfully generous Tibetan woman.

(I’ve learned by now that the best way to avoid being cheated while traveling is to make friends with a local person, and get them to advise you. It is, of course, good to give them a gift in exchange–otherwise, you’re using up future tourists’ travel karma. I don’t like giving cash (it encourages people to see tourists as money cows), so I like to buy small gifts instead–I gave her a Buddha-of-compassion thangka, which she absolutely loved.)

At any rate, she wasn’t there, but one of her friends ran off to bargain with the taxi union for me. So I wound up with a Tibetan driver at a pretty good rate.

The guy was really sweet (and kind of cute), so when, about two or three hours into the trip, he started in on the “do you have a boyfriend?” routine, I went along with it, just to see what he had in mind…I figured he was looking for a fling, but it turned out he had Honorable Intentions. Of a sort.

He was, of course, looking for a Western girlfriend to marry him, and get him a visa into the U.S. or some other country. (Once in, Tibetans get refugee status, but they have to get into the country first–which, sans passport, is a bit of a neat trick. I’m a little fuzzy on the details, though.) So he offered first to pay me for a paper marriage, then (when I politely declined) asked me if I knew anyone who was looking for a househusband. In fact, he insisted on it. So, if you’re in the market, and planning to go to Dharamsala, I can send you a photo and his email… 😉

Being in Dharamsala was actually a bit discomfiting, by the way… it’s made me uncomfortably aware of being rich. Not because my yearly salary is more than most Indians/Tibetans will earn in their lifetimes (this is true for most Americans, by the way), but because I have U.S. citizenship…Tibetans, even if they were born and raised in India, do not. (The U.S. is one of very few nations that grants citizenship to anyone born within its borders. I think it’s one of the coolest things about the U.S., actually.)

So, Tibetans can’t own land, hold sensitive positions, or travel about freely…and they do not have passports, which prevents them from leaving India. The wistful looks on their faces when they ask me if I have citizenship aren’t exactly heartbreaking, but it makes me a bit twitchy.

Tibetans, you see, consider me a fellow refugee from the Cultural Revolution–my parents left China during the Communist takeover, theirs left when China invaded Tibet. My parents got into the U.S.; theirs walked out of Tibet, into India. I got lucky. ———

Other than that, I’ve mostly been running around buying gifts–I think I have finally found a route to have my thangkas (religious cloth paintings) blessed by the Dalai Lama, which is wonderful!–though it will mean another trip to Dharamsala.

I’ll be spending the next four or five days up on the mountain, so don’t expect to hear from me much. Most of the lamas/nuns are going to be engaged in a religious retreat (puja) for the week–I’m not going both because I was sick in Dharamsala (so a week of sporadic fasting is not a good idea), and because I’m completely unfamiliar with Tibetan Buddhism. Normally this wouldn’t deter me, but I want a couple of quiet days for contemplation–so I’m going to spend the week in the kitchen, spinning and knitting and helping out the nuns/caretakers. (Lena, I definitely owe you a favor: everyone has been just wonderful, mostly on your account. Thank you. 🙂 )

Some of my flight details have changed, incidentally; so I will be back in Bangkok March 25, and returning home on March 31. But don’t pay out on the pool just yet–you never know what will happen. 😉

back in Tso Pema–

Tien