What Could Go Wrong? - Bangkok, Thailand

Let me first preface this blog with the fact that Dany and myself were very careful and had escape routes and meeting places sorted out in the event that something unfortunate might have happened. No tourists were hurt in the making of this blog.

A very short Thailand history lesson as I understand it. In 2006 the Royal Thai Army staged a coup d'état against the then Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra. The military closed the airports, abolished the constitution, dissolved parliament, canceled the elections to be held in a month, censored the media and banned all protests. In the two years that followed the new government failed to find evidence of corruption, which they claim was the reason for the coup, within the Thaksin administration. Since then, a group called the Red Shirts have been protesting the "illegitimate" power of the Thaksin administration and lobbying for an election. Now, a million Reds Shirts from all over Thailand had been protesting near the parliament building in Bangkok since April 3, 2010.

It was our last day in Bangkok and we were looking for something to do. Having exhausted our desire for markets and wats (temples), I suggested that we go investigate the protests by the Red Shirts. It seemed like a great way to understand the plight of a people. We received far more that expected. Dany and I walked towards the two kilometer protest area not knowing what to expect or how to act. We entered the site and quickly became the only westerners in sight and the streets became increasingly saturated with red with every step we took. That alone should have given us enough warning to the magnitude of the protest. After some initial hesitation we let our guard down and began taking pictures. It seemed that the more pictures we took and the further into the epicenter we went the more the Red Shirts wanted to talk to us. Before we new it, Thais were shaking our hands, sharing their story and pointing to things for us to photograph (like the helicopter firing waring shots in the air). I know what you're thinking. Their anger, passion and commitment to their cause was palatable as they spoke to us with tears in their eyes. These were all things that I would have never received from a newspaper.Soon we faced barricades with riot police, barbed wire and military soldiers in ever increasing numbers. Even thought the scene had all the elements of doom, there was an eerie calm over the whole situation. I even bought an iced coffee thirty meters from one of the barricades. Many Red Shirts smiled at us and welcomed us in-between political slogans and giving the passing helicopters the finger. Numerous protesters offered us water in spite of the fact that most of them had been there on the streets for a week in 40 degree weather. A testament to the Thai culture. After three hours of taking pictures, talking to people and drinking iced coffees, we both had the feeling that it was time for us to go. Part of me wanted to stay, but I always seem to regret not listening to my instincts. With a million Thais from all over the country protesting since April 3 in the torturing sun, tensions were bound to come to a boil. As we rounded a corner to leave the now volatile area, we came across a battalion of 300 Thai soldiers and a long line of armored cars. Apparently we picked the right time to leave. Feeling trapped between the Red Shirts and the military we decided to walk beside the military in the opposite direction to the shelter of a near by restaurant. Three hours later we boarded a bus to Chiang Mai wondering what was happening in Bangkok. I was not looking forward to reading the paper the next day.
Waking up from a terrible sleep on the bus, I soon learned that my night was significantly better than many others. The protests turned ugly shortly after we left and led "to some of the worst bloodshed in the country's history." Twenty one dead and nearly nine hundred wounded in the skirmish. The Red Shirts are maintaining their position and will not evacuate. A million Thais risked their life for a right I take for granted and rarely use. I understand how important and powerful the people are. Change starts with one person, one idea, one act.

"Nobody can claim victory if the victory is the wrecking of the nation."
King of Thailand

If you want to read more click here.

For more Red Shirts pictures click here.

Are We There Yet? - Annapurna Circuit, Nepal

Jen and I started our trek of the Annapurna region in Kathmandu with a 7 hour bus ride to Besisahar. Within an hour we befriended a charming couple from the States, Tracey and Corey. Little did we know that this little counter would lead to 3 week trekking partners and good friends. After a short hike we reached our first town and acquired another trekking partner and a fast friend in Chuck. We went from a duo to a trekking gang within hours.

The Annapurna Circuit is 300km of trail that circles some of the worlds biggest mountains, Annapurna I, II, II, Dhaulagiri, and Gangapurna. All of which tower over 7500m. The trek meanders through lush sub-tropic forest, desert, mountain shrub and high mountain regions with no vegetation and little life. At its apex is Thorong La (Thorong pass) at 5416m. The pass is situated at the edge of the Tibetan plateau and has long been a trading route with Tibet.
The first three full days involved waking up at 6AM, trekking for 7-8 hours, eating dinner and then collapsing into bed exhausted. I was definitely out of shape and unaccustomed to this much trekking, let alone with a 35lb pack on. I was a little worried how my knees were going to hold up. A 5km run usually renders me immobile the next day. Luckily I found some great knee braces and a couple stretches to hold the knee pain at bay.

In the mornings we would see one of the giant mountains slightly peaking up over the foothills but would quickly disappear once we started trekking. On the the 5th day we were greeted by Paunga Danda, a rock face that rises more 1500m from the trail, a mountain that locals believe that the soul must climb to reach heaven. Now the great mountains were a permanent fixture of the landscape as they punched their way through the ground almost touching the sky. I was transfixed to these massive snow capped behemoths. I tripped many times while gazing in awe at these palisades.

On the seventh day we had to rest in Manang for a day to acclimatize to the altitude as we had now reached 3600m. The air is noticeably thinner and we still have 2000m to go! Unfortunately I became ill the previous day and gladly welcomed the rest day to recover. From here to the pass we hiked a maximum of 600m per day. If this mark is exceeded, you risk getting Acute Mountain Sickness. Having acquired this in Tibet I didn't particularly want to get it again so we took our time. Even though our days were reduced to 3-4 hours of trekking, the trails seemed to go straight up and with the air becoming increasingly thin, all of us struggled to catch what little air there was.

At this point in the trek all of the charming tea houses owned by adorable Nepali couples I grew to love vanished and in their stead were lodges without any allure or quaintness. Likewise, the higher one treks the more expensive the food becomes. At 800m, Dal Bhat (lentils and rice) is 60-80 rupees, at 4500m it is 450 rupees! At this elevation there is 1 maybe 2 options to eat at or stay the night. There is no negotiating here, they are firm, unemotional and stoic, like the mountains they live by.

The morning of the final ascent we started the hike at 5:15AM. With lungs gasping for oxygen, legs burning and and extremities freezing we slowly trudged in the snow towards Thorong La by the light of our headlamps. Having the piercing wind swirl around easily made the temperature -20 degrees. After what seemed like endless false summits and 3 hours of hiking, we had reached our goal of 5416m, Thorong La. The day was now clear and the sun was warm as if rewarding us for a difficult morning. A photo session quickly broke out and treats of gummies and cookies where passed around. Our once cold bitter morning moods were now jubilant and playful. With the 600m ascension finished we now had the very long 1890m descent to deal with. Some days it feels like the trekking never ends.

The following days provided us with picturesque towns and a return to the charming tea houses. Even though the climax of Thorong La was under our belts we still had just under 150km left in the circuit. A couple days later the deepest valley in the world with its desert scape welcomed us with 80km gusts of wind that stung our faces and pushed at our bodies as we tried to make progress. Two days further still, the trail stopped and the despised road began. None of us liked trekking on the road. Its dusty, noisy and the constant stream of cars destroys any magic the Himalaya once held. After two days of debating whether to take a jeep or finish the trek, Chuck opted for jeep while the remaining four endured two more days of road until we reached Tatopani and its much anticipated hot springs where we all soaked our strained muscles and joints.

After discovering how good the food was at our guest house we decided to rested an extra day in Tatopani and gorge ourselves on the surprisingly good enchiladas. We absolutely need the extra fuel to conquer our biggest ascent of the circuit, 1700m in one day. Followed by our biggest descent the following day, 2075m. Yikes! I didn't have much left in the tank for that big ascent and it felt like I barely made it to the town of Gorapani. The next day we climbed the 200m to Poon Hill where we were treated to one of the best views of the trek, one might even call it a defining moment. After the cold morning at Poon Hill we made our way down the 2070m to our final destination of Naya Pul. The trail was comprised entirely of tiny stone steps. Half way down my legs were already shaking and pushing my me closer to failure and a broken face. During the descent we noticed that there was a 71km race that took the entrants 2400m up and 2100m back down on the same little stairs. After that I stopped complaining about my legs. The winner of the race finished in 7 hours, just 1.5 hours more than it took me just to go down.

The Annapurna Circuit was a glorious, challenging, rewarding and stunning trek that will stay with me forever. I also had the opportunity to meet and befriend some marvelous people who shared this wonderful journey with me. Both the Himalaya and my new friends will always have a special place with me.

"Our way is not soft grass, it's a mountain with lots of rocks. But it goes upward, forward, toward the sun."
Ruth Westheimer

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Tragic Beauty - Tibet

On the way to the Nepal/Tibet boarder the first thing our guide told us was that any picture of the Dalai Lama, a Tibet guide book or Buddhist icon would be confiscated during either the police or military search. I haven't even stepped foot in Tibet and already the Chinese government is trampling on things I take for granted. At the boarder I decided to rip out the pages out of my Tibet guide book I thought necessary for the trip and hid them in my pants. At the boarder the Nepalese guards smiled and said "Namaste" while on the other side of the bridge we were greeted by Chinese soldiers with stern faces and passport checks. At security I went through two checks where they flipped through my books to ensure Chinese doctrine was not challenged. As I left security I realized I forgot about my Buddha that Gendun gave me which definitely would have been confiscated had they found it. Whew.

On the second day we started our journey through the Himalayas. The scenery is unbelievable. Snow covered mountains dominate your vision and hypnotize you into pure awe. No amount of time gazing at these majestic mammoths can diminish their beauty. The only problem was that on only the second day of traveling we hit the first of three passes that reach 5000 meters. At this height altitude sickness is common and everyone that day came down with some form of it. That night was one of the worst sleeps in my life and I felt terrible the entire following day. It feels like being extremely hungover. Most suffered minor ailments from the altitude and one person suffered a major symptoms which didn't lift for four days.

The first town we visited seemed like a typical Tibetan town with traditional Tibetan homes and restaurants serving momos (dumplings) and thukpa (yak meat noodle soup). As we drew nearer and nearer to Lhasa the effect of Chinese migration was palatable. Beautiful Tibetan homes were replaced by modern buildings, and the number of Chinese was rising dramatically. By the time we reached Lhasa there was barely a trace of the charming Tibetan culture I was becoming so fond of. Big buildings, bright lights, Chinese script shadowing Tibetan and a ratio of two Chinese for every Tibetan constantly made you wonder where you where. It was difficult to wrap my mind around and I struggled to ensure my money went to support Tibetans as most businesses are Chinese owned.

We had two days in Lhasa with our group and another four on our own, which I'm shocked the Chinese government allowed. The Potala is the most dominating structure in Lhasa. Built by the 5th Dalai Lama in the 1600's as the religious and political headquarters of Tibet. It is a engineering marvel and easily one of my favorite sights. I became a little obsessed with it and went there as often as I could. During our time in Tibet we managed to visit five monasteries/temples. It was amazing to see the incense rich, chanting filled, yak butter candle lit, heavily used temples. The murals filled every wall and used every color. Buddhas, Lamas, and deities of every size filled countless chapels and pilgrims prayed and gave alms to each. Sadly, all monasteries are Chinese government controlled. Temples went from housing thousands of monks to mere hundreds and enrollment is strictly governed by the Chinese. 3000 monasteries/temples (90%) were destroyed along with a million plus Tibetans killed during the "Cultural Revolution" of the seventies. The story of "Peaceful Liberation" the Chinese government spews is unbelievable transparent propaganda. One of the biggest lies in history.

We were fortunate to have been there during Losar , the Tibetan New Year. On the last day of celebration fireworks went off for hours as we ate dinner. March is also the month that the Dalai Lama escaped from Tibet. Because of these two events Tibet is politically unstable. During our six days in Lhasa the military and police presence seemed to grow exponentially. On the first day there where military guards at every entrance into Old Lhasa and on the last day there where guards on roof tops, posted at every intersection and groups of eight patrolled the city endlessly. I've never seen so many guns and felt to intimidated in my life.

To the Tibetans credit, they always treated us with kindness and a smile. It took but a "Teshidelek" (hello) to coax a smile or conversation from them. During a stop on the way to Lhasa Jen and I went to a local restaurant for some momo soup. After we where finished we went to pay the owner but he refused to take our money and just waied (bowed in respect) to us insisting that our food was on him. Incredible! In Lhasa when trying to order food in a very busy, English void and confusing restaurant a Tibetan helped me navigate the process of ordering food. After, outside the restaurant, while a rickshaw was trying to charge me a ridiculous amount of money to take me to the Potala, the same Tibetan came out and insisted that he drive me. Tibetans are easily some of the most amazing people I've ever met.

It was very hard to witness the enormous military presence making sure that Tibetans fall in line with the Mao doctrine. As our guide told us one day, "Tibetans may look very happy but inside, their hearts are broken." It is amazing after all the Tibetans have been through in the last sixty years that their spirit can still find hope and their Buddhist beliefs unbroken.

On our last day in Lhasa we decided to go for a hike in the mountains behind Sera Monastery. We approached the main entrance and veered to the left to go down the kora (pilgrim circuit usually around a monastery or temple). As we walked a police officer began to yell at us. After some questions in English and Chinese (which we could only shrug at) we finally persuaded the officer to let us continue. Halfway around the kora a random Tibetan questioned us about our guide (which is mandatory but we no longer had) and which travel agency we used. The Chinese have spies everywhere including drivers in tour groups such as the one we took. Sufficiently tripped out now we seriously debated whether we should continue up the mountain. Following a nervous discussion we decided to proceed. After a lung burning multiple rest taking trek to the ridge at 4200m, we relaxed and enjoyed the view of Lhasa below us. On the way down we were attacked by a dog. Fortunately we were able to scare it off before any damage was done. This didn't help our already jittery nerves and we shakily continued to the lora. Once we completed the kora we walked past the front entrance hoping for an easy out. No such luck. The same police officer began questioning us again. Now I was nervous since we took much longer than the normal time to complete the kora. Again, after many questions he decided to let us continue onward.

This was a ridiculous ordeal to hike a mountain. I can only imagine what the Tibetans go through. My heart goes out to them all. If anyone is interested, I encourage them to learn more about the plight in Tibet. These are but a few stories in an endless trail of human rights abuses.

"Free Tibet"

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No, No, You Go. I Already Had A Bath - Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh

Varanasi is India's most revered city and is the place where people come to obtain moksha, ending the cycle of death and rebirth. If people are unable to get their relatives here to be cremated, they will cremate them elsewhere and make a pilgrimage to Varanasi and scatter their ashes into the Ganga. At over 3000 years the city of Shiva is one of the worlds oldest city's and you definitely feel that as you walk around. It doesn't seem like much has changed in a millennia. Even though the city was destroyed by Mughal invaders leaving present day buildings relativly new at two to three hundred years old, the city still retains an ancient feel to it.

The first couple days here showed only dirt, noise, and people peddling karma at discount prices. Some go so far as to use the crematory grounds as a ruse to pry rupees from your wallet. But as the days wore on I discovered that Varanasi had much more to offer than filth and lies.

The center of life here is without a doubt at the ghats (steps that lead to the Ganga). Early mornings you will find a technicolor array of saris drying on the ghats, people taking puja in the Ganga or chai-wallhas dispensing hot chai to Indians and foreigners alike while the sun quietly rises. In the afternoons the ghats become much more vibrant with children playing cricket, men and women getting their head ritualistically shaved or the myriad of pastel colored boats ferrying people to and fro. In the evenings the ghats become somewhat of a Varanasi club scene as hundreds of worshipers mix with tourists to witness Aarti, the ritual of offering light to a deity while songs of praise are sung by the crowd.

One of the best ways to discover the city is by boat. With an endless amount of boat men eager for business, I had no problems finding one quickly and at a good price. The hour long ride was relaxing and beautiful as the morning sun cast a golden hue on people bathing, washing and having chai with grand buildings towing behind them.

Varanasi offers a budding photographer like myself infinite photo opportunities. It was definitely the most inspiring place thus far. I never ran out of amazing moments and had to remember to just sit back and relax and soak it in from time to time.

As with most Indian cities the beauty of a place is often over shadowed by a serious environmental problem, and Varanasi is no exception. The Ganga is exceedingly polluted. Most of the towns sewage is dumped directly into the river (a treatment plant was built but because of frequent long blackouts it only works intermittently) along with chemicals, corpses and copious amounts of trash. In spite of all this little is done to change detrimental state of the river. This poses a large risk to the millions that life by its banks.

However polluted the river becomes people still bath, wash cloths and drink the river for its holy and "healing properties." I was shown a wallha who made his chai from river water. Religious lore seems to hijack reason, science and common sense far too often here.

Once again the Indian Organization of Monkeys Tormenting Adrian, or IOMTA, has found me and upped its efforts. Every night outside my guest house a group of monkeys would jump from tin roof to tin roof screeching and calling out my name keeping me up for hours. I think it's time to make an offering to Hunuman the monkey god and try and negotiate a peace treaty. On the plus side, the guest house was run by a wonderful Spanish woman named Maria who is also the head of an amazing NGO called Seeds For Change. Maria gives poor children who can't afford schooling the chance at an education at a decent school. It was a pleasure to meet her and her passion will not be forgotten. I only wish I could have stayed longer.

Good-bye India, good or bad I will always remember you. I'm off to Nepal.

"Take your stinking paws off me, you damned dirty ape!"
George Taylor Planet Of The Apes

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A Day In The Life - Rishikesh to Varanasi

This is my 24 hour journey from Rishikesh to Varanasi.

Myself and three friends from the ashram decided to share a taxi to the train station in Haridwar. The driver was one hour late and panic began to settle into the group. I was staying calm only for the fact that my train left thirty minutes after the others. When the taxi finally arrived we prematurely breathed a sigh of relief as the driver was now in a heated argument with the group he was coincidentally dropping off at the ashram. Eventually our Swamiji had to step in to resolve the dispute. No sooner was that over that a land cruiser was now blocking our way. I was certain my friend Gypsy was going to lose it and hurt someone.

Finally on the road, everyone felt a little better. When we reached the train station we entered into an argument over the fare of the taxi. Exhausted with the driver we eventually just walked away to board our trains. With a quick check to see that all trains were running on time we said our reluctant good-byes and parted ways.

Soon my train arrived into the bustling station at 9PM, right on time. I entered the B section of the train, a climate controlled, "safer" and cleaner train car. I booked the more expensive ticket since I froze on the last trip and Matt had his bag stolen. Trying to find my seat, I walked into the middle of a massive fight between two passengers with many others involved. After waiting a couple minutes for things to die down I realized that this wasn't going to happen. Putting my head down I slowly went through the fight surprisingly unscathed. Reaching the other end I was happy to find out that my seat was in the other B car partitioned from the chaos.

As I settled into my seat, three ladies sitting next to me began to bicker. Of course. Soon their voices rose, fingers pointed, sitting became standing and before you knew it, everyone was in each others face. This argument easily went on for 20 minutes while I sat there contemplating my options. Walking in the dark in a strange country isn't sooo bad. Finally the TT (conductor) came by and it turned out that one of the ladies was in the wrong seat. I now had a 50/50 shot at a peaceful sleep. Sleeping however isn't really an option when you are on top of your luggage for fear of theft.

In the morning the four Indians I was sharing the berth with became curious about me and began asking many questions in their limited English. Soon the question of where is my girlfriend came up. When I told them I din't have one (I know, hard to believe. Right?), one of the women tells me that she is my girlfriend now. Flattering yes, but her English was non existent and I could never be with someone who couldn't understand the genius of Office Space. They were extremely kind and feed me twice on this trip. For breakfast they presented me with a curry so hot that it made me sweat profusely as I constantly deflected marriage proposals translated by the the woman's sister. I'm not sure what happened but I think I'm receiving 30 goats and 20,000 Rupees as a dowry.

Once in Varanasi I struggle to find a driver who knew where my guest house was and wasn't fleecing me. One cycle-shaw driver insisted he knew of the place and off we went. 10 minutes into the ride he pulls over and says "One minute." Sitting there for another 5 minutes I watch him have a chai, eat some biscuits and urinate 10 feet away from me. I don't know what was more disturbing, the urination or the fact that it doesn't even faze me anymore. On the road again, I notice that all other cycle-shaws are passing us and even children skipping are faring better then we. After another 10 minutes he wants to stop again but I insist we push forward.

Finally he stops and say "OK, here." and points to a dark narrow alleyway. I peer down but see nothing. I shrug in confusion. The man motions for me to follow and we walk down the dark corridor. The first person he sees he asks for directions. I KNEW IT!!! He had no idea where he was going! For the next 20 minutes we walk all over the area asking every fourth shopkeeper the whereabouts of my guest house. At the brink of my patience we belatedly locate the guest house. As it turned out we walked past it twice and 2 of the people we asked had their store only 30 feet away from it yet pointed us in the opposite direction.

Relieved to finally have made it, I pay the man far too much but don't have the energy to care. I turn to the proprietor of the guest house and inquire about my room. "Ahhhh we just gave your room away, but we have a lovely double room for only 100 Rs more."

"Whatever."

Ashramarama - Rishikesh, Uttarakhand

Rishikesh is the yoga capital of India and has enough ashrams to surely enable me to reach enlightenment in 10 days. Situated on the picturesque Ganga nestled against the mountains , Rishikesh has been the epicenter of swamis and sadhus (Hindu monks generally clad entirely in orange) for centuries. I looked online for many days trying to find the perfect place to practice yoga and learn a little more about spiritual life in India. After a thorough and sometime frustrating search I found Ashram Dayananda. The program included Iyengar yoga, Sanskrit, meditation and chanting. It was a little more than I wanted to spend but how can you put a price on eternal salvation. I was looking forward to all of it.

Exhausted from my jarring and cold ride, I reached Ashram Dayananda at 8AM looking for respite and peace. I quickly went to bed and when I arose I was greeted with a clean, quiet, surprisingly large ashram on the banks of the Ganga. The first few moments were spent just listening to the water rush by as the sun warmed my face. Finally, a quite place in India.

The days that followed started at 6:30Am with 3 hours of yoga, breakfast, 1 hour chanting, a video pertaining to yoga, lunch, 2 hour break, 1 hour Sanskrit class, 2.5 more hours of yoga/meditation, dinner and then usually a guest speaker or musical performance from 8:30-9:30PM. It was much more than I anticipated and had little time to myself oddly enough.

Where astanga pushed me physically, Iyengar pushed my focus as we stayed in the asanas much longer and the emphasis was to be aware of every part of your body while maintaining the asana. Luckily, we had an amazing instructor in Nanda Kumar. His knowledge of the human body and the exceptional way of relaying that information to students made learning very accessible and enjoyable. Nanda's assistants, Amit and Ricardo, were also indispensable when Nanda couldn't tend to you, inside or outside the yoga shala.

Swamiji, who taught Sanskrit and chanting, is a large humorous man who would dispense pearls of wisdom as easily as he would jokes. Some days chanting class was spent discussing philosophy leaving you thinking for the rest of the day, other times class would be on the roof of the lecture hall with the backdrop of the mountains above and the rush of the Ganga below as a chorus of westerners butchered the Hindu language.

I knew I would meet some nice people at the ashram and share some laughs but I never imagined that I would meet so many wonderful people that would so quickly become good friends. I think the over abundance of chapati, rice and dal bound us like nothing else. How much rice and dal can one man eat. "Hello sir, dal or dal this evening? If you prefer dal I can bring that as well." That was my only complain about the course. Well, not so much mine as my lower intestines.

On one occasion 250 sadhus came to the ashram and sat outside the temple to have lunch. Easily one of the greatest things I've ever seen. Massive pots of, you guessed it, dal, rice and chapati were made and doled out with great efficiency. Sporadically a lone voice would rise from the crowd and chant, then silence, then another and another till the meal was done. Thirty minutes into the event someone bellowed a short statement and in military precision all 250 sadhus got up at once and immediately left the ashram almost sweeping me away in the parade. There was so much orange that afternoon that everything had a orange tint to it for the rest of the day.

When the course was over Amit, his friend Om, fellow student Mirko and I rented motorbikes and rode into the mountains to visit 2 temples. The first was a modest temple with 300 steps needing to be ascended to reach the top and possessed a good view of the Himalayas. The second however needed a 3km hike to reach the top and half way up became covered in snow. This temple was bigger and had amazing views of the Himalayas. Since shoes were not permitted the visit became chilly quickly. We all took turns doing asanas with the Himalayan backdrop. Super cheesy I know but just be glad I wasn't doing the robot. On the way back to the ashram we ran into 3kms of snow covered roads. Since both groups had a tumble on the bikes because of snow and ice we opted to walk the bikes this time. On account that it was a 16 hour day and I was already weary from the course, I slept the next day blissfully away.

Yoga teaches us to cure what need not be endured and endure what cannot be cured.
B.K.S. Iyengar

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McLeod Ganj, Himachel Pradesh

On our way to Dharamsala (McLeodganj) our bus stopped for a 10min break. Sitting there I noticed that the cover to the engine was open and someone was pulling parts out. Sigh. While wondering how we were going to get to McLeodganj our conductor started yelling at us to get on a bus parked across the street that was also going to Mcleodganj. Almost too easy for India.

At 1500 meters the cool air of the mountains invigorated us and we excitedly explored the former hill station that serves as the home of His Holiness The 14th Dalai Lama and the Tibetan government in exile. With mountain views all around and Dharamsala below, you will notice Tibetans chanting "Om mani padme hum" under their breath as the spin hand held prayer wheels or pass 108 beads through their fingers. The town is much more relaxed with merchants waiting for you to come to them instaed of trying to heard you into their store. We instantly felt at ease here and new we were going to enjoy it.
On the second day in McLeodganj Mo happened to meet a Tibetan monk who was in need of a English teacher. Since she didn't feel quite right for the task, she suggested that I take up the challenge. I excitedly accepted and that night Mo and I went to Gendun's for his first lesson. Gendun is a sweet, generous man with a smile permanently attached to his face. His thirst for learning is inspiring and I do believe he taught me far more than I taught him.
One day when I went to see my new pupil at his room, I found a note saying that he forgot about a special ceremony for His Holiness The 14th Dalai Lama. It continued that if I wanted to see the Dalai Lama I should make my way to temple. Uhmm... Ya!!! Then ridiculous thoughts of meeting the Dalai Lama crept into my head. What would I say? "Should I buy Apple stock or stick with GICs? Where should I go for dinner tonight? So?... How's enlightenment?" Nothing that came to mind seemed suitable, which was fine as there was no meeting. There was just a handful of westerners and 2000 Tibetans and me tightly packed vying for a glimpse of His Holiness.

Neither the monks nor the Dalai Lama were visible at first but their chants rang throughout the temple penetrating all in attendance. After an hour of chanting the Tibetan high monks and officials came down from the temple followed by the Dalai Lama. They were all seated on a raised platform a mere 50 feet away. I definitely felt a calming excitement in seeing His Holiness. Once settled, there was traditional singing and dancing in honor of the Dalai Lama and monks threw treats and dispensed tea for as many of the worshipers as possible. Then the Dalai Lama gingerly rose to speak. Lamentably it was in Tibetan so I was unable to understand what he said, but I'm pretty sure I heard a "Go Colts!" in there somewhere. Before I knew it he was gone surrounded by a small entourage. I felt extremely fortunate to have had this opportunity.

For the next ten days I proceeded to have daily classes with my new friend. Everyday I would arrive at 4Pm where we studied for an hour, ate thukpa (Tibetan noodle soup) and shared stories. One day after class we began to discuss Tibetan Buddhism and their practices. After our discussion Gendun demonstrated just how big his heart is by presenting me with his prayer beads and one of his Buddhas. Overwhelmed with emotion I tried to express that his gesture was far too generous and not necessary. Upon his insistence I accepted and took both gifts with great appreciation.

On my last day in McLeodganj I decided to hike Mt Triund. Not knowing where the trail started, I headed towards the mountain asking locals every ten minutes for directions. While resting a quarter of the way up I met up with two Czechs and after some pleasantries I was off again. To my surprise their pace of hiking is similar to my pace of walking. Far too fast for hiking a mountain. After maintaining that pace for two hours with legs burning and gasping for air at 2500 meters I had to let them go ahead and continue at my now turtle like pace. Running out of time and energy I stopped just below the snow line and sat enjoying the peacefulness and beauty of my surroundings. Even at these heights there where chai-wallahs here. I've yet to find an uninhabitable place in India. There is no place to be alone.
After 7 hours of hiking I was glad to get back into town. The hike was a little ambitious for my first in 5 months and I definitely felt the effects the next day. After dinner and good-byes with Gendun he presented me with a khata scarf. A beautiful embroidered white scarf offered as a sign of love and respect. I will always remember our time together with great fondness.

At 7PM I boarded my bus for a 13 hour journey to Rishikesh.

"Goodness speaks in a whisper, evil shouts."
Tibetan proverb

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