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We are emerging from a truly beautiful experience at Tushita. Students are with their homestay families and getting settled. We'll have our audience with His Holiness the Karmapa tomorrow! We are all well and looking forward to sharing all of our insights once the Internet is up again here in Dharamsala.
Tracy (via txt msg)
Well, it's now six days until the election and the McCain campaign is getting visibly desperate. It seems everyday a new anonymous source from inside the McCain campaign calls Sarah Palin something new, rogue, a diva, and a whackjob are the three which I remember. The McCain campaign as well as Republican stooges nationwide have also turned to calling Obama some sort of socialist. Rush Limbaugh has gone so far as to call him a Marxist-Leninist. In a campaign speech yesterday, McCain actually accused Obama of, and I quote him word for word now, "running to be redistributionist-in-chief." This is all in response to an earlier comment by Obama to Joe the Plumber, in which he said that he would like to spread the wealth around. The real irony of the situation is that most of the people flinging this horseshit don't even understand what socialism is, forget the fact that every industrialized democracy on Earth practices major tenants of socialist dogma, including the US. But, whatever, we all have more pressing issues than discussing what smear the McCain campaign is going to use today. Obama's still ahead in the polls, widening in fact, thank Hanuman this thing is almost over.
The Frequency is Courage
-Doug B.
Could be coincidence but Obama's lead shrank in a number of polls today. Other than that no news to report. Went for a hike with my friend on the Billy Goat Trail today, boy was that nostalgic of trek for me. It was funny though, my leg muscles would have normally been aching but instead there was just a little tingle in them, huzzah, I'M CONDITIONED! Oh, Justin and Tracy, remember how we were discussing old cartoons and we came to that one old Hannah-Barbera cartoon with the blobs and the warrior family and the other beast creatures, well I found out it's called The Herculoids. It's funny, it just happened to be on TV tonight, I never would've known otherwise. Well that's all for now.
The Frequency is Courage
-Doug B.
Not much news to report. Obama is in Hawaii visiting his grandmother who is quite ill. Obama's lead is widening across both national and state polls, but a lot can happen in a week so this thing is far from over. It's safe to say though at present Obama is more or less whopping McCain's ass. Ari I went to your place of employment today and saw a movie, it was alright. It's rainy here, I don't like the rain. Wade I really miss joking around with you, Tim I miss your inopportune farts. I generally miss everybody...except Sandy, her positive attitude was unbearable (That was a joke). I hope everyone's bowels are in tip top shape and that meditation is going well too. That's it for now.
We'll meet again, don't know where don't know when
-Doug B.
I can't sleep because it's only 2:33 PM in India, so as requested by Tracy, here is the first of many daily election updates.
Obama is polling ahead of McCain nationwide and in key battleground states according to multiple polls. There is a silver lining to the economic collapse because the more the market drops, the higher Obama polls. People have about had it with Sarah Palin, it was recently released that the Republican National Committee spent $150,000 on clothing for her, stuff like Neiman Marcus and Saks Fifth Avenue. This is on top of a slew of spending scandals related to her family with Alaskan government funds. Jon Stewart summed it up accurately saying they are grifters. She has turned out to be a liability rather than an asset. That's about it, here are some links for more details.
The Daily Show- Project Beltway
The Frequency is Courage
-Doug B.
Namaskar friends
Namaskar discomfort
Namaskar pollution
Namaskar insane driving
Namaskar council
Namaskar Namgial and Dorje
Namaskar sodas without high-fructose corn syrup
Namaskar diesel fumes
Namaskar trash fires
Namaskar Blast Brothers
Namaskar Amit and Gourav
Namaskar mistreated animals
Namaskar bartering
Namaskar lateness
Namaskar inopportune bowel movements
Namaskar to this journey
Namaskar beggars
Namaskar Peter
Namaskar lukewarm beverages
Namaskar to the good and the bad
Namaskar India, and to the magical time we've had
We'll meet again, don't know where don't know when
-Doug B.
After two blissful days in the beautiful weather here at McLeod Ganj, we will be heading up the hill to the Tushita Meditation Centre this afternoon to begin our 10 day Intro to Buddhism Course. We are excited for this opportunity to quiet ourselves for a bit of time and process about the trip thus far, and also to learn a bit about Tibetan Buddhism too!
The blog will be a little quiet for these days, but don't lose heart, Suzie McFloozy! We'll be back in action with a full program of guest speakers, hindi language lessons, independent study projects, homestay family stories, and all sorts of other adventures to share. We look forward to reconnecting soon.
Maybe our readers can find a minute for their own silent reflection as they read this post... just a few deep breaths. Breathing is amazing.
All the best, and wish us luck!
Tracy
Sasriyakaal!
This is the greeting used amongst the folks in the Punjab (pronounced "PUN jab" rather than "POON jab" as Amit continues to remind all of us. Punj means 'five' and Ab means 'river,' so we are in the 'Land of Five Rivers!')
A Sikh man enjoys an evening bath in the waters surrounding the Golden Temple
We're safely through our first overnight train ride and exploring the Golden Temple here in Amritsar. We've eaten delicious food at the Langar, or community kitchen, where anyone can come to take a meal, and visited Jallianwala Bagh - now the site of a beautiful garden, but once the site of an epic massacre by British Generals on a peaceful gathering of Muslim, Sikh, and Hindu folks in protest of the jailing of revolutionary leaders in the movement against British occupation in 1919.
Also a favorite piece of this semester program for me, we all contributed to a thoughtful conversation about non-violence and how we would define such terms. This theme will follow us along the way as we are hosted by the Tibetan community in Exile, as well as our wonderful Jain hosts in Jaipur. The students are digging deep about what these concepts mean to them and how they affect their own lives.
I'm continually inspired by their willingness to open up and say what is on their minds, only to deepen their own and other's experiences. I'm feeling quite privileged to spend time with this group for the coming two months.
Amit and I just ate dinner in the Langar with Natalie, Sandy, and Kate. I would like to share this story for the benefit of Global LAB Alumni who remember my love of the kheer that is served on Sundays at the Langar here - (Kheer is a sweet rice pudding made from milk, cardamom, raisins, and chunks of coconut, and it's totally yummy!) We sat down and immediately got a big plate full of kheer, salty dal, and the man came by with chapatis. I looked up at him, held both of my hands out to have the bread dropped into them, and I caught him searching through the basket, picking out the softest ones before handing them over to me and AmitI. We thanked him. Amit and I chatted through dinner and then waited for the girls to finish up. (A funny side note - people eat incredibly quickly in the Langar, maybe in order to make space for the next 1,000 that will come through the door needing to be fed, but we US Americans seem to linger over our food, chatting away, and most people vacate their places on the mat before we are even finished with our first chapati) So, there we were. Our friend came back to ask why we were not going - Amit jokingly said, "We're waiting for our second helping of kheer!" The man smiled, walked away, and then appeared from behind the gate with a huge bucket full of it. He told us to clean out our bowls, and dished both of us a huge second helping (probably more food than I had eaten during dinner itself)! We motioned toward the students, and they got their second helpings too. We all sat in bliss while eating the sweet desert, so thankful for the chapati man and his willingness to see us smile.
We got up to clean our plates - I looked for him to say another 'thank you' but I couldn't make his face out in the crowds of other folks willingly grabbing buckets full of food and walking down the long aisles to feed the newcomers into the Langar. I walked out the door looking back over my shoulder, grateful for his kindness.
That's all for now from the inspiring pilgrimage site of the Golden Temple here in Amritsar. We'll head up the hill to McLeod Ganj tomorrow and get our bearings as we settle in for a month on the rain-kissed south-facing slopes of the Himalaya.
Wahe Guru ji da Khalsa
Wahe Guru ji de Fateh,
Tracy
So we're back in the lowlands of India and honestly, I couldn't be happier about the heat and the humidity. And being able to wear all my favorite salwar kamizes again. Amritsar is beautiful- almost like Delhi but with a hair less pollution and traffic, with the added bonus of a huge golden temple right on our doorstep. The temple is set up with a hotel and kitchen to serve all pilgrims who come, providing food and lodging free of charge. This means that we all slept on raised boards last night, but actually, it was kind of fun, and definitely better than sleeping on the floor of the courtyard. The kitchen organization is astounding- it's only run by volunteers which means that there are enough interested people to wash dishes, make food and serve other pilgrims 24 hours a day.
Being in such a holy Sikh site prompted a discussion of non-violence yesterday. It was great to expand my definition of non-violence as "reacting peacefully" to something more detailed, like "leading by example" and "a creative way of responding forcefully." It brought up so many other questions for me, too, like the difference between non-violence and non-reactionism, and how peace can be just as forceful as violence. And then I was able to use these new thoughts in my own life only moments later. See, traveling as a group of white people, we attract a lot of attention. Locals will stop and watch us for ages, although we're doing nothing more exciting than standing in a circle and talking, or buying stuff at a store, or just walking down the street. This has started to irritate me, and then anger me, because I don't understand what they think is so interesting about us- surely they've seen tourists before? And when it happens, I'll often think loudly in my head, "Would they just get out of my FACE already??" But then yesterday I realized how violent that was. And how shocking it was to have such a violent voice in my head, and how I don't want it to be there. So I'm working on responding to the staring with non-violence- I just have to find a creative way of responding. Such as, isn't it cool that everyone wants to look at me when I walk down the street?
sooo, a thought about street kids:
Street children are all over the place. I saw, for instance, three shoeshiner boys outside our hotel a few days ago, to whom we talked for a few minutes the last time we were in Delhi. We saw a trio of children wearing fake moustaches, doing backflips and playing percussion outside the American embassy. You see child beggars constantly, and kids combing the streets for plastic bottles and cardboard that can be sold to recycling companies for material money.
I’ve been thinking about them a lot. What bothers me most is the thought not that they are lacking material possessions, because the more I’ve come to think and understand and learn about “poverty,” I’ve come to feel like certain materially “poor” communities can often be happier and richer in a lot of ways than the striving, progress-driven Western society. There’s so much I feel like I took away from my week farming in Domkhar, or from the school in AP. Rather, what stings me about watching street kids is the thought that many of them don’t have anywhere to go or anyone to turn to. Some of them, I’m sure, live with and earn money for their parents. But a lot of children are completely independent and living on the streets of Delhi. I can’t imagine having no one to look out for me. That sucks.
Yesterday, after we spent some time at this Sufi dancing ceremony thinger, we were standing around on the street. Buying kabobs. This little girl came up to us, asking for money. “ten rupee,” she says with one of those practiced “aren’t I sweet and unfortunate looking? Give me money you know you want to” looks. (They know what they’re doing).
It’s another one of those situations: I could give her a rupee bill—I have a pocket full of 10s and 50s—but she’d still be there, begging, tomorrow. I can’t fix her life with a piece of paper.
But I feel horrible brushing them away, refusing eye-contact and pretending they don’t exist until they wander off. So instead, I knelt down and extended my hand for a low five, offering the question “apka naam kya hai?” (what is your name?) …one of my three or four hindi phrases… and then the game turned to “you try to slap my high five and I whip my hands away at the last moment, until you catch me and then I attempt to slap your hands”. This little girl is delighted and absolutely cracking up.
And then all of a sudden I look up and there are maybe 10 or 15 other kids gathered around me, staring curiously and intently and very unsubtley (people gawk at us blatantly here… on the sidewalks, from their mopeds and cars when we’re in the Gypsy, everywhere. It feels so awkward to so stand out). So there are maybe a dozen other kids gazing down at me with blank, wondering faces. And another dozen adults and teenagers, wondering what it is all these kids are looking at. I sort of freaked out at first, unsure how to engage a dozen children, but then I got the whole group of kids and taught them crocodilly-oh-mie, to the tune of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, which the one girl had been singing as she slapped my hands. I arranged them in a circle, and put their hands on top of each other in the proper order. And then started the game. They caught on quick. And I felt so great, to have involved and affirmed all of their presence all at once.
And I think that’s when I confirmed what I’d been thinking about for the last few weeks: what can I actually do? I can’t fix their lives with a rupee bill. I don’t have things of value to give away. But I can at least validate and affirm them: show them the huge value I see in themselves. I can’t give them all rupees but I can at least affirm their presence, and I’m coming to feel more and more like that connection—that affirmation of interaction and interdependence—is all any of us can really give to each other.
It relates to what I’ve been thinking about education, too: as much as it’s about math and science, it’s about building self-confidence and supporting the child. Even if these kids can’t go to school and have someone to teach them language and music, I can do what I can in a few minutes to promise them they are incredible people and entirely important. And then, at least, there’s that.
I have no idea who all the kids are. Some of them probably went home with their parents to running water or beds. But some of them, definitely, were tucked in under a single blanket on the sidewalk, like I had seen two children lying on the way into the square, next to their parents sprawled across the bed of a rickshaw.
Ever since I saw this one girl collecting plastic bottles on the street at 6 in the morning at Majnu Ka Tilla when we were leaving what I thought was way early to fly to Guwahati, I’ve been thinking a lot about street children. Something involving them is going to be my ISP in Dharamsala in a week and a half, and so spending some time last night definitely strengthened my confidence in being able to engage and interact with them for those 10 days. We’ll see how it goes. I’ll let you know.
Some other things: Mirise and I are intense at spit. Natalie is teaching us an a capella version of the Jackson 5’s “I Want You Back.” Wade and Tim are splitting off to start their own boy band, the Blast Brothers. Check for them on MTV in the near future. To everyone else’s parents, in general: your kids are fantastic. Thanks for birthing and raising them and stuff.
Also, a mental picture from a few days ago (because, quite frankly, I’ll leap at any opportunity to follow in the footsteps of our fearless leader, Justin):
So, in Delhi, Amit has this car. called the Gypsy. Which is like a jeep or some such contraption: the whole back is pretty open, with a bench seat on the left and right. When transport becomes necessitated, we all pile in, facing each other, and ride with the canvas sides rolled up and velcroed around the metal frame.
We speed (safely, don’t worry) along Delhi’s winding parkways, the wind whipping our hair, dodging autorickshaws, pedestrians, and an endless array of bikers and jeeps, and swerving nonchalantly across the lanes. (it’s how they roll).
Amit blasts the radio and his favorite mix CD which we’ve listened to enough times now to start to become familiar with the songs. My absolute new favorite song in the world is this one called “Sochda Hai”. It goes like this: “badabadabadadaDUMdadadadada, doom dum dadadaDUMMMMM.” Except with words—that I don’t know—and a tune, which doesn’t translate via blogpost. It’s from the hit new movie Rock On, which I am dying to see. You can try to iTunes it. Or YouTube. Good luck.
Anyway, it’s spectacular, and I’m thrilled to be here, flying through the night and smelling this interesting blend of smells that I can now decisively tell you is the smell that smells like Delhi, though can’t actually describe beyond that.
The world moves quickly, and I have no idea what the next two months hold in store, but I can sing along to this absolutely epic song as we fly forward into it.
Also, I promised a few days ago that I’d write a post about trek, which I never did. So about trek: it was great. I am immensely proud of my body for doing things I didn’t know or believe it was capable of. Plus, I lived outside, in a tent, for 9 days. And totally survived. I mean, sure, I definitely missed home for a few days, and got what I deemed “comfort-sick” (as in, wishing I just had a bed. Or a shower. Or my stuffed animals. And that things were easier and perfecter and I didn’t have to push myself in this or that way). But in the end, looking back, it’s that pressure that pushed us closer. That inexplicable Garden-State-esque just desire to scream that discovered the legendary game of Spit to Mirise and I. And, sure enough, like everyone said, it’s living out of that comfort, and pushing myself, and testing my limits and poking and prodding me that wound me up doing things I never had before, seeing myself in new ways, and which left me feeling sort of off-kilter upon our return to society. (Though I’m not gonna lie: that first shower was absolutely epicly wonderful.) And I slept like a baby for the next three nights at Kidar guest house. And maybe it’s hindsight and retrospect and distance that allow me to do so, but looking back, I definitely look back on roughing it fondly, and remember the sight of that big yellow tent at the end of every day, which told us that we had made it back to our portable “home,” and reminded us every evening as we arrived, just how far we’d come. (cue that Matchbox Twenty song).
In a way, we are still sort of on trek. It sort of sucks, I’m determining, to not be settled. To not be able ever to reeeally unpack, or have one place, one spot, one familiarity. But at least, in away, we can fall into the pattern of moving around, the rhythm of constant change, and to have at least the consistency of each other.
You should hear us sing A-wimbo-weigh. It’s pretty wonderful. Or Sochda Hai, though it’s definitely not as practiced.
Anyway, right now it’s 11:04. Everyone else is sleeping. We’re on a train. To Amritsar. That’s pretty snazzers.
I’m lying on the middle blue plastic coated fold-out bed in our compartment.
I’m tired. Quite. I’m going to bed.
Sorry, once more, for incoherency in this blog post.
The world is whizzing by out the window. The moon, low on the horizon, is red and dim and only faintly visible through a whole lotta smog.
It smells like India.
Nighty night, y’all.
<3 sandy
It is 9:00 PM in India, 11:30 AM in DC, and 3:30 PM in Morocco. I am on a train between New Delhi and Amritsar, currently somewhere in the state of Haryana. We are riding in 2nd Class Sleeper cars. I am writing this on a thin blue cot reminiscent of the beds in the school nurses office, those however contain far more padding. We left at about 7 PM and are due to arrive in Amritsar, home of the Golden Temple, at roughly 5 AM on the 18th of October, my best friend Paolo’s birthday. The locomotive is still in its golden age in India, however Tracy has said with the growing popularity of the “horseless-carriage” its glory days are fleeting…fast. It is a lovely and quaint way to travel. Your food is actually delivered to you, something those bastards at Amtrak could learn from. There are a plethora of goods being hawked at you constantly: pillows, chai, coffee, various foods, soda, water, even soap. The bathroom is literally a hole in the floor of the train. There are a number of sinks for hand washing, after all cleanliness is next to godliness. It is like a moving city, even the beggars will come on board, baby in one arm the other stuck out with hand open asking for rupees. It is a pitiful sight, I still can’t look them in the eye without feeling guilty, and then the tears begin to well up. I’ve become quite adept at holding back what would’ve only a month ago reduced me to an incoherent, sobbing wreck. At least I still feel it, thank god (take your pick: Jesus, numerous Hindu deities, Buddha, Singh, the Flying Spaghetti Monster) I still feel it.
I never want to get used to these feelings, stomach them maybe, but if I were ever to become numb to them, then part of me will surely have died. It lets me know I’m still alive, that I haven’t become complacent with injustice to the point that it no longer bothers me. Nothing, no one, deserves to be hungry, lonely, and homeless. Hitler was a very lonely man, so was Stalin…if only they’d had a few good friends, I have quite a surplus of friendship here in India. I’m a very lucky boy. Another train just zoomed by, it obliterated the placid air next to us, as well as my train of thought. Hot dang, are trains louder than hell. Hot dang, is India louder than hell. Sandy is waiting to use this so I better wrap it up.
I bought a Rs. 4300 pair of jeans yesterday. They are the most expensive jeans I have ever owned, however they are in style, and Amit has assured me that I look so badass in them. Tim, Wade, and I all bought jeans actually. We all look badass. Here’s to looking badass! I have dubbed us the three jean clad Biblical Magi. I’m Melchior, Wade is Balthasar, and Tim is Caspar. We are heading west to find the newborn king…hi ho, what an adventure I am on! That’s it for now.
The Frequency is Courage
-Doug B.
P.S. Happy 18th Birthday Paolo
Friends, family, onlookers of all kinds,
After a whirlwind stop in Delhi, packed with visits to museums, foundations (including a great meeting at Naz India) and sights around town, we are off to the Amritsar and the Golden Temple. This brief stay should serve as a good re-charge in time for Dharamsala.
Ladakh ended wonderfully. On our last night, we joined our local contacts for a wonderful meal of momos (traditional Ladakhi/Tibetan dumplings) and an evening of story telling. It provided a reflective atmosphere where we were able to speak our minds, laugh and have a whole lot of fun I believe we will all miss Ladakh and the connections we made, but it was time to move on.
That is all for now. More entries and photos are coming, so stay tuned.
Many blessings to you all,
Justin
Leh, Ladakh October 17th, 2008
Natalie and Ari hanging prayer flags on trek
I really loved the trek. 9 days in the wilderness, constantly surrounded by unbelievable mountain views. The highest peak we summitted was 17,100 ft, covered in snow. And then we went "sledding" down, sliding down the mountain. We had ponies along with us, which of course, I loved. There's lots more to say about that, but I think everyone else had got it covered.
One of my favorite experience so far on the trip has been hanging out at the local Thanka center, which is the Tibetan style of painting. I stumbled upon it during our first day in Leh, but could only spend a little time. Since then, I have been back twice, both times for over two hours. My second time going in, the owner, Chokeyi, recognized me and said "Oh! The artist!" So I sat down and looked through piles and piles of breathtaking paintings. They come in 4 styles - a depiction of a single deity, a story of the Buddha's life, the wheel of life, and my personal favorite, the mandala. Chokeyi and her husband, Karma, have an immense wealth of knowledge and are so happy to share it all. Each piece takes months to make, and years of training. They spent the non-tourist season traveling around and collecting pieces from the best artists they know. Chokeyi would tell me about the different qualities of pieces, and then say, "Well, you're an artists, you can tell" (and I could). I drank many cups of chai with them as they taught me about what the things inside each piece meant, and the Buddhist religion. My favorite moment came yesterday, on my third visit. We have heard a lot about Buddhism from a very academic standpoint, which is fascinating, but Karma really gave me an idea of the philosophy behind it. He said that the idea of Buddhism is really to have a good heart, and to try and be a good person. Your mind helps to facilitate good deeds, but it starts in the heart. And by being a good person, that radiates outward and influences others in a really powerful way. When I left the center (after having made some great purchases, with a nice discount just because) Chokeyi asked for my email so they can show me when they make a website, told me to come back when I was in Leh, and gave me a big hug. And I felt such an amazing feeling, a powerful warmth of spirit. At dinner that night, the whole group sensed it. I didn't realize until the next morning that that was exactly what Karma was talking about. His warmth and kindness filled me with the same feeling, which I then passed on. Such a powerful idea, and I love that I learned it through just taking time to talk to people I encountered sort of randomly.
Tomorrow we go back to Delhi, and will visit the Nas foundation - an NGO for women's rights and sexual freedom (they are working to decriminalize homosexuality, which is still technically illegal in India) and hostel for HIV positive youth. And then, hopefully, a Bollywood film. I am so excited for both. Afterwards, an overnight train to Amritsar to visit the Golden Temple, the holiest site for Sikhs, with completely free room and board for anyone. And then to Dharamsala. Excitement.
Sorry family and friends for the copypaste.
Hi Mom and Dad, sorry I didn't call you last night, I got screwed over logistically and so I never had time to call. The internet here is taking failure to a new level and not allowing me to e-mail you either so I'm sorry for that as well. It's 2:35 AM in DC so I can't call now but I promise you I will call later, between 7 and 10 AM your time. Even if I have to throw somebody out of the phone booth, rest assured, I will call.
The Frequency is Courage.
-Doug B.
P.S. McFloozy, who are you?
Good morning America, it's 4:10 PM here in Leh, which means it's 6:40 AM in DC and 10:40 AM in Morocco. Trek is over, yet, I am no diamond, at least not of the quality you would find in your local jeweler. I'm tired of that analogy so I'm gonna drop it. Mom and Dad, I have quite a story to tell you, I'll save it for a phone call though, it is inappropriate for this medium. Others will no doubt describe trek in detail so I won't, I have other things to discuss. Boy, did the shit really hit the fan back home...I had so much to say during trek, I now find myself speechless, I don't know what to talk about. Something is troubling me, but I'm unsure what it is. I haven't been meditating as much as I should, perhaps that might help to alleviate this mental funk I'm in. I'm really sorry, I'm actually disappointed with myself for saying so little. It seems I still have many more mountains to climb, of both the physical and emotional varieties. I know I'll have more to say later, until then.
The Frequency is Courage.
-Doug B.
P.S. Mon and Dad I'm calling you...now.
Hi everyone!!
Well, we're back in Leh. It's so odd to no longer be in the middle of nowhere. When the cars picked us up yesterday, it was shocking to realize that we'd been in places that are only accessible by foot (or pony) for the past week. Trek was tons of fun, but it was physically hard. Most of our days were 8 hours long, and the second pass was at 17,300 ft. But looking back, it was so incredibly worth it. We all got so much closer, and it's an awesome feeling to know how hard you pushed yourself physically. Today, we went to lunch at a restaurant on the third story. Someone said that last time we went there, a week or two before trek, they were winded walking up the stairs...and now we're all so strong!! We also did laundry today...I washed my treking clothing at least four times and the water was still turning murky! But I think (hope) they're clean now! In a couple of days, we go Delhi and then the retreat is soon. I'm nervous, but also very very excited.
I'll write more soon!
Love,
Kate
Hey everyone. Back in Leh as of last night, trek ended after 9 physically, emotionally, and mentally grueling days lost, but not too lost, within the Himalayas. My body is tired, my emotions are tired, my head is tired. I am excited to rest up here in this city that has become so familiar to me. I'm glad I have found some form of comfort here in this very uncomfortable situation. Other than familiar places bringing me peace of mind, the new found friendships that are quickly growing stronger every day have helped so much.
I had another blog post, one about homestays in Domkhar, that has not yet been posted so my next entry will be not in chronological order with this one, but Tracy said that people were dying to hear from us, so I'm blogging.
The things India is bringing up for me are really different from anything I expected, or wanted to achieve for myself, but as they are brought up I am realizing how totally necessary and important all of these things are. Like new found love for my family, who I miss so much and can't wait to call in an hour when they are awake. Or a new found sense of gratitude and privilege for being brought up where I was, how I was, when I was, and for the life I have led, and continue to lead. I am thoroughly grateful for all of the simple things, and it's wonderful. I can safely say that Ladakh in general brought this out in me, but especially homestays, which you will all hear about in the near future, hopefully.
Today I successfully washed all of my dirty, smelly, disgusting trek clothing, on the bathroom floor with a running faucet, a bucket, and a bar of soap, scrubbing, twisting, rescrubbing, soaking, soaping, scrubbing, smacking, scraping, watering, twisting, rinsing, and then drying. Also, the first shower I took after trek consisted of me huddled on the floor underneath the same faucet i washed my clothes with this morning, sitting beneath a trickle of warm water. It was the only way any hot water would come out.
In "real life", these two circumstances would have made me impatient and angry. But I was honestly thoroughly grateful (again) just to be clean, and to have clean clothes, no matter what it took. Like I said, the simple things have become so apparently wonderful to me in a way I can't really describe. Like a cup of hot tea to warm my body up aftr a night sleeping in below freezing cold, and snow, in a tent, inside two sleeping bags, with 6 layers of clothing on. Or a pancake for breakfast, instead of chiapatti. Or a dry pair of socks, after all 7 of mine become dirty, wet, and smelly on trek. (i happened upon a lone pair of clean ones in my duffel bag back in Leh after returning back to Kidar guest house. Let's just say I was... ecstatic.)
Or the box of cookies me and Sandy and Kate just purchased, which was my unhealthy lunch, and was absolutely delicious, and only cost 50 rupees. Wow.
I have had anything and everything I have ever wanted my entire life right at my fingertips. I have been able to buy, eat, take, see, do, hear, smell anything I have ever wanted. And not once did I ever look upon it and think "wow, I am so fortunate." But I am, I am so lucky, and this luck makes me almost sad, and guilty. I was born into this, I didn't choose it. I've never had to grow all of my own food and eat whatever crops I harvested just to survive. I could eat anything, and still can eat anything I want, and there's so much of it I don't need to think about survival. Surviving comes easy, living does not. But here, in Ladakh, living is so simple, and surviving is a harder task. But everyone is so calm, so sweet, so generous.
It's really incredible. I don't know if much of this post makes sense. I am in a head whirl of gratefulness, tiredness, hunger, and calm. (head whirl of calm? yea.)
So, I guess, you can say, that right now, what I feel most of all, is gratitude, for everything and all.
Please, people back at home, write comments. I want to hear about your lives, and your smiles, and your joys. Don't just read, even if you just say Hi, I would love to hear it.
I miss you all very much. During part of trek I battled a severe case of homesickness.... something I never once anticipated I would feel. So, to hear from you all would be fantastic.
I miss you. I love you. I'll see you soon.
Love always,
Mirise.
A few mental pictures from the trek:
The jagged mountains jut out from the ground, some snow-capped, others not. A rushing river speeds by as we eat a lunch of cheese, bread and assorted condiments. Many of the students sprawl out on rocks in the shade as the sun is a bit too intense at this point during the day. Wade and Natalie sit chatting a few feet away. Their faces lit-up by the bright afternoon sun.
Over a thousand feet of vertical rise stares us in the face. A thin path splits the mountain side in two. We are at about 15000 feet and climbing. Doug and Tim are in the distance on horses. Even the animals built for this terrain struggle up the steep mountain side. We march. Slowly. Each step reaffirming our aspirations to not only conquer this mountain, but our inner daemons as well. I pause, turn to the West and take in the mountain vistas. Mirise, our leader for the day, walks on, leading us to our "spectacular high mountain location."
The mountain plummets as we descend from the pass. A thin, snow covered path leads us sideways down the mountain. I turn back to see if the students are safe. Their smiles are alternated with looks of concentration as the path provides many obstacles to overcome. In the distance our faithful horses, Artex and Pegasus, slip and slide down the trail. Small pieces of snow role down the mountain side leaving vertical streaks. We have done it... we have conquered a 17500 pass and are on the descent. Accomplishment fills the air.
These are just a few of the mental pictures that I "took" during our trek. The terrain provided wonderful challenges and our group persevered cold nights, difficult weather and rushing rivers. We passed through over 110 kilometers of the prettiest terrain possible. The mountains spoke to us and allowed us to have a safe journey... for this, I am grateful. As our group enters into the next phase of our program, I must recognize the courage and strength showed by each of the students over the past ten days. I am very grateful to have spent this time with them, as I learned so much.
Justin
Leh, Ladakh October 13th, 2008
Below some messages from the mountains, as relayed via cell phone and email from Tracy to Namgial to Global LAB's NYC office:
Mirise says, tell my family I love them.
Wade says: wooden saddles are rough on the tail bone.
Sandy says: she still loves chai.
Tim sends a generic non verbal gesture.
Ari says: Tell my family I've camped outside for 4 nights now and i am not even freaking out.
Tracy has found a renewed love of UNO ( the card game) which has been a constant during afternoon tea and says "I think it's safe to say trekking fits well with everyone and we are going to be sad to leave the trail in a few days."
Doug has requested that "don't drop the soap in the river" be the title of the entry.
We’re writing blog updates to be posted in Leh when Tracy and Justin next go in. I’m sure my classmates (wandering-around-india-mates? Still not sure what to call them…) have just dazzled you with insight and wit. I’m going to warn you in advance that this will probably be a long and ramble-y breather from both of those things.
Anyway, I’m sure people have already mentioned when we got attacked by snow leopards on the walk between Namgial’s house and the composting toilets, and the unexpected pit of molten lava we had to tightrope across with our clunkalicious backpacks on the way to SECMOL, and all the interesting characters we met hitchhiking the remainder of the way when, after lunch, we found our jeep crushed by a yeti and all of our personal hygiene items missing. But I’ll just go ahead and debrief on the week we just spent in Domkhar.
Let’s see.. what can I say?
Domkhar is a little town; it’s a quiet village.
Every day like the one before.
Little town, full of little people, waking uuppp tooo sayyyyy-
…sorry. It’s an impulse.
It was a good week. My family consisted of my Aba-le (father), Ama-le (mother), my older bother Thupstan (post-college, I think in his 20’s. He is balding and identified a lot with you, dad, when I showed them all my pictures), and my grade 10 sister, Dolma, who is about my age and who is an absolute sweetheart.
She was really quiet, especially at first. In fact, a lot of the girls I met were really shy. We spent two days at Domkhar High School. The first one was specifically English conversation day. I first went with the 1-4 graders (SOO sweethearts. We hokey-pokey-ed it up. They knew all sorts of bodyparts. Even eyebrows. I was impressed. I taught them “heel,” though. And did cartwheels to teach them the word “up-side-down.” I love their lack of inhibition). Then I went with the 7th and 8th graders though. The contrast was shocking and reeeeally interesting. They were so quiet. Unbelievably so. Even the boys were shy to talk, but especially the girls. A lot of them would look down when I looked to them, and I ended up just talking about myself for about half an hour. When I tried to ask them questions back, they would look down and acted like that meant I couldn’t see them. Even if I addressed a particular student, a few times they would just turn away and not answer. It was immensely intriguing.
As I learned more about the education system in general (we had a few talks about it), it made sort of more sense. There are a few major government tests, especially the class 10 exam, which if you don’t pass, you cannot continue your studies. The thing that pains me, though, is how much the tests are memorization-based. I don’t think I even know the full extent of it, but Tracy was explaining that they have these big books of facts to study, and then the test is basically an “essay” question on one thing from the book, where you essentially have to re-spew out, almost word for word, what is in the study book—the kind of thing that would probably have you kicked out of school for plagiarism in the States. The kids are taught to memorize, not to think for themselves, formulate opinions, think critically, or have faith in their own ideas. It’s painful to see such a waste: when school is so fairly widespread, it le sucks that the institutionalized system isn’t serving the students like it could be.
I thought about my own education: I went through a phase in 9th and 10th grade where I haaated history. I thought I was horrible at it. I spent ages on the readings, and hardly spoke in class because I thought that there were right answers I was supposed to know that I just hadn’t gotten out of the assignments. It took until my second semester of sophomore US history, when I got an A on an essay and was wholly surprised that I was capable of that, for me to realize that there weren’t right answers I was missing, but that it was all about taking in information, processing it, and backing up my arguments.
That was a real anagnorisis for me. Until then, I was really shy to speak because I was afraid to be wrong. But when I gained more faith in my ability to craft my own opinions and synthesize information, I was much more confident in class.
That confidence and self-faith are, I feel, most lacking in the education system here. I don’t know enough about it. I don’t know if it’s the Jammu & Kashmir system, or the whole of India. But it’s definitely had me thinking even more about the role of education, and the importance not just of school, but what specifically is taught and learned there.
Anyway, Dolma was such a sweetheart. I loved picking potato leaves (“aloo lomar”) with her. She braided my hair, taught me Ladakhi dance, and showed me how to crack open walnuts and apricot pits.
My Ama-le was adorable. She didn’t speak much English, but let me watch her milk the cows and got so excited when I learned how to say that butter tea is delicious in Ladakhi. And my Aba-le was so curious. He retired last year from being the Domkhar High School headmaster, and he asked me sooo many questions. I answered his questions about the American Indians, the Bermuda Triangle, Barack Obama, and which was the most populous US state (I confirmed with Doug the next day, to be sure, but we reached a consensus that it is in fact California, fyi, in case you ever find yourself cornered with the question in rural Ladakh). I made a list for him of all the parts of speech (for which my visual memory excitedly recalled that Montessori 8-part stencil with all the different grammar shapes), and I listed all the helping verbs, which I was surprised I still remembered from when we memorized them in middle school, and which I never expected to need to draw upon, least of all anywhere like this.
We left a few days ago, and arrived here at SECMOL. Mom and Dad, my Ama-le packed up a giant plastic bag full of dried apricots (verrrry common snack) for me to take home for you. I tried to explain that I won’t be home until essentially January. She doesn’t speak much English. So, know that she’s thinking of you, but they are heavy, and I’m sorry if they don’t exactly make it all the way through Dharamsala and Jaipur.
Also, mom: I have been drinking some of the lemon water packet things. They are very handy. The water here tasted funny the other day and it helped much. You were right you win I’m sorry.
Also also, I know you haven’t heard from me in a while, so just so you don’t worry, I want you to know that although I do have a bit of a sore throat and a runny nose (so does basically everybody), nobody has been anywhere even remotely near a hospital, so fret not.
We’re leaving (tomorrow?) on trek. I’m actually really excited. I am going to be very smelly, I’ll warn you in advance, just in case it carries all the way to Massachusetts.
Everyone, I miss you muchly.
I’m having a good time here at SECMOL. It is a non-governmental institution, started a number of years ago, where students come who have failed at least two subjects in their 10th class exam. They live here, and retake their 10th grade as “foundation students,” and then if they want to they can continue living here in 11th and 12th grade while they attend a government school in Leh. The students are so open, and so accessible, and so welcoming and so confident in their skin. The atmosphere is so nurturing and healthy. They dance and sing, are unafraid to act remarkably goofy, and make so much effort to bring us into the community. I feel so lucky to get to learn so much from them about how to be so open and comfortable in their own skin, and how to make such an active effort to reach out and draw others into that energy.
I’m sorry this turned out so long.
‘I would have written you a shorter blogpost, but I didn’t have the time.’ (That was maybe Walt Whitman who said that?) He kept a blog. Little known fact.
Talk to you all later,
Oodles of loovle,
<3 sandy
p.s. Dear Jake and Sam,
we miss you
hope all is well
continue to be back-flip-inducing-ly awesome,
please and thanks
It’s 10:30 PM India time on the 3rd of October. There is a very good chance this will not be posted before we go on trek, which will render it basically pointless, but what the hell, here it goes anyway:
Dear Mom, Dad, and Bek,
I leave tomorrow for a 9-10 day trek through the scenic Markha Valley to a spectacular mountain top location. It will likely be the most physically demanding experience of my life. Don’t worry; there are pack animals to carry the bags. Chances are it will probably demand quite a bit on the mental and emotional spectrum as well. Don’t worry; there will also be a large artificial family for me to confide in and draw strength from, if sixth grade English taught me anything it’s that you don’t end sentences with prepositions so I will not. You see what I did there? Crap, I ended that one with a preposition. Whatever, to summarize, I feel as though I am heading into this trek, and in many ways this whole three month crucible as a piece of graphite. I’m hoping to emerge from it as a diamond. Hopefully ten days in the mountains or three months in India will be an adequate substitute for a million years of intense heat a pressure deep within the Earth’s crust. I may well emerge a rough diamond, still in need of cutting and polishing, but I feel I might be getting a little to into the analogy, so I’ll just call it quits here. There’s that god damned preposition again…poop. Regardless of what happens on this trip I feel as though I may forever be at the mercy of the English language. Packs of wild dogs live out in the desert here, I’m glad they’ve managed to eek out an existence despite being forgotten by their “best friend.”
The Frequency is Courage
-Doug B.
P.S. I love everyone.
Tim goes up for the kill--and misses.
Generic Witty Title
I always seem to be blogging when I’m distracted. Justin is talking about how he threw up before every college football game. Mirise is making animal noises. Wade is passed out with his notebook on his face. Sandy just took a picture of me, and the flash is making the computer screen trippy. Doug is camouflaged in a pile of bags. Now Ari just took a picture of me…ow. I can no longer see the computer screen. Sorry parents if I didn’t mention your kid. I’m sure they’re doing something equally interesting!
Everyone is sick! I had my one sick day, but that was it. We’re at SECMOL right now, which is the Student Educational and Cultural Movement of Ladakh. Ow, another picture. It’s pretty cool here, but I really want to leave on our trek. I’m super-ultra-pumped for that.
We just finished up our homestays in Dhomkhar, which was an amazing experience. We were all jealous of Wade because he appeared to hit the familial jackpot. He had three adorable little brothers and crazy spoon-throwing grandparents. I was pretty happy with my family, though. Ow. This laptop is a flash magnet.
I had a little brother who was 13, an older brother of 23, a mom, and a dad. I felt somewhat awkward at first because I was alone with my little brother who was shy. He wasn’t all crazy ga-ga-goo-goo-oh-my-god-Americans like the other kids were; he was much more reserved. My little brother and my dad spoke good English, so I had some conversations with them, with some humorous miscommunications. The first question I asked my dad was about the ceiling, and he responded by telling me his family’s annual income. Some wires got crossed.
After the first night, things got much easier though. My little brother opened up a lot more, and we became really good buddies. But out of all the things I did that made other kids laugh, my little brother never laughed as hard as when I farted. Farts clearly transcend all cultural boundaries.
I couldn’t talk much with my mom or my older brother, and my dad left after the first night to go work in another city, but I had some fun interactions with them. My mom taught me how to churn butter, and my older brother showed me how to chop turnips without killing myself. Cool stuff!
That’s all I’m gunna cover from Domkhar, for the purposes of time and because I have to pee. I was really touched by the welcoming spirit of the people in Domkhar, though. They accepted me into their lives as a member of the family without any reservations. That hospitality is something I’ll never forget. It was also so valuable to see a completely different way of life. Really cool stuff. And I really have to pee. Farewell from India!
Hi Mom!
-Tim
Hey group how is it going? I miss you guys so much and New York is really not all that great, i got to escape to Martha's Vineyard for a week where i got to so some fishing for the fishing derby up there. To be honest I wish I was with you guys, I feel like I have left my family in another country. Hope everyone is doing ok and hope trek goes well for everyone. I have some poems to put up especially considering a tropical storm hit the vineyard while I was there, and it was really something, (no major damage done). And day before i got there a plane went into my friends house on the vineyard and the propellor is in his living room, sad though the pilot died. well hope you guys are doing well, and Mirise you better be taking good care of those speakers.
Jullay to all!!
Climbers often refer to "traversing" a mountain face. I am not a climber by any means, but as we have traveled back and forth across Ladakh, it feels like we are "traversing" this terrain. The mountains are tall and jagged and they provide epic views. Mentally, it has created a wonderful sense of adventure for me and it seems like every turn provides some new aspect of the land and culture in Ladakh.
Our group has done a lot over the past couple of weeks and it seems like with every activity we are growing ever closer. Currently, we are staying at SECMOL, an educational non-profit helping Ladakhi students prepare for higher education and/or life in general. The students are wonderful. They welcomed us with open hearts and minds. It seemed as if we were old family re-uniting once again. This is amazing, when you think about it, as our group and the local students are about as far away, geographically, as possible on the earth. This time has reminded me of the power of open-mindedness. We have engaged in chores around the grounds, English language classes, song and dance sessions and so much more. It will be difficult to leave this environment, as the connections we are developing are quickly deepening.
Soon, we will depart on trek and into a new aspect of the program. It will surely provide challenges for us that we haven't experienced yet. I am sure, however, that our group is ready for the challenges and will undoubtedly connect even deeper with each other.
That is all for now.
Be well and we look forward to hearing from all of you,
Justin
Leh, Ladakh October 2nd, 2008
HI!
How is everything at home? We're having a great time!! We left Domkar a few days ago and now we're at SECMOL, which is an NGO/hostel/school. It's great here, but the best part is that they're almost completely solar powered- it's so inspiring! Domkhar was a lot of fun. My house had four generations is it, and so it was very interesting to see interactions. Most of the people in my family didn't speak any English, so I really had to push myself to connect with them non-verbally. It was hard , but so very worth is\t in the end. Spending time at the school was great. I had tons of fun, especially with the little kids.
We leave for trek soon. I'm so excited, but I think we're all a little nervous too. But it'll be so much fun!
Love to everyone,
Kate
Its 9:55 PM in Ladakh which means its 12:25 PM where I was born and 5:25 PM where my mom was born (Morocco), greetings from SECMOL, short for Students Educational and Cultural Movement of Ladakh. We begin our trek through the Markha Valley on the 3rd of October. I don’t know where that is…it’s in India. News from the US seems to be continually and increasingly bad. Fear not though, will all soon be under the watchful guise of a man who crashed his plane five times and a woman who thinks that humans and dinosaurs used to coexist…yeehah! I was worried the country would collapse if I left, so I apologize in advance for unleashing this upon you all. Staying in Domkhar for a week was fun, there I discovered two passions:
1. Spitting hot fire (Rapping)
2. Dancing traditional Ladakhi grooves (Making an idiot of myself)
Mom, guess what?! I’m not going to shave my face while I’m in India; I’m going to comeback a woolly mammoth, tusks and all. I’m doing this partially out of laziness but also because Wade is largely incapable of growing facial hair so I have volunteered to be a vessel for this dream of his. I’m a humanitarian, what can I say. At this point in the trip, I have one thing I miss more than anything else in the world: Ice, this country is devoid of it. A cold drink here is rarer than a snow leopard. The chocolate here isn’t up to snuff either, I don’t know what it is about Western society but hot damn can we make chocolate and chill drinks perhaps that should be the definition of a developed nation.
The road signs here are hilarious, as well as thoughtful. Here are a few examples for your amusement:
“I am Curvaceous, Be Slow.”
“Be Mr. Late, Not Late Mr.”
“No Race, No Rally, Enjoy Beauty of the Valley”
“Speed is a Knife Which Cuts Short the Life”
That’s it for now. Hopefully I’ll have something more insightful to say after trek. Sorry I was in a silly mood tonight. Anyway, it has been a pleasure as always.
We’ll meet again, don’t know where don’t know when.
-Doug B.
So, this is my first blog post, and Tracy just serenaded me in celebration. Her guitar playing is fantastic, but it did build the pressure for this post, so here goes…
We are at SECMOL right now, a fantastic institution which Ari explained in her recent post. I am stricken by the Indian education system, and think I would have been an absolutely miserable student here. The exams, which are crucial for progression, are based all upon memorization, but SECMOL encourages a more practical system of learning, based on imagination and experience. It is really cool to talk to the kids, who are about our ages and get to know the school.
Last week we did homestays in Domkhar. I was really scared at first but it was a completely positive experience. The children in my family, Tashi Lahmo and Gurmet Dorjay, both spoke English, so I could communicate with them. Gurmet and I bonded immediately, he is sweet and smart and asked lots of questions. We would walk around the property, play with the dogs, cows, and cats. They had a little beach next to the Indus River and we made sandcastles and talked about science, his favorite subject. Tashi Lahmo and I bonded over song and dance. She taught me how to do traditional Ladakhi dance, and although I was bad, it endeared me to the family. She also taught me all the words to the current Ladakhi hit, “Miss Call.” Everywhere we go in Ladakh, people are amused by me singing it.
I am really struggling with trying to put this experience into words in a way appropriate for internet dissemination, but I made my best effort. I will continue to make the brunt of my contribution through drawings, so check out the flickr photos.
-Natalie
So, I survived my first homestay! I went into it so terrified and came out with the amazing experience of being part of a Ladakhi family for a week. In that week, I:
1. Learned how to use a two story compost toilet without falling down the hole
2. Harvested barley wheat
3. Harvested turnips
4. Harvested green beans
5. Mistook my homestay sister for a brother. That was terribly awkward.
6. Failed at making mok-moks (traditional Ladakhi dumplings)
7. Took part in an epic volleyball battle between the GLAB students and Domkhar HS students. We lost. Four times out of four.
8. Did not take a shower
9. And was totally fine with it
10. Grabbed a bull by the horns
Okay, so it was more like the bull was peacefully nibbling on a pile of freshly harvested turnips and I tied a rope around its horns and dragged it out of the garden. But technically, that counts, right?
I’ve found the school system here to be absolutely fascinating. There are a lot of things I don’t agree with about the system, like how stressful the 10th grade exam is. It reminds me of No Child Left Behind, the way that the standardized test is emphasized above all. The focus seems to be on memorizing facts than independent thinking, because memorization is what passes on the 10th grade exam and if you don’t pass, you can’t go on with your education. To put into perspective how hard and stressful this exam is, you only need a 33% to pass and currently, the pass rate is 30%. Up from 5%, to be sure, but still. What I observed in my two days at Domkhar High School was marked timidity and a lack of self confidence among the students, and it just kills me because I can imagine the effects a system like this would have on me. I would be a completely different person. See, I thought I had problems with American education—that’s why I’m on this trip. I wanted a different way of learning. But to me, the education here seems so much more unforgiving, and I at once realize how good I had it and how much I wish I could give the students an education experience like I had. It just hurts me to see people so similar to me being so uncomfortable. I’m not sure I’m articulating myself the way I want to…
Luckily, someone’s doing something about school here. Right now, we’re at SECMOL, the Student’s Educational and Cultural Movement of Ladakh. It’s an NGO that’s trying to raise the passing rate of the exam by changing how schools teach, but in the meantime they are housing 10th grade students who didn’t pass the exam and building up their confidence in themselves and academics. The difference between the high school and this hostel is incredible. Students here are outgoing and comfortable and so self-sufficient. Another great thing about SECMOL is that it’s run on almost all solar power and it’s got a really developed recycling program. All in all it’s a great example of innovative education and green building. I love being able to experience this, and see how well it works.
By the way, I milked a cow today. It’s a pretty unique experience.
So, we leave on the third for our 10 day trek in Marka Valley. I’m pretty pumped about it. We’re covering around 100 miles on foot and going up to 17,000 feet at one point.
Hope all is well back home. Seriously, we’ve been hearing crazy things about the economy. But anyways. See y’all later!
Ari
Tsangma-la Jullay!
Greetings to everyone from SECMOL in Phey, Ladakh where today was a busy day of English Conversation class getting to know our new friends here on campus in addition to our first round of washing clothes by hand and getting 'geared' up for our 10 day trek in the Markha Valley. I'm enjoying watching the students connect to the SECMOLpas in this amazing community.
We'll not have internet access regularly for about another 12 days - so, thanks for everyones' patience! We'll be communicating back to the states via John and the NYC office over the phone while we're out milling around the Zangskar Mountain range. We'll climb two passes - Kanda-la (15,000ft) and Gongmaru-la (17,300ft) during the course of the 10 days, but even more inspiring will be the fall landscape in these sunkissed valleys of the Trans Himalaya. We'll camp each night after walking 6-8 hours each day and share lots of reflection time about our trip together this far. We'll also learn about Leave No Trace ethics, interact with the villages near to our campsites, and of course (this is my favorite part!) share bedtime stories about Ladakhi culture written by Abdul Ghani Shiek, a well-known author and member of the Muslim community here in Ladakh. I think the excitement is outweighing the nerves at this point after Justin and I checked through everyone's gear today and we're all looking very prepared.
We all hope everything is well in the states despite the news we're hearing about the economy.
More soon,
Tracy