Ayubowan friends~
It took us only thirty minutes to fly across the channel between India and Sri Lanka, allowing just enough time to swallow the pizza puff offered by the hurried Sri Lankan airways stewardesses wearing peacock-patterned saris, so it was difficult to believe we really went anywhere, much less to a different country. It took no time to get through immigration and pick up our luggage (which was over our allowance by 10 kilos already~ ouch!) and be met by a driver whom Helaena had arranged to receive us. But driving into Colombo, we were immediately impressed that this is a different country from its big sister up north. The first, and most shocking, piece of evidence was: brilliant orange coconuts. In India they are green, sometimes yellow, sometimes brownish, but never orange! Second, the ladies are allowed to show a bit of leg, if they desire... sometimes their skirts actually came up to just below the knee, which I found fascinating. The signs written in the local script (which I am not certain is Sinhala or Tamil) looked like a parade of little animals. There are pickups and cross-bikes here, a feature that reminded me more of South-east Asia than India. It was a full moon holiday, so the streets were extremely quiet and all the shops closed. Evidently, Sri Lankans have more holidays than anyone due to their civility in having every full moon day closed for business.
We are staying with our friend Helaena, who has the fortune of living in a very posh flat in the Hilton Colombo Residences due to her industriousness in actually having a job and being a junior diplomat rising in the ranks. She has been away in Delhi though and we are anticipating her return along with her three cats, who love to be petted. We are backpackers in disguise here and enjoying the amenities fully (sauna on the third floor, etc.). The view from the eleventh floor is lovely and we can see the Indian Ocean stretching out beyond the city and ships in the seas. We have gone to the US Embassy, which is right on the ocean and smells like saltwater, to get things rolling with Alp’s visa interview. At a shopping mall, we discovered one can buy excellent-quality DVDs for $2 a piece. Most of Colombo seems rather tame and business-like compared to the frantic cities of India but walking up and out of the Fort area, we went into the Pettah district, which was surprisingly intense. It is the main shopping area of the city and it seemed like at least half of the men we passed said hello or were trying to get our attention. The streets were packed with people and, as one shoe salesman pointed out to us, many of them were Muslim women come shopping for the day, not having cooking responsibilities with it being Ramadan. There are so many things to enjoy about being here and I will leave it to Alp to describe some more of them. We feel so lucky to have such nice friends, here and there and everywhere, and are missing all of you~
love~
Ingrid
Howdy?
It is a different world here not only because of the yogurt but the Hilton Residence is not an experience that we have been used to lately and Helaena’s house is very nice plus has very friendly cats. Our place in Pune was luxurious but of course not furnished and when you stepped out the door most of the construction was not finished around us. That was a different feeling. Here everyone is paid extra to be friendly to us so there are lots of “Hello sir and good evening Madame”. Funniest part for me is going down to the sports complex in my faded clothes and sandal look while everyone around are sporting synthetic and nike look. We have not been able to start working out as we planned because of our lack of shoes. But today after shopping around I managed to find a $4 pair of school brand tennis shoes which are my ticket to pumpin iron. And I can’t wait to see the reaction when I finally summon up to courage to use the pool in my longita (the Indian underwear that I have been using at the beaches). So far we are making excellent use of Helaena’s library and learning about detoxifying among other things, and creating a schedule for detox. One last thing I had wanted to do in this trip was to detoxify and in Kerala they had the Panchakarma, ayurvedic detox method, but we kind of didn’t have the time for it and also it involves a lot of throwing up and other uncomfortable things. Of course there is the tourist version where you get massages and hot oil dripped on your third eye. Well instead now we are going for the old trusty sweaty.
Among the novelties that we found in the grocery store number one is the yogurt that is excellent and the cheaper variety comes in clay pots; fresh shitake and oyster mushrooms among others, cheap good stout and Belgian white, sapid ginger beer and fruit and fishes. It is marvelous of course to have flat to enjoy these things.
On the visa front there could be a wrinkle, but I won’t bore you with that before it is certain.
All these wonderful things still don’t keep us from missing everyone who is dear to us. No beer better in the world than the company of family and friends, but the two combined is an experience on a higher dimension. –audience “wah wah”
alp
Friday, October 21, 2005
Sunday, October 16, 2005
From the Shark Tooth to the Pearl; Pir Melinge
I have marvelled lately that all it took to get from the northernmost brushstroke of India, the Line of Control in Indian Kashmir, to nearly the southernmost pencil point of Kannyakumari (or in our case, Trivandrum, which is 60kms shy) was three harried days on the Enfield, and a total of four nights on the train divided over three different journeys taken over three months. When detailed in those terms, perhaps it does seem like an important stage to have nearly reached the end of India, both geographically and literally for our time left here. It seems, alternately, like we have floated here or crawled. And we are disbelieving that we are truly flying away from this vast place tomorrow morning, as we were expecting somehow that our lives would always carry the daily possibility of buying more Mysore Sandal Soap, seeing albinos that look more like they belong to Ireland than India's billions, and being harassed by young men selling drums in tourist areas who insidiously whisper "hello my friend, you like to buy drum?" and expertly run their fingers along a drumskin to produce an unmistakablly annoying psychedelic wooing sound. But we have been blessed with a mission that makes our eventual return less anticlimatic and are boarding our plane to Sri Lanka expecting to leave after one month, triumphant with a fresh new American visa in Alp's impressively arrayed passport (a visa that, I might add, will say officially "To marry Ingrid Hakala Millis, of Falls Church, Virginia"). Our wonderful friend Helaena is going to allow us to be her guests in Colombo and we are anticipating wildly and silently all the great small glories of a new nation, not to mention more passport stamps and stickers.
As for our last few weeks in India, we have confined ourselves to a small area of Kerala. Trivandrum is a busy, sunny city with many varieties of bananas and only thirty minutes from a beachy place called Varkala. We spent slightly over a week there, eating fresh tandoori fish every night, doing yoga in the mornings, breathing deeply after what was far too many months in assorted cities. It took us a while to find the beach, as the main one was far too rough for swimming and full of Indian families staring at the sea, munching on snacks and not knowing what to do with themselves. The northern strand was small, but offered continuous wave action that left me exhausted trying not to lose my bikini and Alp smiling like the little Turkish boy he once was playing likewise in the waves of the Black Sea... that is until we noticed that the surf was foaming with jellyfish carcasses and were unnerved. We gathered drinking water from a spring that flowed beneath the small rust colored cliffs of the seaside and took naps in the afternoon. Back in Trivandrum, we have visited the Botanical Gardens, a very nice wooden palace of the Travancore royal family, and nearly twenty footwear shops looking for replicas of my sandals. I have gotten over my original preconception that South India is terribly different in ambiance and mores than the North... Nearly everywhere in India south of Himachal is hectic, hot, and fun in a similar way. But the men here do wear lungis instead of pants underneath their western-style shirts, leading to a fashion look that Alp and I have described as "business on top, shower on bottom." And there are more curry leaves, mustard seeds, and coconut in the curries. We are sure to tell you all about what we find in Sri Lanka and until then, I wish we knew how to say farewell in Malayalam (the local language and an awfully long pallimdrone) but I imagine it sounds like this: bpoooluuuyuttappam (try saying this with marbles in your mouth).
Ingridkutty
As for our last few weeks in India, we have confined ourselves to a small area of Kerala. Trivandrum is a busy, sunny city with many varieties of bananas and only thirty minutes from a beachy place called Varkala. We spent slightly over a week there, eating fresh tandoori fish every night, doing yoga in the mornings, breathing deeply after what was far too many months in assorted cities. It took us a while to find the beach, as the main one was far too rough for swimming and full of Indian families staring at the sea, munching on snacks and not knowing what to do with themselves. The northern strand was small, but offered continuous wave action that left me exhausted trying not to lose my bikini and Alp smiling like the little Turkish boy he once was playing likewise in the waves of the Black Sea... that is until we noticed that the surf was foaming with jellyfish carcasses and were unnerved. We gathered drinking water from a spring that flowed beneath the small rust colored cliffs of the seaside and took naps in the afternoon. Back in Trivandrum, we have visited the Botanical Gardens, a very nice wooden palace of the Travancore royal family, and nearly twenty footwear shops looking for replicas of my sandals. I have gotten over my original preconception that South India is terribly different in ambiance and mores than the North... Nearly everywhere in India south of Himachal is hectic, hot, and fun in a similar way. But the men here do wear lungis instead of pants underneath their western-style shirts, leading to a fashion look that Alp and I have described as "business on top, shower on bottom." And there are more curry leaves, mustard seeds, and coconut in the curries. We are sure to tell you all about what we find in Sri Lanka and until then, I wish we knew how to say farewell in Malayalam (the local language and an awfully long pallimdrone) but I imagine it sounds like this: bpoooluuuyuttappam (try saying this with marbles in your mouth).
Ingridkutty
Sunday, October 02, 2005
Off of the Shelves, Into the Bags
Greetings confreres~
We have been a long time without blogging but the sedentary life does render fewer tidbits to share. We have settled into our little pied-a-terre and its quotidian comforts; with no other flatmates, we have the entire place to ourselves to walk around in dishabille, cooking and lounging to our hearts' delight. Our day begins at six, after a few blissful dilatory snooze button pushes, and Alp prepares his sapid ginger honey tea to warm our bodies before heading out the door, across the "highway," through the park, and to the yoga institute. It has been raining extremely regularly so we are usually muddy and squigy when we arrive. Our beginners' classes are taught by a different teacher everyday and they do different things as they please; some yell, some chat, some explain aspects of the postures with particular luculence, but all make for copacetic classes. Iyengar yoga is active and the teachers require punctilliousness in their students to perform the asanas correctly. We are only allowed on the top floor for classes but as we travel up and down the stairs, we can catch glimpses of the general class dangling from ropes, hanging over chairs, and contorting themselves in exciting ways. The redoubtable Iyengar himself is still alive and commanding respect, as we have seen his followers fully prostrate themselves in front of him, and will soon be leaving for America for a five week yoga tour. From photographs in the lobby of the Institute, it seems clear that he was a yoga rock star during earlier tours, teaching hundreds in auditoriums. We walk home and prepare breakfast, alternating daily between a highly evolved version of porriage and eggs with toast, and become acquainted with the world with some minutes of postprandial BBC watching. Then I buckle down for some GRE studying, which I am beginning to enjoy entirely, as it gives me the oppurtunity to learn vocabulary and to shake off some of the effects of the hebetude occasioned by nearly one and a half years outside the realm of academia. The rest of the day is devoted to errand-running, as we always seem to need something or another, or relaxing. And before I bloviate for too long, i will pass this onto my partner in amour~
with love~
ingrid
ps~ if you would like to learn vocabulary like me, go to http://www.dictionary.com and maunder through the word of the day files.
salaam namaste
As the days passed here in Pune I felt a great sense of accomplishment for all the dreams we managed to fulfill, at the same time feeling uneasy for all the more dreams that have been dreamt while we have been in India that are waiting their turn in the future. I have learnt that dreams do come true but never in the way you imagine them, and I can say we didn't worry about the seeming obstacles in our way and our dreams came true in a way better than we imagined. The bike has got a new owner, and with only two days left in Pune it was a close one but no worries, no wrinkles. It is very exciting that we are going to Kerala as we hadn't in February even though we came very close when we were in Coorg. It is fabled to be very beautiful yet at the same time it is the most crowded state in India, which makes me happy that we avoided it on the motorcycle. Ayurvedic tradition is the most alive in Kerala and we might take a class on massage when we are at the beach there. Also very exciting is the new cuisine and the fish that we will find there. I am thrilled to go there as this sedentary lifestyle without work is not the most alluring. Hope all is well with all of you, love you and miss you, and you are all smoking in my nose.
alp
~p.s. go to the photos link, then to the Pune Revisited folder, to see our newest photos of domestic life!
We have been a long time without blogging but the sedentary life does render fewer tidbits to share. We have settled into our little pied-a-terre and its quotidian comforts; with no other flatmates, we have the entire place to ourselves to walk around in dishabille, cooking and lounging to our hearts' delight. Our day begins at six, after a few blissful dilatory snooze button pushes, and Alp prepares his sapid ginger honey tea to warm our bodies before heading out the door, across the "highway," through the park, and to the yoga institute. It has been raining extremely regularly so we are usually muddy and squigy when we arrive. Our beginners' classes are taught by a different teacher everyday and they do different things as they please; some yell, some chat, some explain aspects of the postures with particular luculence, but all make for copacetic classes. Iyengar yoga is active and the teachers require punctilliousness in their students to perform the asanas correctly. We are only allowed on the top floor for classes but as we travel up and down the stairs, we can catch glimpses of the general class dangling from ropes, hanging over chairs, and contorting themselves in exciting ways. The redoubtable Iyengar himself is still alive and commanding respect, as we have seen his followers fully prostrate themselves in front of him, and will soon be leaving for America for a five week yoga tour. From photographs in the lobby of the Institute, it seems clear that he was a yoga rock star during earlier tours, teaching hundreds in auditoriums. We walk home and prepare breakfast, alternating daily between a highly evolved version of porriage and eggs with toast, and become acquainted with the world with some minutes of postprandial BBC watching. Then I buckle down for some GRE studying, which I am beginning to enjoy entirely, as it gives me the oppurtunity to learn vocabulary and to shake off some of the effects of the hebetude occasioned by nearly one and a half years outside the realm of academia. The rest of the day is devoted to errand-running, as we always seem to need something or another, or relaxing. And before I bloviate for too long, i will pass this onto my partner in amour~
with love~
ingrid
ps~ if you would like to learn vocabulary like me, go to http://www.dictionary.com and maunder through the word of the day files.
salaam namaste
As the days passed here in Pune I felt a great sense of accomplishment for all the dreams we managed to fulfill, at the same time feeling uneasy for all the more dreams that have been dreamt while we have been in India that are waiting their turn in the future. I have learnt that dreams do come true but never in the way you imagine them, and I can say we didn't worry about the seeming obstacles in our way and our dreams came true in a way better than we imagined. The bike has got a new owner, and with only two days left in Pune it was a close one but no worries, no wrinkles. It is very exciting that we are going to Kerala as we hadn't in February even though we came very close when we were in Coorg. It is fabled to be very beautiful yet at the same time it is the most crowded state in India, which makes me happy that we avoided it on the motorcycle. Ayurvedic tradition is the most alive in Kerala and we might take a class on massage when we are at the beach there. Also very exciting is the new cuisine and the fish that we will find there. I am thrilled to go there as this sedentary lifestyle without work is not the most alluring. Hope all is well with all of you, love you and miss you, and you are all smoking in my nose.
alp
~p.s. go to the photos link, then to the Pune Revisited folder, to see our newest photos of domestic life!
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Out of the Luggage, Onto the Shelves
Our most generous hosts in Delhi have seen us off but not without giving a wonderful birthday celebration for me. Since they came late the night of my birthday that happened the day after and on my birthday I had the most wonderful treatment from my beloved Ingrid. I will not get into details as not to make the angels jealous (makes them kind of demonic). Over the weekend our internet service was miraculously restored and I managed to speak over the internet with many family members, sadly whenever it was time for the sleepyheads in America to wake up we lost connection. We are planning a few calls in the upcoming days as soon as we have the hardware, meanwhile sorry to those that did recieve pranky calls (we could hear but you could not). Following my birthday we said bye to our hosts with gratitude and sadness (hope to see you soon again:) and hopped on the train south to Pune. We loaded the bike on the train with expected hassle but koi bhat nehi. 26 hours later getting it off was more of an adventure. I saw the bike being loaded and because of our luggage rack it is longer than normal bikes so they ended up propping the bike up at a complex angle, I didn't say anything because it was obvious that it was that or nothing. Luckily we arrived in Pune twenty minutes early because when I made it to the front of the train the porters were only opening the door and when I said I had a bike in there they looked and said I had to talk to the officer as it seemed too hard to them to get to it. This was obviously a tactic to evade the labor and I knew if I went looking for somebody the train would be gone by the time I found an "officer". After watching the porters pass 3 minutes just looking in the luggage car and shaking their heads, I jumped in and started dumping and throwing the sacks and crates off to reach the bike. Amazingly it only took about three minutes to get to the bike and then it was out. After that it was again the expected hassle and even the porter who refused to help me asked for bakshish. There was no damage on the bike and soon we were on the road to find accomodation. I have been waiting since Srinagar to bring the bike to our mechanic Pradeep here in Pune and now it is REALLY calling his name for some lovin'. Hope to speak to everyone soon and if you would like to hear from us and we dont have your number please email or comment. With love,
alp!
As we arrived in Pune with our two backpacks and the monsterous suitcase we have been hiding at the Shins' house since November, a short sunshine rain shower began. This seemed rather symbolic to me of the feeling I had being back in Pune: it was nice to be back in the city we enjoy so much but logistical hassles clouded my mind. The accomodation here is far more costly than in any other Indian locale we have visited and we had to take a room for more than we would have liked to pay, simply because we were burdened with too much stuff and no other options. The next morning we started our detective hunt for a short-term flat, because the Iyengar Yoga Institute affirmed that we could indeed come to beginners' classes in the month of September. After one dead end lead, we met with Mr. Modi, who owns a flat in the high-rise building immediately adjacent to the Institute. He was insistent upon renting to us the entire flat, which honestly gave both Alp and I the creeps when we walked in to it because of its wacky feng shui, and asked a price that approximated our Charlottesville rent. We weren't impressed enough to accept and continued to sniff around the rest of the day, turning up ultimately with no other viable options. This morning we were ready to bite the bullet, as my dear ole mom would say, and take the place, hoping the adverse effects of the feng shui would be reversed by six days of yoga a week. But as we were just about to go back up to the ninth floor to have another look, the apartment building watchman surruptiously handed us a card and mumbled some words of direction to find more flats for rent. After Modi wouldn't budge on his price, we contacted the man on the card, a mister Sanjiv Agarwal, and met his wife at their family bungalow to have a look at their flat for rent. Their home was incredibly posh and we were a tad worried about how we would ever be able to afford anything they had to offer. We also felt a tinge of deja vous as we pulled up, remembering how when we first arrived in Pune in December, we went out with our buddies Manish and Priya to see a film and whiled away our time waiting for it to start by sitting on the stone wall facing the Agarwals' bungalow drinking beer and wine coolers. An omen, I suppose. We went to see the place and it turned out to be an extremely large flat in a brand new "luxury" development with good feng shui. It was immediately more palatable than the other place and we decided to take a large bedroom there for the month of September, even though it is still quite expensive. But we will enjoy the kitchen, large-screen television, the view of palms from the window of our room, and its proximity to the Insititute and the cinema and everything else.... We are pretty pleased and feeling fortunate to have the means to fulfill one of our last goals in India of getting a strong foundation in yoga, even if for the short time of one month. Now we are going to celebrate the solving of our accomodation mystery with a meal at an Iranian restaurant, you have to love this city for it's food. We miss you all and are remembering you with love~
Ingrid
alp!
As we arrived in Pune with our two backpacks and the monsterous suitcase we have been hiding at the Shins' house since November, a short sunshine rain shower began. This seemed rather symbolic to me of the feeling I had being back in Pune: it was nice to be back in the city we enjoy so much but logistical hassles clouded my mind. The accomodation here is far more costly than in any other Indian locale we have visited and we had to take a room for more than we would have liked to pay, simply because we were burdened with too much stuff and no other options. The next morning we started our detective hunt for a short-term flat, because the Iyengar Yoga Institute affirmed that we could indeed come to beginners' classes in the month of September. After one dead end lead, we met with Mr. Modi, who owns a flat in the high-rise building immediately adjacent to the Institute. He was insistent upon renting to us the entire flat, which honestly gave both Alp and I the creeps when we walked in to it because of its wacky feng shui, and asked a price that approximated our Charlottesville rent. We weren't impressed enough to accept and continued to sniff around the rest of the day, turning up ultimately with no other viable options. This morning we were ready to bite the bullet, as my dear ole mom would say, and take the place, hoping the adverse effects of the feng shui would be reversed by six days of yoga a week. But as we were just about to go back up to the ninth floor to have another look, the apartment building watchman surruptiously handed us a card and mumbled some words of direction to find more flats for rent. After Modi wouldn't budge on his price, we contacted the man on the card, a mister Sanjiv Agarwal, and met his wife at their family bungalow to have a look at their flat for rent. Their home was incredibly posh and we were a tad worried about how we would ever be able to afford anything they had to offer. We also felt a tinge of deja vous as we pulled up, remembering how when we first arrived in Pune in December, we went out with our buddies Manish and Priya to see a film and whiled away our time waiting for it to start by sitting on the stone wall facing the Agarwals' bungalow drinking beer and wine coolers. An omen, I suppose. We went to see the place and it turned out to be an extremely large flat in a brand new "luxury" development with good feng shui. It was immediately more palatable than the other place and we decided to take a large bedroom there for the month of September, even though it is still quite expensive. But we will enjoy the kitchen, large-screen television, the view of palms from the window of our room, and its proximity to the Insititute and the cinema and everything else.... We are pretty pleased and feeling fortunate to have the means to fulfill one of our last goals in India of getting a strong foundation in yoga, even if for the short time of one month. Now we are going to celebrate the solving of our accomodation mystery with a meal at an Iranian restaurant, you have to love this city for it's food. We miss you all and are remembering you with love~
Ingrid
Saturday, August 06, 2005
Taking Care of Busyness
For the last two weeks we have been staying with the wonderful Shin family. Our plan was to leave Delhi on Monday but as we pleasantly found out they want us to stay longer, so we said yes and will be here until after my birthday which is the 22th of this month for all to know (and happy birthday to all the Leo's known and unknown to us). Here is what we have been upto: there was the idea of getting married in Sri Lanka but as we called the US Embassy there we recieved a cold NO to having our marriage visa processed. So we decided to apply for the Fiance visa which is convinient because we will stay in India a bit longer and meanwhile the clock will be ticking on the processing time, which is a few months. There is still a hitch that we could get refused by the Sri Lankan US embassy for processing that visa as well in which case things will start to get exciting once again. Just this morning we sent the visa package out and it will probably be at least two months before it is processed. Meanwhile we have been visiting the Turkish embassy for soem required documents, regarding my criminal record and marriage status which is nil thank god. Our experience there has been quite different though as we have been having tea at the attache's office and stopping by a few times a week. As he learned we were staying in Delhi longer, he will ask his wife to invite us to tea at his house as well. Things are looking up as we are also graciously invited to stay with Ingrid's friend Helaena who lives in Sri Lankan capital Colombo. I found some of her work there at the www.peaceinsrilanka.org website. We have not acquired our tickets yet but will soon.
alp
now that our travel plans have become less busy, you all will probably be hearing from us a little less often. i don't want to delve into the intricacies of our bureaucratic endeveavors, for fear of really losing your attention and interest in our faraway lives. delhi is muggy with the monsoon rains that almost never come hanging in the air but it is looking green and we are enjoying the shins and their comfortable home, not to mention feeling like we are part of a family once again. with the motorcycle, we are saving much money that would have been going to rickshaw drivers in getting around the city and doing our busyness. it is a different type of stressful driving to be scooting around this city, filled with cars, SUVs, bicycle carts, small lanes, and massive "flyovers." we are becoming addicted to kimchi and acting like kids with the kids; i can tell you alp does a truly artful tiger impersonation.
peas on earth~
ingrid
ps~ we would fancy to know how many people are actually reading this blog. if you read it, please leave a comment with your name, or at least a hint about your name. then we'll have a raffle and send a present to the winner!
alp
now that our travel plans have become less busy, you all will probably be hearing from us a little less often. i don't want to delve into the intricacies of our bureaucratic endeveavors, for fear of really losing your attention and interest in our faraway lives. delhi is muggy with the monsoon rains that almost never come hanging in the air but it is looking green and we are enjoying the shins and their comfortable home, not to mention feeling like we are part of a family once again. with the motorcycle, we are saving much money that would have been going to rickshaw drivers in getting around the city and doing our busyness. it is a different type of stressful driving to be scooting around this city, filled with cars, SUVs, bicycle carts, small lanes, and massive "flyovers." we are becoming addicted to kimchi and acting like kids with the kids; i can tell you alp does a truly artful tiger impersonation.
peas on earth~
ingrid
ps~ we would fancy to know how many people are actually reading this blog. if you read it, please leave a comment with your name, or at least a hint about your name. then we'll have a raffle and send a present to the winner!
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Motorcycle Diaries
After our wickedly taxing trip over the mountains to Ladakh, we spent a week exploring Leh, the capitol of the province. It really felt like we arrived in a different country, perhaps because our journey was so arduous but also because the people and culture are quite separate from India at large. The town looked like an oasis of green in the midst of the stark mountains surrounding it like a bowl and, like all the families that stay in Ladakh through the incredibly cold and long winters, our guesthouse proprietors had cultivated a beautiful garden that we enjoyed staring at. The people of Leh are mixed between Tibetan Buddhists and Muslims, and multiple times during the day we could hear the azan and Buddhist chanting (which sounded hauntingly like Radiohead) competing for airplay over the town. There were a number of fascinating Ladakhi men and ladies with wacky tall hats and traditional cloaks to be seen mingling amongst the flown-in European monastary-freaks and Kashmiri merchants with their pashminas and trinkets. And being local product-freaks ourselves, we were delighted by the jars of preservative-free apricot and piquant seabuckthorn jams, as well as completely foreign things like dried cheese and apricot powder (we succeeded in eating, at some point or another, every single part of the apricot fruit). There were also bakeries with fresh tandoori bread and kashmiri kulcha available throughout the day and their wares tasted excellent when hot with our jams.
After being turned back by a police officer with jubilant twinkling eyes for not having the appropriate permit approaching the highest pass in the world, Khardung La (18,000+ feet), we obtained our paperwork the next day and climbed over to the Nubra Valley. This enigmatic valley managed to have both cool streams bursting with water and sand dunes with wild camels and donkeys, flowers aplenty and barren mountains. We returned after tenting for a few days to Leh and were happy to return to our routine of going to our favourite restaurant, Lamayuru, for stuffed tomatoes and naan. We ran into my brother Walt's future brother-in-law, Doe Young Song, and his travelling companion in the main square of Leh and were thrilled to have pizza with him on one of the many rooftop restaurants.
We leisurely made our way west towards Kashmir, believing that, in any case, the danger of the Line of Control would be far less than the treacherousness of a return trip south to Manali. We stopped in Likir and tented in an apricot grove, with an old Ladakhi couple's home in front of us and they kept us entertained. We visited the admittedly disappointing Alchi monastary and were happy to simply take photographs of the Likir monastary. Buddhist gompas and monastaries aren't the most enjoyable places to visit, often with young monks demanding an enforced donation for what seems like shoddy restoration work. They are all in stunning locations though and it is easier to appreciate them from afar. We next travelled to Lamayuru, the namesake gompa and village of aforementioned restaurant, the most ancient gompa in Ladakh and very beautifully situated. Then onto Kargil, very close to the Line of Control with Pakistan, which was a dusty town dominated with military, as most of the towns in Ladakh are.
After passing huge convoys of military vehicles (which are driven with characteristic machismo by army personnel), we came upon the Zoji La, our last mountain pass and rather low in elevation at only 3500 meters. Despite this, it was a maddeningly ride, as a persistent rain settled in, fog descended, and from what little I could see over the edge of the road through the mist, had steep thousands of meters drops. From the top though we could see a massive camp below on the verdant green meadow full of thousands of Hindu pilgrims hoping to see the weather clear and visit the natural linga in Amarnath Cave. We arrived in Sonamarg throughly soaked and beginning to shake, passing a night there before making the final push to Srinagar. Coming into Kashmir from Ladakh, the change in vegetation and the plentitude of green was overwhelming but sadly, we couldn't fully appreciate it because of the persistent drizzle.
Once in Srinagar, we were embarrassingly filthy and stayed in a hotel for a few nights to clean our clothes and bags. The old city was surprisingly lovely, full of artful and old buildings made of stone and wood in small alleys. We visited the bustling and beautiful Shah Hamdan Mosque and shared apricots with the many curious people who wanted to meet us. We shifted to a houseboat on Nagin Lake to complete our Srinagar experience. Our boat was bigger than our apartment on Monticello Road and done up in a 1930s English style, as the owners said it belonged to a British woman with a wave in her short hair whose picture hung in the living room. It was curious and uncomfortable to essentially have a servant serving us our meals in the dining room overlooking the lake. Merchants patrolled the lakes and invited themselves on to our boat, and we hid often inside the boat to be free of their wily and unctuous come-ons. It was peaceful though to have a little canoe, called a shikara, to paddle out into the shallow lake filled with lily pads, floating vegetable gardens, and blooming lotuses. Nice yes, but we were ready to come back to Delhi. But not before travelling the 300 kilometers to Jammu, the railhead for Kashmir.
cheers~
Ingrid
First I want to say hallo to all the lovers out there... it has been a long time. Now that we are down from the mountain roads and back to travelling in cyber roads, I am exited to be able to communicate with all that read the blog; miss you very much. The roads were tough, all in their own way. The road from Manali to Leh was really most enjoyable as there are no towns on the road and traffic was very low. From Leh onto Srinagar the military presence was kind of annoying if not a bit dangerous as they are vowed against courtesy. The bike did not leave us on the road once which was amazing, many tourist we talked with either had had a bad experience or was under the impression that Bullets are bad bikes. Most of the bikes on the tourist circuit change hands at least every six months and have been around for a long time, but one can't say that sex sucks after having sex with an old whore. Our bike was not a virgin but a widower, and you know those are good (sorry for my language but i imagine the analagy is apt). Leaving Srinagar we thought we would do the 300km to Jammu in one day but for the first time the bike did't start. After kicking the starter for two hours, I got the mechanic and he put a new plug in it and it started (of course I had checked the plug, even put another used plug in it that worked but I guess it needed more of a spark). So it was almost noon when we left Srinagar and the road was so much harder than any of the mountain roads. The asphalt was perfect, which made everyone go quite fast and there very hundreds of jeeps on the road that carried the pilgrims going to Amarnath. The pilgrimage is no longer prostrating yourself for weeks until you reach the destination, rather you take a jeep until you come to the last ten kilometers then take a pony, say your prayers, take your pictures and back you go home more pious, right? You can see a funny picture of how dirty we got by looking at the Eduardo Riaz picture in the new album called Himalayas. Second day towards Jammu started kind of similar, within the first five minutes we got a flat on top of this mountain but miraculously there was a tire wallah 300meters down the road, which made me suspect that they might have given us the flat overnight but the fact that they did not know how to fix a Bullets back tire assured me that was not the case. Luckily I had all I needed to fix the flat except air and that they had, so once again it was noon when we got going but this day was more calm then the previous and our luck held when we arrived in Jammu so we got a ticket for the same night and loaded the bike as well on to the train.
Now friends and family we will try to pass some bureaucratic mountains and if we are successful we shall return to your country well and MARRIED!
lots of love,
alp!
ps link to the pictures from the title
pps there were really funny and insightful roadside signs all along the roads such as:
"if you love her divorce speed"
"mind your brakes or brake your mind"
"better be Mr. Late than late Mr."
"I like you darling but not so fast"
"on the bend go slow friend"
"go easy on my curves"
"no race, no rally, enjoy the beatiful valley"
"slow driving, long life"
"always expect the unexpected"
After being turned back by a police officer with jubilant twinkling eyes for not having the appropriate permit approaching the highest pass in the world, Khardung La (18,000+ feet), we obtained our paperwork the next day and climbed over to the Nubra Valley. This enigmatic valley managed to have both cool streams bursting with water and sand dunes with wild camels and donkeys, flowers aplenty and barren mountains. We returned after tenting for a few days to Leh and were happy to return to our routine of going to our favourite restaurant, Lamayuru, for stuffed tomatoes and naan. We ran into my brother Walt's future brother-in-law, Doe Young Song, and his travelling companion in the main square of Leh and were thrilled to have pizza with him on one of the many rooftop restaurants.
We leisurely made our way west towards Kashmir, believing that, in any case, the danger of the Line of Control would be far less than the treacherousness of a return trip south to Manali. We stopped in Likir and tented in an apricot grove, with an old Ladakhi couple's home in front of us and they kept us entertained. We visited the admittedly disappointing Alchi monastary and were happy to simply take photographs of the Likir monastary. Buddhist gompas and monastaries aren't the most enjoyable places to visit, often with young monks demanding an enforced donation for what seems like shoddy restoration work. They are all in stunning locations though and it is easier to appreciate them from afar. We next travelled to Lamayuru, the namesake gompa and village of aforementioned restaurant, the most ancient gompa in Ladakh and very beautifully situated. Then onto Kargil, very close to the Line of Control with Pakistan, which was a dusty town dominated with military, as most of the towns in Ladakh are.
After passing huge convoys of military vehicles (which are driven with characteristic machismo by army personnel), we came upon the Zoji La, our last mountain pass and rather low in elevation at only 3500 meters. Despite this, it was a maddeningly ride, as a persistent rain settled in, fog descended, and from what little I could see over the edge of the road through the mist, had steep thousands of meters drops. From the top though we could see a massive camp below on the verdant green meadow full of thousands of Hindu pilgrims hoping to see the weather clear and visit the natural linga in Amarnath Cave. We arrived in Sonamarg throughly soaked and beginning to shake, passing a night there before making the final push to Srinagar. Coming into Kashmir from Ladakh, the change in vegetation and the plentitude of green was overwhelming but sadly, we couldn't fully appreciate it because of the persistent drizzle.
Once in Srinagar, we were embarrassingly filthy and stayed in a hotel for a few nights to clean our clothes and bags. The old city was surprisingly lovely, full of artful and old buildings made of stone and wood in small alleys. We visited the bustling and beautiful Shah Hamdan Mosque and shared apricots with the many curious people who wanted to meet us. We shifted to a houseboat on Nagin Lake to complete our Srinagar experience. Our boat was bigger than our apartment on Monticello Road and done up in a 1930s English style, as the owners said it belonged to a British woman with a wave in her short hair whose picture hung in the living room. It was curious and uncomfortable to essentially have a servant serving us our meals in the dining room overlooking the lake. Merchants patrolled the lakes and invited themselves on to our boat, and we hid often inside the boat to be free of their wily and unctuous come-ons. It was peaceful though to have a little canoe, called a shikara, to paddle out into the shallow lake filled with lily pads, floating vegetable gardens, and blooming lotuses. Nice yes, but we were ready to come back to Delhi. But not before travelling the 300 kilometers to Jammu, the railhead for Kashmir.
cheers~
Ingrid
First I want to say hallo to all the lovers out there... it has been a long time. Now that we are down from the mountain roads and back to travelling in cyber roads, I am exited to be able to communicate with all that read the blog; miss you very much. The roads were tough, all in their own way. The road from Manali to Leh was really most enjoyable as there are no towns on the road and traffic was very low. From Leh onto Srinagar the military presence was kind of annoying if not a bit dangerous as they are vowed against courtesy. The bike did not leave us on the road once which was amazing, many tourist we talked with either had had a bad experience or was under the impression that Bullets are bad bikes. Most of the bikes on the tourist circuit change hands at least every six months and have been around for a long time, but one can't say that sex sucks after having sex with an old whore. Our bike was not a virgin but a widower, and you know those are good (sorry for my language but i imagine the analagy is apt). Leaving Srinagar we thought we would do the 300km to Jammu in one day but for the first time the bike did't start. After kicking the starter for two hours, I got the mechanic and he put a new plug in it and it started (of course I had checked the plug, even put another used plug in it that worked but I guess it needed more of a spark). So it was almost noon when we left Srinagar and the road was so much harder than any of the mountain roads. The asphalt was perfect, which made everyone go quite fast and there very hundreds of jeeps on the road that carried the pilgrims going to Amarnath. The pilgrimage is no longer prostrating yourself for weeks until you reach the destination, rather you take a jeep until you come to the last ten kilometers then take a pony, say your prayers, take your pictures and back you go home more pious, right? You can see a funny picture of how dirty we got by looking at the Eduardo Riaz picture in the new album called Himalayas. Second day towards Jammu started kind of similar, within the first five minutes we got a flat on top of this mountain but miraculously there was a tire wallah 300meters down the road, which made me suspect that they might have given us the flat overnight but the fact that they did not know how to fix a Bullets back tire assured me that was not the case. Luckily I had all I needed to fix the flat except air and that they had, so once again it was noon when we got going but this day was more calm then the previous and our luck held when we arrived in Jammu so we got a ticket for the same night and loaded the bike as well on to the train.
Now friends and family we will try to pass some bureaucratic mountains and if we are successful we shall return to your country well and MARRIED!
lots of love,
alp!
ps link to the pictures from the title
pps there were really funny and insightful roadside signs all along the roads such as:
"if you love her divorce speed"
"mind your brakes or brake your mind"
"better be Mr. Late than late Mr."
"I like you darling but not so fast"
"on the bend go slow friend"
"go easy on my curves"
"no race, no rally, enjoy the beatiful valley"
"slow driving, long life"
"always expect the unexpected"
Saturday, June 25, 2005
Desserts in the desert
At last, after we had our fill of dessert and petrol, we set out from Manali. With only one set of spare clothes in our bags (we can both wear all our clothes at once), a lightened library consisting of Arabian Nights, Joseph Campbell, Vipassana Meditation, and an herb book, the food stuff, mentioned previously, 2 5-litre gasolene cans and a toolbox. The toolbox has a spare chain, two tire levers and wrenches, spare cables, bulbs, spare plugs and points. Not everyone was carrying tools and certainly no Indians. They believe in the gods, mostly Ganesha for luck. Out bags covered in blue tarp and ourselves clad in blue mistry(mechanic) outfits, we left Manali after fresh bread arrived in the bakery. This only proved to be an annoying mistake. As we got out of Manali on the road to Rohtang Pass, there were innumberable shops renting old ski outfits and funky snow capes. We passed numberable cars at first and were glad to see them pull in at the outfit shops. In the 52 kms to Rohtang La, we ended up passing jeeps, cars, and trucks by the hundreds. When we came to the last mile of the climax of the pass, thinking still "one more truck and that will be it," we found ourselves upside down in a traffic jam. As the roads in Himachal are only one lane wide, one time as we were passing a stopped truck that we were stuck behind, we toppled over at barely moving speed. We had no injury and the bike was fine, except the headlamp's glass broke. Once we got up, with the help of the plenty of Sikh tourists looking like old-school pimps in their furry capes playing in the over-touristed snow, we continued to try to maneuouver around. It was unbelievable, there were more cars and jeeps and trucks at the top than we had passes along the way. WIth jeeps and cars of tourists and taxis parked on both sides, trucks and motorcycles trying to get through and many more cars and jeeps trying to turn around. At times, we just waited and walked around one at a time, neither seeing the entire clog at once. The passing wherever we could, we made it out after a few hours. The pass that we had crossed in September last year had completely changed, with walls of snow up to nine feet marking the road. The road was terrible with a massive amount of water on it. But being on a motorcycle, we got out before the cars and trucks could make it so we were alone on the raod. First day's driving was rough as we had to pass so many vehicles, then sit up at 4000 meters in exhaust fumes, then descend the pass half in rivers of melting snow, half in road. The scenery over the pass was immediately compelling though and got ever greater as we drove. We filled our tank and the two five-liter cans at the last gas station we would see until Leh. With 26 liters of petrol and all of us, the bike got heavy but pulled us through to the first night's camping place. alp!
We found an idyllic camping spot in Darcha, unloaded the bike, and ate tuna fish sandwiches with our morning bread. The full moon rose over the grand icy mountains and lit the big sky like daylight. The next morning we approached the second pass, Baralacha La, and it was an unnervingly snowy, puddly mess. After slipping a few times in the sloppy rivers of water on the road, we made it to the top and immediately wanted to come down. Our experience on these high passes reminds me of John Krakauer's explainations of how it feels to be on the tallest mountains of the world- when at the top, all you want to do is come down. Our feet were soaked from the splashing and the incessant bumps ached our bodies, so we arrived in Sarchu for lunch a bit discouraged. The lady who made our food vouched that the road onwards to Pang was better though and that gave the necessary impetus to continue. After climbing switchback roads galore, we made it to the top of Lachlung La, but not before it began to snow and became chillingly cold. The bike slipped on some black ice but we all bounced, nothing hurt, and gritted our teeth to make it over the top. We pulled into Pang, a tiny tent\food stop to see our American acquaintances Bobcat and Daisy waving their welcome to us. Instead of opting for a mattress in the back of one of the food tents, we rolled out our tomb of a tent above the army chechpoint and below a beautiful vista of ochre fairy-chimney-like outgrowths and snowy peaks. Unfortunately, it was was also the bathroom and beer bottle-smashing area of the tent colony and all its animals.
Day Three began with us in wary states of mind as to what surprises would await us on the final, and tallest, pass of the journey. We rode through a vast plain surrounded by glistening mountains and even stopped to meet a nomad woman and give her some water. Unexpectedly, the trip up to Tanglang La was markedly less treacherous than the lower three passes and we stopped for a moment to photo-document our conquering of the second-highest motorable pass in the world, at the breathless altitude of 5300 meters. Once descending, we encountered more marvellous scenery and a road paved enough to enjoy it, for once. Approximately 60 kms outside of Leh, there is a green valley hugged by the most miraculous dusky pink stone mountains and it truly must be seen to be believed. Closer to Leh, we began to see the famous gompas and monastaries for which Ladakh is renowned, as well as incongruous fileds of vivid green crops across the road from sand dunes. As with any true adventure, this epic ride was approaching not fun at times but is amazing to think back on in hindsight!
ingrid
I can now tell a bit about what I may have benefitted from Vipassana Meditation. Physically my posture has been better and no backache after 8-12 hour days on the bike. For the buttocks, when you don't react to your soreness, it is not so bad. The mental concentration one has to have on Indian roads! Mostly because of road conditions, not the drivers. Although we have practiced only a few hours of sitting meditation since the course, the road has been our meditation.
alp
We found an idyllic camping spot in Darcha, unloaded the bike, and ate tuna fish sandwiches with our morning bread. The full moon rose over the grand icy mountains and lit the big sky like daylight. The next morning we approached the second pass, Baralacha La, and it was an unnervingly snowy, puddly mess. After slipping a few times in the sloppy rivers of water on the road, we made it to the top and immediately wanted to come down. Our experience on these high passes reminds me of John Krakauer's explainations of how it feels to be on the tallest mountains of the world- when at the top, all you want to do is come down. Our feet were soaked from the splashing and the incessant bumps ached our bodies, so we arrived in Sarchu for lunch a bit discouraged. The lady who made our food vouched that the road onwards to Pang was better though and that gave the necessary impetus to continue. After climbing switchback roads galore, we made it to the top of Lachlung La, but not before it began to snow and became chillingly cold. The bike slipped on some black ice but we all bounced, nothing hurt, and gritted our teeth to make it over the top. We pulled into Pang, a tiny tent\food stop to see our American acquaintances Bobcat and Daisy waving their welcome to us. Instead of opting for a mattress in the back of one of the food tents, we rolled out our tomb of a tent above the army chechpoint and below a beautiful vista of ochre fairy-chimney-like outgrowths and snowy peaks. Unfortunately, it was was also the bathroom and beer bottle-smashing area of the tent colony and all its animals.
Day Three began with us in wary states of mind as to what surprises would await us on the final, and tallest, pass of the journey. We rode through a vast plain surrounded by glistening mountains and even stopped to meet a nomad woman and give her some water. Unexpectedly, the trip up to Tanglang La was markedly less treacherous than the lower three passes and we stopped for a moment to photo-document our conquering of the second-highest motorable pass in the world, at the breathless altitude of 5300 meters. Once descending, we encountered more marvellous scenery and a road paved enough to enjoy it, for once. Approximately 60 kms outside of Leh, there is a green valley hugged by the most miraculous dusky pink stone mountains and it truly must be seen to be believed. Closer to Leh, we began to see the famous gompas and monastaries for which Ladakh is renowned, as well as incongruous fileds of vivid green crops across the road from sand dunes. As with any true adventure, this epic ride was approaching not fun at times but is amazing to think back on in hindsight!
ingrid
I can now tell a bit about what I may have benefitted from Vipassana Meditation. Physically my posture has been better and no backache after 8-12 hour days on the bike. For the buttocks, when you don't react to your soreness, it is not so bad. The mental concentration one has to have on Indian roads! Mostly because of road conditions, not the drivers. Although we have practiced only a few hours of sitting meditation since the course, the road has been our meditation.
alp
Monday, June 20, 2005
Himalayan Scrolls
dear friends~
we have been entertaining ourselves with a number of games but one of our favourites and certainly the most productive is the scroll game (aka the poetry game). we trade lines back and forth, revealing only the second line of the two we write each turn. here are two recent ones; perhaps they will do the best job of showing you all our state of minds.
Out of my lips flow
a bird of truth, striving towards the sea
beating the air with its wings
alters the destiny of us all
by showing us just how and when
we are all allowed to drop and fall
some get up some stay down
lucky are the ones who get a call
and answer it with a strength
like a hurricane and full of gall
the soul will soar
until it shan't fall
and we all, and I mean we all,
shan't allow for anymore all.
~~~~~ *~~~~~
Inebriate yourself and
sink to the bottom
and let hair tangle
and feet trail, the sea knotted them
drowning and crushing
before coming out of the fathom
you must reach down into the deep
and untie them, unknot them
when there are no more of them
you will see one line piercing hell and heaven
and you keep swimming until you see
the rise of that glory of the land of seven
shall make the righteous cry
hallejulia HEAVEN
we have been entertaining ourselves with a number of games but one of our favourites and certainly the most productive is the scroll game (aka the poetry game). we trade lines back and forth, revealing only the second line of the two we write each turn. here are two recent ones; perhaps they will do the best job of showing you all our state of minds.
Out of my lips flow
a bird of truth, striving towards the sea
beating the air with its wings
alters the destiny of us all
by showing us just how and when
we are all allowed to drop and fall
some get up some stay down
lucky are the ones who get a call
and answer it with a strength
like a hurricane and full of gall
the soul will soar
until it shan't fall
and we all, and I mean we all,
shan't allow for anymore all.
~~~~~ *~~~~~
Inebriate yourself and
sink to the bottom
and let hair tangle
and feet trail, the sea knotted them
drowning and crushing
before coming out of the fathom
you must reach down into the deep
and untie them, unknot them
when there are no more of them
you will see one line piercing hell and heaven
and you keep swimming until you see
the rise of that glory of the land of seven
shall make the righteous cry
hallejulia HEAVEN
Saturday, June 18, 2005
Manali Ani Kaza
Turkish readers need not get alarmed!
Last week we set out backwards from Spiti valley passing the Jelori pass into the Kullu valley in Himachal Pradesh. Kaza is the last big town in Spiti valley before passing the Kunzum pass into Lahaul and Ladakh. Kaza in turkish means accident. We were driving thru the eastern valleys of Himachal, at one point being very close to Tibet, where we needed permits to go on the road. From Spiti we were goint to drive north to Leh in Ladakh, accilimitizing as we go. In Kaza we learned that the Kunzum pass was not going to open for at least another 10 days so after staying there one night we decided to drive some way back and take the Jelori pass to cross from Rohtang pass into Ladakh. While we were driving thru Jelori we passed a town called Ani which means sudden in turkish. Jelori pass was amazingly beautiful, we could only describe it by magical. It was also the steepest that we will pass, but at 3300m it doesn't rival the two 5000+m passes that we will cross in Ladakh before we get to Leh. Right now we are having a grand time with plum wine, falafal lafas, desert and our old room from September in Manali. Manali means meaningful in turkish; thus the title Meaningful Sudden Accident the names of towns we left, passes and arrived at. We have had no mishap, no accident or no mechanical problems, maasallah. Ingrid is our navigator, native language expert as well as the beautifunk girl in the mechanic outfit; with her directional intuition, being able to decipher signs and her charm we haven't even gone the wrong way once. On our outfits we have the evil eye, Nazar. And now we have all our bags covered in tarp. All the bags have names because after 9 months of travelling and living in one room your bags become the shelfs, the tables and all the surfaces we normally occupy become bags. We have very good coffee from Coorg that we make turkish style and have it with powdered milk. As well as: apple blossom honey, drinkably pure himalayan rose water, apricot oil, bee pollen, mangoesm cherries, apricots, plums, cashews, almonds and herbs of every kind. So don't feel bad for us we are enjoying life like kings and queens. Ingrid also startes sewing though she doesn't do it while we are driving (the roads are a bit rough). But still in three days she has knitted me the worlds most beatiful scarf and earmuffs for herself from yarn of goat wool. All of you take care,
alp
While Alp uses all his third eye energy focusing on the ever-changing road conditions, I bounce along merrily in the back, enjoying the ride because remember- why hike when you can bike? Though technically we haven't covered such huge distances (the MOST we can manage is about 300 kilometers a day; our average speed is 25 km/h), the terrain has been spectacular and everchanging as well. We've seen nearly all the valleys of Himachal Pradesh and each has its own particular gorgeousness. The region of Kinnaur has the fabulous Kinner Kailash mountains staring snowy and gleaming over the high village of Kalpa, where we stayed for six days, relishing the nip in the air and our John Irving mountain readaloud tradition. We were welcomed along the checkpoints of the Indo-Tibetan highway thanks entirely to Alp's moustache. Having that furry upper lip simply erases all the mistrust and lack of understanding between cultures. It seems a moustache is not just fashion~ it is a lifestyle choice, it is a universal symbol of good manliness, it is humanity grown on a face. Spiti was flanked by bleak, sandy mountain banks and occasional snowy peaks. I wanted to take a picture of each moment riding through that epic country and its unearthy beauty. The roads were very deserted, save for the ladies and gents who troll along the road everyday sweeping up the rocky debris that tumbles down from on high, and i felt like we were in a galaxy far away and a time unknown. The small town of Tabo is Spiti looked like a true oasis in the midst of this landscape, with irrigated fields of green and an ancient monastary that looked moulded out of clay by children. The current Dalai Lama plans to retire to this tiny town and so I hope it doesn't exchange its peacefulness for the scene of Dharamshala in the future. After learning that the Kunzum La would require us to wait, Alp managed record levels of endurance to speed us up to Manali. Despite the variable road conditions, the only major obstacles we encountered (both coming and going) was a landslide area that washed away some of the the road between Tabo and Recong Peo. Going we managed up the steep embankment with six extra sets of hands and Alp's steely determination. Now, we are enjoying our honeymoon suite again and resting our bums for the next mountain voyage! with love~
ingrid
Last week we set out backwards from Spiti valley passing the Jelori pass into the Kullu valley in Himachal Pradesh. Kaza is the last big town in Spiti valley before passing the Kunzum pass into Lahaul and Ladakh. Kaza in turkish means accident. We were driving thru the eastern valleys of Himachal, at one point being very close to Tibet, where we needed permits to go on the road. From Spiti we were goint to drive north to Leh in Ladakh, accilimitizing as we go. In Kaza we learned that the Kunzum pass was not going to open for at least another 10 days so after staying there one night we decided to drive some way back and take the Jelori pass to cross from Rohtang pass into Ladakh. While we were driving thru Jelori we passed a town called Ani which means sudden in turkish. Jelori pass was amazingly beautiful, we could only describe it by magical. It was also the steepest that we will pass, but at 3300m it doesn't rival the two 5000+m passes that we will cross in Ladakh before we get to Leh. Right now we are having a grand time with plum wine, falafal lafas, desert and our old room from September in Manali. Manali means meaningful in turkish; thus the title Meaningful Sudden Accident the names of towns we left, passes and arrived at. We have had no mishap, no accident or no mechanical problems, maasallah. Ingrid is our navigator, native language expert as well as the beautifunk girl in the mechanic outfit; with her directional intuition, being able to decipher signs and her charm we haven't even gone the wrong way once. On our outfits we have the evil eye, Nazar. And now we have all our bags covered in tarp. All the bags have names because after 9 months of travelling and living in one room your bags become the shelfs, the tables and all the surfaces we normally occupy become bags. We have very good coffee from Coorg that we make turkish style and have it with powdered milk. As well as: apple blossom honey, drinkably pure himalayan rose water, apricot oil, bee pollen, mangoesm cherries, apricots, plums, cashews, almonds and herbs of every kind. So don't feel bad for us we are enjoying life like kings and queens. Ingrid also startes sewing though she doesn't do it while we are driving (the roads are a bit rough). But still in three days she has knitted me the worlds most beatiful scarf and earmuffs for herself from yarn of goat wool. All of you take care,
alp
While Alp uses all his third eye energy focusing on the ever-changing road conditions, I bounce along merrily in the back, enjoying the ride because remember- why hike when you can bike? Though technically we haven't covered such huge distances (the MOST we can manage is about 300 kilometers a day; our average speed is 25 km/h), the terrain has been spectacular and everchanging as well. We've seen nearly all the valleys of Himachal Pradesh and each has its own particular gorgeousness. The region of Kinnaur has the fabulous Kinner Kailash mountains staring snowy and gleaming over the high village of Kalpa, where we stayed for six days, relishing the nip in the air and our John Irving mountain readaloud tradition. We were welcomed along the checkpoints of the Indo-Tibetan highway thanks entirely to Alp's moustache. Having that furry upper lip simply erases all the mistrust and lack of understanding between cultures. It seems a moustache is not just fashion~ it is a lifestyle choice, it is a universal symbol of good manliness, it is humanity grown on a face. Spiti was flanked by bleak, sandy mountain banks and occasional snowy peaks. I wanted to take a picture of each moment riding through that epic country and its unearthy beauty. The roads were very deserted, save for the ladies and gents who troll along the road everyday sweeping up the rocky debris that tumbles down from on high, and i felt like we were in a galaxy far away and a time unknown. The small town of Tabo is Spiti looked like a true oasis in the midst of this landscape, with irrigated fields of green and an ancient monastary that looked moulded out of clay by children. The current Dalai Lama plans to retire to this tiny town and so I hope it doesn't exchange its peacefulness for the scene of Dharamshala in the future. After learning that the Kunzum La would require us to wait, Alp managed record levels of endurance to speed us up to Manali. Despite the variable road conditions, the only major obstacles we encountered (both coming and going) was a landslide area that washed away some of the the road between Tabo and Recong Peo. Going we managed up the steep embankment with six extra sets of hands and Alp's steely determination. Now, we are enjoying our honeymoon suite again and resting our bums for the next mountain voyage! with love~
ingrid
Thursday, June 02, 2005
10 Days, 100 Hours Later
Some people go to jail because they are bad, and some go because they are good. Ten days of solitude, silence, and 10 hours of meditation a day; this was the hardest thing we did in a long time. But having said all that if you want to practice meditation this is the course to take, because of its intensity, it allows you to break through a barrier that might take years get through if at all. The experience was intensely personal and requires nothing but the good intentions and effort of the meditator. Perhaps that is one of the hardest aspects of the whole course: one learns that one is entirely responsible for one's experience and his/her reaction to it. No guru helps you achieve peace of mind, no outsider magically alleviates all one's unhappinesses, no thing soothes your aching muscles. The experience is wholly your own... like your life. Perhaps after more time has past and we are able to sit and talk with you all in person, it will be easier to explain our complex experiences with Vipassana.
May all beings be happy
May all beings be happy
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