Living on the Edge

After the houseboat stay, we took a jeep over the mountains to Dharamsala (McLeod Ganj). O.K. I know I've already ranted about driving, but let me just tell you that getting sick in Inda is the least of your worries. Getting into a car is far more dangerous!! The first two hundred kilometers were over a windy mountain road with no gardrails, which is scary enough, but then everybody tries to pass each other! At first I thought being on the inside (hugging the mountain) was better, but since they speed up to pass on the outside, just inches from the hundred meter drop, in fact, driving on the outside turned out to be slightly less frazzling. Luckily, by nightfall we had reached the relatively flat portion of the journey. The entire trip was about 400 km, scheduled to take about twelve hours (of course we scoffed and figured they completely overestimated) and in fact, it took almost eighteen. Yes, way up on this narrow, windy road, trucks break down, get flat tires, have accidents, which reduces the whole road to one functional lane and then everyone tries to scrape past each other. In several spots we came to a complete halt, in the scorching heat. The drivers took the opportunity for a smoke (all drivers smoke, now I think I know why), and meanwhile, I developed my newfound fascination for TRUCKS! If you check our India photos, you will notice a picture of a highly decorated and colorful truck. Well, they're all like this, only different colors and different motifs, but all beautiful. And all made by a company called Tata. (Our family joke after this trip was that we all thought we should do as the locals do and start believing in reincarnation, seeing as how our life expectancy seemed to be diminishing...)
So, we made it alive to Dharamsala, home of the Dalai Lama and the bouddhist community of Tibetans in exile. And since we always seem to be in the right place at the right time, we just happened to be in town when the Dalai Lama was giving a series of public teachings (which he does very rarely). We attended one of his teachings, and actually got to see him as he entered the temple (where you needed a pass). We sat in the courtyard where his talk was simultaneously broadcast on t.v. and translated into English over the radio. It was especially moving to see how the Tibetans reacted when he arrived, such joy and respect on their faces, a moment I will always remember.
So, McLeod Ganj is a curious mix of Tibetain monks, lots and lots of tourists (Europeans and many Israelis), studying bouddhism or yoga or meditation or cooking or just hanging out, and a few Indians. Honestly, it didn't feel like we were in India (just to give you an idea, you can actually get a good expresso, and Indians don't drink coffee) but we greatly enjoyed our week long stay. It's super easy to hike, the village is on the edge of the mountain so you just step outside and head off in any direction, so we did several hikes, on of which took us to the Tibetan Children's Village, a school for Tibetan refugee children. Some are orphans, many have been sent by their parents who still live in Tibet, and who want them to get an education that incorporates the Tibetan culture and language. A lovely woman showed us all around the school, the library, the classrooms and the dormitories where most of the children sleep two to a bed, up to 38 in one house with a "house mother and father". And since we arrived at lunch time, Julien played with some of the boys in the playground. As our guide told us, these kids have nothing, some have endured extreme hardship just to make it to the school, and yet they are happy, hardworking and appreciative. It's unbelievable.
We also met two guys (renting the room next to ours, long term rental) who teach Thai massage: Sean from England, and Ram, from India. Well after chatting for a few days, I mentioned I wanted to take a cooking class, and Sean said, don't take a class, just ask Ram to show you. So I did, and we spent an evening cooking together(lemon rice with nuts and fruit, dal, and aloo gobi) . And then, we all sat down on the floor in a big circle, and, as is the custom, ate with our hands. Needless to say, Julien loved this part, actually being told to eat with his hands!

P.S. If any of you are reading this and would like a postcard at some point during our trip, please send me your mailing address.