The Chinese Occupation

Everyday in India has been starting pretty early.  It is nice to go with the flow of the sun a little more.  I am feeling very relaxed in India and Dharamsala is a pretty hip place.  There are a ton of tourists from all over the world and you feel a little bit more part of the crowd, than a huge sore thumb.  Making the walk to the temple is a cool feeling.  Everybody is smiling and excited to see His Holiness.  I prefer to refer to him in this exalted way, it does more respect to a man who has done so much for humanity.  At the entry to the temple we stopped for our morning chai and I got vegetable momo's (little Tibetan steamed dumplings stuffed with a variety of vegetables) topped with spicy red chili sauce.  We made our way inside, again by-passing all the lines.  This time I abandoned my bag and felt the role of Buddhist worshipper much more.  I was carrying a round meditation pillow, I switched out my jeans for yoga pajamas, and of course I have my trust prayer bead in tow.  Since this is the last day of teachings for this session, it was a packed house, and unlike yesterday I had no breathing room.  I was very worried that I would not be able to sit cross-legged for such a long-time after my experience yesterday.  

I distracted myself by chatting with a young Tibetan next to me.  He moved out of Tibet seven years ago and finds life in Dharamsala difficult.  He is not a monk and wears western cloths.  His English is pretty good and he has a sister in Boston.  Finding work is not easy for many of the refugees and loneliness from leaving their family can also be rough.  Many have had family members killed, tortured, or imprisoned.  The Chinese are ruthless, blood-hungry, propaganda spewing, imperialists and people here don't like them very much.  Of course when His Holiness speaks about them he refers to them as neighbors and does not delve into negativity.  It is a true testament to the phrase "love thy enemy".  The Chinese have murdered over a million innocent Tibetans who simply want to have sovereignty over their homeland.  I had no idea why the Chinese would do such a disgusting thing and spoke to many people about it.  

I talked to a very friendly 70 year-old Tibetan woman who told me that they want Tibets rich minerals, precious stones, and valuable texts that they sold on the black market.  I had another discussion with a brash white women from Vancouver.  She was a big talker and strong minded, especially when it came to exposing the 'red-handed butchers' of China.  She said that Tibetans don't believe in mining, because it destroys nature and ruins the rivers, so there are tremendous amounts of resources that are untapped.  Also, Tibet is a very strategic center for this part of the world.  On top of that good old-fashioned Imperialism is playing a big factor.  Unbeknownst to me, Tibet is actually a very large amount of land, and 1/3 of 'China' is made from this stolen country.  

The Chinese are vicious spreaders of Propaganda and the over-whelming majority of the Chines population live in complete ignorance.  The Chinese elite tell the people that the Dali Lama and rich Buddhist are in fact slave-owners.  While they kill  over a million innocent people and brutally torture prisoners they tell their people that they are liberating a country.  The dissemination of information is China's biggest enemy.  Of course the Internet is a valuable tool for truth.  I was thinking that the best way to make a change is to inform the Chinese population about the atrocities and the conscious of the masses would over-turn the government.  Of course I am not the first to think that.  His Holiness and other Tibetan elite are constantly trying to figure out ways to inform the Chinese people of the truth.  Unfortunately the Chinese government is constantly trying to figure out ways to suppress the truth.  In fact, Google has sold out and now has extensive limits on the what the Chinese population can access.  They also funnel information to the Chinese government, informing them of what individual users view, inadvertentley causing much suffering.  (These facts on Google and their cooperation with China is based on a talk with the women from Vancouver so primary sourcing is not available.  I will try to do more research and so should we all).

As I spoke to the young Tibetan man probably in his late 20's, the reality of these atrocities where impossible to ignore.  The only work he could find was part-time as a cook in a office.  The chatter in the crowd settled and the chanting from the monks ended as His Holiness ceremoniously began his teaching.  Today's teachings where centered on the end of the seven-points to mind training.  It culminated with a vow to abstain from murder, stealing, lying, inappropriate sexual activity, and any form of intoxication.  He allowed everyone to perform any number of these vows.  Drinking alcohol has been pretty unnecessary out here and I have only done it once so far. 

After the first 20 minutes or so monks always come around with large tea pots and pour a round for the entire audience.  It tastes like warm milk with a touch of green tea.  The experience of community was more important than the taste.  On the last day of teaching I started giving out mini-crunch bars to the old Tibetans around me plus the many children in the audience, and like a good grandma one women refused to stop feeding me bread and cookies that she brought.  I tried my best to say no and thank you but she was not satisfied unless I kept saying yes and dunking it in the bowl that they let me borrow. 

On top of the tea, they sometimes bring bread and even hard cash for the robed monks.  Near the end of the morning session old Tibetan cooks wearing blue aprons and worn blue long-sleeve button-ups carry out enormous pots for soup and rice.  When I say enormous I mean hundreds of gallons easily.  A parade of monks come and fill the pots with steaming hot rice and a vegetable soup.  I conveniently place myself near the food( of course) and when the teachings ended the entire crowd made a mad dash.  I grabbed a spoon and started vigorously doling out soup.  I filed my pitiful little plastic bag that formerly housed my vegetable momo's and contemplated how I was going to eat soup with my hands.  Of course, the generosity of the Tibetans shone through as a old man witnessing my torment lent me his spoon.  I sat on one of the temple steps admiring the magnitude of this experience and watched as the now full masses flooded out of the temple. 

Trip to see His Holiness the Dali Lama

The overnight sleeper bus finally make it to Dharamsala.  The 12+ hour bus ride was anything but pleasant.  The passengers for whatever reason started playing musical chairs and a young Indian man sat next to me who insisted on resting his bony head on my shoulder.  The bumps, horns, twists and turns made an awful nights sleep.  Thankfully the last 20 minute ride from the main part of Dharamsala to McLeod Ganj was worth the agony.  On the left an extensive valley opened up  and a baby blue backdrop  set the scene,  on the right was a steep hill covered in pine, rocks, and eroding cliff line.  With every turn and switchback a successively more breathtaking scene came into view.  

Finally the Frenchman in front of me pointed out the town of His Holiness's main temple and exiled home.  The jagged start of the Himalayas cast a shadow over the small town clinging desperately to the hill, just as the snow clings to the rough powerful cliffs thrust into the clouds.   McLeod Ganj only has a few streets with shops, restaurants and hotels catering to the many people visiting for the teachings.  Apparently His Holiness is only here for teachings once or twice a year.  Our impulse decision to come here was one of the greatest decisions of my life.  

Free roaming cows and well-fed stray dogs mingle with little tibetan children, who run past their robed parents, on their way to school.  We where lucky enough to find a room on such short notice, the accommodations are nice enough and cost 500 rupees for a double.  We arrived in time for the last two days of the first session of teachings and will probably stay through for the second session.  Even though we are exhausted from the bus ride we follow the herds of robed monks and file inside the temple.  An Australian man that has lived around here for many years helped us through the lines and showed us where to sit.  I was bubbling with anticipation as we by-passed all the Tibetans and Western woman.  Don't ask me why but foreign men are the biggest minority so we don't have to wait in line for very long.  Eugene, the Australian chap, let us use his radio so we where able to hear His teachings in English.  The temple was anything but lavish and we sat in the little courtyard in front of the steps leading inside.

Hundred if not thousands of Tibetans and foreigners sit cross-legged with all eyes fixated on the T.V. screen that is the centerpiece of the crowd.  Behind that is a large statue of Buddha.  I am immediately surrounded by some very nice Americans.  Susan and Sharon are two older women who stand out particularly.  They are in the process of becoming bodhisattvas, which are outstanding Buddhists that forgo the ending of cyclical existence and instead come back each life cycle to help others.  They are wonderful and smart people who study Dharma and send many blessings to my family.  

For the most part, the courtyard was filled with Tibetans both young and old.  Toothless men thumb through their prayer beads and gaze blissfully at His Holiness on the T.V. screen.  Tibetan grandmas have wide smiles as adorable little kids scurry around.  The monks inside chanted Om Ma Ni Ped Me Hong in a beautiful melodic rhythm.  On top of that bugs buzzed in the background in a chanting way that merely added to the powerful drone.  I listened intently when His Holiness spoke and took notes.  It was very hard to hear because the radio was not great, it was painful to sit, and it was very complicated.  The experience itself was still fantastic and the sense of community unreal.  My first day of teachings was an overwhelming success but the fatigue was starting to set in.  Later in the blog I will summarize the notes and write on what I learned from His teachings.

The second day in Delhi started as all my days do in India, with a cup of chai. After that I went on a morning stroll through the streets of Manju Ka Tilla. Through the winding tight corridors I made my way to the Buddhist Temple in town. The big bellied monk was sitting behind a huge drum and clapping these two metal bells together, which simultaneously hit the large drum. He was also chanting in Tibetan. I took my shows off and dropped a few rupees in the dish in front of him. The temple was modest but covered in pictures of Buddha and His Holiness. There where also incense burning and candles being lit by older devout Buddhist. It was quite the experience and I the chanting and sounds are very touching.
I walked back to my hotel and only had to avoid a few beggars. The beggars are everywhere, although a little less so in the Tibetan refugee community. Some of the beggars are just little boys, some are ear cleaners, some are cripples and others are old men with scales in front of them trying to make a rupee or two. The most depressing I saw was a little 5-6 year old girl holding a infant. They are very resilient. I have been torn about giving to the beggars. I saw some of the beggar boys running up to a corner shop and buying chewing tobacco. I also read that in India the beggars don't starve because the harvest is very abundant. The books tell me that many beggars will try to rip you off and you should be very careful. It is still hard to see this much poverty.
After the walk back from the temple I spent a few minutes alone on the balcony of the hotel. Unbeknownst to me behind the Tibetan neighborhood was a large beautiful river flanked by well irrigated fields and small huts where the farmers live. It was a beautiful scene and a health respite from the overwhelming hustle and bustle of the city. It reminds me that I need to get out of Delhi and get into nature where I really belong. It was a truly pitureseque scene and flocks of birds circled to roof tops. Old Tibetan women opened their windows for morning fresh air and laundry lines where filled with freshly cleaned red robes.
Why do the bird flock together?
Are they smart enough for the safety of other,
Or too stupid be alone?
Or is it foolish to question what simply is?

This makes me think very deeply about the flocking of humans to this over-crowded city.
Indians love to flock. Especially to malls filled with American stores. I was in a district with no less than 4 malls each bigger than most malls in the US. But I digress.
Me and Uncle Alan decided that seeing His Holiness in Dharamsala is too good of an opportunity to pass up. We talked to many people about it and found a few contacts for places to stay. Plus is will only cost 500 rupees for the 13 hour bus ride. I am so excited, not only to see His Holiness, but also to get the hell out of Delhi.
If you read this tell me, it gives me more motivation to transfer it from my notebook to the computer. But I can certainly see myself giving up on typing.

India Basic

Some basic things I was wondering about before I came was how much everything costs and what the bathroom situation is like. I will start with the less gruesome. The conversion rate is about 45 rupees to the dollar. The auto-rickshaw ride cost 200 rupees and was a 20 minute ride. The chai comes either spiced or sweet but both are very sweet. You can buy it on every street from a man or boy brewing it in what looks like a hundred year pot. For all I know it might be. Unlike a 3 dollar venti you pay 5 rupees for a small and 10 for a large. The large is a normal mug size. It is pretty strong so you don't need a large glass. It tastes great. The spiced ones they sometimes throw in fresh ginger. They always use milk to brew it.
The hotels we are staying in have been mid-range. Costing between 400-500 rupees a night. They have two beds and a bathroom with hot water shower. Both have even had western style toilets. Most toilets you use are holes in the ground. It is funny because when I visualized this I though it would be dirt but they use the same material as our toilets they just prefer it without they seat. This is most likely because of cleanliness. The Indian few our toilets and toilet paper as just as dirty as we view their method. The first time I used a toilet in Mumbai it was a western toilet but the seat was all wet. That is because next to the toilet was a hose with a spray attached to the end. You stick that near your bottom and go to town. It is actually pretty sweet and does a great job of cleaning without any rough toilet paper. Unfortunately most places have only a cup. Sometimes there is just a little spicket where the toilet paper should be and you have to go through the fickle dance of cupping your left hand under the faucet, trying to move it to your bottom without losing all the water, and then splashing it up. Needless to say I have not perfected the art form. Also needless to say the left hand right hand thing is pretty fucking important. I use my right hand for everything that goes into my mouth and it is not hard to remember. Ok I must run and get some breakfast

Arrival In Dehli

The travel books say that Delhi is a city where the past and present intertwine.  Sometimes it feels more like they are butting heads.  The relatively modern airport is adjacent to the close quartered squalor, that inundates most of this dillapitating city.  Dust, trash, and dung waft through the air as freely as the incense and chai tea, which is just strong enough to mask the former (most of the time).  Of course the scent of countless street food vendors also do a good job of making my morning walk bearable.  My ride from the airport to the hotel, in a auto-rickshaw or tuk tuk, made is abundantly clear that the old and new like to brawl on the streets.  Huge horned cow (or yak not really sure haha) and bicyclists swerve past the endless auto's and motorbikes.  Baboons and little children squat next to each other and go to the bathroom right on the street.  In fact, our auto-rickshaw driver had to stop and take a leak.  The ride ended when we reached our destination of Manju Ka Tilla.  

This is a close quartered Tibetan neighborhood that houses many refugees from the former Buddhist state.  The streets are plastered with signs exposing the "red-handed butchers" of the Chinese communist regime.  Alongside that are signs of upcoming Tibetan music performances and various advertisements.  A little lower numerous vendors sell Buddhist trinkets, prayer beads, bells, tea-cups, clothing, books, incense, and jewlery.  Many of the items are beautiful and at night you can hear the cling and clang of young men hammering intricate designs into soft metal.  

This area seems like a relatively popular tourist spot, which means there are a few white people besides me and Uncle Alan.  In fact, we meet a man from Australia who got to perform classical guitar for the His Holiness the Dali Lama.  Apparently His Holiness has returned home after a long tour and is giving teachings.  We are not planning on leaving because the trip up there would be long, costly, and we have no hotel.  (Although not out of the question). 

The streets are vibrant both day and night and as the sun rises so does the steam coming off the warm Tibetan Chapati.  These look and sort of taste like large rustic english muffins.  I washed it down with a hot cup of sweet chai tea that was poured from a huge thermos.  The old Tibetan man was constantly brewing and refilling his thermos with milk from a stainless steel pot carried to him by a young boy.  You can see these boys running to and fro all around Delhi.

We spent our first day in Delhi running around looking for a store that could service Uncle Alan's lap-top.  We also tried to find a whole-sale market that had cheap green corduroy.  The streets of Delhi are filthy.  Usually we take a bicycle rickshaw from the metro to the hotel.  It is operated by young men no older than 17 and old men no younger than 60.  The common attributes seem to be a weight that doesn't exceed 110 pounds and a mouth with bad teeth.  I have no idea how they are able to lug us around on the poor rocky streets of Delhi but they manage.   It is especially impressive watching them dodge huge trucks while taking us on the wrong side of traffic (to get us close to our hotel).  To hammer home the point about the dichotomy of new and old Delhi, the subway system is impeccable.  I did not see one piece of trash throughout my many trips on the rail.  Speaking of the rail Indians do not value personal space.  If you are waiting in a cue they are perfectly content standing so close you can feel their breath on the back of your neck.  At some of the busy stops you end up getting jammed in the rail car and hanging on for dear life as the crowd surges.  

OK I am tired I guess this isn't bad for a first entry.  Write to me on facebook if you wanna know anything in more detail or if you just wanna say hello!!