Well. I’ve now been up on the mountain for a couple days, coming down sporadically to catch a hot shower and email before heading back up. It’s been an interesting experience…I don’t speak a word of Tibetan, and this being Losar all the translators are busy with their families, but I have been surprisingly included nonetheless…and I am getting a LOT better at mindreading.

It turns out actually not to be very difficult…70% of human communication is body language and tone of voice, after all. So while I have absolutely no idea what is being said, I know very well what’s going on: storytelling, gossiping, arguing, etc. are all totally distinguishable from tone, rhythm, and body language.

For example:

“…..” (expounds, with hand gestures) “!!” (surprised expression) “… (nods head) …” “…!” (shakes head admiringly)

is obviously storytelling:

(tells story, with hand gestures) “No! He didn’t!” “Oh, he absolutely *did*…and *I*…” “Wow. I wish I’d thought of that!”

I haven’t the slightest idea what the story *is*, but I can follow what’s happening pretty well…and can insert the right comments (via tone/facial expression) in the right tone of voice at the right time…which amazes people, but conversation is really 90% emotional communication anyway, not literal discussion, so it sort of works.

At any rate: I have been staying up on the mountain, in the communal kitchen, with eight or nine cave yoginis/nuns. The kitchen is a brick building near the main cave (which contains a giant statue of Guru Padmasambhava (I hope I spelled that right) and a secondary shrine to an Indian princess). It’s also next to another shrine which I don’t know anything about, except that it’s full of beautiful brass goblet-style oil lamps, about half of which are lit at any moment. Every so often, another set of pilgrims comes up and lights a few more lamps. I assume it’s an offering of some sort, but no idea what…my ten-year-old “translator” hasn’t been able to explain.

I have mostly been perched in the kitchen, spinning and knitting on my shawl, watching the conversation go on around me…people have been coming in and out, celebrating Losar, bringing gifts and sharing the ritual pinch of tsampa (roasted barley-flour) mixed with sugar, taken from a bowl with a torma stuck in it.

(A torma–and I hope I’ve got the spelling right–is a Tibetan offering, made (as far as I can tell) of tsampa mixed with butter (and maybe water), and shaped into a roughly pear/phallic form. The basic torma is usually embellished with butter–the butter is kneaded in cold water until pliable, then shaped into rayed disks, teardrops, and moons, and attached to the torma. If I recall correctly, they’re then used as offerings to various spirits, but I don’t know anything about the symbolism.)

At any rate, it’s great to watch the people coming and going, and also quite meditative–rather like a silent retreat, except in company. I’ve been helping out a bit around the kitchen–the language of onion-chopping being quite universal–but mostly sitting and watching, and exchanging smiles etc. every so often. I actually don’t feel at all left out, though–just quiet. (I suspect it probably helps that I’ve spent months in places where I don’t speak the language, so I’m used to missing conversations.)

I have also been spending a lot of time playing with a 10-year-old girl…which is interesting, because normally I don’t much like kids. But she and I get along very well together…I’ve been teaching her origami, and folding a small menagerie for her. I’ve also been showing her my little gadgets, which she finds utterly fascinating–especially the digital camera and drop spindle.

I’m curious about the kid, actually…she speaks a little English (so has been translating for me a bit), so I asked her about herself. It turns out she’s the only one of her entire family in India…her mother, father, and brother are all still in Tibet. She was sent out of Tibet, to Lama Wangdor, when she was six–so she’s been living at boarding-school in India, and spends Losar and other holidays with the nuns. I can’t help wondering what prompted her family to send her, alone, to India–but there’s no way of finding out, until I can get a translator. (The upside of being a deaf-mute is that it encourages you to pay attention, and think things out; the downside is that some things really *will* remain forever mysteries.)

The girl, however, thinks I’m the coolest thing since sliced bread, and has been hanging around me a lot. I like her–full of enthusiasm and energy. 🙂

I’m not quite sure what everyone makes of me. They obviously like me, and are fascinated by my facility for handcraft: the drop spindle and shawl are endlessly fascinating.

I gather they can’t quite slot me as a Westerner, since I don’t behave like a Western traveler; but neither am I Tibetan or other Asian, so I must be something else. I *suspect* I am rapidly becoming the God of Small Yet Curiously Useful Objects, however–my gadgetry collection has been much admired.

(I discovered yesterday, by the way, how one opens a tin can without a can opener. Take a medium-sized knife, put it point-down on the can, and then take a hammer and whack the knife until the point goes in. Reposition the knife, whack again, etc. until the can is open. It is of course useful (and speeds things up) to have a friendly Westerner turn up with a Swiss Army knife/can opener, but it’s not strictly necessary.)

At any rate, top on the list of interesting items is the drop spindle–Tibetans also spin, and have a distinctive Tibetan spindle, but only the older nuns know how to spin on one, and apparently no one spins anymore. But other fascinating objects include contact lenses (I explained to the kid that they were like little glasses that fit on top of the eye), my little coin flashlight, and my mini whetstone (which looks like a thin strip of metal on my keychain). I sharpened all their knives yesterday while looking for something to do, which made them all very happy.

My Leatherman (actually Swiss Army Tool) is also much admired, although I haven’t demoed all the blades yet…I sawed a bit of bamboo off with the saw blade yesterday, then carved myself a crochet hook with the knife, which they thought was pretty cool. (I showed the 10-year-old roughly how to crochet, but couldn’t really show much with thin silk thread. I’m getting some yarn in town today and will show her how to crochet more seriously, if she’s interested.) I was also showing off origami frogs–they’re fun to play with, and everyone was passing it around and jumping it around the table.

So like I said, despite being deaf-mute, I haven’t been left out at all. It’s been lots of fun. 🙂

Ah, the caves. You want to know about the caves?

I’m not really sure. I’ve only seen a few caves–the main cave is indisputably cavelike, although it’s more like a series of largish tunnels/crevices in the rock, than the giant caves I saw in Vietnam or Laos. The other “caves” don’t really look like caves, exactly–more like small concrete rooms with boulders mysteriously embedded in ceilings and walls. (It *does* look sort of odd.) The caves are tiny, about five feet by eight, with just enough space for a small bed, table, and meditation platform. The bigger caves have space for a small cookstove/burner, as well.

Most of the caves have electricity; I think some might also have running water. The kitchen area where I was staying had a toilet, but I gather some cave areas don’t (go outside). Apparently things have been modernized a great deal in the last decade or so, though–one or two people mentioned that cave life was a lot less “simple” than it had been, with luxuries like electricity and running water, and people all over.

For food most people still eat tsampa (roasted barley flour), which everyone else ate for breakfast (they fed me onion omelets and chapati, which were quite tasty). Tsampa is traditionally eaten plain, mixed with tea, or kneaded with butter, and is eaten either with fingers, or licked directly out of the bowl with the tongue.

(Tibetan table manners were a bit startling initially–licking bowls to clean them being a very nonWestern approach–but made complete sense, after I thought about it for a minute. In a context where water isn’t readily available, it’s simply the best way to clean a food dish (or the most sanitary way to eat, if you can’t wash your hands). Hadn’t thought about it before, though, having always lived in areas with lots of water.)

The caves are located high up on a mountain ridge, 1-2 hours’ climb up over Rewalsar. One can take a taxi for 100-150 rupees ($2-3), a daily bus, or walk up a series of rough-set stone steps. This path takes you up the mountain, past a small village with many terraced fields, through the construction site for a statue of Guru Padmasambhava, and eventually up to the main cave.

The steps are made of a rough grey stone, and are less stairs than a series of mostly-flat rocks set at regular intervals: it’s rough going, and easy to twist an ankle. In some places, small rockslides have obliterated the path entirely, and you have to scramble around.

I’ve never climbed *up* the path (yet), but it takes about an hour to climb down. Small children come hurtling by, rushing over the stones to school, apparently ignoring the law of gravity.

The view is *fantastic*. It’s not the most beautiful view I’ve seen in my travels–I think Laos, or Vietnam, are more impressive–but there’s a serenity and a human-ness around it that I haven’t seen before. It’s not at all like looking down a mountain in the Bay Area, where the view is either wilderness or smoggy bustling freeway; it’s like looking down on a village/hamlet cum monastery retreat. Simple and spiritual, but definitely human, not wilderness.

At any rate, I spent the last two days up there, then came down in search of hot shower, vegetables, and email. having acquired all three, I’m heading back up there…Ani Bumchun and I are rapidly becoming fast friends, and I’m thinking I’ll get some wool in town, and try knitting her some socks. 😉

I’m told the Dalai Lama may be teaching a week earlier than I thought, so I may leave Rewalsar for Dharamsala sooner than expected–maybe as early as the end of this week. I’m trying to find out exactly what’s going on…Losar is making things a bit more difficult, though, as most Tibetans have vanished for the holiday.

Tien

Well, tomorrow is Losar, the Tibetan New Year, and it looks like I’ll be spending it up on the mountain with the cave yogis, nuns, etc…I went up yesterday to deliver Lena’s Losar gifts to the community, and wound up getting invited to stay over. So I ran down, got my pack, and am headed back up there.

I wrote up a longer description earlier today, but it got axed when the power went out abruptly (it has a tendency to do that around here), so I’ll write more on my return.

Lena: I arranged things with Karma Phuntsok, but since I didn’t have a translator, I had to just give him the list–I’ve gotten better at pantomime, but “…and anyone else he thinks is appropriate” is beyond my skills at charades. If I get a chance, I’ll communicate it.

Also everyone says thank you very much, and you have (in proxy, via me) been taken around to visit everyone, and fed Tibetan milk tea and cookies until thoroughly stuffed. 🙂

I also got a fortune for you last night in the dough balls (I got two, one for me and one for you), but since the only translator was a ten-year-old girl with about eighty words of English, I have no idea what it said. I’m assured it was good, though. 😉

(The kid apparently drew one that said “You have horns on your butt” (at least, I *think* that’s what she said it said)…I’m not sure exactly what kind of fortune that is, but everyone fell over laughing. )

I have to admit, it’s interesting hanging around with people who don’t speak any English. It’s amazing what you can “read” through context and body language.

once more unto the caves…

Tien

Well! I have made it to Rewalsar, which is a little town tucked away in the southern Himalayan mountains, near the border between India and Tibet. It’s known mainly as a pilgrimage site for Hindus, Buddhists, and Sikhs, and also for a prominent Tibetan lama who lives and teaches in the caves above Rewalsar.

Rewalsar isn’t much of a tourist destination, unless you want to visit one of the many local shrines, but a friend of mine studied here for awhile and recommended it to me. The initial plan was for me to study with one of the yogis/lamas in the cave–but that’s flexible, and right now I’m just wandering around, taking in the sights and meeting people.

Rewalsar itself is tiny, nestled up against a very small lake in the Himalayas, and is full of small but fascinating sights: a knife-sharpener treadling his grindstone, spitting sparks as he sharpens a blade; a pilgrim making his way up to one of the shrines, prostrating himself full-length along the road at every step; old Tibetan women whirling prayer-sticks as they walk around the lake.

A troop of monkeys roam freely about the town, searching through the trash and romping over the roofs; pilgrims and tourists feed giant carp by the edge of the lake, watched over by two beggar-women. Another old woman sits and spins fine goat hair on a tahkli (supported spindle), next to her small shrine selling offerings to a Hindu god. Tibetan prayer flags flutter everywhere; a weaver sits at his loom in one tiny corner, weaving Kullu shawls.

But overall, the effect is of a deep spiritual peace, overlaid by the bustle of a small town. It’s not a tourist destination, but a good place to sit and think.

The Tibetan portions of India have been interesting. One of the first things I noticed is that Tibetan men react very oddly to me. In fact, they stare. Sort of worshipfully, like they can’t tear their eyes away. It’s sort of eerie. Seeing this for the first time at a rest stop at 1am, I started wondering if there hadn’t been something in my dinner chapati (or theirs).

But no; it turns out that I’m just somewhere near the ideal for Tibetan beauty. Between that, the long hair, and the generally confident air, I apparently poleaxe Tibetan guys. Moreover, Tibetan legends are replete with stories about gods and bodhisavatthas disguising themselves as lone travelers, so, umm…I’ve been warned that I may be mistaken for a wandering deity. (Why does this sort of thing always happen to ME??)

At any rate, I imagine this will make for a MUCH more interesting trip. I’ll be VERY disappointed if nothing interesting happens… 🙂

Yesterday, I spent the first part of the day wandering all over town with my drop spindle (announcing my presence, and also encouraging spinners/weavers to come talk to me). The second half of the day, I spent an hour talking weaving with a beautician, and then went off to see a weavers’ workshop with a guy who runs a weaving workshop in town. Since he was running late, he asked if I wanted to stay with his family overnight, and I said sure! because it sounded interesting.

(A word of warning to female travelers: there seems to be an unwritten law that every Indian male, married or not, MUST make a pass at every female solo traveler, unless (possibly) she’s married. A boyfriend isn’t sufficient. I suspect this is because Western women have a reputation for being “loose”, or maybe it’s just because women don’t travel unaccompanied.

At any rate, if this bothers you, don’t go anywhere alone with an Indian guy, because I’ll give you 75% odds that it happens. (I’m 3 for 3 so far.) The good news is that they largely take “no” for an answer, and don’t sulk about it. I get the idea that they’re mostly doing it just to see what happens. But, do expect advances.)

Anyway, after we got that little pleasantry over with, he cheerfully reassured me that I was now his “sister”, which I think meant that he wasn’t planning to rape and murder me that evening. I admit this was somewhat reassuring, although I wasn’t particularly concerned–people with established shops are usually OK, the beautician across from him knew where I was going (and hadn’t warned me about him), and thanks to Lena I had plenty of friends in town. I’d also marked some landmarks along the path, and gotten the overall direction of our travel–I’m not *quite* so stupid as to run off with a total stranger without taking a few precautions. If you call me paranoid, I’ll cheerfully agree, and proceed to do it anyway. It doesn’t cost much, and the potential payoff is enormous.

Anyway, we didn’t find the weaver–though we did take a good look at his workshop–so we went on to visit his family. I hadn’t realized he meant to hike OVER the mountain to get there…

…the view was *amazing*.

I forgot to mention that Rewalsar is nestled in the Himalayas. In California, that would mean it’s stuck on the side of a bare mountain. But here, the mountains are terrace-farmed…so the slopes are broad slopes of pine forest, green fields of winter wheat, the reddish brown of fallow fields. The curved lines of the terraces texture the mountainside, breaking up the pattern of color.

Over it all, the clouds gather; fog boils over the valleys, breaking occasionally to show patches of verdant green. Sunset on the slopes paints the and the hills, and silhouettes the long-tailed birds as they fly. It’s like looking over the top of the world.

We went on, over the ridge, and went over to see his family.

Vijay (the shop owner) lives with his wife, his two children, his brother’s family, and his parents, in two houses atop the ridge. It’s a nice house, as houses go–concrete, not overly well-appointed by Western standards, but nice and neat and equipped with quite a few luxuries: carpets on the floors, nice furniture, a bathroom with hot and cold running water, and a stable underneath where their three cows and angora rabbit live. (He had 200 angora rabbits at one point–for their fur–but gave up most of them.)

I met his entire family, and showed his mother how to spin with the silver spindle–she showed me how to use it as a takli (Indian supported spindle)–and exchanged notes on our knitting projects. We chatted for a bit, had dinner, and went to bed.

(The last beverage we had before going to sleep was hot sweetened milk, which was the best milk I’d ever had. I couldn’t believe it was just milk and sugar–I couldn’t work it out, until I realized that, like most Indian villagers, they kept cows. Super-fresh, straight from the cow. No wonder cows are sacred in India.)

In the morning, Vijay took me up on top of the ridge (maybe 100 feet from his house) and showed me the view on the other side of the ridge. It was indescribable. I stared open-mouthed for fifteen minutes–I took a few photos, but don’t expect them to come out–and only snapped out of it when another of the beautiful long-tailed birds flew by. At least, I *thought* it was a long-tailed bird. Then I realized it was green, and the head looked funny, and vaguely familiar…

…I was standing there, on top of the world, watching the morning mist and the bamboo forest and the pine trees and the snow-capped Himalayas shining in the sun…with parrots flying by.

I mean, really. Have you ever seen a parrot FLY? I’d seen the little conures that got loose in Southern California, but I’d never realized how long a parrot’s tail-feathers are, or how graceful it looks in flight. Parrots are things that sit on perches in bird cages and ask for crackers, not things that *fly*. And these were *big* parrots, not little parakeet-things. Really, really cool.

We watched the parrots for awhile, and eventually walked down the mountain, where we caught a bus into Rewalsar.

Nothing much to report since then; I’ve been chatting with various people, and meeting others. Lena’s asked me to forward Losar (Tibetan New Year) presents to various friends of hers, so I’ll be playing Tibetan Santa Claus for the next couple of days–which should also give me an introduction to most of the Tibetan community. (Thanks, Lena: I owe you one. 🙂 ) At lunch, I ran into a fellow Westerner (David) who’s here for a long-term retreat; tomorrow, he and I are taking the bus up to the caves, mostly to poke around. (He knows a good bit about Tibetan Buddhism, so I’m hoping he can give me an overview and cultural translation, sort of Tibetan Buddhism 101.) After that, we’ll see; I plan to spend the next few days introducing myself around, and we’ll see what happens. 🙂

I also found a Tibetan guy who works in my hotel, who’s trilingual in English, Tibetan, and Hindi–he’s offered to translate for me, as I want to have a conversation with the beggar-woman who spins on a takli. All in all, despite the lack of obvious tourist resources, I think Rewalsar will be a really interesting place to be.

Current plan is to spend three weeks in Rewalsar (with side trips to Kullu and other interesting weaving areas), then two weeks in Dharamsala, poking about and trying to get an audience with His Holiness the Dalai Lama (also listening in on the first four days of his New Year’s teachings), then fly home. But really, it all depends on what happens.

cheers–

Tien