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"

Click here for more pictures of Tibet

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

Click here for more pictures of Varanasi

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

Click here for more pictures of Rishikesh

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

Click here for more pictures of McLeodganj

I'm Off To Pakistan.... Kinda - Wagah, Punjab

Today Monique and I were off to Wagah, the "Berlin wall of Asia." During the 1947 partition when Pakistan and Hindustan became two countries, this divided town became just that. Half the town lies in Pakistan and the other half in India. For sixty years this was the only border road between the two nations. Every evening at dusk there is the 'closing of the boarder ceremony. This ceremony has become so popular with the locals and tourists that grandstands have been built. There is also a MC to oversee the event. An event it is indeed.


At the platform of the guardroom, one guard yells into the microphone for as long as he can. Once finished, he marches with all the flair, chest puffing, over exaggerated fan-fare stepping he can produce until he reaches the twin gates of the India/Pakistan boarder. All of this while the crowd goes berserk cheering him on. Then, the MC yells "Hindustan!!!" over and over like a mantra with all replying in response to him. Not knowing what they were saying, I would just yell wildly. Then the Pakistan side would respond in kind with equal pomp and parade of his Indian counter-part.

The flamboyant style of marching is, apparently, to intimidate the other side as they try and out do each other. It's a mixture of marching, crunk (a very aggressive form of hip-hop dancing), tango and Americas Best Dance Crew with Mario Lopez. I would have never believed if I hadn't witnessed it.

Once all the guards from each side have made there way down the short road, the lowering of the flags is done. They are lowered at a snails pace as not to have either flag higher than the other, showing superiority. The flags are folded with amazing speed and double marched back to the guardroom. With a hand shake between the two countries so fast that no on would suspect them to be on good terms, the gate is closed for the day.

With the end of the ceremony at an end, the crowd, several hundred strong, rush the area for a photo op with the guards.

Here is a great little video with Michael Palin showing the ceremony.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YeSX6AZ5xEI

"Man is his own worst enemy."

Click here for more pictures of Wagah

From Cold to Worse - Amritsar,Punjab

After a five hour train ride from Agra to Delhi, we reunited with Matt and prepared for the cold overnight twelve hour journey to Amritsar. Even though the windows were closed, we had blankets and I personally was wearing the following; a button up shirt, two long sleeve shirts, three tee shirts, a scarf, a toque and a hoodie - we froze. I believe the temperature was minus two degrees that night.

One by one we came out of our hypothermia and tried to regain some movement from cold muscles. When Matt went to retrieve something from his bag he saw to his horror that it had been stolen while we slept. If that was the worst thing we all would have been happy. The most unfavorable part of this deplorable action was the thief absconded with Matt's passport as well. Now the mood of the group has plummeted and plans have unfortunately changed.

Once off the train, Monique and I headed in to town and Jen and Matt booked the next train back to Delhi. From one ugly twelve hour train ride to another. Something I would only wish upon the thief. Now it was just Monique and I.

Amritsar is a cool city with the holiest of Sikh shrines, The Golden Temple, were tens of thousands visit everyday. To enter the grounds of the temple you must abide by three rules, check footwear, wash hands and feet, and keep head covered. Since it was freezing out, my toque didn't leave my head for days. Once inside there is a massive holy tank (Amrit Sarovar - pool of nectar) that dominates the area andis surrounded by a marble walkway with the actual temple in the middle. The temple is gilded with 750kg of gold! One cannot help but stare at it in a stunned state at first. Indians don't mess around when they build their monuments. Nothing subtle about em.

The temple is even more spectacular at night lit up with an equally bright refection in the water. Walking around you notice, stern but friendly guards holding grand spears patroling the compound ensuring that all obey the rules, traditional Punjabi music echoing throughout the complex at a unusually soothing level, and four priests constantly reading from the Guru Granth Sahib (their holy book) . All of this happens non-stop from 6AM to 10PM. Once in side the actual temple you realize the music is being played by musicians sitting next to the Guru Granth Sahib which is covered by a pink shroud. Pilgrims bow, pray and give offerings.

Two features of this complex stood out for me. First, the temple has doors on all four sides representing the acceptance of all people regardless of caste, creed or race. People would freely come up to me and talk to me about the temple and answer any questions I might have. This was different from other holy sites I'd been to. The other feature is the canteen in the complex. It serves free meals to anyone who walks in. The canteen distributes 40,000 meals a day in a massive show of generosity and logistics.

Since all are welcome and there is no charge (unlike the exorbitant Taj), I managed to enjoy the serenity of The Golden Temple five times. I didn't even realize how often I was going until Monique questioned me about it. I certainly enjoyed Amritsar. All the people we came in contact with were helpful and delightful.

"As every thread of gold is valuable, so is every moment of time."
John Mason

Click here for more pictures of The Golden Temple