Pizza & Momos

This is it. I'm done teaching at Tibet Charity. Final exams were held yesterday; most of my students passed (a few of them have the extra credit to thank for that) and some did exceptionally well. 

Today Gusti and I took them out for a pizza party in Dharamkot. The students brought some momos, we ordered ten delicious pizzas, and everyone had a lot of fun.

They kept telling me to sit down and relax, but I can't help it -- I enjoy entertaining and if I'm in anything resembling a hostess position, I tend to get into it. I asked them if they have winter holidays coming up in Tibetan/Bhutanese culture aside from New Year's. They said no, but asked about what we've got in the US. I told them all about Thanksgiving (Happy T-day to my friends in the States!), which most of them seemed quite interested in, and they asked all kinds of questions about turkeys. I don't think they have them here. I told them how most Americans prepare a big meal for this holiday so the fact that we were all out having food together was, in a way, quite similar. It's like they'd gotten together to make a Thanksgiving-away-from-home for me, and they seemed pleased that they could do this.

They insisted on doing everything. The students wouldn't let Gusti or me cut the pizzas, they wouldn't let us serve the food, and they always gave us the first slices when a fresh one would come out. Tibetans can be very bossy, but when it's in the context of such hospitality, how can you get upset?

After finishing our lunch and taking a bunch of photos on a dozen different cameras, phones, and tablets, they instructed us to follow them "up to the mountain." When I asked how far they answered "not far," but pointed to some indefinite area wayyyyyyyy off in the distance. I joked that it would take so long I'd miss my flight home. I hadn't worn the proper shoes for a real hike; I knew we'd be taking pictures so I opted to wear my red jutis that I got in Jaipur. People have been telling me they're more like house shoes. This bothered me at first, but then I remembered: I don't wear shoes in the house. If they're shoes, and I'm wearing them, it's going to be outside.

I pointed this out to them, that I wasn't wearing anything that could possibly pass for hiking shoes. Jampel, the one monk, told me "the Bhutan guys are very strong, they'll carry you!" to which the "Bhutan guys" responded that Tibetans were stronger (it's true, they tend to be tall and tough in general), but one way or another they'd get me where we were going.

This is Dolker. She's super sweet, and a pretty good student, too.

The view just never gets old.

Eventually we came to a Hindu shrine where we took some more photos and then backtracked just a little to a grassy spot where we could chill, sing songs, and munch on snacks for a while.

When we finally headed back down to McLeod Ganj, they insisted on taking a shortcut -- the same shortcut that Kalden, Brij, Marie, and I took when we went up to Triund that one time. At one point my foot slipped a bit and I heard a chorus of "Ohhh!" from the students who were in the lead and down below us. Lobsang Dolma, one of my quietest but most thorough students, insisted on holding my hand the rest of the way to make sure I didn't fall, even though she had also earlier insisted on carrying my bag as well as Gusti's, even though she already had her own. "Tibetans are very strong," I observed. They asked me if the roads were "like this" where I live; I told them no, only in the forests in some places. Generally they are in much better condition. They seemed to take this as a perfectly good explanation as to why they could navigate the rocky, irregular path so much more easily than us westerners.

Regardless, we made it down with no casualties. What we had originally planned to be a 3-hour event turned into one that lasted all morning and into the afternoon. It was fantastic. I love the comfort level that you reach with people after seeing them nearly every day for weeks or months, and when the official business or class or whatever is done, everyone can just relax and have a good time together. This evening we had our last staff/volunteer dinner at TC, tomorrow morning we have our closing ceremony for the semester, for which I still have to put together a speech of some sort, and after that.... we're all done. I just have to tie up my loose ends around town as far as last-minute gift obtainment, pay my bill at the hotel, eat at my favorite restaurants once or twice more, pack up all of my stuff -- and decide what's not coming back with me -- and that's it. Get on a night bus to Delhi next Tuesday or Wednesday evening, make sure I tell my students ahead of time because I know at least a couple will want to see me off, and go. Exactly one week from this very moment I'll be somewhere in Indira Gandhi International Airport, maybe waiting to go through security, maybe chilling at my gate with a book, but I'll be having my final few hours in India. 

Four months sure flies when you're having fun. I knew it would.

Where should I go for my next trip? I've got a couple of places in mind, but I'm interested to see what kind of input I can get from my dear readers......

Down to the Last Few Days

Well, that's it. I taught my last day of class at Tibet Charity today. Tomorrow we have final exams, Thursday is a free day -- during which many of the teachers are having a little party or somesuch for their students; Gusti and I are taking ours out for pizza -- Friday is the closing ceremony, and that's it. Done. I have zero obligations thenceforth until I leave the country less than a week later.

I think my students will do well. Rather than give them a cumulative final I opted to just have a last chapter test. It seems shorter and easier than the others, so I hope they all do well. Today was a review day; we went over everything that will appear on the test and most of them took what appeared to be comprehensive notes, so I hope they study a bit and show me what they can do.

After class I met with Lobsang again, one of the pre-intermediate students, and we went over the material that was likely to be on his test tomorrow. They've been working on nothing/something/anything and how to use phrases like so do I, so can I, so have I, neither have I, etc. It's tricky trying to explain why you use one over the others sometimes, but what we decided on is you only really use so have I or neither have I when the sentence you're responding to appears in present perfect tense ("I have lived here for 5 years" -> "So have I", but "I live here" -> "So do I"). I'm not sure if this works in every case or even most of them, but it seemed to do the trick enough to at least get him through this test. He told me about how this class is the first English class he's taken; up until this point all the English he knows he learned from self-study and from asking people. It's inspiring. Many of my students are inspiring. Today I got the first real pang of sadness, knowing that in just a short time I'll be leaving them for a while, perhaps forever. I hope some of them keep in touch.

Lobsang walked me part of the way home because it was getting dark by the time we finished studying. One thing I like about India is that so many people seem concerned for one another. Their sense of personal space is much smaller than it is in the west; you see people walking down the street hand in hand all the time. The most noticeable difference is that most of them are men. It's very unusual to see two people of the opposite sex holding hands here, but two guys? I see it all the time. Two women? Also not weird, though considerably less common. Many of my students and friends here have offered to walk me home at various points throughout my stay, the monks especially. The sense of community here is strong, and I've felt welcomed from very early on.

I'll miss it. I'll miss them.

I've been getting asked a lot if I'll come back to India in general, and Dharamsala in particular. I tell them the truth: Probably not for a while, but I'd like to at some point. I like it here. It isn't perfect, but it's got a sort of honesty about it that I can appreciate. If you've never been to India, you should check it out. It's not as scary as the MSM would have you believe.

Birthday Cake

Tibet Charity was closed today because the local Tibetan Children's Village school was having a celebration. This being an important day for the Tibetan community in general, a bunch of stores around town were closed, too. Gill, Gusti, and the two Danish doctors who recently arrived to volunteer at TC went; I had planned on going but wound up packing instead.

Because, you see, this morning Brij managed to get us train tickets to Rajasthan. I had begun to wonder if it was ever actually going to happen. It's official though – tomorrow evening we've got tickets for a train from Pathankot (we'll get a bus there from McLeod Ganj) to Jaipur, and from Jaipur we'll travel around Rajasthan for a couple of weeks before I come back to Dharamsala, Brij goes to Gujrat and then back west, and Marie, who is supposed to be meeting us in Jaipur, continues her journey around India.

I'm only taking one backpack with me, I think. This is great, except for the fact that it means I have to store everything else I've got in my possession here. It's not an ideal situation, but it could certainly be worse. I'm moving out of my room at Pause Dwelling because, frankly, I don't want to pay 2-3 weeks worth of rent if I'm not even going to be in the same state.

Speaking of not being in the same state, Gill headed back to New Zealand today; it'll be a little weird around here without her. She was the one who first showed me around McLeod, and we've grown to be friends over the last few months. Safe travels, Gill! Maybe I'll come visit you in NZ sometime!

Today was also Brij's last full day in town. The original plan was to return to the disco, but those plans fell through as we realized that Brij, Kalden, and I seemed to be the only ones who were actually planning to go. Truth be told, I wasn't entirely feeling it myself; I kind of wanted to just chill for what was going to be my last night in town for a while, as well.

Everybody's leaving, all at once... Verity, Gill, Brij... I'm leaving too, I guess, but I'm coming back. My students made me promise I'd be back before the end of the semester. :)

Anyway, Brij decided we should have pizza for his last dinner in McLeod. Om Cafe makes a damned good Roquefort/walnut/”chilly” pizza, so that's exactly what we had (along with an eggplant/herb/tomato pizza). Delicious, and for less than 200 rupees.

During his stay in India, Brij has become close friends with one of the local families who happens to own a cafe down the road. One of the sons was having a birthday party today, and they said that he had to go. In fact, they were waiting until he arrived to cut the cake. No pressure or anything.

He invited Kalden and me to come with him, making the argument that it was a party and likely to have dancing like the disco would, and since we had scrapped that idea, we may as well still get some dancing in and cake while we were at it. I decided to take him up on the offer, mainly since I plan on leaving some clothing here when I leave India and there's a good chance I'll leave it with them since they're friends of his. I thought I may as well meet the girls so I'd know who to talk to later on when the time came to make the drop off.

We arrived and they ushered us in, asking Brij why he was late. It's like he was a minor celebrity there, or perhaps more appropriately, a part of the family. They welcomed me just as warmly.

The birthday boy turned 12 today. I told Brij I had no idea how to sing “Happy Birthday” in Hindi, half jokingly, but he promptly started teaching me. As it turned out, we sang it in English anyway. I don't know if it's some kind of Indian tradition or just one in that family, but after the candles had been blown out, the birthday boy grabbed a handful of cake and offered it to each of us in the room while a woman, perhaps Mom, cut the rest of it into actual pieces. He got to me, held out his hand, and said “Auntie?” – I was touched. It's something I'm still getting used to here: “Auntie” and “Uncle” are what Indians call people older than themselves as a term of respect. It's kind of like “Sir” or “Ma'am” but it also conveys this sense of warmth, unlike in English. How could I say no to such a sweetie? Truth be told, the cake itself wasn't anything special... but the presentation more than made up for it.

Brij (|with frosting) and some of the girls.

After everyone finished eating, the music got turned up and the sisters started dancing. I got pulled up to join – which of course I didn't mind – and as the evening wore on I found myself giving an impromptu bellydance lesson. One of the girls in particular stuck by my side the whole night, mirroring every move I made. She's a pretty darn good dancer, actually, and I got her to show me a few Bollywood moves. They were all very, very sweet; I told them I'd be back from my trip in a couple of weeks and that I'd teach them bellydance if they taught me Hindi. Their eyes lit up – easy! What a great deal, right? They told me I was doing pretty well already, even though my vocabulary is pretty limited; apparently my pronunciation is good, at least. They all seemed thrilled to have made a new friend. I was even requested to make sure I was back in town by November 7^th so I could attend a birthday party for one of them... we'll see how Rajasthan goes, but I think I might try to get back for that. I may learn some Hindi and Bollywood moves yet!

Brij and I were the last guests to leave. It took us a while to actually get out of there; he's been around here for the last 8 months and everyone was sad to see him finally go. All the girls as well as the birthday boy gave us hugs goodbye, and he called me Auntie again; Brij even seemed impressed with how quickly I'd reached “Auntie” status. A couple of the younger girls insisted he come back next year, then that both of us come back next year, and by the time we left they'd gotten me to promise I'd come visit when I got back in town. I wish I'd gotten to know them sooner. I'll just have to make the most of my last few weeks when I get back to McLeod Ganj...

Morning hike, afternoon wrestling

Those of you who know me know that I am not what is typically called "a morning person." When I wake up in the morning, I like to lounge in bed for a while and ponder my next moves. I like to have a leisurely breakfast and a nice, warm shower, and then get on with my day.

This tends to surprise "morning people," who don't seem to understand why a person would want to waste any time taking advantage of a morning. Kalden is one of these people. There have been a good number of occasions where I've woken to him hollering outside my window "Magda! Wake up! Let's go hiking!" I have tried -- and apparently failed -- to explain to him on each of these occasions that I need some mental preparation for something like a 6-plus-hour hike. Today he wanted to go to Triund. I told him straight out that I wasn't up for it; it was nice to hear Brij say the same thing. Eventually we regrouped and after a few false starts, the two guys, Marie, and I set out for a "little hike."

We wound up taking the long way to Dharamkot, which involved navigating a very, very muddy stretch where there had been a landslide recently. We got pizza at this restaurant that is generally regarded by people in the area to be one of the best around, and then we tried to beat the rain at least to Bhagsu, after which point we could head back to McLeod Ganj.

Some of the only flat space I've seen since I got here.

A nice, small, well-kept house. I think I could live someplace like this.

 Navigating the slippery stone path from Dharamkot to Bhagsu. No casualties.

Brij wanted to be back because apparently there was mud wrestling as part of the fair that's been going on lately. We decided that sounded like fun, so we made sure we were back in town before 2pm.

We found this!

A marching band!

As it turns out, they were on their way to the wrestling match as well. We just followed them, found seats, and hung out for a while.

Indian wrestling is somewhat more interesting than American wrestling. This is mainly due to the fact that they have live music the whole time.

Filthy Bodies

This morning I got up, took a shower (since I now have hot water), chowed down a Luna bar (thanks Mom!), and headed up to the temple for Day 2 of HH's teaching. I actually found today's lesson much more interesting than yesterday's, which was a nice surprise. I did get one small sketch done, which turned out better than I expected given the embarrassing length of time that's passed since I drew anything. That was also a nice surprise.

When HH held teachings last week, he spoke exclusively in Tibetan. This time around, he has been switching back and forth between English and Tibetan periodically. He seems to make more jokes when he speaks in English; I think this is fun. Each morning before he takes his seat in front of the giant Buddha statue, he makes his way around the temple greeting everyone. The crowd is basically silent as he approaches, so when his hearty "Good morning!"s boom out they reach everyone. I also really enjoy the way he doesn't seem to ignore anyone. He occasionally starts a conversation with a random person asking where they are from or some such generality. Each one of those people obviously feels very special afterward, and why not? His presence lights up the room, everyone smiles, and I don't think it's just because he's famous. You can't help but join when he starts laughing, which is fairly often.

Today HH spoke of zombies. Imagine for a moment the Dalai Lama talking about zombies. Go ahead, I'll wait.

 The point he was making was that our bodies are the same in life and in death. In death we are just flesh and bone, held together by muscles and such, and so why in life do we get so attached to these things? He spoke of our bodies being filthy. Reading from a Tibetan book, he said "I have no desire for a face smeared with excrement, so why should I desire to touch the body the excrement came from?" Personally, I think that's a little extreme. I was very interested in what he had to say, though, since he seems to be more progressive than most religious leaders on a whole bunch of matters.

He spoke of how having children comes with all kinds of problems. Married people without children have their own problems as well; in fact family life comes with problems no matter what. This is how he finally brought us around to the justification for choosing a celibate, monastic life and why it should be praised.

Fair enough, I suppose. I have no desire to become a nun, but there are a whole lot of them here and I'm sure they all question the decision at one point or another, so I imagine it's nice for them to hear him remind them why they're better off.

Criticism of sex aside, he had some other gems in the teaching: "Peace is not achieved through prayer, it requires action," "we must be 21st century Buddhists," and my personal favorite: "If not truly practiced, religion teaches hypocrisy."

The main theme seems to be that suffering arises from attachment. When and only when we can free ourselves from attachment, we can be truly happy. He said that self-sacrifice is the greatest thing we can aspire to, for if we let ourselves come to harm in the pursuit of saving all sentient beings "until the end of space" from harm, we gain the greatest honor. He urged us to forgive others for their faults but readily admit our own.

At exactly noon he wrapped things up for the day and said he'd see us in the morning. I made my way downstairs to leave and stopped with everyone else, mainly because I wasn't in such a rush that I was about to push my way through a bunch of monks and old Tibetan people. HH came down the steps, waved to everyone, and got into the Suzuki SUV that was waiting for him. And off he went.

After that I went back to my place and met Ricky, and we took a trip up to Dharamkot for pizza. The place was filled with a whole bunch of Indians, at least two dozen, presumably having some sort of party. We did manage to find two seats at a table in the corner, out of the rain, and got a mixed veg pizza.

There is a reason everyone has been telling me that this place is amazing. It was some of the best pizza I've had, and we all know I grew up in the general Chicago area. This particular selection had cauliflower, carrot, cabbage, and probably a few other veggies on it along with spices, and it came with "homemade sauce" that I have no idea what it contained but it was damn tasty. I'm pretty sure I'll be going back there again. It took a solid half hour to get there, but it was well worth the trip. Plus, you know, you can eat more because you burned a bunch of calories getting there anyway. ;)

Oh, and I put some photos from home up around my new room last night. It's finally getting cozy around here!

This is the only photo of the photos I have... Casey, I figured you'd appreciate the humor in this.

I also finally got some real food to keep at my place:

The only block of real (not processed, shelf-stable) cheese in town.

I bought this homemade peanut butter from a stand outside the temple. Ingredients: peanuts, salt, and a little bit of cane sugar. It's not too bad.

New Friends All Around

This morning I woke up in my new room and decided it was cozy. I did some laundry because it was gloriously sunny outside; I think the monsoon season is in fact on its way out. This is exciting news indeed -- the promise of dry clothing and bedding is near!



My new residence, Pause Dwelling, has these great big communal balconies on each floor that also have clotheslines that we can use. Since Brij and I are currently the only occupants on the 3rd floor, we get to spread out basically as much as we'll allow each other. This is especially fantastic because I am still trying to get out of the mindset of not doing laundry until I have a full load -- a great idea back home so I save water, but completely irrelevant here since washing machines exist only at the fanciest of laundry service places, and it's much cheaper to buy some powdered detergent and use the bucket that's provided with the room -- and so at any given time I've got a fair amount of clothing that needs to be cleaned. I managed to wash a few of my favorite items and find spots for them in the sun. As I was doing this Ricky, one of the guys who seems to be in charge around here, told me that we still needed to do my check-in paperwork and could I bring a copy of my passport sometime soon, please?



I told him I'd see if I had one in my room, as I had made a few copies earlier in the trip because I was informed by others who had traveled abroad that this would be a good idea (thanks, Jillian and Cory). Sure enough I had one and so I followed Ricky downstairs to the office where he took out a huge ledger and invited me to have a seat at the nearby padded bench. I had forgotten that everything in India takes a while; it's not just a matter of "let me look at your license, how will you be paying for that? *click click click* Here's your room key" like it is in the US. In India things are done by hand. Here it isn't uncommon for shop proprietors and the like to invite their customers to have a seat, and I've found that it's usually a good idea to take them up on the offer because it's their way of telling you you'll be there a while.



Ricky, an Indian guy who looks to be more or less my age, set to writing my information in the book. After a while one of the older men who works here came out and offered me some tea -- it's all called "chai" here, and none of it tastes like the chai we have in the States; I'm pretty sure it's black tea with milk and sugar in it -- which I accepted since by this point I'd been hanging around for a good fifteen minutes longer than I'd anticipated and I figured why not? Ricky finished getting me in the system, as it were, and asked me about home. Do I have family in the United States? Yes, my parents and one sister. Do I live with them? I live with my dad. Is my sister older or younger? She's a few years younger. She lives with her boyfriend... actually, her fiance, they're getting married.



This led to a discussion about weddings in which we found that people tend to spend an awful lot of money on them both in the US and in India, but in India everything is of course cheaper by default. He suggested with a wry smile that maybe they should have their wedding in India to save some money -- nevermind the fact that plane tickets are not cheap by any means. (But hey Lon and Dan, maybe it's worth looking into...?) ;)



He asked me if Obama was popular in the United States and I told him what I have objectively noticed, that his popularity has been falling the last few years. We talked about how politics in general doesn't benefit the average person and how we'd just as soon have nothing to do with it. I told him how life is not easy in the US even though the standard of living is very high. He told me that in India there are many people who don't have much, but they also don't owe much. It's not like in the west where there is always someone -- a bank, the government -- coming after you for money. He told me that people who live in villages don't have as much access to education, for example, but they also are largely farmers and craftsmen who support themselves and each other, and they don't need to rely on the government for as much. This in and of itself appeals to me. Obviously there are drawbacks to this lifestyle, such as the relinquishment of certain comforts and luxuries (like education, unless you find a way to tackle that point), but it's certainly something that might be worth considering.



An hour and a cup of chai later, and after a cheerful promise to trade English practice for Hindi lessons, I told Ricky I was going to let him get to his work and I'd hit up the ATM so I could pay him for the room. "It's no problem," he said in the easy way that most Indians tend to. No one ever seems to be in a rush here. He had asked if I'd been to Dharamkot for pizza yet; I have not, but everyone keeps telling me I have to go because it's amazing. When I suggested that we go sometime he asked my schedule; when I asked for his to see what times might coincide he smiled and said that he could go pretty much whenever. Around here if you want to leave for a while you leave for a while, as long as there is someone to cover for you. It's not like other places where you must stay at your post until your shift is over, there is no one micromanaging, and as long as everything gets done, everyone is happy. It's much more laid back, according to him, and I must say that my observations support this.



Thankfully, Brij was home when it started to rain early this afternoon, and he moved my laundry to a dry area since I wasn't back yet. Later, as I sat here on the balcony enjoying the rain, typing up this post, Ricky happened by and struck up a conversation, and then offered me tea. I already feel like I'm becoming part of a small community in my new Dwelling. I think I'm going to enjoy living here.

I went out for lunch today and ran into a few friends: Tashi, Tashi, Alexandra from London, Rico from Colorado, Sonam, and Sertso; you might remember them from sushi a few posts back. Tashi the monk mentioned that there was going to be a show of traditional Tibetan song, dance, and drama at TIPA tonight, the Tibetan Institute for the Performing Arts. The Tashis, Alex, and I were the only ones who wound up going.



It was pretty awesome.



The dances involved a lot of stomping, brightly colored costumes, and cool hats, and the content revolved largely around the everyday lives of the average Tibetan: farming. One dance even had people dressed up in yak costumes. The guy sitting next to me asked if I could understand the Tibetan. Of course I said no, but I was enjoying it anyway. He proceeded to translate much of the rest of the show for me, which was a big help during the two acting pieces at the end. They both revolved around the prompt “the importance of preserving the Tibetan language.”



The first was a drama that included a surprisingly convincing depiction of both a fight between Chinese police and students, and later a self-immolation.



The second was a comedy that opened with a great scene of modern McLeod Ganj. I felt like an insider since I actually recognized what was going on even if I couldn't understand the language.



Now we're sitting back at the Clay Oven where Alex couldn't believe they were actually playing Blink-182. I informed her of the amazing music selection this place has, and now we are having some cheesecake, and Diamonds by Rihanna is on the radio and I really, really wish I had a hula hoop.

Beauty in Simplicity

It's been almost a solid month now since I came to India. Time flies, eh? It seems to have for me, at least. There have been new people to meet, new customs to figure out, and plenty of work to do. Brij, another teacher, showed up earlier in the week and so I got to hand over the Pre-Intermediate class (the one I got asked to teach “for a few days”) and get a little time back in my mornings. It looks like I've already got the half hour before class filled with individual tutoring for one of my students who is having some trouble keeping up; I hope it goes well.

Tibet Charity seems to be one of the more organized, decently outfitted establishments of its kind here in Dharamsala. Even so, it's a charity and there's not a ton of money to throw around. For example, we do have white boards and markers, but this is what our erasers look like:

Yes, it's a white t-shirt. An increasingly dirty white t-shirt.

Until today, at least. I came in to my Elementary class to find these

:D

resting on the ledge under the board. Little pillows of handstitched cotton. I thought to myself “Were these here earlier, and somehow I missed them?” Maybe 20 minutes into class one of my students, Karma (the one who informed me that the typical Tibetan mother drives a yak), pointed them out and told me she'd made them. How sweet! And how resourceful, too. That is one thing I've noticed about the people in India: they are resourceful. You have to be when you don't have much. Food is all made from scratch. If you need new clothes you go to a tailor so he can take your measurements and make you something. There is a fair amount of construction going on around town but there is no heavy machinery to be seen. Everything is done in a very oldschool fashion, with donkeys hauling loads of dirt and bricks, and people shaping metal with very basic tools. Rain shelters are often made of a tarp held up by a long stick with a bottle on the end so the fabric doesn't get punctured. In the stores there are no prices on anything, you have to ask and then haggle it down from whatever the shopkeeper tells you. It's not elegant, but it works.

And to be honest, there is beauty in its simplicity. In a way it feels more real. It's not as safe and structured as life in the US: the roads are shitty and sidewalks don't even exist, one of the main streets in McLeod Ganj has a steep drop off down the mountain behind the shops lining it, it's not at all unusual to see people washing their clothes or themselves with any available water source, and nobody seems to notice that there are dozens and dozens of dogs, cows, and goats just roaming wherever they damn well please. Somehow it all works.

The other day I was just getting ready to take a nap when Kalden knocked on my door and asked if I wanted to go for a hike. I whined for a few minutes and then conceded, mainly because I'd chosen to indulge in some potato chips and a Snickers bar earlier in the day and I was feeling guilty about the calories. We went up (and up, and up) toward Triund. Triund itself is much farther away, but from what I understand the path we took is the first leg of the trip. We stopped at a tea shop just in time for a tremendous downpour (monsoon season, yo); we waited it out, headed back down, and the whole thing took 3 hours or so. The road was pretty:

In other news, there are some guys who have taken to chanting incessantly somewhere outside my room in the evenings. I thought it was something for when HH was in town teaching, but that ended yesterday and they're still at it. I guess it could be worse, but I still wouldn't mind if they'd go to bed.

Wednesday evening we went out for dinner at one of the local restaurants. Om Hotel is home to the Namgyal pizza place, and omg do they make good food. We had a pizza with Roquefort cheese, walnuts, chiles, tomatoes and... I don't even remember what else. It doesn't matter. It was really. Damn. Good.

Amazing, even. Who knew?

Indian chiles are pretty spicy; Bhutanese food uses them quite a bit as well. Back home I used to take a certain pride in enjoying spicy foods. Here, though, “spicy” takes on a whole new meaning. These chiles are really tasty, and they add a healthy dose of straight up flavor to whatever they're in. A lot of times I'll pull them out of the food before eating it, because just having had them touch the rest of it is usually enough. If you bite into one and you aren't expecting it, all I can say is you might want to order a couple of pieces of naan, and fast. It's a little humbling.

Oh, and an appeal to my techie friends: my iPod Touch won't turn on. This has happened before and I was always able to get it going with the whole hold-down-both-buttons-for-a-really-long-time trick, but I've done that a few times now and it hasn't gotten me anywhere. I'm getting really sad about it. Any suggestions? (I suspect that if Apple stores even exist in this country the closest one is no closer than Delhi, which is 12 hours away. Therefore, that is not an option.)