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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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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.
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| Literally walking in the clouds. |
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| The view from a balcony at Tibet Charity. |
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| The road to go around the Dalai Lama's monastery. Pretty, no? |
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