The Road to Dharamsala

Half an hour behind schedule, the buses arrived outside Majnu Ka Tila, the Tibetan neighborhood in New Delhi where we had been staying. Each day, five or so buses make the 12-hour trip from there to Dharamsala. Mine, of course, was the last to arrive; with each bus that pulled in, Kalden assured me that mine was nicer. Sure enough, the bright orange Volvo was a darned comfortable way to travel. We got our luggage loaded and took our seats, our tickets were checked, and we were on our way. One of the bus operators came by and handed each of us a bottle of water for the trip.

A very nice, very comfortable Volvo bus. For only Rs. 900/- (about $15)!

I said hello to the man sitting next to me, who luckily turned out to be a very friendly surgeon by the name of Vivec who lived in New Delhi but had been traveling the last few weekends to Palampur, a city about an hour outside of Dharamsala, to work. I told him I was from the Chicago area and he informed me that he had a brother who lived in Westmont. Go figure, right? His English was fantastic, and so we talked quite a bit on the trip. He told me how he loved working in the mountains, how it's much nicer than in New Delhi, and how it was unfortunate that India had yet to do anything about population control because so much poverty and pollution could be avoided if only there weren't so many people. He is of the opinion that due to connectivity over the internet and such, this coming generation would do something about it and within the next 15 or 20 years things would change. I hope he's right.

The first few hours of the ride were uneventful. It rained; it took us a while to get out of the city and onto the highway where we could really make decent time. Vivec informed me that we first had to travel a “ring road” of New Delhi (kind of like in Indianapolis, I think) and then we could get on Highway 1, which would take us to another highway that went through the mountains. Most of the trip seemed to be on what I'd consider rural highways: think Route 6 or 52 as opposed to 55 or 80. Eventually we stopped for a food and bathroom break at a little area that seemed designed just for travelers like us. Vivec kindly bought me a snack for the road and remarked how the weather was quite nice that evening. New Delhi had been so hot and humid it was a relief to stand out in the breezy open area.

We reboarded the bus and I decided I'd sleep since the rain kept me from seeing much out the windows anyway. Seven or eight hours later I woke to find that it had gotten windy. Thankfully, the driver was expertly navigating the curves and inclines in the road. He honked at the vehicles and pedestrians we passed to alert them to the bus's presence; I was reminded of a video game (I can't remember which one... help me out here, guys) where you wander through an area and as you pass the mobs they suddenly become aware of your presence and a little alarm goes off. Spore, maybe? Some RPG? It was pretty amusing.

An area identifying itself as “Bombay Hotel picnic area” had just enough light to see that it was full of lounging cows. They didn't pay much attention to the bus as it passed.

Now a good 9 or 10 hours in, the road became increasingly curvy as we wound our way into the mountains. I'm not sure how the bus, as long as it was, was able to navigate all those switchbacks and steep inclines, but the driver had clearly done this enough times before that he wasn't worried. These roads were not built for buses, but the buses managed anyway.

At one point I looked out the window to see lush green vegetation out the left side windows and the ground falling away steeply on the other side of the road. Thankfully, the driver slowed down considerably here. Everyone else appeared to still be sleeping and I wondered how they managed. We were getting sloshed around so much between the bumps in the road and the constant changes in direction I couldn't sleep if I tried.

India is beauuuuuutiful!

After a while of this I started munching on the ginger candy I had remembered to pack, lest I fall victim to uncontrollable motion sickness. I didn't want to be “that passenger” who couldn't handle the drive. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on anything but the motion of the bus. The road wound up, up, up, and my ears popped from the altitude.

Everyone else slept.

The sun began to break to the east, a soft, gentle light through the fog that slowly revealed the shapes of the trees and the distant mountains. “We are in the clouds now,” Vivec observed. “You don't get this in Chicago.”

The road continued winding up and up around a mountain on our right hand side. To the left, the ground stretched away into impossibly green valleys and hills, full of the densest, brightest green I have ever seen. Florida is green and tropical, but not like the mountains of India. The fog broke and I could see tiny villages nestled in the valleys. The air was so crisp and clear up there... I felt like I could see the tiniest detail, every leaf, in trees half a mile off.

The bus passed through a tunnel cut into the side of the mountain and we emerged on the other side to an area with a small river on the left and waterfalls cascading down the rock face on the right. Vines and leaves clung to the wall, and the road became even more sketchy. The driver stopped for a few minutes, as if considering if it was worth attempting to cross to the other side. I'm sure this wasn't his actual reason for stopping, but it seemed like it would have been a good one.

We started moving again and crossed a bridge built over the river. I saw a furry little something scamper across the top of it and thought to myself “I haven't seen any squirrels out here... a couple of chipmunks at the Red Fort, but was that a squirrel?” Of course not, silly. It was a monkey! My midwest self was tickled by the prospect of seeing a real live wild monkey, but I kept it to myself because, well, I didn't want to seem that touristy. It was just as well, because as we drove on the monkey population steadily increased. We entered an area signs identified as Kangra. Twice the bus had to stop to allow a pack of monkeys to cross the road. They perched in the trees and on rocks, munching on who knows what and watching us pass.

As we entered the town, stray dogs (there are a LOT of them in India) bounded down the hills either to see us or just to play. I spotted hibiscus growing wild, and dogs lounging on rooftops. We passed dozens upon dozens of shops, one of them selling beautiful hanks of yarn. A sign advertised an American Montessori school some distance to our left. We drove on and I spotted donkeys in the street now, too.

Another thing about India? They sure do like Coke. There were entire stretches of towns that were quite literally plastered in red Coca-Cola signs, very often accompanied by the same photo of a light-skinned Indian woman drinking from a bottle of the stuff.

Vivec disembarked about an hour and a half before my stop and gave me his number telling me to call if I needed anything, or to come to Palampur if I needed any sort of medical help. I thanked him and made a mental note to get a phone that works here, as mine does not.

Eventually we reached Dharamasala and McLeod Ganj (“Upper Dharamsala”), and Palsang helped me get to Tibet Charity. The manager, Mr. Boom, helped me to Kalden's room – Kalden had given me a key since he wasn't going to arrive until the next day, saying I was welcome to stay there for the night – and I took a nap before making my way downstairs for the opening ceremony.

I met Rinzin, one of the coordinators at the charity, who speaks excellent English and, along with Kalden, teaches the beginner and super-beginner classes because they also speak fluent Tibetan in case students need extra help. She and the director of the charity, whose name I have yet to learn (he seems to be referred to simply as “Mr. Director” by most people, and I think I'll just follow suit for now) introduced me along with the one other teacher who was there to the room of 70 or so students. We received white stoles which I was later told is a sign of respect among Tibetans. The other teacher is a woman named Gill (Gillian) who hails from New Zealand. This is her third time coming to teach at Tibet Charity, and so I made it a point to befriend her. She later showed me around town, pointing out her favorite places to eat and to buy essentials like toilet paper and bread. Gill is very nice and very helpful, and so I intend to stay on her good side.

We ate at a Tibetan restaurant called Nick's and shared a plate of momo, a type of Tibetan dumpling. We visited a rug shop where we saw about a dozen women sitting at looms, industriously weaving some of the most gorgeous rugs I'd ever seen. 

Yes, I asked permission before filming them and taking photos. Does anyone need a rug? They're unbelievably cheap.

Gill suggested I invest in an umbrella because the weather changes quickly up here. I found a pretty blue one for 250 rupees (about $4.25). By this point I was getting tired, the bus ride finally taking its toll, and so we retired to our respective rooms and agreed to meet up for dinner at 6pm. I took a nap despite the storm that had started... At first it was just rain that got increasingly heavy. Then the fog rolled in, and the loudest crash of thunder I'd ever heard in my life made even me, a big fan of thunderstorms, jump. We're closer to the thunder up here in the mountains, I thought. It crashed a few more times and I managed to fall asleep.

After dinner, Gill showed me to the temple in town, the Dalai Lama's temple. It's modest but beautiful; no cameras are allowed inside, sorry guys. The view from the surrounding walkway is amazing. You can literally see for miles across the town and the mountain valleys, everything eventually disappearing into fog.

On our way back, I met Tashi, one of the local stray dogs and a regular at Tibet Charity. Apparently Tashi is the loud dog Kalden had warned me about when telling me about the available apartment. He's bright white, very friendly, and apparently about 15 years old. He followed me most of the way back to the charity before deciding instead to stay outside.

 My new roommate Julie and Tashi the guard dog.

I came back and worked on a lesson plan before deciding I was still too tired to function well. As I type this, I've got my notes sitting next to me waiting to be filled out. It's about 9:30am, though by the time I have access to internet so I can post this it will be a few hours later. Right now, though, I'm going to go take a shower because the water heater should have warmed up enough by now (you have to flip a switch to make it work; I think it's hilarious that I know this from watching the new Karate Kid movie. Remember that part, Andy?) and then I'm going to give my coursebook another look before I head down to teach my first ever real English class.

P.S. It's fucking beautiful here.

Literally walking in the clouds.

The view from a balcony at Tibet Charity.

The road to go around the Dalai Lama's monastery. Pretty, no?