Not Your Average Trip to the Border By Eric

The Atari / Waggah Border

We arrived Sunday late afternoon to Pammi's Auntie Manjit's house.  They live in a neat little farming village where the narrow streets are paved only in brick.  Cars cannot pass through the narrow corridors so we must walk about 3 minutes from their car carriage.  Pammi and I had just shelled out 400 rupees for a rickshaw which should have cost 20 (the hotel reserved it for us and we thought they would have been more honest about the price).  Arriving into their home we were welcomed and immediately taken into their living room and offered customary chai and some snacks.  There was a short pause in the discussion and it seemed no one knew what to say.  That's when Harmeet, Pammi's cousin, said, "OK, now let's go to the border."

We drove for only about 20 minutes until the highway approached the border.  Suddenly, instead of dodging dogs, cyclists, and scooters who are driving against traffic, we are trying to follow orders given by military traffic cops strapped with machine guns while 10 year old kids are banging on our windows trying to sell us water and Indian flags.  After parking, it's a 1km walk to the border, but there are two lines; one for men and one for women.  The women's line was non-existent and they could just walk at their own pace freely towards the border.  The men's line started near the parking lot and looked as if it was as long as the road.  Well, we weren't going to let Pammi waltz off to the Pakistani border by herself while we waited in a line with no end in sight, so we decided to head home and come back the next day, vowing to leave much earlier to avoid such a long line.

On Monday we made our 2nd attempt to see the border and left just as late as the previous day, as any of you familiar with Indian time would expect.  We parked and walked back out to the main road to find the line just as long as the day before.  Apparently you can skip the line if you have a passport, so Pammi and I were told to walk with all the women.  Of course the Indian men weren't happy to see me passing them as they waited in line in the 90 degree evening sun.  5 pat-downs and 4 passport checks later, we arrived in the VIP section of the stadium.  Yes, stadium.

I guess I should explain.  India and Pakistan each have huge gates blocking the road just on their side of the border and a ceremonial arch straddling the road about 150m back from the border.  In between, is stadium seating all along the road except for the last 50 meters or so to prevent the crowd from throwing objects at the other side.  The India side must have sat 5,000 or so, and the Pakistani side slightly less.  The Pakistani side actually had a much nicer arch, painted all white and designed in historic fashion, with a portrait of its leader hanging over the road.  The women and men sat on opposite sides of the road, with the women's section noticeably only half full.  The Indian arch was actually quite plain looking, made of brick and metal - kind of ugly. 

India had the crowd though.  Led by what I can only describe as a male cheerleader dressed in white with a referee's whistle, the Indian crowd would clap along to the music and chant "Hindustan Zindabad" (India, Bravo!) every now and then.  Women and children took turns running Indian flags down the road to the border and back.  As only women were allowed on the street, Pammi bounced into line while I sat back to take everything in.  When it was her turn to run the flag, she carried it full speed ahead like she was sprinting for the endzone in her bright yellow salwar.  When she came back to our seats, we talked about how awesome it was that you get to participate in the celebration.  I didn't know how much of an understatement this was, although with Pammi maybe I should have seen it coming.

About a minute later the running of the flags was over, but the music continued.  The Indian and Pakistani sides both had music blaring from their stands, but the Indian women danced freely while on the Pakistani side they stood still.  Soon a number of women took their dancing out on the street, and you know Pammi bounded down the VIP bleachers as quickly as she had run the flag.  She danced and danced, and once she was in her zone, you know nothing could stop her!  A circle formed around her as the Indian women took turns dancing with Pammi.  The crowd took notice.  By the time 'Jai Ho!' played on the loudspeakers, the crowd was hers.  The men whistled, the women threw their hands up and danced along in their seats and everyone clapped along.  After this song, the guards ushered the crowd of dancing women off of the street so as to start the show, but Pammi kept on dancing.  They let Pammi and the other best dancer stay out on the street for another 3 songs.  They were literally the center of attention, and they played off each other and off of the crowd while dancing their hearts out.

Pammi finally took her seat and the ceremony began.  The eight biggest Punjabis in the whole military took turns marching in two, as fast and proud as they could, toward Pakistan.  Upon reaching the gate, they each did a high kick and stomped twice at the Pakistani side.  They took turns doing this for about ten minutes while pumping up the crowd.  The Pakistani's were doing the same.  Then all of them marched to the border and flung the gate open in unison with the Pakistani gate, and did some more high kicks, stomps, and salutes to the Pakistani guards.  From our angle it looked like the Indian and Pakistani soldiers were taking turns kicking each other in the rear, but in actuality no one crosses the line.  The two sides coordinated a spectacular show synchronizing every kick and salute, and finally they guided the flags down from the flagpoles at the exact same speed so as not to offend the other side.  Once the flags were down, the gates were slammed shut, as if to say "you're not welcome" and the Indian flag was carried Lion King style back down the road through the roaring stadium.

The show was then over, and immediately hundreds of Indians rushed forward to get their pictures taken in front of the Pakistani border.  As Pammi and I had not been allowed to sit with Harmeet and his friend, Bicki, we started down the road for our 1km walk back to the car.  This proved to be a much harder task than we thought, as Pammi had obtained a semi-celebrity status during her dancing act.  She was also wearing the brightest yellow dress making her easier to spot in a crowd than a 6'4" white guy.  "Hello ma'am, one snap."  "Beautiful dancing ma'am, one photo."  "Hello sir, please one snap with your friend."  There were at one time fifteen phones and cameras out taking non-stop pictures of us as new people jumped next to us for a second, said thank you, and immediately was pushed aside by the next person eager for a photo.  After a few minutes of this I decided we had to go, and pulled Pammi away from the crowd.  Walking at a brisk pace, we only stopped for two or three quick photos with a nice family here or a horny teenager there, making sure to continue walking before another crowd could gather. 

The sun set over the rice fields as we drove back to Amritsar sweaty, exhausted, and exhilarated from the excitement at the border.

We will miss you, McLeod Ganj!

We've left McLeod Ganj; finished our 2 months of volunteering; and said goodbye to our new friends from all around the world whom we met on our short stay in the Tibetan colony.  It's bittersweet leaving McLeod Ganj.  We couldn't have asked for more from our experience given the timing and location.  For those of you who aren't familiar with exactly why Eric and I decided to venture off to India for 3 months, here goes. 

Both of us had our reasons, I should not speak for Eric, but as for me.  I felt like this... I'm 25 years old and still felt too naive for my own good.  I'm this crazy ambitious woman who wants to find the best way to help the world, but I didn't feel like I knew enough about what was wrong in the world to really know what needs attention.  Honestly, you can read as much as you like, but without experiencing it for yourself, it is hard to identify or relate with the people you want to help. Very simply put, this is why it was necessary for me to volunteer in a developing country.  Yeah, I know that's so vague...developing country.  But I got what I wanted out of the experience!

McLeod Ganj is a Tibetan colony, but not only Tibetans live here, the original inhabitants called Gaddi Nomads still live here, in addition to Kashmiris, and Indians from Dharamsala both poor and wealthy.  We taught a class of Tibetans (and sometimes Japanese, Korean, and Indian) students 5 days/week for 1 hour, then  directly afterwards we facilitated the English conversation class for another hour (which means we posted discussion topics, instructed volunteers on what to do, and ensured volunteers were spread evenly throughout the room). 

In the morning, Eric's primary responsibility was volunteer coordination, meaning he and Rabsel (one of the our favorite favorite LHA employees and good friends) corresponded with prospective volunteers, interpreting confusing and sometimes absurd e-mails, ensuring all expenses and volunteer positions were covered, and that all volunteer arrival and departure logistics were taken care of.  They dealt with many situations throughout their time, and built a trusting relationship with each other.  Eric and Rabsel will certainly miss each other! As will I, Rabsel is a hardworking, honest man.  A man whom I would trust with anything.  He works so hard so that his children will have a proper education.  He really was an honor (and fun) to speak with every morning.  What can I say, the man has a great sense of humor and can speak English really well!

Eric had more of a steady position whereas I did a hodge podge of things (basically whatever random requests they had). For the first week or two I streamlined LHA's financial statements, so that they were easier to read and easier to update.  Then I wrote an article for the local magazine, and edited some letters for the Director.  About a month into volunteering, I did not feel like I was learning enough on the job, so in addition to helping to edit letters at LHA, I sought more projects.  I found another organization called Learning and Ideas for Tibet (LIT) and helped them to register on a new volunteer website that would expose them to a wider volunteer network.  I also completed a grant proposal (with the valuable help from an Australian volunteer named Kirsty and my dearest, Eric.  While I was sick, they both chipped in to finish the proposal in time for the deadline).  In addition while at LIT I helped to assemble a uniform curriculum for their classes in collaboration with a British volunteer named Jessica.

I was still teaching and facilitating classes with Eric at LHA, but I needed more on my plate.  Downtime, just isn't my friend.  At LHA, I helped to edit two editions of the local magazine as well.  This was good fun and good experience, because I was reminded of how meticulous a newspaper editor needs to be. 

Eric wanted to learn about other NGOs so he sought out a non-profit called Mountain Cleaners.  He met with the founder, and then proceeded to create a website map for her, making it easier to update.

In regards to NGOs that was the extent of our services, but trust me, it was a lot.  We jumped right into our volunteer experience!  In fact, we also helped our students outside of class.  We helped one of our monk friends to write a letter in English to his friend in Australia.  We also helped a Tibetan friend apply for permanent residence in another country.  The application was horrendously long.  I really think that the administration weeds out those who do not put the time and energy into completing the paperwork properly.  But we all put our best foot forward! 

We helped not only one friend, but also his cousin apply for permanent residence.  This was a feat in its own because our friend's English was not very clear, and his cousin spoke absolutely no English;therefore, our friend was our translator!  Just imagine trying to learn a person's life, addresses, family members, whole history in a different language, with vague descriptions... Well, we received vague descriptions at first, and then we asked the best questions to elicit the most details from our friend/translator.    Throughout this we learned so much of their treacherous journeys across the Nepali Himalaya... that's right, folks, the very same row of mountains as Mt. Everest. 

In order to escape from China, thousands of Tibetans hiked through the snow-covered Himalayan mountains!  I'm telling you, these people have some of the strongest willpower in the world!  Many Tibetans, about 1 million out of 6 million have left their families in Tibet, to seek a better education in another country.  Many of them, made this decision on their own when they were teenagers!  A very different decision than teenagers in the Western world need to make at that age.  Many kids in the Western world are trying to find ways to get out school, while Tibetan teenagers are hiking through the Himalayas for a month to set foot in a proper classroom.  Wow... the world is so different.  Globalization can only assimilate some things, and willpower through blood is not one of them.  Tibetans are strong people.  Period. (Full stop, for Tibetans reading this.)

One of the last assignments we had our class complete was a letter to President Barack Obama!  I've got to give kudos to Eric, this was his fantastic idea.  We taught them the professional format for writing a letter, gave them some tips for writing the content, corrected their letters, and sent them all within about 4 days!  Our students had never written a professional letter before, so we explained to them that this could be used for school, work, anything like that.  They were thrilled with the assignment, and even students from other classrooms turned in letters.  From this assignment, not only did our students learn how to put together a professional letter, but they were also practicing their freedom of speech, a right that they did not always have.  We told them that this does not have to be their last letter they write to the President or to an administration, in fact I hope they write many more letters in their lifetime.  Freedom of speech is a valuable right to practice.  (And just so you know, we read an article on CNN saying that President Obama reads at least 10 letters/day that are sent to the White House, perhaps luck will be with us and he will read and reply to one of our student's letters! AH!)

We spent a lot of time volunteering, but in our spare time, Eric and I planned for our next classes, dreamed about life in Boston, (and foods we would eat once we were back in the U.S.).  We played Gin Rummy (Shout out to Tenzin Dawa!), LOTS of basketball, Yoga (just me, Eric wouldn't go), dined at all kinds of restaurants (we had no kitchen at home :( ), and ate our own dietary creations on our rooftop deck.  We went hiking (as you know) to Triund, Kareri Village, 2 waterfalls, and some nearby towns, attended a Cricket match with a group of energized Punjabi friends, and took a memorable trip to Amritsar.  We attended 2 religious/philosophical teachings given by His Holiness the Dalai Lama, and went to cultural concerts and demonstrations at the local Tibetan Day School.  We even took Hindi lessons in our spare time!  (Thank goodness because this was critical to getting around Punjab during our vacation time.)  We helped a dear friend celebrate his birthday, the American way, and went to a few dance parties and shopping during our stay.  We learned how to make Tibetan bread and pizza as well, and shared delightful memories with friends throughout our stay.  Oh!  And if you haven't noticed already, we learned a heck of lot about Tibetans and the local Indians!  Oh!  AND we washed our clothes by hand once, twice, sometimes three times a week, while trying to gauge when the monsoon rains would come so that we could hang our clothes outside.  Woo Woo!  No laundry service for us!  So yeah... really a mix of everything, huh?  Well, I got a request from a friend at home, *ahem, Nirut*  to tell y'all what the heck us kids have been doin' on a daily basis around here... so in as brief a way as a talkative girl like me can do... there you go!

A Brief, yet Meaningful Walk Throughout McLeod Ganj

July 13th was the 60th year anniversary of the Liberation of Tibet.  On July 13th in 1951 China claimed Tibet as its own, thus starting 60 years of tyranny and infringement on Tibetans' freedom.  The Organization called Students for Free Tibet put on a demonstration to spread awareness of the true meaning of this date.  Sixty students, representing 60 years of occupation marched through the streets in a long queue to the beat of a Tibetan drum.  The deep tone of the drum echoed through our ears as we marched, each student wearing a black t-shirt labeled "Free Tibet," each wearing a black armband, and holding a black flag.  The demonstration lasted only 30 minutes, ending with a speech, from the leader of the organization, who let his heart speak aloud for all onlookers to hear.  The demonstration was quite a message to travelers in the region who are not familiar with the situation in China.  I hope that it makes them ask questions.  Their curiosity can and will certainly give Tibetans the opportunity to return to a free or at least autonomic Tibetan region.

Trekking to Kareri Village

We woke up on Saturday morning thinking that we were headed to an Indian wedding in nearby Dharamsala. But when I went out to buy our daily breakfast of homemade Tibetan bread, I ran into our friend, Rahul, who was supposed to be taking us to his friend's wedding.  Rahul is one of the hardest workers I've met; therefore, it wasn't a surprise when I heard him call out, “Parminder!” and then proceed to tell us that he would not be able to go to the wedding today because he must go to work.  He did say, however, that his brother, Mahinder, was going to his village, Kareri, and would be happy to take us there.  

Kareri village has no road built to it, so Rahul said that we would take a bus for about an hour and a half to the end of the road, then we would hike the rest of the way... about 5 km or an hour and a half hike up the mountain to his village.  We had heard about this village and had been eager to see it, so we jumped at this opportunity!  Now I did consider the fact that we would be staying at his family's house, so there may be temporary consequences for our stomachs when we returned, but nonetheless were curious at what we would find.  So off we went! :)

We met Mahinder at 10:25am and began our journey... which was far longer than we expected.  We started off towards the taxi stand, Eric and I thinking that we would grab a taxi to meet the bus in Dharamsala... but we kept walking... through the forest, along a dirt road... it didn't take long for us to realize that we weren't just on our way to a bus stand, but we were walking from McLeod Ganj to Kareri Village!  AH!  Now, from what we're told this is only about 13 km, or approx. 8 miles.  Honestly, that's not a far hike.  But, see, Kareri Village is located on the top of a mountain that is 1800 meters, or 200 meters higher than McLeod Ganj.  Not too mention that in order to get there, we had to walk over at least two mountains!  So our 13 km hike through forests, monsoon rains, down streams, up and down mountains, took us 6.5 hours to complete... just you wait!

As I mentioned before, we started our trek walking through a taxi stand, then up our first mountain towards the Tibetan Children's Village (one of the best Tibetan schools in India, even partially supported financially by His Holiness the Dalai Lama).  We were familiar with this path through the woods, taking it at least twice before (including the day prior).  Then after walking through the school's campus we trekked through a small town area where the sacred Dal Lake is located.  Dal Lake was so beautiful with its vast span of dirt and weeds... yeah, the infamous Dal Lake was a dried up crater amidst a beautiful forest... so much for maintaining its holiness.  We continued along a dirt road till we came to a stone path (if you could call it a path) with stones haphazardly laid down the hill.  

This is where the real fun began! After hiking another 20 minutes it started to rain.  Luckily not for long, but it rained just enough to bring hungry leeches out for feasting!  We started to climb down the mountain through a very shallow stream, shallow enough that we could step from rock to rock.  We had been hiking pretty steadily (aside from one stop for chai) for the last hour and a half, when I felt a cold, slimy tinge on my ankle. Not knowing what it could be I knelt down to check my leg, and was horrified to see a leech latching onto me with his disgusting, sharp teeth!  UGH! It gives me the heeby-jeebies just thinking about it!  And not only did this happen once, not twice, but THREE times... and that's not including the times I found leeches on my shoes and pants.  YUCK!  

One time I saw a big one just hanging off my leg.  I stopped, screamed like a 3-year-old girl, tried to desperately wipe him off my leg (My feeble attempts were exasperating and the harder I tried to wipe him off, the more frantic I got.)  Eric was at least 30 feet in front of me by this point just staring back at how pitiful and frenetic I must've looked.  (Yes, folks... he stood there until I whimpered a plea for him to come save me from the blood sucker attached to my leg.  Thank you, honey...)  Finally when he did come to wipe the leech off, he very calmly lifted my pant leg and carefully tried to flick it off.  In my effort to stay calm, I almost kicked the poor guy in the face throwing him off balance and causing us to frantically yell at each other as he tried to keep me calm.  Hmmm... I did say “in my effort to stay calm.”
 
Funny how I feel like I can “conquer the world” most of the time, and then feel helpless next to a 1-inch squirming worm-like slimy creepy lil' bugger... *brrr... here come the heeby-jeebies again!

The series of leech encounters made me paranoid for the rest of the trip.  I would stop and check my legs any time I felt a tinge of wet chill only to hear Mahinder repeat (in a thick Indian accent of course) for the tenth time, “When you stopping, they are coming.”  (Sounds like a line from a horror movie, doesn't it?!)

Finally after about an hour of traipsing through the leech-infested stream; climbing up and down mountains, we reached the village of Gada, the village where the road ends.  We reached there just as the skies began to open up, and the monsoons quenched the Earth's thirst.  We waited for about two hours until the monsoon stopped.  

At the village, we just happened to run into Mahinder's mother and sister who were on their way to the wedding in Dharamsala... which by coincidence was the same wedding we thought we were attending in Kareri Village... Whoops no wedding I suppose!  

Here, Eric and I also skipped across a small stream that had formed on top of the road to explore the general store nearby.  Well, actually Eric just walked across because he was wearing his flip flops.  I stood, staring at the small river that had formed wondering how I could possibly get through it without getting my sneakers wet.  Then two Indian boys saw me and hopped from rock to rock as nimble as a mountain goat!  (Mountain goats are quite good at leaping from rock to rock in case you didn't know.)  They looked at me, insisting that I follow their lead. I, being the baby that I can be at times (and knowing that I am most certainly a klutz, and would probably slip and fall in the water) was not eager to follow in their footsteps, but the one boy took my hand and waited each time I jumped from rock to rock to ensure I didn't fall.  And, folks, I made it! Phew! No wet feet for the rest of the journey!  

I know I know... that wasn't quite as exhilarating for you as it was for me, but if you know me at all, you know I get more amusement out of the little things than most people do. :)

Anyway, moving on...  after eating a few hardboiled eggs and a cup of chai, and waiting the rains out we were ready to start our journey again.  We crossed a bridge overlooking rushing water, moving so fast it was white from the top of the mountain all the way down the mountain to the village we rested in.  It was a brilliant sight; and as we continued up the mountain, the scenery only got more dramatic.

As we walked up we saw women carrying sacks of rice on their head (maybe 25kgs worth (that's 55lbs.!); and men carrying sacks on their backs weighing almost 40kgs (88lbs.)!  They were trekking up an incredibly steep mountain carrying these awfully heavy loads!  And once again, India put me to shame.  

I am always in awe when I see the physical strength of the local Tibetan and Indian people.  In McLeod Ganj, I've seen Tibetan women in their upper 60's, lower 70's carrying immense loads of branches on their back. I've seen Indian men, the size of Olive Oil from Popeye carrying refrigerators on their backs.  I've seen Indian women, both young and old, balancing large woven baskets full of bricks on their heads in construction sites; and, now, these women are carrying 25 kg sacks of rice and flour on their heads for 5km all UPHILL!  I mean, “Really!”  Can you imagine doing this regularly just to be able to take food to your home?  If a grocery store is more than 15 minutes away in the U.S. we groan just thinking about going there, but, here, there is no other way.  Perhaps unless the family is fortunate enough to own a mule.  

Continuing on our journey... after a long hike up the mountain we came to land with many mini corn fields. The combination of corn fields, lush green forests, and the cute stone path we followed created the impression that we were walking through an imaginary world, only existing in our dreams.  I'm not exaggerating in the least either.  There were times where I had to remind myself that what I was seeing was real and not make believe, it was that unbelievably beautiful!  On the side of the mountain were three rivers of rushing white water that met at the bottom of the mountain.  Also it seemed water was streaming down from so many places, adding to the  healthy environment that we were passing through.  I breathed in the air like it was medicine for my body; the air was so clean that I'm sure my cells were jumping for joy at its mercy!

Eric and I hiked further ahead of Mahinder and his friend and discovered a kind Indian family who invited us to their home for chai while we waited for our friends.  It just so happened that they were Mahinder's friend's cousins.  How about that?  So we all gathered on the porch for about 20 minutes just asking each other questions, curious about the lives in which we each live.  One of their daughters was maybe 15 years old, she was the most memorable.  She was the one who initially invited us to their home.  She was so kind, so openly welcoming.  She had an outgoing yet slightly timid personality that was such an endearing and unique combination!  We only wish that we could've spent more time with she and her family.

But we were urged to keep moving because the monsoons were soon to follow.  We were maybe 20 minutes from Mahinder's home when the monsoon stormed through again.  We ducked into a Hindu Temple, which to me did not look like a temple at all, yet more like a cement home which was abandoned for many years.  Our friend had picked up a friend of his own on the way, and they delighted in some whiskey drinking to pass time.  Eric and I stayed outside as I desperately tried to fall asleep, exhausted from the day's events, while Eric enjoyed the scenery.  We stayed there for about 20 to 30 minutes then finished off the rest of the day's hike.  

When we reached Kareri Village, we followed a small stone path through two corn fields.  We passed by a few small homes with children playing on the stone patios, buffalo (young and old) munching on fresh grass picked from nearby meadows, and curious onlookers who had not seen many Westerners in the village.  

Then we saw Mahinder's house standing alone on the mountainside.  We ducked through trees and bushes, walked through small streams (where I was graced with the presence of yet one more leech, Argh!), we had finally reached his home!  Phew!  What a sigh of relief this was to my wobbly legs and sleepy eyes.

At Mahinder's home, we met his wife, two adorable children, father, and brother's wife.  They were all very hospitable.  We stayed for a bit, (had another cup of chai, our fourth for the day) and then ventured out to explore a little more of the village until sun down.  Mahinder showed us the highest point of Kareri Village.  

You could see how proud he was of his home.  He explained that a road was being built to the village and by next year it should be complete.  I wanted to cry though when he said that the taxi stand would probably be at the exact point we were standing.  This would diminish the beautiful, untouched environment.  Mahinder was happy to finally have a road so that the hospital would be easier to get to and families could open stores, and perhaps earn a better living.  

But I don't think he understands how valuable the life is that they are currently living... although I don't think I understand how desperately they truly need access to a road.  He is thinking about the well-being of the families in the village, and I am thinking about preserving the natural surroundings; two equally important ideals. (This could be debated by others, but we'll save the editorials for another person's blog.)

Afterwards, Mahinder took us to his friend's home who insisted on having us visit.  We enjoyed some delicious mint tea (made only with fresh mint leaves and boiled water, with sugar added to our liking).   We spoke and played with the many children who came from neighboring homes while our friend and some of the other men hid away and drank whiskey in the house.  (Do you see a theme going on here?)

The kids we were speaking with were delightful! One boy around the age of 5 was incredibly mischievous though... to tell you the truth, I didn't like him.  He would go around and hit the girls just because he thought it was funny, and he would try and spit on me so that he could see my reaction, Argh.  So until he calmed down a bit, I devoted my attention to some of the older boys who were nearby.  

One of them was going to school in Dharamsala and just visiting his home for holiday (or vacation, as we say in America).  He was very intelligent, and inspiring to speak to because he comes from such a remote village, and yet he still maintains the ambitious dreams of becoming a civil engineer, he was also well-spoken [in English].  I love to meet individuals who are seeking more and more education than what their environment can offer.  It means that either they were courageous enough to seek the education, or their parents were selfless enough to give their kids a better education, both admirable qualities, both difficult decisions to pursue.

While we stayed at their house, Eric watched another man chop wood, he was eager to try it himself so he quickly insisted on lending a hand.  I watched as Eric chopped the large tree trunk with an old ax, praying that he wouldn't miss the trunk.  But it was surreal sitting with the local Indian families, the momma and baby donkeys standing alongside the patio, the child peeking out the window of a small barn caddy corner of the home we were sitting in, and a baby calf standing quietly watching everyone, not a complaint in the world.  At that moment, and every time I looked over the mountain into the valley of rushing white waters, and lush forests... I thought... okay, fending off the leeches was worth seeing this paradise.

Nightfall was coming on quickly so we gathered our extra happy friend from the home and had him lead us back to his house where we would be spending the night.  He was so kind, insisting that we were not going to HIS home, we were going to OUR home.  This was his mindset the whole time, and the Indian mindset when you are welcomed to a home, it is now your home.  We reached our home just before dark and sat around the kitchen fire which also served as the stove, while we waited for dinner to be served.  We sat watching in wonder as one of the women made chapattis.  She grabbed a wad of dough out of a large bowl, almost 3 feet in diameter, rolled it into a small ball, slapped it onto the cooking space, and proceeded to roll it into a perfectly round chapatti.  Then she picked it up threw it from hand to hand to get rid of the excess flour and tossed it on the metal plate sitting just above the fire.  After cooking both sides she picked up the chapatti and tossed it into the fire!  The bread puffed up like a whoopie cushion getting ready to blow!  Neat, huh?

That night we sat around the small fire that was used for cooking; on thatched sacks used as seat cushions enjoying our curry, rice, chapattis, and chai.  (A simple yet delicious meal, that was thankfully vegetarian!)  We enjoyed some laughter, dancing with  kids (of course I had to show them some of my Bhangra moves!), and hearing the eldest of the house repeat, “You are good man!” to both Eric and to me (lol).  It was a memorable night.  

Mahinder graciously showed us the room we would be staying in, as well as his little friend who happened to be an extra large black spider who lived in a hole in the wall just caddy corner from our bed.  He could tell I was a little freaked by it so he said, “Oh don't worry.  This is my friend, he will not hurt you.” Then he proceeded to scare the spider into the hole, and lodge his own arm into the hole not once, but twice to show me that the spider would not bite.   I was still skeptical.

Eric laid down on the bed and the first thing he said was, “This will make us appreciate our bed in McLeod Ganj.”  The bed was solid wood with a very thin cushion lain over top... it was like sleeping on a brick!  I didn't sleep well that night to say the least.

We woke up nice and early, stiff and tired from the long hike the day before (and a night of restless sleep).  Eric started helping to feed the buffalo grass with one of the women.  I watched while enjoying the gorgeous surroundings, then I helped her fetch water from the outside faucet to take inside.

We had a breakfast of potatoes, chapatti, and chai and quickly began our trek back home by 7:30am.  The morning sun was divine.  And the corn fields and mountainsides were blessed with a brilliant, lively green shade, which when combined with the sunlight makes you wonder whether your stepping through heaven.  As we hiked we were unsure whether we would hike the whole way home or take a bus when we reached the town with road access.  Well, let me rephrase that.  Eric and Mahinder were not sure.  I, on the other hand, was VERY certain that we were taking a bus.  

My stomach was feeling a bit sick from the curry the night before.  Stomach cramps were settling in, preparing me for my friend to come any day now, and the Big 'D' had paid another visit.  Oh, did I mention that my legs felt like Jello sticks every time I took a step down the mountain?  I'm not proud of this, but would you believe an older woman, around the age of 65, passed me up wearing a beautiful salwar and nice sandals?!  Here I am a 25-year-old wearing my sneakers, trekking down the mountain and I had to let this woman (and her husband) pass me by!  Shameful to me, really is, but these Indians are tough!

So we finally reached the bridge at the bottom of the mountain near the town, and Eric wanted to get one last look at the mountain.  … Before I say what I'm about to say, take note of this.  Eric wore his flip flops all the way down the mountain, where we were climbing over sharp rocks, through small streams, and all; and he didn't have any issues.  Okay, now I can continue... so Eric decides to point out how beautiful the mountain is. He says, “Pammi, look how beautiful the mountai--- OW!”  And that's the point where he stubs his toe on the ONLY rock in the entire bridge, so much so that he starts bleeding!  (Now no worries, all!  Eric is okay and his toe has healed completely.)  But what are the odds that he would trip on the only rock in the entire bridge the second that he looks up to point up the mountain.  Hehe  Oh dear.

At this point we took the bus (hehe Told you so.) from Gada to Dharamsala, then a taxi to McLeod Ganj.  I was feeling fairly ill, too ill to hike the rest of the way, and I think Eric was thankful for the ride considering the mishap with his toe just two minutes before.  Mahinder decided to hike another 40 minutes and try to catch a bus in the next town.  I just let him be because that next 40 minute hike was up hill through the leech infested waters that I so very dreaded from the day before.  YUCK!

I laid my head down for the entire 1 hour and a half bus ride back to Dharamsala because I'm pretty sure I would've had a similar episode to the Amritsar bus ride if I would've tested the upright waters.  When we finally reached McLeod Ganj, we fixed up Eric's foot with some antiseptic, Eric went to an Internet cafe, and I went to bed.  When Eric came back just an hour later, he fell asleep too and we slept for another 4 hours!(Trust me, you would too, after fending off leeches, trekking up mountains, sleeping in a wooden bed, and all!)

We woke up pretty well rested and only slightly ill. Eric had the “Big D” (worse than me), and my stomach only felt slightly uneasy.  I knew before starting this adventure, that there would most likely be digestive consequences, but I figured the experience would be worth it.  I was sure right.  This hike will go down as one of our most memorable experiences in India!  

Apartment Lock Down in McLeod Ganj

Those of you who are wondering why it took me so long to post another blog... here's why...  after returning from Amritsar, I was well for about a day, then I think my entire body just shut down.  I had a high fever, the shivers, and vomited every few hours.  It was worse than when I was ill in Amritsar just a few days before! These symptoms were practically unknown to me because in the U.S.  I swear to you I very rarely get sick. After vomiting and being fever-stricken the first day, I decided to visit the doctor on day two.  The closest doctor, was just a 10-minute walk away, but I lacked the energy to merely get out of bed, so this walk seemed to take ages.  I felt like a mummy just being released from my ancient coffin after thousands of years of laying in one spot.  My body ached and I was out of breath by the time I reached the front door.  But I made it!

I visited a Tibetan doctor.  What exactly does this mean?  Well, it means that I stepped inside an office, that looked more like an administrator's than a doctor's office.  I sat down next to a Tibetan man seated at a neatly organized desk.  He says, “Tashi Delek,” which basically means “Best Wishes” or “Hello.”  He then proceeds to check my pulse and ask me what my symptoms are.  He does this for about  minute or two, then felt confident enough to prescribe medication.  

The medication that he prescribes is not your everyday antibiotic or Advil.  Nope, Tibetan doctors prescribe herbal medications which, as he said were all natural and have no side effects.  He also wrote a list of every type of food I should NOT eat which included, milk products, oil, spices, sweets, dry nuts, mango (ha, regardless of his advice, I wasn't having this anytime soon!), papaya, raw salads, green chilli, and icy drinks. So your next question may be what could I eat?!  Well, the doctor didn't write that down, but when I finally felt up to eating again (about a day and a half later) I munched on Tibetan bread slathered in butter and rice. Mmm Mmm good!  Believe it or not, especially the Tibetan bread tasted so magical!  I could taste every grain of flavor, and my taste buds were jumping for joy at being able to fuel my body.  

Oh, by the way, my visit to the Tibetan doctor was a total of 190 rupees or about $4.40 (including the cost of medication).  Sure beats the health expenses in the U.S.!

But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself...  I wasn't able to eat immediately after visiting the Tibetan doctor.  I tried one pill that he gave me when I reached home that morning.  I had to crush it up with my teeth then swallow it. It was one of the most repulsive medications I'd ever consumed!  It took everything I had just to keep it down!  

A little later that day Eric ran into our friend, Lee.  She is an American who frequently comes to McLeod Ganj for meditation, to visit her many monk friends, and to enjoy practicing Buddhism.  Eric told her that I was sick again (She had already heard about our rendez-vous in Amritsar.)  Lee was very  concerned that I'd had a relapse so she insisted on taking me to an Indian doctor whom she visits anytime she's feeling ill.

So off to the Indian doctor I went.  Luckily he was literally a 20-second walk from our guest house.  I went inside right away (I was his only customer, at the time.)  I stepped inside, sat down in an administrator-like office and wondered if this would be any better.  I was still feeling like a slug anytime I stood up... so fatigued I could barely make it to the bathroom.  One time when Eric was away teaching our class, I had just finished in the restroom and as I walked back into the bedroom, I lacked the energy to even keep myself upright.  I almost fell over right there as I was stepping out of the bathroom.  

Anyway, back to my doctor's visit... Similar to the Tibetan doctor, he took my pulse for a minute or two and listened to me dish out my symptoms.  He then proceeded to give me medication, tell me way too quickly what each medication was for (and these medications are not labeled with what they are supposed to be used for... they only give the name of the medication and that's it, so by the time I reached home I had forgotten which medication was for what! Argh!).  

Oh, also after discovering that I am Punjabi, he really took a liking to me.  He gave me a big slap on the back, which made every last bit of energy that I had extinguish on the spot.  

I happened to tell him that I had visited a Tibetan doctor that morning and he scorned me for doing such a thing.  He ordered me not too take the Tibetan medicine as if it were a poison that should not be tampered with.  (Little did he know, after taking the one Tibetan pill from before, I had already decided I wasn't taking anymore.  Why do you think I was so eager to see the Indian doctor?)  

So the rest of the day went by and the next morning I wasn't feeling any better.  I was most frustrated by these doctors because they were merely giving me medications that treat my symptoms.  No one was telling me what was actually wrong with me, and then treating the bigger picture!  I could've had malaria for all I knew and was being given medication for nausea and diarrhea.  So the next afternoon Eric suggested (for the third time) that we visit the hospital.  This time I took him up on his offer, in hopes of finding a Western doctor on the premises.

We took a taxi down the mountain to Dharamsala.  Then grabbed a number to get in line at the hospital.  We waited for 30 to 45 minutes, then I told Eric that I was too sick to sit there anymore.  The patients were not moving in and out very quickly.  At the rate they were going I would've had to sit there for another 2 to 3 hours!  So Eric told the clerk that we would be back.  We took a taxi home, and I slept for another 3 hours.  Then Eric, our friend, Choegel, and I ventured back down the mountain again.  It was around 4:00pm by that time and there was only one doctor left in the building.  We walked upstairs, and thank goodness Choegel, who is a monk, was with us this time.  Choegel has a way of being first in line.  Even though there were about ten patients still in the room, he walked up to the doctors office, and told the doctor something which prompted him to bring me in right away!

I went inside to see a Tibetan doctor, a Westerner who may be a student shadowing the doctor, another patient, and two other younger Tibetans taking blood pressures.  When I stepped in, the doctor took my pulse and asked about my symptoms (Hmmm... sounds familiar.).  Then he perked up when he saw my shirt.  It said “University of Pittsburgh.”  He asked me if I went to school there, and I warily said,”Yes,” with the little energy I still had left.  He said that he'd been there many times for medical conferences.  

I was honestly thrilled to hear this news.  This meant that he'd had some training in Western facilities! HURRAY!  OH! And he proceeded to actually diagnose me!  Would you like to know what I had? Drum roll please... the Stomach Flu!  Yup, as simple as that and I felt like every limb on my body was ready to collapse to the ground.  With relief I got up and let a Tibetan man around the age of 25 take my blood pressure.  I think he was confused with the results, because I always have low blood pressure anyway, so being sick, my blood pressure was probably even lower than normal...  after trying twice, he beckoned one of the other nurses to take it for me. 

After my numerous visits to doctors from every part of the world, I came home and basically slept off my Stomach Flu for the next two days.  It was around this time when I actually started eating again... Tibetan bread and rice at least.  *Sigh... well, it wouldn't be India without a story (or two) about being sick in your stomach, right?

Click on me for some Amritsar Fun!

On our first weekend trip away from McLeod Ganj Eric and I decided to see the infamous Amritsar.  We figured we would make two trips.  Our first trip we could go wander around on our own and get into whatever harmless shenanigans that we wanted.  Then, our second trip would be to visit family.   

We decided to take the local bus, which leaves at 5:00am and arrives in Amritsar around 10:00am.  At 175 rupees ($4)/passenger, we'd heard this was the best value in town!  The bus station representative even assured us that the bus would be empty too.  So off we went!

We started our morning at 3:30 on Saturday June 18th.  My stomach felt a little uneasy but I figured they were hunger pains, so I ate a mango (my last since that dreadful day).  Then we made some sandwiches for the journey and packed a few cereal bars.   We made our way to the main square to catch a taxi to the bus station in Lower Dharamsala. (A 10-minute taxi drive down the winding roads of Himachal Pradesh.)

To shorten this part...  when we got on the bus, we “stole” a seat right out from under a Japanese boy in his 20's while he packed his hiking bag in the back, and then begged his forgiveness when he returned, giving him the single seat caddy corner from us next to two not-so-pleasant smelling Indian men.  This was done so that Eric and I could sit together.  The boy was very kind about it and did not seem to mind his new spot.  He even spoke with us along the way until he fell asleep... he didn't need much room to fall asleep, so I felt less bad for swapping seats.

Anyway, it's a blessing that we sat with each other, eh, at least in my case.  Eric may not have been so pleased.  It was only 10 minutes into our trip and my stomach started churning.  Now I'm not one to get car sick, if anything I might get a headache or fatigued on a long bus ride, but actually car sick... oh no, not me!  This time took the cake!  

I hurled a good one!  First in a canvas bag which Eric quickly tossed out the window as it started to leak onto my lovely salwar I was wearing.  (By the way, we in no way condone littering, even in India, but this was an extreme case.  It was either toss the bag out the window or suffer the stench of something far worse than the musty smelling Indian men from the seat nearby.)

I don't know how he did it so quickly, but after tossing my first gift to nature out the window he quickly dumped all the contents of his toiletry bag into his backpack and handed me a sturdy zip lock bag.  Thank you Glad ware, you are true to your word that you do not leak.  I finished off in this bag.... Now obviously at this point how do you think you would feel knowing that you are at the beginning of your 5 hour bus ride to Amritsar in the only outfit that you brought, smelling like vomit (there I said it, sorry for those who are eating.), and sitting in a bus that is so full that there is standing room only left.  (Yes, some people had to either find a seat on top of a suitcase or stand for the entire bus ride.  India just threw every safety regulation out the window with these lovely local buses.)  

I was not a happy person... but the first thing I wanted was my toothbrush!  I frantically scrubbed trying to get the taste out of my mouth... sorry again for those not-so-steel stomachs.  And we continued on our journey.  Then about 20 minutes later, our bus driver pulled over because a passenger and the money collector were arguing over the correct price of the ticket.  Yes, the bus driver actually pulled the entire bus over for these two numb skulls to come to a decision.  After about 5 minutes, he started back up again and stopped at a small town where the money collector and passenger got off the bus.  We waited there again for another 15 minutes. The passengers wondering what could possibly be so important that we have to wait again on the side of the road for them to come to an agreement.  
Finally, the bus started back up again, the passenger never returned, and we went on our merry way.  Or wait...  did we?  Two blocks later we pulled over next to a mechanic's garage run by a 14 year-old boy to fix a leaky tire.  Yup!  That was another hour stalled in one spot.  

At this point I had another yucky feeling in my tummy.  And me, being the nincompoop that I can be at times, figure... well, I must be hungry.  I mean I had absolutely nothing in my stomach considering the events of the morning.  So I decided to chow down on one of the sandwiches that we had put together.  My stomach was not happy with this brilliant idea!  The nausea sunk in once more, just as the bus started up again.  Let's just say that I not only made me lose my appetite for the next two days, but even Eric didn't eat the entire day until around 9 at night!  If any of you know Eric, you know that he never goes this long without something to eat.  Well that day my man, Eric, definitely lost his appetite!  

So yes, three episodes of “tossing my cookies” later; and we finally landed in Amritsar.  I promptly disposed of my precious zip lock bag in the nearest cigarette butt trash can that I could find, and proceeded to a rickshaw, which took us to the Golden Temple.  Eric and I headed straight for the nearest hotel so that I could be miserably sick in A/C and a clean room.

Now, at the beginning of our trip, before these series of unfortunate events...  hmmm.. this phrase sounds familiar.... Eric and I had a plan to stay in the Foreigner's quarters at the Golden Temple; eat the food there, wake up at 4 in the morning to see the floors being cleaned with milk and water.  We had planned all of this, but after that bus ride there was no way in “you know where” that I was staying in foreigner's quarters with no A/C and 5 strangers sleeping around me.  Nope, I wanted our own room, A/C, a private bathroom, not asking for luxury, just for a room I felt comfortable moping in the misery of being ill.  And so we did.  We rented a hotel room near the Golden Temple.  I couldn't have asked for Eric to be anymore considerate than he already was.  We found a hotel right away.  And Eric stayed in the room with me all day, even after I prompted him to go out and get something to eat.  He insisted on keeping me company.  The evening arrived, it was around 6:30, and Eric finally felt a tinge of his appetite returning so we decided to venture out of the room.  I made it to the second step and quickly retreated back.  My desire to leave the room was far greater than my ability.  So Eric departed as a lone wolf.

When he came back it was around 8:30pm.  Eric came back drenched in sweat and all smiles.  Instead of finding food, Eric found a group of Indian kids to play with! Haha  He told me stories of how the kids prompted him to kick a soccer ball as high as he could, dribble a basketball around them in a game of keep away, and how the three little girls pulled him aside and insisted that he take snacks home as a gift.  They also insisted that he give me their “Hellos” when he reached home.  

Did Eric get anything to eat? Nope! BUT! The smallest one was seven-years-old and his father owned the really nice hotel that the “courtyard” (as he calls it) sat in front of.  So, because Eric made some new friends, the clerk gave us a 650 rupee discount on the room if we wanted to stay there the following night.  Score!  

That night I was still feeling nauseous with a fever, and did not even attempt to get out of bed unless the bathroom duties beckoned me.

Thank goodness, the following morning around 6, I felt well enough to venture off to the Golden Temple!  

That's right, the Golden Temple!  It's amazing, I've spoken to many travelers about their impression on the Golden Temple.  Each person is overwhelmed with a sense of purpose when they arrive there.  The beauty seems to captivate them.  I think it it did the same to Eric.  I've seen the Golden Temple once before, and was well aware of its tendency to elicit the inner spirituality out of almost anyone.  This was Eric's first time, and I do believe the Golden Temple doused him with inspiration.  He was quite solemn during the Cora along the white marble floors outlining the pool of holy water which surrounds a small temple made out of more gold than I've ever seen!  (So much gold that at first sight, you think its gotta be fake! … Don't worry I know it's not.)  

We first stopped at the community kitchen and had chai.  Here there were numerous queues of people carrying metal bowls.  When we reached the chai tanks, a very happy Indian man sat in a wheelchair graciously giving  chai to every visitor he encountered.  This man looked as if he just came off the street.  His smile of half-way rotted teeth and positive energy expressed his honor to be a volunteer at the temple.  This man and approximately 79999 other visitors come to the temple every day.  They are able to eat three meals a day and drink chai for free.  If they need sleeping quarters, if available, the Golden Temple offers rooms for foreigners and Indians.  I even heard that volunteers at the Golden Temple distribute food to homeless people throughout the region.  So this temple is unique because it is not only a place of worship, but a location for people of every stature to sit down and eat together, to volunteer washing dishes together, to walk the Cora together, and even bathe in the same holy water.  In Sikhism, the caste is not supposed to exist.  The Golden Temple holds up those standards even if society does not.  I think that's part of the magic of this building.  There is a sense of “we're in this together” whether you are white, brown, purple, or green.  I was purple.

Yup... I was feeling nauseous again.  So after taking various pictures with locals who inevitably ask anytime they see a Westerner, and sitting in silence just admiring the serene beauty of the temple and its surroundings, we retreated back home.  I slept for another few hours and Eric grabbed breakfast and confirmed the room at the other hotel.

Once I awoke, I was feeling remarkably better!  The remainder of the day was filled with exploring the local bazaars (or bajaars as they say here), visiting more historical sites and gardens, finding a sacred elephant, playing Pitu Garam, and having a feast at a local family's home.  So I presume, at least some of you tilted your head to the left like a curious puppy after reading that last sentence.  

Let's start with the sacred elephant sighting...  Eric and I tend to find the path least traveled by tourists, so we were venturing off into a “hidden away” bazaar, every Indian gawking at the sight of two Westerners in their domain, when we caught a glimpse of an elephant at the end of a small street.  Eric and I looked at each other bewildered as to why an elephant would be hanging out in the side streets of Amritsar.  So of course we paid him a visit!  We saw one men feeding him bananas.  So we ran off to find a local fruit vendor.  I figured we'd maybe buy 5 bananas or so... then Eric, in his excitement of seeing a random elephant pulls out 50 rupees and asks for as many as we can get.  So we happily trotted up to the elephant with 25 bananas!  This elephant was so neat! We relished in the fun of feeding the elephant and petting it's rough fuzzy skin.  This was WAY better than any petting zoo!  

While we fed the elephant, the locals gathered 'round and started insisting that we ride the elephant.  The owner was not happy with this request considering this was a sacred elephant and not a joy ride for tourists, but money can inspire just about anyone.  The locals encouraged the owner by saying we would pay him 200 rupees or the equivalent of about $4.50.  Meanwhile, Eric and I are on the side lines just watching their interactions.  We never asked to ride the elephant, but would certainly not deny the opportunity!

So the owner gave in!  To get on the elephant, he straightened his back legs and Eric and I climbed up using ropes, and his dry skin to grasp on to.  As I climbed up the back legs of the elephant, I hoped and prayed that he wouldn't feel the need to divulge the many bananas he'd just consumed.  We sat on the elephant in absolute elation as a boy around the age of 16 led him through the back streets of Amritsar.  The boy held a long stick made of bamboo to push the low hanging electric wires out of the way.  Afterwards, Eric and I were so excited that we bought another 25 bananas for our new friend from the same fruit vendor.  This fruit vendor was so grateful for the business that he gave each of us a glass of free mango juice! (How ironic.)

Our next adventure was playing in a parking lot (“courtyard”) with a group of about 10 kids ranging from 5 to 25 years old.  (We actually skipped out on seeing the Pakistani border ceremony just to stay and play games with these kids... I know, Jamie, roll your eyes why don't you.  :) )  

Eric played cricket and kickball with the boys while I taught the little girls how to juggle a soccer ball; and played badminton with some of the older girls.  We were there for about an hour when some of the younger girls I was with insisted on playing an Indian game called Pitu Garam (“Hot Back”).  In Pitu Garam you have two teams, a tower of individual tiles, and a ball.  One person from the team “at bat” throws the ball at the tower of tiles, trying desperately to hit it.  Once the tower is hit the team “at bat” scatters throughout the field.  It is now their responsibility to rebuild the tower of tiles without getting pegged with the ball.  The fielding team tries their best to hit as many people from the opposing team as possible before the tower is rebuilt; knocking each person out of the game, and increasing their chances of winning.  In short, you can think of this as being a hybrid of dodge ball, jenga, and cricket.  Aside from the constant arguing over the rules that were established throughout the duration of the games, this was great fun!

While we were there, one of the kids grandfather's insisted that we have dinner at his house.  So after getting cleaned up at our hotel, we ventured off to his home, and met his daughter, son-in-law, grandson, granddaughter, and a few other relatives.  This family provided us with a feast like no other!  We had 4 different Indian dishes, rice, chapattis, chai, and some sort of gelatin dessert.  I was eating this meal after barely eating anything for the past two days... so of course I indulged entirely too much, and could barely make it home before passing out from food coma.

And that was our Sunday in Amritsar.  Monday we ventured back to the Golden Temple around 6am, and explored the bazaars a bit more, but we were thoroughly pooped (literally) from our Sunday escapade.  We decided to take a taxi all the way back to McLeod Ganj given our horrendous experience on the way there.  I must say, despite getting sick and being padlocked in my room for half the trip, I still had a wonderful time.  Eric loved it so much that he's been insisting on going back ever since.  So Amritsar, we'll see you soon!